said, “Ajidàmo, I think you know where John-Joe is hiding. Could you either take me to him or tell him to come to Three Deer Point? I promise I won’t tell the police.”
His eyes darted to the closed doors behind me, then back to me. Before I had a chance to walk over and check out the rooms for myself, one of the doors opened and out stepped John-Joe.
“It’s good you’re here,” he said.
He looked more drawn than when I’d last seen him. His cheeks were now sunken hollows with dark bags under his eyes. At least on one side of his face. The other was purple and swollen, blotting out the scratches he’d received on his first escape. His eye was a puffy slit. Somewhere on his long journey, he’d rid himself of his prison clothes. Jeans, sweatshirt and a lumberman’s wool shirt now draped his lanky frame.
“And I’m very glad you’re safe,” I said.
He smiled his movie star smile, but with a slight alteration, a gap from a missing front tooth. Thumping his chest, he said, “Takes more than a little cold to kill me.”
“Maybe so, but it’ll certainly make you sicker.”
“Ah, what’s a cough or two. Besides, my cold’s pretty well gone.” And he gave his chest another resounding thump.
“We’ll see. So why did you run again? It’ll only make your defense that much harder for Tommy.”
“Couldn’t take any more shit. See this?” He pointed to his face, then lifted up his sweatshirt to reveal more bruises. “This is what the fuckin’ pigs do to Indians.”
“But Tommy said you’d been in a fight with other prisoners.”
He grunted. “Cops good at telling fairy tales, ain’t they? Two of ’em buggers jumped me when I was coming out of the shower. One held my arms while the other pounded the shit out of me.”
“Good God, why?”
John-Joe’s eyes flashed in anger. “One of ’em bastards asked if I had a sister. Said he liked fuckin’ squaw meat, so I spit on him.”
Unfortunately it would be their word against John-Joe’s. “Kind of makes it tricky going back, doesn’t it?”
“That’s what I figure.”
“You’ll need some place to stay where the cops aren’t likely to look. And it isn’t here. In fact, I’m worried they might be on their way now.”
John-Joe grinned. “Guess I’d better get going, eh? Got my gear ready. I was gonna leave tonight, anyway, and hide out in the bush.”
“Do that, and you’ll never be able to clear yourself. I have a better idea. Stay at my place, where there are more than enough hiding places if the cops do come sniffing around, and you can work with me to find Chantal’s killer.”
“Okay,” he said without hesitation and spoke a few words to his grandmother, who turned her solemn glance towards me and said, “Goood. Friend.”
“Before we leave, though, there are a few things I’d like you to clear up for me. One has to do with the money the police found on you. Did that come from Chantal?
He leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest. His shuttered face told me he was not about to answer.
“Look, I know you probably got it from Chantal. Her father’s reporting a large sum missing. I just want to know how it ended up in your possession.”
His face remained stubbornly impassive. “I will only help you if you’re are totally honest and open with me. Did she give the money to you, or did you steal it?” He continued his silence.
“Okay, that’s it. You’re on your own. I won’t help you any more.” I turned to leave.
“She gave me the money. She’s into drugs big time. She wanted me to get them for her.”
“Did you sell them to her? Is that why you didn’t tell the police where you got the money?”
Ajidàmo blurted out, “I didn’t tell her, Nìtàwis, honest, I didn’t.”
“Didn’t tell her what, Adjidàmo?” John-Joe asked.
“It was your friend. He brung us the stuff. You know, the guy you told me to be nice to.”
“Shit, that bastard. Wait till I get a hold of him.”
“Does he mean Pierre?” I asked.
“That bastard,” John-Joe replied with finality.
“And he was the source of the marijuana you and Chantal smoked at your hunting camp,” I said more as a statement than a question.
“Yeah.”
“And you bought it using Chantal’s money.”
He nodded, albeit with reluctance.
“So why did you tell me before that Chantal brought the grass with her?”
“I was afraid you were gonna turn me into the cops if you found out I bought the stuff.”
“Okay. I understand. At least you’ve told me the truth now. But please, don’t hide anything more from me, okay?”
The last of his resistance vanished. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Just is everythin’s gone crazy since Chantal died. Dunno who to trust any more.”
“You can trust me.”
“Yeah, I know. I won’t do it again. I’ll tell ya whatever ya wanta know.”
“Good. Let’s get back to the money. You still had a lot of money on you when the police arrested you. What was that for?”
“It was supposed to go for some coke. Pierre didn’t have it but knew where he could get some. Shit, I didn’t want anything to do with the stuff. OD ’ed on it four years ago. Don’t want to get hooked again. But she insisted, said she needed it to—” He glanced anxiously towards Ajidàmo, then back to me. “To enjoy you-know-what.”
At this point, Ajidàmo was all eyes and ears. John-Joe ruffled his hair, then covered his young cousin’s ears. “While Chantal was smokin’ up, felt I had to join her. Wow, some stuff. Got real high. Hey, maybe that was what put me out?”
“Nope, it was definitely the scotch,” I said. Ajidàmo squirmed loose from his grasp. “You were doing drugs, weren’t you, Nìtàwis? If you can do it, why not me, eh?”
“Sure, if you want to find yourself in the same kind of shit I’m in now.”
That stopped Ajidàmo. His grandmother meanwhile continued to cast her blind eyes from one grandson to the other. Although it was difficult to tell if she understood any of our conversation, I felt from the occasional angry frown she cast at the eldest that she must have comprehended at least some of it.
I continued, “Why didn’t Chantal deal directly with Pierre,
