Winter Counts(52)

We walked over to the serving area. The casino restaurant featured a buffet, serving roast beef, fried chicken, spaghetti, and other standard American fare. I guess the casino wanted to appeal to the midwestern farmer palate. I filled up my plate with slices of beef, a fried chicken breast, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and then sat down with the others at the table. I looked over at Lack. His plate was largely empty—there was only a small piece of fish, a dollop of mac and cheese, some steamed vegetables, and a tiny portion of white rice. I started eating, the little dog Ava looking up at me pleadingly. When no one was looking, I slipped her a piece of roast beef, which she ate in one gulp, not even chewing it.

Suddenly Lack stood up. “This is terrible. A disgrace.”

We all looked at him.

“The food. Bland and tasteless.” He strode off toward the back of the restaurant, to the kitchen area. I looked over at Marie, who made a shrugging motion. Tommy was the first up; he followed Lack to the kitchen. Marie and I stood up too, slowly, and Ann tied the little dog’s leash to the chair leg. The three of us got up, not sure what Lack was doing.

We opened the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and discovered Lack talking to two bewildered kitchen employees, presumably cooks. He noticed us watching him and held up his hand.

“Give me one hour,” he said to us. “I’m going to see what I can do with the food here, show them a few tricks. Tommy, you still want a job? This is your audition.”

“Wait, can I help, too?” said Marie. “I’ve done some kitchen work before.”

Lack motioned her in.

“Text me when you guys are done,” I said to Marie. “I’m going out for a smoke.”

It took longer than an hour, but Chef Lack brought out a spicy mac and cheese, roasted potatoes and vegetables, corn cakes, bowls of fresh salad, and beef ribs with a sage and berry sauce. I had to admit, it was some of the best food I’d had in a long time. I ate seconds and thirds.

“Lack, thank you so much for showing our local cooks how to do it,” said Ann, who’d eaten half a corn cake and some salad.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Thanks for the help back there. Marie, you’re a natural in the kitchen. I mean it. And Tommy, you’re a hard worker. You really knocked out the vegetables today. There’s a job for you if you want it.”

Tommy grinned. “Hell, yeah, I do! And big wopes for that meal, good stuff. Think I’m gonna take a nap now. Toksa, y’all.”

I looked over at Marie. She gave me a smoky look, a look that may have said I told you so, or perhaps Let’s go back home and be alone.

Either way, I was all in.





20


The next few weeks passed slowly as I waited for word from the attorney about Nathan and the drug sting. Charley had said it was going to take some time for the cops to set everything up, but it was hard to wait and do nothing. I was tempted to do more surveillance of Rick and the gang, but I didn’t want to risk being spotted and ruining the buy.

The best news was that Nathan was released from the juvenile detention center, just as the lawyer had promised. The district attorney had agreed not to object to a personal recognizance bond, which meant that I had to go down to the courthouse, sign a form promising that Nathan wouldn’t commit any “delinquent acts,” and agree that Nathan would show up for all court hearings. If Nathan violated either of these conditions, a warrant for his arrest—and mine—would be issued.

“Welcome back,” I said, opening the door and letting him in. Marie was already there, standing in the kitchen with a smile. She’d started to split her time between my little shack and her own place, although we hadn’t had any discussions about the status of our relationship. If that’s what it was.

“Looks different in here. Where’d those come from?” he said, pointing at the wall. She’d added some decorative touches. Framed posters of Sitting Bull and Red Cloud, nautical-themed window curtains, and bright orange place mats on the tiny kitchen table. I had to admit, a little bit of cleaning and interior decorating made a big difference.

“Marie hung them up,” I said. “Look what else she got.” I pointed at the large double chocolate cake she’d bought at the Turtle Creek supermarket. She’d even inscribed WELCOME HOME NATHAN! on top with a cake decorating kit. She’d remembered that chocolate was his favorite.

He looked at the cake on the table and began to cry, the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Thank you. That’s, like—I’m sorry, I’m just really happy to be home.” He sat down at the kitchen table, drying his eyes. “Can I have a piece now?”

“Sure,” I said, and got out some plates and silverware. Marie began cutting the cake, but Nathan stopped her.

“This looks really good, and I’m like, so hungry. But can we save a couple pieces? I kind of became friends with this guy in juvie. His name’s Charles, but he wants everyone to call him Snagmore. Stupid, right? But he’s been telling me about his family. I guess he’s got some little brothers and sisters; he’s worried about them, you know, that they’re not getting enough to eat. I guess his mom has some problems or something. Can we give some of it to them?”

I looked over at Marie, who was now tearing up herself.

“Yeah, we can do that,” I said. “We’ll go over there right now.”