Texas Charm, chapters 16 and 17 (Patreon)

Chapter Sixteen

When Art walked into the precinct with Zach at his side, Carson was the first one to greet them. “Morning,” he said. He looked at Zach and then back to Art. “You two look all bright eyed and bushy tailed.” He had an edge of suspicion in his voice, and Art tried to relax his face muscles. He kept slipped into a stupid grin. The idea of marrying the love of his life made him beam, but if he told people at work before his family, he wouldn’t live to see any wedding and they’d been busy all night. Besides, Zach wanted to tell his mother in person, and she lived in California. It would be a week or two before they could take a weekend trip.

“We might have a lead,” Art said to excuse his good mood. If Zach was acting like a giddy fool, the others would take it as one of his eccentricities. But Art had a reputation as a serious man.

Zach gave Art a knowing grin before he answered. “That depends on whether Hernandez got us the records we wanted.”

“How’s your murder going?” Art asked Carson and Guiles while Zach logged into his computer. Guiles was still a baby detective—barely out of uniform and still all shiny rules and wide eyes. He stayed in his chair while Carson came over and sat on the corner of Art’s desk.

“We’re already done with our part,” Carson said.

“We didn’t actually do much for our part.” Guiles sounded a little disappointed about that. 

Carson shrugged. “That’s true. It’s not hard to figure out who done it when everyone is standing around with phones taking video, and the suspects all have weapons still in their hands. Hernandez is doing the heavy lifting on this one.”

“Everyone’s arguing self-defense, huh?” Zach chimed in. He was clicking away at his email.

“Oh hell yes. I’m just sorry the dog got shot,” Carson said. “I don’t have any sympathy for the adults involved. How much easier would our lives be if we only had to chase criminals and not deal with stupid people being stupid?”

“We’d all be out of jobs,” Art pointed out.

“That’s true. I still wish I saw less of it,” Carson said.

Zach interrupted their complaints. “Someone set a fire under Hernandez; I have phone records on the Minton household.” His printer made a long series of clicks that suggested it might die any second before starting to print out pages.

“He was probably thrilled to escape the quagmire of defense lawyers and work on a case with fewer motions getting filed against him,” Carson said. “I’d feel guilty about the shit he’s having to shovel, only he’s getting paid a hell of a lot more than me. You should have finished law school,” Carson told Zach.

Zach huffed. “Not for all the tea in China. Traffic hasn’t gotten back to me about any video.”

“Traffic won’t get us anything until this afternoon at the earliest. The department isn’t known for speed,” Art said. He reached across their desks and snagged a couple of pages of phone records. Someone was using the house phone more than he’d anticipated. Most people used their cell phones for everything, but one or both of the Mintons had used the house phone quite a bit.

Carson said, “Do you guys need any help on those?”

“I don’t want to hang you up on your cases,” Art said. They could use the help, but this case had already inconvenienced other detectives and slowed other cases. The captain made the choice to prioritize the case for political reasons, but Art wasn’t comfortable asking for someone else’s justice to take a back seat because the higher-ups were getting pressure from the press.

“Our only unsolved case is a domestic where the counselors are trying to get the woman to press charges,” Carson said with a grimace. 

“We have the Atlas Avenue case,” Guiles added.

Carson rolled his eyes. “A suspicious death that will probably turn out to be an overdose. Our stuff can wait.”

Zach said, “If you have time, that’d be great.” He handed over a few sheets with the contact information from the phone company. 

“What are you looking for?” Carson asked. He took a sheet and gave it to Guiles.

“We think Daniel Minton might have been out there, either with Jon or following him. So we’re looking for anything that would give either of them a reason to be out there—a teenage girl, a drug deal, anything,” Zach said.

Carson looked at Art and raised his eyebrows. “So you have no idea, and you’re just fishing?”

“Pretty much,” Art said with a shrug. Carson might have trained Art at one point, but Art didn’t answer to him now. If their warrant was a little light on details, that was between Art and the district attorney. After a few seconds of maintaining eye contact, Carson shook his head.

“Hernandez must be good if he got you a warrant on that.” That was as close as Carson was going to come to telling Art he shouldn’t have gone for a warrant without more, and some of Art’s good mood started to evaporate. “But we’ll get background and public records on anyone interesting.” And with that, Carson focused on the case.

Art settled in behind his desk.

“So, do you want Google or the criminal database?” Zach asked.

“I’ll take the database.”

Zach nodded. “I’ll take Google.”

They both settled in to start searching. When the computer would force him to wait, Art found himself staring at Zach. He rested his chin on his hand and studied the computer, his light brown eyes skimming the screen. Sometimes Art wondered how he had lucked out to find someone so patient. Zach glanced over, and when he caught Art staring, he broke out in a wide grin.

Two desks over, Carson loudly cleared this throat, and Art refocused on his background searches. Strangely, Art’s cat showed up, circled the desk and then curled up on a stack of files. Art was grateful that spirit animals couldn’t move paper the way a mundane cat could.

“Whoa!” Zach blurted so loudly that Art and his cat both jerked upright.

“What?” Art was on his feet and around the desk in an instant. His cat vanished.

Zach pointed to the screen. “Gavin Vanderkonk.” 

“Who?” Carson asked.

Zach read from the website. “He works for the Hope Group, a psychological treatment center specializing in medical, psychological and holistic healing for range of anti-social and self-destructive behaviors including drug and sexual addition. They promise to do a full physical and DNA test to find all the underlying causes of the addiction to ensure proper treatment.” 

“This can’t be a coincidence,” Art said as he read the short bio over Zach’s shoulder. Gavin Vanderkonk’s picture was there in all his muscle-bound glory next to a dozen other staff members.

“What does Vanderkonk do?” Guiles asked.

Art stood. “He’s listed on their staff page as a transporter.” Transporters would take custody of an individual and transport them from their homes to the treatment facility. For the most part, they worked with teenagers whose parents had signed over custody as part of a treatment plan. However, Art had known one or two cases where family members went to court to prove a person incompetent so that the family could put them into treatment. Both cases had ended badly, which is how Art had gotten involved. One young man tried to kill his parents, and a woman had burned her family’s business to the ground.

“If you’re trying to get yourself into treatment, you don’t call the transporter. You call a counselor or, more likely, the front office sales staff who will set you up with an expensive package,” Zach said.

“Transporters only come in when the patient is being involuntarily taken into treatment.” Art headed back to his desk and sat. “Jon Minton wouldn’t have called a transporter. Daniel Minton would have.”

“And the phone he called used a local cell tower, even if it was a California number,” Zach added after a little more typing. “So the transporter is in town.”

Carson rolled his chair over and peered at the computer. “So what does this mean for your theory of the crime?”

Art snorted. “I have no idea. A transporter picks someone up from a house. They don’t meet in an empty lot in a bad neighborhood, and they sure as hell don’t shoot the client. That’s just bad business.”

“I don’t believe it’s coincidence,” Zach said.

“I don’t either,” Art said. “I’m just not sure where the pieces all fit.”

“Do we call Vanderkonk in for an interview?” Zach asked.

Normally Art wanted more information before he interviewed someone. If they were going to lie to him, he wanted the evidence to prove it. However, if Vanderkonk lived in California, he might return there any time. Hell, he might already have left the state. That thought gave Art heartburn. “Yeah. Make the call,” Art said.

Zach picked up the phone and dialed. From the one side of the conversation, it sounded like Vanderkonk was being cooperative. When Zach suggested Vanderkonk come down to the station that afternoon, Art breathed a little easier. The man was still in town. Two seconds later, it occurred to Art that Vanderkonk shouldn’t be in town. Jon Minton was dead. The job was over.

Zach hung up.

“Why is he still in town?” Art asked.

“Damned if I know,” Zach said. “And Vanderkonk didn’t ask why we needed to talk to him. He agreed to come down without even asking for a reason.”

He was definitely involved. “I think I need to call Hernandez,” Art said.

Zach nodded. “Oh yeah.”

“It looks like the fishing is good this morning,” Carson said.

“Should we check the rest of the names?” Guiles asked.

When all three detectives stared at him, Guiles ducked his head and went back to typing names into the computer. Art was infinitely grateful that he didn’t have to deal with trainees. He didn’t have the patience for it. Besides, Art was rather fond of the partner he had. Right now Zach was staring at Guiles like the man was seventeen shades of stupid, and Art loved every disapproving inch of him. 

Chapter Seventeen

“Detective Lammas?”

Art paused the department of transportation video running on his computer when the captain called his name. Captain Williams had probably heard about their new lead, not that Art had much he could tell him. Their digging into the Hope Group had yielded nothing more interesting than reviews—most of which claimed that the treatment was effective. They had no active investigations against them, and no police reports had been filed against any of their facilities. They didn’t seem like the sort to employ hotheads who might go off and shoot a potential client in the back of the head. Of course, they also failed to find any court paperwork that would have given the Hope Group the right to take Jon Minton into custody. Art felt like they had the puzzle pieces on the table, but the picture still wasn’t clear.

“I’ll be right back,” Art told Zach.

Zach nodded without looking away from his computer. Zach was hyperfocused on finding Daniel Minton’s car on one of the traffic cams.

Art headed toward Captain Williams’s office where the man held the door open. “We don’t have much in the way of definitive answers,” he said as he crossed the threshold.

Captain Williams followed him in and closed the door. Only then did Art notice the blinds were drawn. That was not a good sign. “Sir?” Art asked.

“We have about twenty minutes before the FBI get here, so if you have any unethical or even potentially illegal dealings with the former shamanic council, you need to tell me.”

The day had started so well, and now Art felt like the captain had just kicked him in the balls with steel-tipped boots. “What? No. I’ve had almost no dealings with the old council, and when I did work with them, I filed complaints at least half the time. What’s going on? Why are the FBI coming over here?”

The captain sat at one of the chairs around his round table. “I just got an anonymous tip. The FBI is considering charging you with accessory to felony theft and racketeering for failure to report the corruption on the shamanic council.”

Art grabbed the back of one of the other chairs because his knees went weak. “Sir, that’s bullshit.”

“You were one hundred percent in the dark with the embezzlement?”

Art sat before he fell on his face. “Yes, sir. I don’t socialize with shamans. I don’t get involved in the community, and while I did help out other officers or the FBI when a case involved Talent, I haven’t been interested in getting involved. Maybe this informant got their wires crossed because there is no way I helped any of the council members.”

The captain frowned, and Art’s cat appeared in the middle of the table. His hackles were up and his tail was fluffed up to twice normal size. As a mundane, the captain couldn’t see the guide, and he didn’t know the danger of a pissed off spirit guide. The captain asked calmly, “What do you know about the old council?”

Art leaned back and tried to quiet himself before his guide decided to do something. Never before had Art worried about his cat getting aggressive, but right now he could feel his cat’s anger. Art took a deep breath to calm the situation. “William Dubach is an arrogant man who loves to show off his money. Ken Gambaro was the power player, although I can’t tell you exactly why I always assumed that. Thomas Hernandez, no relation to our new DA, is a quiet one, as are Elaine Sandoval and Karen Greenley. I wouldn’t have even recognized the two women until the community got together and kicked them out of office. The few times I had to interact with the council, I talked to Ken Gambaro.”

“And what’s your relationship with Dohosan Moreno?”

Dohosan. Art was starting to get suspicious about the number of times that man’s name was coming up. “I honestly don’t know. I haven’t had much to do with him.” Art didn’t mention that he had confided in the asshole about the ancient ifrit returning to the world, and now Art regretted extending that trust.

Captain Williams looked like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Our anonymous informant suggested that we invoke the council’s right to be involved in shamanic matters and get Moreno down here ASAP. How do you feel about that?”

Art hated anonymous tips, and he hated being in the dark even more. His spirit cat was still standing in the middle of the table, back arched and ready to attack. If Moreno was moving against Art for his own reasons, Art put some faith in his cat to defend him. Now Art just had to figure out who the enemy was.

“If Moreno can help, great. If he’s behind the FBI’s belief that I’m dirty, I want him in the room where I can look him in the eye,” Art said. And if Moreno annoyed him enough, Art might suggest that his cat carve a few new marks in the man’s backside.

Art flashed on an image of his cat playing with a bloodied eyeball with the long, red nerve trailing off the back. Art knew other shamans sometimes got images from their guides—it was a guide’s primary form of communicating with a shaman. However Art had never caught even a glimpse of his cat’s inner thoughts. Now he could see a ghostly image of his cat’s claws piercing a disembodied eyeball. The image was both disturbing in terms of the level of violence and comforting in general feeling of shelter and protectiveness Art’s guide projected. 

“That might be going too far,” Art told his cat. The cat hissed his answer.

“Excuse me?” Captain Williams demanded.

“Sorry, sir. I was talking to my guide,” Art said. “He’s aggravated.”

Captain Williams raised both his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you talked to the spirits.” The skeptical tone rubbed Art the wrong way.

“Being a shaman means I talk to one spirit in particular. I wouldn’t be a shaman if I didn’t.”

The captain nodded. “Fair enough, Detective,” he said. Art didn’t miss the captain’s choice to use Art’s work title. In the past Art had kept his shamanism as far from the office as possible unless his cat was interested in helping hunt someone down. But in the past, Art and his cat generally ignored each other. If Art’s cat was willing to extend a little faith in Art’s inclination to be a better partner, Art would respect that peace offering. He sure as hell wouldn’t deny or ignore his spirit guide because it made the captain uncomfortable.

The captain cleared his throat. “I’ll call Shaman Moreno.”

“I’m going to brief Zach,” Art said.

“Are you sure you want to involve him?” the captain asked.

“Yep,” Art said, and he left before he could say something else to piss the captain off. His cat vanished in a blink, but Art had the feeling he was still somewhere nearby, stalking the shadows.

By the time Art had briefed Zach and then fielded questions that he couldn’t answer, fifteen minutes had elapsed and Dohosan Moreno appeared at the doorway, a patrol officer escorting him. Dohosan smiled and made a beeline toward Art and Zach. Without even offering a hello, he started talking.

“Whoa. The last time I was in a police station, I had gotten caught egging houses on Halloween, and they brought me in to scare the bad out of me. It must have worked since I haven’t been in a police station since. It’s a little weird to get asked in on council business. Detective Lammas, great to see you. Detective Johnson, looking good.”

Art stood and glared at the man.

Dohosan did an almost comical double take and then took a step back. “Okay, someone pissed on your Wheaties this morning.”

“The FBI did,” Zach said as he came around his desk.

“Yeah, feds are even worse than cops, huh?” Dohosan asked with a grin. Art was starting to really hate this guy.

“Shaman Moreno?” Captain Williams called from his open office door.

“That’s me,” Dohosan said as he headed toward the captain. “Did I beat the feds here?” His question was loud enough that it caught the attention of several detectives in the room, and Art clenched his teeth. That was going to fuel the rumor mill. On the positive side, Art was no longer in any danger of breaking out in a stupid grin at the thought of his engagement. Even Zach had a sour expression.

Captain Williams sighed and shared a look of frustration with Art before he stepped back so Dohosan could enter. When Dohosan turned, he gave Art a quick wink. It was so fleeting that Art might have thought he had hallucinated it, but Zach moved to his side and asked softly, “What is that about?”

“I have no idea,” Art said. Pochi showed up, hovering in the air in front of the captain’s office. 

“Huh.” Zach sounded concerned, but Art wasn’t sure if Pochi’s appearance or Dohosan’s strange behavior caused it.

Art grunted and headed for the office. Whatever game Dohosan was playing, Art wanted all the cards on the table so he could start planning his own counterattack. 

Captain Williams closed the door and immediately said, “The FBI just checked in at the front desk. They’ve asked to speak with Detective Lammas. They haven’t yet mentioned why they want to talk to him.”

“So, why are they here?” Dohosan asked. “For that matter, why am I here, not that I mind. The new council is definitely hoping to build bridges with law enforcement, so any time you call, one of us will come, and since I’m the one who works out of my home, that will probably be me.”

The flash of distaste on Captain Williams’s face vanished almost as fast as it appeared. “We appreciate your willingness to join us. As to why the FBI is here, I’m not sure. We’ll have to ask them. One of the officers will escort them to conference room one where we’ll join them. I am going to ask that you show some discretion and not discuss this case or any case you are part of outside the small group involved in the investigation.”

Dohosan nodded, but the movement was rhythmic and went on too long, almost like he was head banging to music. “Oh. Okay.”

The captain stared at him for long seconds. “Mr. Moreno, this is not simply a request. If you break trust with the department, it will be very difficult for the council and the police to work together.”

“Chill.” Dohosan held his hands up in surrender. “I’m a website programmer and editor. You do not want to know how much information people like me get when we’re trying to debug a glitchy search engine on a porn site. If I didn’t know how to keep my mouth closed, half the Western United States would be divorced, and I would be out of a job. So you’re on the down low. I can work with that.” 

“I hope so Mr. Moreno,” the captain said. He didn’t seem reassured, and Art shared a concerned look with Zach. While Art really didn’t know Dohosan well, this seemed a little immature for a council member. Art was equally concerned that Pochi was darting around the room, hovering in place for a few seconds before racing away as though in search of an enemy to fight.

“Besides, I wouldn’t screw over a fellow shaman,” Dohosan smiled at Art.

The jocularity rubbed Art the wrong way, but before he could say anything, Captain Williams spoke up. “Mr. Moreno, I don’t expect you to show favoritism, but I do expect some discretion.”

“Discretion. Got it. And I’m here to represent the community, so I don’t expect favors and I don’t expect to give any. I just won’t go out of my way to screw anyone.” This time he managed to sound a little more professional.

“Good to know. If you would follow me, I’ll show you to our conference room.” As Captain Williams was leaving, he shot Art a concerned look. Art had no reassurance for the captain, so he silently followed Dohosan out the door. Zach touched the small of Art’s back, and that fleeting touch offered a world of support. If the FBI was gunning for him, they could make his life pretty damn uncomfortable, even if Art had kept all his dealings above board.

Captain Williams headed in the conference room, and immediately greeted the agents with a warmth that hid the aggravation he’d shown openly a few minutes ago. “Agent Gunderson, good to see you again.”

Gunderson shook hands before turning to the other agent in the room. “Captain Williams, I would like to introduce my partner, Agent Hill.” Gunderson stepped aside to let a tall woman step forward. She had pale skin with dark blue and bruise-purple adept marks running up her hands nearly to her elbows. Given that Gunderson had shown so much interest in the shamanic community, Art wasn’t surprised, although had had expected Gunderson’s partner to be a shaman.

The captain shook the woman’s hand and then gestured to Dohosan. “I believe you know Shaman Moreno.”

Agent Hill nodded at him. “Yes, we’ve met several times.”

“We sure have. Nice to see you, agents.” Dohosan smiled wanly before dropped into a chair. He wasn’t even pretending to like them. 

Art put on his best poker face and tried to ignore it when Pochi blinked into the room and started dive bombing the various people in the room. They were just lucky he was invisible because the bird was clearly picking up on the aggression. In particular, Pochi kept darting between Dohosan and Agent Hill.

Oblivious to the drama, Captain Williams continued with introductions. “This is Detective Lammas’s partner, Detective Johnson.”

Zach smiled and shook their hands while managing to sound pleased at the introduction. Captain Williams took the chair next to Dohosan, and Art sat on the other side of the shaman. Zach immediately claimed the chair next to Art by putting his hand on the back of it. That forced the FBI to take the two seats on the other side of the table from Art.

Hill settled into one of the seats. “I hadn’t expected to have so many people present.”

Dohosan spoke up. “It’s a Texas thing. It’s like women going to the bathroom in groups, only in Texas, we hang out with cows so much we like traveling in herds.” Dohosan got a thoughtful look on his face like he’d just said something profound and enlightening.

“Really.” Agent Hill didn’t pretend to believe him. “Detective Lammas, we had a few additional questions for you.”

“Regarding?” Art’s heart sped up.

Hill took a file out of the satchel on the floor next to her chair. “Regarding the misappropriation of funds intended for the El Paso Djedi center.” She opened it, and looked at it meaningfully. 

Art wasn’t going to fall for interrogation theater, so he didn’t try to see what she had. “I don’t know anything about that.”

She looked up at him. “Have you visited the center?”

“Twice. We had a case with a shaman who didn’t seem able to get back to his body from the spirit plane, and then when Salma al-Ghamdi came to town, she requested that we escort her over there.”

“What did you notice about the level of care provided?”

“It wasn’t good. I filed a report and I lodged a complaint with the state medical board about the lack of urgency in patient care.” Art had also privately cursed the council, but he doubted Hill would care about that.

Hill exchanged a knowing look with Gunderson. “Did you do anything else?”

“Like what?” Art asked. He had no objective evidence that the council had done anything illegal.

“Like investigate,” Gunderson chimed in. “Did you ever question any council member about the negligence you complained about in your report to the state board?”

Art studied Gunderson. He was young and idealistic. Art focused, straining to see more in the man’s earnest face. He felt the magic flow into him, and Gunderson’s unease stained the air, but Art couldn’t tell the reason for it. Was Gunderson uncomfortable questioning Art or was he uneasy that Art hadn’t pushed harder to see the Djedi center investigated? Art said, “No, I trusted someone at the state medical board to do that.”

“And what happened to the patient?” Hill asked.  She was angry at him.

“He died,” Art said. Knowing she was this committed to charging him, Art was uneasy giving her too much information. He’d been one shaman against a council of five, and he had no experience with financial crimes, even if he’d suspected it. Honestly, he’d suspected they were all too incompetent to do the federal paperwork required to keep the federal dollars coming into the community.

“Did you investigate his death?” she asked, her aura turning bright and her voice sharp.

Captain Williams answered before Art could. “This is starting to sound like a witch hunt, Agent Hill. Our medical examiner ruled that the shaman died of natural causes.”

She turned her gaze toward him. “In a hospital that your detective noted was woefully uninterested in care.”

“What are you suggesting?” The captain’s voice had a sharp edge to it now, and Zach slipped his hand under the table to rest on Art’s thigh.

Gunderson jumped in. “Nothing. We’re just investigating the situation.”

“What situation?” the captain asked.

Dohosan laughed before announcing loudly, “Man, she is on a power trip.”

Hill’s expression turned murderous. “This does not concern you, Shaman Moreno.”

Dohosan leaned forward. “What is it? Do you hate all shamans because they get the upgraded versions of your adept powers or are you jealous that Detective Lammas and those of us on the council listen to Adept al-Ghamdi and not you?”

Hill pressed her lips into an angry line, and Gunderson said sharply, “You’re out of line.”

“Maybe. Maybe you don’t like honesty.” Dohosan shrugged.

Art watched a sidewinder spirit guide come rising up out of the floor. It was gray with two horns over the eyes that made it look a little like a dragon. Snake guides had a reputation for being fairly mellow. Snakes didn’t go chasing prey down and they weren’t aggressive, but God have mercy on the idiot who stepped on one. And this guide definitely put off venomous vibes. At first Art thought the guide belonged to Agent Hill, but then it glided around to curl under Dohosan’s chair while it regarded Hill’s feet with unblinking eyes.

“I don’t like the community being abused and law enforcement doing nothing.” Hill turned her angry glare toward Art.

Art started to speak. “If—”

Captain Williams stood. “Detective, don’t say a word. Agents, you have made unsubstantiated accusations, and I will not allow you to interrogate one of my men. He filed a complaint, and if you were so concerned about how the El Paso council handled shamanic medicine, you should have shown up then. Showing up after the community has already cleaned up the mess seems like wasted effort.”

“Hey, we want her putting effort into putting the old council in jail. Their sorry asses deserve to pay for what they did, so don’t chase them off,” Dohosan said, and that jovial façade slipped back into place.

Hill stood, her gaze still firmly on Art. “We want to make sure that everyone who broke the law pays.”

Dohosan stood and physically sidestepped so he blocked her view. “I know you’re not looking at Shaman Lammas.”

“This is not council business, Shaman Moreno. This is about dereliction of duty.” Hill practically vibrated with righteous indignation.

Williams finally lost his temper. “You have no right to accuse my detective of dereliction. He has worked to serve this community, even when the FBI had their anti-magic heads so far up their asses that they couldn’t work cases.”

Hill brought her hand down on the table. “He should have reported the fraud!” 

Art shot to his feet, and Zach followed.

“Whoa!” Dohosan followed that up with a shrill whistle. “You need to back up double quick. This isn’t just council business you stuck your nose in. This is Native business.”

“Excuse me?” Hill was angry.

“You heard me. The Indigenous Religious Protection Act says you can’t ask about or question the motives of Native holy men. As a member of the council and a Native, I am telling you to back away. Our shamans have this under control.”

“Unacceptable,” Hill snapped.

Dohosan leaned into her space. “You are so far over that line you can’t even see it from where you’ve set up your lynching posts.”

“Are you claiming protection under IRPA?” Hill looked from Dohosan to Art, inching to the side so she had a clear view of both of them.

Before Art could speak, Dohosan did. “For me? Hell no. I’m the white person’s version of a shaman. I might be willing to argue budgets and show up for meetings, but I don’t want to carry the responsibility for trying to heal a community, especially not one as fucked up as El Paso. No way. I’ll pass. But if you take on Shaman Lammas, you’ve got trouble.”

Art’s mouth fell open. When Hill demanded, “You’ve got to be kidding,” Art was ready to agree with her.

“Nope.” Dohosan popped his p.

“But, I thought he was Mexican,” Gunderson said.

“Are you suggesting there are no indigenous people from Mexico?” Dohosan’s voice was low and angry now.

Gunderson started to verbally retreat. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Sounded like it to me, and since my people lived on both sides of that border until white people decided to divide it into separate countries, I think I’m offended.”

Gunderson offered a conciliatory smile and tried a new tactic. “I understand you have a friendship with Detective Lammas.”

“Nope. Barely know him,” Dohosan said. “He’s a bit of an asshole, but then he doesn’t have to be nice to get shit done. In fact, the opposite is often true.”

Hill moved around the table and got in Dohosan’s face. “You can’t just announce someone is covered under IRPA and expect us to walk away.”

Dohosan’s smile was pure malice. “Sure I can. If you don’t, then any three holy walkers can sign off on a complaint and send it to the closest shamanic council so we can sic our lawyers on you. That’s how the law works.”

“Are you trying to suggest that a holy man, someone responsible for a community, would allow shamans and adepts to die in an underfunded hospital?” Hill’s voice was dark with anger. “That is a perversion of the IRPA law.”

“That’s your interpretation. No matter how you look at it, Shaman Lammas got this community to pull together and stand on their own feet against corruption.”

“So he stopped corruption by allowing corruption?” Hill turned and glared at Art. Art ignored the way Pochi was circling like a whirling dervish. Art couldn’t see his cat, but he felt the guide’s power like a heat source against his back.

“I never allowed corruption,” Art said firmly.

The captain opened the door. “This interview is over.”

“What he said,” Dohosan offered. “But I’m adding one more piece. I’m filing a complaint because I told you to back off Detective Lammas, and you ignored me. I told you this was a Native issue, and you ignored me. I did everything except wave IRPA in your face, and you fucking ignored me, forcing me to reveal the name of a community holy man. I’m holding you personally responsible for that, so I suggest you focus on the old council and keep your noses clean before I send the lawyers after you.” There was a layer of sweetness that did nothing to hide the fury underneath. Now that he’d dropped his dumb act, Art could see the power in Dohosan’s every move.

Captain Williams spoke in clipped words. “Agents, I will show you out.” Hill and Gunderson hesitated for a second, but then they both took the invitation to get out.

Before Dohosan could leave, Art said, “Shaman Moreno, perhaps we could have a word before you leave.”

“Sure. No problem,” Dohosan said, his affable mask back in place.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Art demanded as soon as the door closed behind Captain Williams.

“I tried heading those two morons off at the pass, but they have more persistence than intelligence.” Dohosan shrugged.

“But you gave them that bullshit about me being a protected class shaman.” Art was almost trembling with rage, and Zach put his hand on Art’s arm.

Dohosan leaned back against the table. “Yeah? And?” He seemed highly unconcerned, and the attitude was sending Art past anger into incandescent rage.

“And I’m not, you little pissant,” Art shouted.

“Geez. Anger issues much?”

Zach spoke, which was good because Art was trying to avoid strangling Dohosan. “I don’t know. Perjury and federal obstruction issues much? If they figure out you lied—”

Dohosan cut Zach off. “I didn’t.”

The room went silent. Of all the lame-ass explanations Art had anticipated, that one hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Excuse me? What the fuck do you know about my people or my status with them?”

“Nothing,” Dohosan said easily, “but I talked to my medicine woman, and your message concerned her enough that she came down here. She was behind you in line when you went to lunch yesterday.  She said that you are using your power to serve the community, and that—her words—shit is going down. She wants you on our side, and she’s perfectly willing to use the white man’s laws against them. She named you a shaman. She said the other Mescalero medicine men would stand with her on that. The FBI can butt out of council business or they can get one serious spanking for interfering with our religious freedom.”

Art stared at Dohosan, not even able to process his words. It made no sense that someone else’s tribe would stand for him like that, much less name him a shaman. They weren’t calling him a medicine man of their tribe any more than his father’s tribe had accepted him as a potential singer, but to even be called a Native shaman was unthinkable. Art tried to figure out what game Dohosan was playing.

Zach looked from Dohosan to Art and back again, his confusion etched on his face. “I don’t get what’s happening,” Zach said.

Dohosan performed an elaborate eyeroll. “My tribal medicine woman called Arturo a tribal shaman. Bad FBI go away.”

Art glared at the man. “I’m seriously considering arresting you.”

“Well that would make the FBI curious. But ….” Dohosan shrugged like it didn’t matter to him. This was all a game he’d played for their benefit.

Zach had clearly reached the same conclusion because he said in an almost admiring tone, “You called in the anonymous tip.”

“Says who? Your captain called me.” Despite his denial, Dohosan grinned.

“Which he demanded because of an anonymous call you made,” Art said. “You talked to your medicine woman about the FBI investigation and about finding legal protection for me, so you’re the one who knew the FBI was gunning for me.”

“And? But? Yet?” Art wasn’t sure if he liked Dohosan or wanted to drop him in a holding cell and forget to file the paperwork.

“Feel free to explain,” Zach said. “Why did you do this, and how did you do it? If the FBI is being careless and allowing shamans to eavesdrop, we need to warn them that they’re compromising investigations.”

Art was happy Zach was moving away from the why and back into the law-enforcement relevant parts. He was much more comfortable talking about the operational security of FBI investigations than he was discussing Native shamanism.

Dohosan’s grin grew larger. “I am sure that whoever found out what they were doing used entirely mundane means, and those means are not available to anyone else.”

“Except you,” Art said dryly.

“Except the hypothetical person who called in the tip.” Dohosan added air quotes around hypothetical. “But seriously, don’t worry about it. I’m sure that person is chaotic good all the way, so if they sometimes stir the pot, it’s all to serve the goal of improving the world.”

Art gritted his teeth, his emotions coming down on the side of dropping Dohosan in a holding cell.

Dohosan turned to Zach and poked his thumb in Art’s direction. “Is he always this much fun?”

“When the law gets broken, usually.” Zach nodded.

“Oh, well technically I’m pretty sure actual laws didn’t get broken.” He grimaced. “Maybe. But that is not as important as getting the FBI to realize that they can’t come in here and ride roughshod over our community. The new council isn’t going to look the other way while the rights of our people get stepped on. Shamans, adepts, and magic users will all get legal protection as well as community services from us. According to a certain medicine woman who sends her thanks, it’s time for the community to get its shit together and stop the infighting.”

“You’re abusing the law,” Art said.

“I dare you to tell my medicine woman that she’s wrong. You’ll come away from that argument with bloody nubs where you used to have fingers, and that’s if she likes you,” Dohosan waved his fingers in the air in Art’s direction before he turned to Zach. “And the community owes you a big ‘thank you.’ So thank you.”

Zach frowned. “Me? I didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly,” Dohosan said firmly. “That’s what I’m thanking you for. Considering how often powerful white folks like charging into the middle of shit with all their good intentions, I appreciate that you are not a chip off the old racial stereotype. After dealing with those FBI idiots, I needed someone to remind me that I don’t have the right to lump all white people together. Some days I’m in real danger of becoming a racist asshole.”

Zach looked to Art, but he didn’t have any explanation for Dohosan’s behavior. At this point, Art was starting to worry the man might be having a psychotic break. Zach looked at Dohosan. “Excuse me?”

“The other thing my medicine woman told me was that she can see guides that are from the other spirit worlds. She said your hummingbird has caused more than his share of trouble in the past. So the fact that you’re not using his power to push some agenda—it says a lot about who you are as a person.” Dohosan held out his hand toward Zach. The man looked shell-shocked and Art suspected the politeness made him take Dohosan’s hand. They shook and Dohosan slapped Zach on the shoulder before he turned to Art. “You got a good one. And if you two need any help with whatever weirdness you have going on, you can call on me. I’ll help any way I can, even if that’s only to pass a message on to my medicine woman.”

After dropping his verbal napalm, Dohosan started whistling and headed out the door. As the interview room door fell closed, Art looked at Zach. Neither of them said anything for long seconds.

“That was… unexpected,” Zach finally said.

“Yeah. Unexpected.”

Art really needed to go find a thesaurus because he needed a better word to describe the experience, and off the top of his head, he couldn’t come up with anything that even approached the sheer magnitude of world-shifting reality he had just suffered. Apparently Zach’s guide was a little less secret than they thought. And apparently the ifrit who had reappeared had more allies than they knew. Damn. Art definitely called this unexpected.

Chapter 1: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-6-19034447 

Chapter 2: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-2-19050307 

Chapter 3: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-3-19066252 

Chapter 4: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-4-19087127 

Chapter 5: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-5-19132901 

Chapter 6: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-six-19159661 

Chapter 7: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-7-19179823 

Chapter 8: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-8-19190078 

Chapter 9: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-9-19201497 

Chapter 10: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-10-19220764 

Chapter 11, 12: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-11-19228890 

Chapter 13, 14: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-13-19244456 

Chapter 15: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-15-19264338 

Chapter 16, 17: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-16-19276375 

Chapter 18, 19: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-18-19290091 

Chapter 20: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-20-19301548