usually a shortfall in that category, which is why we’re always looking for money.
“Back when I was a kid, diabetes was one of the biggest concerns in the Native American community. As part of the research, I remember a team of people showing up at my elementary school and asking for all the kids to leave urine samples. Even though the adults were dead serious about it, we kids thought it was hilarious that we all had to pee in bottles. I don’t think it’s funny anymore, and we’re using that diabetes research as a model. We’re sending teams of people out to schools and churches on reservations, to tribal council meetings, dances, and rodeos, to collect as many cheek swabs as possible. Those samples are what we use to create profiles that we’re adding to DNA databases across the country. And you know what? It’s working. So far we’ve been instrumental in solving several long-cold cases. We’ve used familial DNA taken from kids who are currently attending grade school to locate perpetrators in homicides that happened decades before those kids were even born.”
Damn. Loretta Hawk was a cagey woman all right, and she had just nailed me square in the sweet spot. When it comes to my personal hot button, tempting me with solving cold cases does the job.
“Where do I sign up?” I asked.
“Sign up?”
“You’ll take my Amex, won’t you, or do I need to write out a check?”
“Amex would work,” Loretta said. “How much do you have in mind?”
“Ten for starters,” I said.
“Ten dollars?” she asked with a disappointed frown.
“I meant ten thousand.”
“Whoa,” she said, brightening. “Heap big wampum indeed!”
I briefly considered cracking a joke about spending money like a drunken Indian, but I didn’t. It was okay for Loretta to be politically incorrect, but I doubted that was a two-way street. Instead I pulled out my Platinum Card and handed it over. It took a few minutes and a call to the Amex concierge desk to make sure all was in order. When we finished the transaction and I stood up to leave, Loretta reached across her desk and gathered my assortment of plastic bags.
“How soon would you like your profiles?” she asked.
“As soon as possible.”
“It figures,” she said. “Anglos are always in a rush. I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of Indian time.”
“Never,” I admitted.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll do these on white-man time, and I’ll call you as soon as they’re ready.”
Chapter 18
LEAVING COLUMBIA CITY THAT AFTERNOON, I REALLY WAS on a roll. There was enough good news out there that I was prepared to go straight back home and share some of it with Alan Dale. I hit northbound traffic just south of the I-90 interchange, and that’s when my phone rang. The notice on my sound system’s screen told me Mel was calling.
“Hey,” I said, pushing the button that allowed me to answer hands-free. “Are you about to head out?”
“I wish,” she said regretfully. “A couple of lamebrains staged an attempted bank robbery in downtown Bellingham this afternoon and then made a run for the Canadian border. In the process they wiped out several parked vehicles, hit a poor woman in a crosswalk—who may or may not make it—and then took out a dozen cars when the state patrol tried to stop them on northbound I-5.”
“So we’re talking multiple incidents with multiple responding agencies.”
“You got it,” she said. “My media-relations officer should be able to handle this, but the mayor wants me on hand in case there’s any blowback. . . .”
“And whatever the mayor wants, he gets.”
“Exactly,” Mel replied.
I think both Mel and I had been surprised to learn how little of Mel’s job as chief had to do with actual police work and how much of it had to do with politics.
“So I’m stuck here for the time being,” she said. “I may be able to come down tomorrow morning, but then again maybe not. I’ll have to let you know. How are things with you?”
She was in a spot where she needed some good news, and so I delivered. “White-man time?” Mel giggled when I finished telling her about my new and very politically incorrect, self-identified “Indian” friend. “Loretta Hawk sounds like a kick. I think I’d like to meet her.”
“I think you two would hit it off, and based on our ability to make contributions I’m pretty sure that can be arranged.”
“As in pay for play?” she asked.
Those precise words made me think of Jasmine Day, and it