Stone Cross (Arliss Cutter #2) - Marc Cameron Page 0,50

tattoos?”

Lola shot a sideways glance at Jasper, who chuckled. “She’s not interested in any of your real ink,” he said. “Troopers sometimes bring the kids gum or temporary tattoos.”

“And candy,” the other girl said, covering her mouth to stifle a giggle. “I joke!”

The VPSO took on a serious tone. “Do you ladies have permission to be out of class?”

Both girls looked at him, eyebrows raised on high foreheads.

“Okay then,” he said. “Hurry along with your business and then get back to class.”

“Why didn’t they answer you?” Markham’s law clerk asked.

“They did.” Jasper raised his own eyebrows, exaggerated to illustrate his point. “That means yes. Lots of talkin’ goes on without words, if you know what I mean.”

Jasper led them past two open classroom doors on the way to the library. Markham stopped at the second door, standing in the hall to listen, so everyone else stopped too.

A white woman wearing a lilac kuspuk and faded jeans was in the middle of a lecture to a class of ten or so high school students, most of them girls. She was tall, in her twenties, but with a silver streak in her dark hair.

“. . . statistics and averages,” the teacher said. “Both can be deceiving if we don’t look at all the data. Let’s suppose we have a group of one hundred caribou. Of this group, fifty are bulls and fifty are cows. That means that the total number of testicles in the group is . . . ?”

A couple of the girls giggled. The boys in the back of the classroom squirmed.

“One hundred,” a girl on the front row said.

“Correct,” the teacher said. “One hundred. One hundred caribou, one hundred testicles. A statistician who was only acquainted with math and not caribou biology might conclude with this limited information that each caribou had one testicle . . .”

Lola gave Cutter a nudge in the ribs. “Bet they remember this lecture.”

Jasper grinned at the rest of the group, like he was proud. “My wife is the counselor here. She says Aften Brooks is a heck of a good teacher. She has a real connection with the students, knows what makes them tick.”

The group picked up their bags and continued toward the library.

Cutter started to quiz the VPSO about Daisy Aguthluk some more, but Judge Markham picked up his pace to walk beside them.

“Mr. Jasper,” he said. “You mentioned honey buckets earlier. I was under the impression that Stone Cross received a federal grant two years ago. Everyone should have running water and indoor plumbing now.”

“That’s right, Judge,” the VPSO said. “Everyone should. But they don’t. If you look at the grant paperwork, it clearly states that the toilets were all installed, one in each dwelling. The thing is, there’s no place in that documentation to mention that half of those toilets are hooked up to a septic system that doesn’t work unless the temperature is above freezing and we aren’t getting any rain. The data clearly shows that the US government has helped us Natives out with brand-new toilets. The folks in DC and Anchorage get to feel better about themselves.”

“Everybody gets one testicle,” Lola said. “Even if it doesn’t work.”

Melvin Red Fox gave a sad chuckle. “Yep.”

Judge Markham looked down at his shoes as they walked, deep in thought. Cutter generally didn’t much care for his royal attitude, but it was hard not to respect a guy who was so focused on his job. Depending on who oversaw the federal grant, all this information could have a direct bearing on the arbitration.

They dropped their bags with the librarian before retracing their steps back to the office to check in with the principal. Lola carried her rifle case over her shoulder rather than leaving it behind. The M4 had a short barrel and the triangular case resembled something that might hold a tennis racket rather than a weapon.

Birdie Pingayak was still in her office, seated beside her desk instead of behind it. Her hands were folded quietly in her lap as she addressed a bony little Yup’ik boy who Cutter guessed was maybe nine or ten years old. The boy’s eyes were red and swollen. Every few seconds his little shoulders shuddered, remnants of a sobbing cry.

The protective operation briefing sheet said Birdie’s real name was Bertha Pingayak, leading Cutter to expect someone older. He guessed this Birdie to be in her thirties. She was slim, with black shoulder-length hair, straight and parted in the middle. Cutter had never been a