LITMIR.BIZ

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didn’t have the band completely on side.

      “Guys, enough. Meg’s good people,” Frosty interjected. “Look here, Eric says mines use lots of equipment. Whadda we know about equipment? Nothing. Besides, who wants to work miles underground. Not us! It’s not our peoples’ way. We’re the Migiskan Anishinabeg.”

      A few nods and thumps in agreement.

      “And who knows what it’ll do to our water?” another voice supplied. “Look what happened to the Kiwatin Band at Great Owl Lake. Eric says some kinda mining chemical got into the water. Almost wiped them out. Hell, no way we want that.”

      Several “Yeah, no way”, “Not here” responses.

      “Cut the crap, eh?” butted in Charlie’s mouthpiece. “You know that’s just talk Eric’s using to get us against the mine.”

      “Yeah, that’s right,” chimed in another. “Charlie says watch out for Eric. He gonna do whatever he can to make sure Charlie don’t win, that’s for sure.”

      “You sayin’ Eric’s lyin’?” came a challenge from the end of the counter.

      “You bet he’s lying,” wheezed a gravelly voice behind me. I jerked around to see a large, heavy-set man striding towards me. He reminded me of a bull moose in rut, with his stomach and low-slung face thrust out in front and his black eyes signalling a challenge. The only missing item was antlers. I shrank into my chair, but he stopped directly in front of me and stared down. I smelt stale smoke with a hint of wintergreen on his breath. A long black and white feather tied to his braid fell to his shoulder.

      I slid out of my chair and stood up, well out of range of the breath. “Hi, I’m Meg Harris. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” I said in my best city manners, not sure what else to do.

      “Yeah, figured,” was the response. He brushed past me and continued on to the counter. The men opened a path, then closed behind him. For a second, his fringed jacket looked almost yellow under the bright fluorescent lights, then it faded to the soft gold of new buckskin. Thinking this guy wouldn’t be above pushing a tree onto someone, I checked the colour again, but was forced to admit the yellow I saw on Whispers Island was a brilliant artificial yellow, not this natural colour.

      “Hi doll, gimme some of your best.” He punctuated this with a coarse brittle laugh.

      “Sure, Charlie,” Hélène replied. “Whatever you want.”

      So that was Charlie. Now that I saw him, I liked him even less. I guessed my friend Frosty wasn’t too keen on him either. He tossed Hélène some coins and, with a final nod to me, left the store. A few of the other men, including the hockey players, followed. The rest crowded around Charlie.

      I decided to check out Marie’s movie mags. Anything would be better than having to endure the barbs coming from the coffee counter. I’d be glad when people finally accepted my white face.

      It was 5:15 pm. I was surprised Marie hadn’t yet arrived, but then maybe I shouldn’t be. If she was working at one of the houses on the other side of Three Deer Point, it could take her almost an hour to walk here. Particularly since Louis was in the bush and couldn’t drive her. I decided to wait another half-hour. If she hadn’t come by then, I’d drive to her place.

      The drone continued from the back of the store. Although I couldn’t make out actual words, I was certain the main speaker was Charlie, with his distinctive raspy voice.

      After about ten minutes, the group slammed their chairs on the floor and shuffled out of the store, but not before Charlie hissed from the door, “Lady, you and that traitor Eric better not screw up this deal.”

      I stood rooted to the floor, staring at his retreating back. As the full force of his threatening tone sunk in, that too familiar shiver of dread washed over me, leaving me with an icy pit in my stomach.

      “Hey, Meg, you forgot to pay for your coffee.” Hélène’s voice jolted me back to the present.

      What was I doing? Get a hold of yourself. He’s not Gareth. Don’t let him treat you like that.

      I raced out of the store after Charlie, with Hélène shouting behind me. He was climbing into an enormous red Yukon that glimmered new in the store lights. I ran towards him. He slammed the door and started the engine. By the time I reached the spot where the truck had been, it was peeling onto the main road. I was left in a cloud of sputtering dust and the memory of Charlie’s moose grin leering at me through the window.

      “You owe me two bucks,” Hélène said close behind me. I turned around to find her towering over me. I don’t consider myself short, but whenever I stood next to Hélène I felt like a midget.

      “He got you going, eh? Pay him no mind. All bellow, no action,” she continued. “You want me to put it on your tab?”

      “Yeah, sure,” I replied and started for my pickup, but stopped when I remembered Marie. I peered through the growing darkness. But without streetlights, it was impossible to tell if she was nearby. The bouncing lights of Charlie’s truck lit up a group of people walking towards the Rec Centre. I could hear voices coming from the church cemetery across the street, but they sounded more male than female.

      Determined to wait, I returned to the now empty coffee bar and grabbed a stool by the counter. Hélène positioned herself back on her perch. While the harsh overhead light cast her sequined sweatshirt in a glittering glow, it only emphasized the acne ruin of her face. It was a shame. Otherwise, with her model-like figure, she’d be an attractive woman. Though I didn’t think the scars were the cause of her unmarried state. More likely it was because she had little time to spare for romance. As far as I could tell, she spent every waking hour at the store.

      “That’s some nasty cut on your face. What happened?” Hélène asked.

      I touched it and shivered. “I fell.” I didn’t want to go into my near-death experience. I did, however, wonder if she could help me find the culprit. “You know most people around here,” I said. “Know anyone who wears a yellow jacket?”

      “Yellow jacket? Why you asking?”

      I did my best to come up with a quick answer. “Some guy wearing a yellow jacket almost drove me off the road.”

      “Yeah, lots of bad drivers around here.” Hélène laughed hoarsely. “I seen some yellow jackets, but can’t offhand remember who was in them.”

      “Could you let me know if you remember?”

      “Sure.” She swirled coffee into a china mug with the words Harrods printed in red and handed it to me. It looked as if I was back in her good books to be given the special mug.

      “Marie won’t show,” she said.

      “She told me she’d be here, she’ll be here. By the way, who’s Charlie?” I asked.

      “Charlie Cardinal.”

      “What’s he got against me?”

      “Simple. You’re a friend of Eric’s.”

      “He doesn’t seem to have much regard for Eric, does he?”

      Hélène snorted, took a deep drag on her cigarette and pushed it back out in a cloud. “Can’t say as I blame him.”

      “What did Eric do to him?”

      “Took his job.” Hélène began leafing through a well-thumbed travel magazine that was lying on the counter.

      “As band chief?”

      “Yup, by rights it’s Charlie’s. Will you look at this?” She held up a picture of some fabulous looking tropical island.

      “Maybe we could dye Echo Lake turquoise,” I suggested, then asked, “Was he running against Eric?”

      “Yeah, but that don’t mean nothing. Charlie’s our traditional chief. He’s Bear Clan. They been chiefs going

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