One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 19, page 2

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Detective Sétıpímo Marıdaré grumbled as he walked through the door to the visitors’ lobby, chewing on a wad of tobacco. Lawman Ruéshé, who had called him, stood in the center of the room with two men with the jumpsuits and slicked-back pompadours of Èmmwımwènhese. Sétıpímo couldn’t for the life of him figure out why these two needed his attention.

“What in Pétíso’s hells is going on, Ruéshé?” He spat into the glass bottle he carried with him.

The lawman took a step forward, disengaging the strangers from the conversation. “These two men are Union agents. Their badges check out. They’re here to take over the Zhudıro investigation.”

“This is gooseshit.” Sétıpímo fought the urge to spit on their polished black-leather shoes. “These two work for the Union? Dressed like Névo-brain zealots?”

The taller of the two Èmmwımwènhese--wearing sunglasses indoors--replied calmly, “These are merely disguises. I am Agent Sívıposomé from the Union Investigative Department. We have infiltrated a criminal gang, of which Zhudıro is but a small part. He’s just a runner. We need to catch him and confiscate whatever he may have been transporting. It’s vital to our mission.”

“Transporting”? Was that why Zhudıro sealed his auto’s trunk? It would also explain why he was so jumpy when Enforcer Sıvího stopped him, why he was so quick to pull the trigger. Sétıpímo spat tobacco juice into his bottle. I need to get that sedan’s trunk’s open. “You may assist us, but we’re conducting an active investigation and search in connection with the murder of a police officer. Your little crime ring of stolen goods is secondary.”

Through a clenched jaw, Agent Sívıposomé snapped, “Don’t mess with me, detective. You’ve getting into something way over your head. If you shut us out, it will be the end of your career. I promise you. If you help us, though, your name won’t go down on the list of the most obstructionist small-town policemen in history.”

Sétıpímo seethed. Jabbing a finger at the agent, he snarled, “This is my investigation, Ahísıhíta damn it. Quit wasting my time.”

He spun on his heel, heading back for the office door, planning to go straight to Zhudıro’s auto and bust open the trunk by any means necessary. The Union agent was just a Huro punk, offering nothing but threats.

“Wait a minute,” spoke the agent. “I was out of line.”

Sétıpímo paused and turned. He stared at Agent Sívıposomé, as did the other agent and Lawman Ruéshé. What brought about this sudden apology?

The slick agent shrugged. “We’re all on the same team here. I’ll give you all the background information I have on Zhudıro, and you can let me see what evidence you’ve collected.”

The detective harrumphed. If these guys had anything helpful, then perhaps he’d help them. But that seemed unlikely, since they’d come in as bossy as Nuvíní.

Sticking out his hand, Agent Sívıposomé asked, “Deal?”

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