Die a Stranger by Steve Hamilton Page B

up, dude?”
    The voice came from behind me. I turned around, blinking in the sunlight. I couldn’t make out where the voice was coming from.
    “Right here, man! In the hot tub.”
    I went up to the back deck. I hadn’t noticed the hot tub the last time around, but here it was. It was big enough for four people at least, about seven-by-seven, and as the man turned a dial the water came to life and started bubbling away like a cauldron. Why you’d need to soak in hot water on one of the few warm days of the year, or for that matter how Buck could drive around in a rolling junk heap and still find a way to buy a hot tub. Yet more of life’s mysteries, but whatever. The man in the water was vaguely familiar in the way all faces here were vaguely familiar, from seeing him in the casino or at the Cozy or just walking down the road. But he definitely wasn’t the man I was looking for.
    “Sorry to bother you,” I said. “I’m looking for Buck.”
    “Bucky’s not here right now. I just came over to use the tub.”
    “I see. Do you know when he’ll be back?”
    “No, man, he’s been gone a couple of days.”
    “Wait a minute,” I said. “I was here yesterday and he had a sweat going out back.”
    “Nah, that wasn’t him. That was me and a couple other guys. He lets us use all his stuff, even when he’s not around.”
    The true Indian way, I thought. And as I looked around the rest of the back deck, I saw beer cans and pizza boxes and wadded-up empty potato-chip bags. It looked like the whole neighborhood had been using the back deck as Party Central.
    “How long did you say he’s been gone? Two days?”
    “About that, yeah.”
    “Hasn’t anybody been looking for him? From work or something?”
    “No, not really. He was working at the casino for a little while. But then he was at the gas station. I’m not sure he really has a job at the moment. He kinda takes the summer off usually.”
    This part of the story was starting to make sense to me. A man like Vinnie, with a steady job, a steady life … If he disappears, people notice right away. But a man like Buck, who’s apparently floating in his own little boat with the motor turned off … No, he’s not gonna have people looking all over for him. Not for a while, anyway.
    “He’ll be back eventually,” the man said. “Can I give him a message or something?”
    “You really have no idea where he could be right now?”
    “Not really. Like I said, if you want to leave a message…”
    “No, that’s all right. Thanks for your time.”
    I was about to step off the deck. Then I stopped.
    “Wait a minute,” I said. “What’s Buck’s last name, anyway? Is it LeBlanc?”
    “No, it’s Carrick.”
    “And Buck is his real first name?”
    “Buck or Bucky. Take your pick.”
    I wasn’t sure if that really answered my question, but I let it go. As I went back around to my truck, I ran through everything I knew about Buck. It wasn’t much. I hadn’t even known his last name until a few seconds earlier.
    He was bigger than Vinnie. He had that not-really-fat but barrel-chested body you see in a lot of men on the reservation. Usually when they’re more middle-aged, but I imagine Buck was that size when he was a teenager. Beyond that, I knew he lived by himself here, and that this house was sort of the local hangout for guys around his age. Buck was the kind of guy who’d make his sweat lodge a work of perfection, but I’m sure his kitchen would qualify as a toxic-waste site. I remembered seeing him drive around Brimley in that beat-up old car, probably unregistered.
    A good guy. A fun guy. A guy you’d love to hang around with even if he wasn’t your cousin. That was Buck. But at the same time, I had to figure he was probably broke most of the time. If he did lay his hands on some money, he’d obviously blow it on something impractical like a hot tub. Either way, he’d be the guy who’d come in your door and sit down at your kitchen table and