Hidden Heritage

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Authors: Charlotte Hinger
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shirt pocket for the pipe he had left in the car. “I don’t think a regional center is a workable idea, Dimon. Anything else you want to discuss with us?”
    Dimon stared at Sam. The silence went on too long. Then he abruptly stood up. “Only that I want one or both of you at the Diaz funeral tomorrow. I don’t want to waste valuable time and money sending one of our agents out there. Fax me a full report in the evening.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Dimon shot Sam a withering look.
    â€œI want to know who attends and if you notice anything strange.”
    â€œAll funerals are strange. My point is that Lottie and I would stick out like a sore thumb. We don’t know anyone in the family. So we couldn’t tell you if anyone is there who looks out of place. And some folks show up at every funeral. Just to see how the family is taking it.”
    I groaned inwardly, knowing who would be doing this. If for no other reason that I would have to send the information using the historical society’s fax machine.
    â€œAnd I want a copy of the feedyard’s schedule for six weeks before Victor’s murder. Today, if you can get there before it closes.”
    Sam nodded.
    We all formally shook hands. As though everything was just dandy. But intuitively, I knew Dimon thought it was time for Sam to go in another way.
    ***
    I kept my eyes on the road and drove five miles over the speed limit. “Mind telling me what that was all about? What was not personal?”
    Sam reached for his pipe. I didn’t stop him. Putting up with a little secondary smoke seemed a small price to pay for his acceptance of me as an equal.
    He took his time tamping the tobacco, then shook out the match. “Dimon doesn’t trust me to run a county the way he thinks it should be run. Happened before your time here. Gave him a black eye with the immigration folks. Ever hear of proxy marriage?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell, Kansas is one of the five states that allow them. A couple of men at the feedyard were from El Salvador and tried to rescue two women who were undergoing abuse in their own country. On two separate occasions, they smuggled the women in on trucks and sent them on to Denver. The weddings had already taken place by proxy and the women could legally stay in the country because they were married to a United States citizen.”
    â€œWow!”
    â€œIt happened twice before I found out about it. I shut it down immediately. Dwayne Weston was beside himself when he learned what was going on.”
    â€œI’ll bet he was.”
    â€œProblem was, Dimon blew sky high that it had ever happened in the first place. Proxy marriages aren’t supposed to be fake. It’s illegal to bring immigrants into this county under a ruse.”
    â€œWas money involved?”
    â€œOh, hell no. The women got good jobs and got a divorce—if they wanted to—in good time. But Dimon hasn’t trusted me ever since.”
    â€œSo that explains your grilling Weston about the legality of his employees.”
    â€œYup. He told me it would never happen again. Just wanted to make sure.”
    â€œI’ll drop you off and head on out to the feedyard and fax the info to Dimon,” I said finally. “And attend the funeral tomorrow. It’s only fair since you are going to be on duty this entire weekend.”
    We finished the trip in gloomy silence.
    ***
    I drove directly to the feedyard. Dwayne was in the office. He looked up from the phone and waved at me to take a seat when I walked into the room.
    â€œNo!” he yelled at the caller. “Goddamn it. I need you in Wyoming Thursday.” He slammed down the phone. “Damn drivers. Claims he needs off to take care of a home problem. He wouldn’t have so many home problems if he went there at the end of his run instead of trying to keep up with two women.”
    I raised an eyebrow.
    â€˜Sorry, Lottie. What can I do for

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