The Tale Teller

by Anne Hillerman

  “Speaking of movies, what did you think about Darleen’s information?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The pornography.”

  “What? What is Darleen up to now?”

  “No, not Darleen. Ryana,” Bernie explained. “Darleen sent you the link. I’m heading back to the office. Agent Johnson wants another interview about the body, but we’re doing it here. Speaking of interviews, I tracked down the guy who tried to sell Mr. Natachi his own bolo.”

  “You solved the case, and now you tell me?”

  “I wish, but no. The guy who had the bolo at the flea told me the same man-at-Walmart story he told Mr. Natachi.”

  “Did the guy who sold the bolo look like a handsome six-foot, forty-something white guy with gold earrings?”

  “Nope. A shortish, younger, kinda chubby Navajo in a new shirt. I’ll send you the full description in case you run into him out there.” She laughed when she said it.

  When Bernie got back to the substation, Sandra was full of news.

  “Bigman says the missus is cleaning everything in the house. When my sister started her cleaning binge, the baby came two days later.” Sandra looked at her manicured nails. “And the rookie is back on duty tomorrow. His eye still looks terrible, swollen, black and blue. I told him he should wear a patch like a pirate. I’m glad he’s better. It makes things easier for the rest of you guys.”

  “Did he say anything about the meeting with the Lieutenant?” Bernie knew that Sandra knew everything that happened at the substation.

  “He said, ‘Some old guy came up from Window Rock to tell me how to be a policeman.’ As if he didn’t know who the Lieutenant was. He should have been honored, but he just doesn’t get it. I cleaned up the interview room for them so you and Agent Johnson should use it.”

  “Have you met her?”

  Sandra nodded. “When she first got the position, she stopped by to introduce herself to the captain, and I happened to be here. We said hello. That’s about it. After she left, the rookie made some snarky comment and Largo shot him a look to shut him down.”

  Bernie found her notes from the running trail and gave them a quick review before Sandra buzzed to let her know that Johnson had arrived. Right on time, too.

  Bernie led the way to the interview room. “Would you like coffee, a soda, some water?”

  “A soda would be good. Something with sugar and caffeine.”

  Bernie smiled. That was always her choice, too. “We’ve got Coke and Mountain Dew.”

  “Mountain Dew.”

  When she returned with the canned sodas, Agent Johnson had taken a seat and placed a folder on the desk. Bernie sat across from her and handed Johnson her drink.

  Johnson lifted the pull tab and took a long sip. “Thank you for meeting with me today. I needed to follow up on a few of your observations based on what the crime scene investigators found. I am especially interested in the people you encountered when you first entered the trail, before you saw the body.”

  Bernie opened her notebook and found the information. “I saw a woman with a blond ponytail and a small dog climbing into a car, a jeep or something. Then there was a sweaty, heavyset Navajo man, close to six feet tall. Maybe fifty-five, around there anyway. He wore jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt, white. He was standing slightly hunched with his hands on his knees at the trailhead. His index finger on his right hand was missing. I saw a man I later interviewed, Ed Summersly.”

  “Back up to the sweaty guy. Did you notice that man’s shoes?”

  Bernie thought about it. “They were dirty, covered with dust as though he had been walking on a sand road.” She paused. “Or had climbed up the sandy bank to the trail from the river.”

  “Did you see where he went after you left?”

  “He was still standing there when I started on my run. I assumed the man had been catching his breath or vomiting.”

  Johnson had been making notes, and she looked up. “Did you check on him?”

  “No.” Bernie read an implication in the question. “Are you a runner, Agent Johnson?”

  “No.”

  “On a hot day, if a person has done some serious exertion, it’s not unusual to get nauseated. I figured that’s what happened. Is this man important?”

  “Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

  “Yes.” She smiled at Johnson. “I’ve been looking for him, but so far no luck. If I keep answering your questions, will you answer mine?”

  Johnson smiled back. “We think the man you saw may be tied to the body, may have brought it up from the river. That might be why he was sweaty and vomiting.”

  And, Bernie deduced, he also may have been the murderer or the killer’s accomplice.

  “Did you see anyone else with sandy shoes?”

  Bernie considered the scene again. “No.” The purpose of abandoning the dog with the body grew clearer. “So the dog was extra insurance so someone would eventually find the dead guy.”

  Bernie remembered Bigman’s comment. “I heard that the victim might have a personal link to you.”

  “You brought this up before. Why?”

  “I understand that you called the victim by name. That seems to point to dumping the body in a place that would command the attention of the agent in charge.”

  Johnson pressed her lips together to form a pale, bloodless line. Bernie could see her thinking. “When you first found the body, did you do any investigation down toward the river?”

  Bernie had already spoken to this. “No.”

  “Did you hear any boats or see any boaters?”

  “I didn’t. What happened to the dog?”

  “It’s in custody. Officer Bigman took charge of it, took it home the first night, and it’s now in detention in Fort Defiance.”

  Bernie pictured Mrs. Bigman’s reaction. A visiting dog is probably not what you dream of with a baby arriving around the next corner. Maybe Bigman smoothed it over by offering her some watermelon.

  Johnson said, “I talked him into it. It was late, we all were tired, and I needed to make sure the animal was safe until we determined why it was there.”

  “Did the dog have a microchip?”

  “It was chipless.”

  “So, who was the dead guy?”

  “You ask a lot of questions, officer.”

  “I want to know about the crime, the victim, and why he was killed. He’s the first dead person I ever found on a jogging trail.” She hadn’t meant it to be funny, but Johnson chuckled.

  “You’ve given me another reason to stick to swimming.” Johnson looked at the Mountain Dew can. “The agency will release the victim’s name tomorrow. But he wasn’t Navajo and he didn’t live close by. You found a guy from Kansas who got involved with some bad juju on the West Coast. The Bureau persuaded him to give up his gang associates in exchange for a new start. Michael could have stayed in our protection program, but he missed his old life.” Johnson sipped the soda. “Let’s wrap this up.”

  They went over Bernie’s answers, and she recalled that the suspicious man had some sort of tattoo, or maybe it was a thin band, on his wrist. Other than that, she couldn’t think of more to add.

  Johnson thanked her. “I want to mention something else. Sergeant Chee asked me to meet with him about an officer named Wilson Sam. Is he the man who worked with us when that young girl was taken hostage, or pretended to be a hostage?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I told Chee I’d call him on this. I’ve been putting it off. Can you give me his cell number?” Bernie thought she saw a touch of worry on Johnson’s face.

  She told the agent the number and Johnson put it in her phone. She looked at the empty soda can, then picked it up, crushed it, and tossed it in the wastebasket. A perfect throw.

  Bernie watched. “Nice.”

  Johnson smiled. “That was an easy shot. I was on the team in high school and played for fun after that. How about you? You play basketball?”

&nbs
p; “Our Lady Chieftains got to the regionals before we went home. I wasn’t exactly indispensable on the court in high school, but I had my moments.”

  “How are the college teams out here in desert country?”

  “The Lobos can be good, but you have to go to Albuquerque. Watching the high school ball is fun.” Bernie thought about saying they ought to go to a game together when the season started up again. But she didn’t.

  After the agent left, Bernie drove out to a call about shoplifting at the old Toadlena Trading Post and, after she took the report, decided to swing by Ryana’s aunt’s place to see if the young woman was there. Her cell phone buzzed.

  “Hey there.” Chee sounded tired. “I need your help. And don’t worry, Largo has already approved it.”

  “Darn, I was hoping it was something personal. You know, like getting a bag of charcoal so you could grill some of your burgers for dinner. Or even more personal than that.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart. This is police work. But I’ll make it up to you.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Two things. Ryana’s ignoring my calls and I need to talk to her about the shooting. I think she might have gone back to her aunt’s house.”

  “Largo mentioned that, too. I’m headed over that way.”

  “Secondly, can you send me the information that Darleen found?”

  Bernie knew both her sister and cell service in Mama’s area were unreliable. “Sure, but not until I get a better signal. Do you think it ties in to the burglaries?”

  “Maybe. Ryana asked me for two thousand dollars. I think she’s being blackmailed. That might give her a motive to steal.”

  “Are you sure she wasn’t joking about the money?”

  “The more I learn about this, the less sure I am of anything.”

  Bernie had to drive by Mama’s house to reach the auntie’s place, so she stopped there first. Her mother was in the kitchen, washing some radishes, another of those vegetables Bernie never ate unless Mama made her.

  “Daughter, I’m glad to see you.” Mama dried her hands as she spoke. “Stay for dinner. Look at these. Beautiful, aren’t they?”

  “I can’t stay, Mama. I have to go down the street to look for Ryana. But I need to tell you something first.”

  “What?”

  Bernie hesitated. “Mr. Natachi got shot at his house in Chinle. He’s in the hospital. The police are looking for the ones who did it.”

  Mama didn’t speak for a while. Then she said, “Ryana came back here. I waved at her, but she didn’t wave back. She was driving fast.”

  Bernie put herself in the mind of the young woman. Her grandfather is abducted and shot. She tells a law officer it’s her fault. She flees, even though she’s clearly devoted to the old man. It added up to big trouble.

  Mama watched her think. “Your sister walked over to talk to her. Her auntie isn’t home yet.”

  “I’m going down there. I’ll stop by later.”

  Mama frowned. “If the granddaughter is afraid of something, I don’t want your sister to get involved. Tell that girl I need her to help me right now. And you be careful.”

  Bernie could have walked, but not knowing what to expect, she took the police unit.

  The front door stood open, and Bernie saw the girls sitting at the dining table. She walked right in. “Hi there, you two.” Ryana looked pale, nervous.

  Darleen smiled as she spoke. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

  “Sister, Mama needs you to help with supper. She sounded serious about it, so you should go now.”

  Darleen, who liked to argue, didn’t. “Take care, Ryana. See you later.”

  “Thanks for coming by.” Ryana rested her chin in her hands. “I really needed someone to talk to.”

  Bernie sat next to the young woman in a spot where she could see out the window. Ryana had dark circles under her eyes and wore no makeup. She seemed exhausted.

  “I heard about your grandfather. I’m sorry that happened.”

  Ryana stared straight ahead.

  “The officer who talked to you, Sergeant Chee, asked me to find you. He wanted me to make sure you were safe.”

  Bernie noticed Ryana’s silent tears.

  “Whatever it is you’re afraid of, Chee and I can help. But we have to know where to start.”

  Ryana glanced at Bernie’s uniform. “I wanted to kill myself, you know, when I came back to Chinle. There was nothing there for me except my grandfather. But then I got that job working with the elderlies and that really helped. And I met Nicky, and he made me feel better. He didn’t ask about my past, he accepted me as I am now. But lately . . . everything started going bad again.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nicky left. Just took his computers and the dog and poof.” She raised both arms like a conductor. “And this morning, my grandfather almost died. It was my fault. I’m doing the best I can, but I can’t undo the past.”

  Bernie wasn’t sure what that meant. “You can’t change the past. But if you could, what would you change? I mean besides your grandfather getting shot.”

  “That’s easy. When I got that letter, asking me for money and threatening to tell my grandfather about the movies, I would have talked to my shicheii. Told him everything.”

  “What letter?”

  The sound of a car on the road distracted them. A new large white SUV pulled into the driveway. A man in a suit strutted to the door, another man behind him. They were either FBI, Bernie thought, or former military. In any case, they brought bad news for Ryana. She was glad she wore her uniform and had her weapon.

  She turned to Ryana. “Do you know these guys?”

  “No.”

  Bernie rose to meet them. She relaxed a little when she recognized one of the men as Berke, the FBI agent who had been with the ERT where she’d found the body.

  The men showed her their credentials; then Berke stepped toward the young woman. “Are you Ryana Florez?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that tan sedan yours?”

  “No.”

  “Then why is it here?” Berke seemed to notice Bernie for the first time. “And why are you here, Manuelito?”

  “This is my neighborhood.”

  “I thought you lived near the trail where you found that body.”

  “I do. That’s my neighborhood, too.”

  Berke made a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “So it’s just coincidence that you found Ryana?”

  “My mother noticed her drive up and I came by to say hi. And you guys, why are you curious about the car?”

  Ryana’s voice had a touch of whine. “Did Nicky file a stolen car complaint or something? Is that why you’re here? I just borrowed the car. No big deal.”

  Bernie knew it would take more than a boyfriend’s call about a missing vehicle to bring federal agents to a quiet little house on the reservation. “Why don’t you two sit down.” Bernie pointed to the empty chairs at the table. “It might be easier to ask your questions.”

  Berke sat, and the act made him less intimidating. The other man stayed by the front door.

  Ryana picked at a cuticle. She looked guilty of something, even if it was only being young and scared. “Can Bernie stay?”

  Berke turned away from the young woman and gave Bernie an I-dare-you look.

  Bernie leaned toward him. “I’ll stay.”

  “Just a few little questions.” He turned to Ryana. “Why you are driving the sedan parked outside here?”

  “I don’t have a car, so Nicky lets me drive his.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I don’t know.” Ryana looked at Bernie. “When I got home from work a few days ago, he was gone.”

  Berke seemed to know that the two of them lived together; he didn’t ask about that. “When was that exactly?”

  “Thursday.”

  “Why would he take off without his car?”

&n
bsp; Ryana exhaled. “I think he has a girlfriend who picked him up.”

  “Why do you suppose that?”

  Ryana gave the classic examples: phone conversations purposely moved out of her hearing, computers closed, and text messages hidden when she approached. “He wouldn’t talk about any of this when I brought it up. He seemed distant, distracted. He wasn’t affectionate.”

  “Did you two have an argument?”

  “No. He clammed up. Since he wouldn’t explain what was going on, I assumed there was another girl. Now I’ve been wondering if Nicky had money troubles or maybe got diagnosed with a bad disease. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t tell me. Then he was gone.”

  “Other than this mystery woman, did you notice any new friends?”

  Bernie caught the sarcasm in Berke’s question.

  Ryana shook her head. “No new friends. Nicky kept to himself. Worked at home on his computers.”

  “Was he involved with drugs?”

  “No. No drinking either, at least not around me.”

  Berke made a note. “Do you know where he went?”

  “No. He hasn’t even called me. I can’t decide if he’s a jerk or if I should be worried about him.”

  “Tell me again why you have the car out there.”

  “I borrowed it to drive here to talk to my auntie. I needed some space to think. She’s always a good one when I’m worried.”

  Bernie would have asked, Think about what? Worried about what? but Berke took a different tack.

  The agent gave Ryana a cold smile. “You do seem worried, maybe a little nervous? I think it’s because of whatever is out there in that car.”

  Ryana’s chin quivered and she blinked away the tears. She looked at Bernie.

  “Agent Berke, someone gravely injured this woman’s grandfather recently and she helped get him to the hospital, where he’s fighting for his life.” Bernie stopped to let her words sink in. “Even without her boyfriend disappearing, Ryana’s reaction is understandable.”

  Berke looked surprised. “I’m sorry about your grandfather. Did the shooting have any connection to your boyfriend’s car?”

  Ryana stared at the floor.

  “I’d like you to unlock it and open the trunk for us.” Berke motioned to his partner, who left the house and returned a few minutes later with a legal-sized brown envelope.