“I’ll get him.”
Sakiestewa, a well-muscled man of average height, came to the counter in a few minutes. Leaphorn spoke a few words of Hopi in greeting, surprised that they came to him, then introduced himself and Louisa.
Sakiestewa looked startled, too.
“You speak pretty good for a Navajo.”
“Bean said you hepped Mary wid a box?”
“Who?”
Leaphorn turned to Louisa.
“Jim Bean, the postal inspector. A man with a booming voice.”
“Oh, right. About Mary and her package.” Sakiestewa was probably in his forties and wore his long dark hair in a single braid down his back. “I told the inspector that I helped her bring in her package, that I knew who she was because she’s been coming here for years. Is it against the law to be nice to someone?” He addressed the question to them both.
Louisa answered. “Sir, the world needs all the kindness it can find. I’m here because my friend was the one who received that box, and she had a question about something that was on the inventory list.”
“I don’t know anything about that. Ask Mary.” Sakiestewa turned away.
“We did.” Leaphorn noticed the customers waiting at the counter watching them. He lowered his voice. “Dat’s why we’re here.”
“You think I took it?”
Leaphorn left the question hanging, aware that the man knew the box had been tampered with.
“Did you?” Louisa asked.
“Are you a cop, too?”
“No, I’m a college professor.”
Sakiestewa grinned. “You remind me of my high school English teacher. Let’s go outside a minute.”
They moved through the big doors to the building’s front steps. Sakiestewa put his hands in his pockets. “Look, this was not a big deal. Mary told me that her boss put a worn-out old weaving in there and she thought nobody would want it and she didn’t like the idea that he could get embarrassed by giving away trash. She texted me to help carry the box because her boss lady was in the car and she couldn’t take the thing out with the missus seeing her. She knew we had tape here to reseal the package. I carried it in—it was heavy—and put it on that counter by the door. I turned it over, and she cut through the tape on the bottom. That old weaving was right there.
“Mary has a big purse, and she put the thing in it. I taped the box for her and took it to the counter to mail. That’s it.”
Louisa said, “What happened to the weaving?”
“Mary said she was going to take it home and put it back where her boss kept it.” Sakiestewa shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “That’s all I know. I’ve got to get back to work.”
Leaphorn took his notebook from his pocket, jotted something down, and handed it to the man. He read it, shook his head, gave back the note, and went inside.
“What was that?”
Leaphorn showed her what he had written: “Mary didn’t put it back. She is in big trouble.”
Louisa led the way back to the truck. “Joe, after all this time, can you tell when someone is lying?”
He shrugged. “Usely. I tink he tol da true.”
“It’s been a long day.” She gave him a tired smile. “I’m ready to get back to Flagstaff.”
“Sure ting.”
They shared the highway with large trucks, but the vacation traffic seemed lighter.
Louisa sighed.
“Waz wrong?”
She turned toward him. “I thought Mary was telling the truth when she denied knowing about the biil. What can I say to Daisy?”
“Nutting yet. I do it.”
They passed the exit for Homolovi State Park, part of the Hopi homeland along with the mesas rising to the north. Louisa pointed out that she’d never stopped there.
“Me needer.”
“You know, Joe, we should take a vacation. Look at some of the places here in the Southwest we haven’t seen. Would you like that?”
Probably not, he thought. The older he grew, the more he appreciated the predictable routine of home punctuated with the occasional diversion of a well-selected assignment.
“Or we could fly somewhere. Somewhere with some water. A big lake? A beach?”
“Hafta tink abow tat.” His last big plane trip had been a flight to China many years ago for a tour. From what he’d read, airports were less friendly now and flying more stressful.
He was thinking again about Mary and the biil. The person who received the box wouldn’t have known Rafferty sent it, so the “save him from embarrassment” excuse didn’t wash. Why would Mary endanger a relationship with a family she obviously cared for? Why would a Hopi risk one of the best jobs in town to help steal an old textile or a piece of Diné heritage? He chafed at not understanding the motivation that led to such a risk.
What if Mary’s goal had been stealing the bracelet? he thought. She removed the weaving to get to it and, unaware of the inventory list, didn’t bother putting it back. Sakiestewa hadn’t mentioned the bracelet and Mary had worked at the gallery, where she could have stolen things. The fact that she was still with the Raffertys said they must consider her to be honest.
His phone buzzed. He handed it to Louisa. She answered. “Hello.”
“Oh, sorry. I must have the wrong number. I was calling Joe Leaphorn.”
“This is his phone. May I help you?”
“Let me speak to the Lieutenant. It’s Councilor Walker. Tell him it’s urgent.”
Louisa put the phone on speaker. Leaphorn said yá’át’ééh and then something else in Navajo and the councilor responded. The conversation lasted about five minutes. The woman clicked off and Louisa pushed the button to end the call.
“What was that about? I heard the word Tiffany. That’s Daisy’s assistant, right?”
He nodded. Thought about it. “Har to splain. Type it layer.”
“You don’t look happy.”
“Doan worry bout me.”
They passed the Twin Arrows Navajo Casino Resort without much conversation, and he took the exit for the college. Louisa’s phone rang with a tone that reminded him of a doorbell. Her side of the conversation consisted mostly of listening. Then she said, “I’ll ask him.
“Marsha wants to know if you’d like to stay for dinner. She’s inviting some of the new teaching assistants she’ll be working with. She wants me to meet them.”
“No tanks. You go.”
When she put the phone back in her purse, he saw her take something out. Mary’s sunglasses.
“I should have left these at El Falcon. Why don’t you take them back there for her on your way home?” Louisa put the glasses on the passenger seat when she climbed out of the truck.
Leaphorn watched as she unlocked her car. She rolled down the driver’s side window. “Be careful on the road. Pull over if you get sleepy.”
He nodded twice, feeling both touched and irritated by her mothering attitude. Then he drove out, following her car. When she turned, he continued straight toward I-40. But before heading east for the second time that day, he pulled onto the shoulder and called Councilor Walker.
“I’m glad you called back. You sounded so distracted before, I wasn’t sure you understood me.”
“I was driving, and Louisa had the volume low. Tell me again about the woman.”
“A woman Tiffany never mentioned, a woman named Mary Nestor, was listed in the obituary in the newspaper as a surviving sister. I thought that was interesting.” Walker’s voice sounded full of static, as though she were standing in the wind.
“Are you sure about that name?”
The councilor laughed. “Lieutenant, give me some credit. Hold on.” He heard some shuffling and then she was back. “I’ll read it to you from the Navajo Times: ‘In addition to her father, Lee Benally, Tiffany is survived by her sisters Collette Yellowman of Gallup and Mary Nestor of Winslow, nephew Andrews Yellowman, and many other relatives and friends.’”
“Thanks for your help wit
h this.”
“There’s one more thing I found out about Tiffany. She was planning to quit that museum job.”
Leaphorn thought about it. “How do you know?”
“A reliable source.”
“Why would she leave?” He remembered Mrs. Pinto saying how much Tiffany liked her job.
“She was dating a marine stationed in San Diego. They planned to get married in the fall if she felt better.”
He wondered about Tiffany’s timing. Had she planned to leave so she wouldn’t have to accommodate a new boss? Had she wanted to be the boss herself? Had she turned to thievery to pay for the wedding?
“I haven’t come across anything else of interest about Tiffany. Her friends worried about her breathing troubles, but she said it was no big deal. She had no enemies I could find. A couple of friends said she joked about her sister Collette being so bossy. You know, there’s usually some truth behind whatever we joke about.”
Leaphorn was about to end the call when he remembered something. “I won’t see you for breakfast. I’ve got some more work on the case.”
“We will do it another time. But now you’re buying.”
After that, he called Mary Nestor. He opened the conversation with her sunglasses. What he thought was Louisa’s mistake turned out to be a benefit.
“Just bring them to the house if you want.”
“I’ll come by now, on my way back to Window Rock.”
“Good. Mr. Rafferty said you and Louisa stopped by and I told him the truth. I said we talked about the box, but I hadn’t given you his name or address. He’s trying to figure out how you knew about him. He wasn’t mad at me for talking to you guys when I explained how you sort of tricked me. He said the professor did the same to him.”
When Leaphorn arrived, Mary met him at the door.
“Where’s your lady friend?”
“She had to get back to Flagstaff.”
“Tell her thanks for picking up my glasses.”
He handed them to her. “Before I go, I need you to answer a question for me. When we mentioned the father who was mourning his daughter, why didn’t you tell us that we were talking about your own father and sister back in New Mexico?”
He thought the question would surprise her, but it didn’t.
“My sister and I weren’t close. And it was none of your business.” Mary opened the door a bit wider. “Please come in. Mrs. Rafferty wants to meet you. She’s waiting in the living room.”
Barbara Rafferty looked emaciated, with the almost translucent skin elderly bilagáanas sometimes have. Her hair, a blinding white, was her most vibrant feature. She motioned Leaphorn to a seat on the sofa across from her wheelchair. “Join us, Mary.” The strength of her voice surprised him. It was as though it held what remained of her power.
Mary sat.
“I understand you asked my husband and Mary some questions about our box of donations for the museum. I was the buyer for the business for years. Perhaps I can help you. Proceed.”
He started to speak to her in Navajo. He was half done with the sentence when he realized his mistake.
Mrs. Rafferty responded in Navajo. “Continue. I learned a bit of Navajo when I taught on the reservation. I enjoy the challenge of it.”
“What can you tell me about a textile that they say was created by Juanita, the wife of Manuelito?”
“The biil was one of our treasures. I am happy the museum has it now.”
“No, ma’am.”
Mrs. Rafferty narrowed her eyes. “Don’t joke about that. I went to the post office with Mary and saw her take in the box.”
“The box arrived, and the biil was on the inventory Mr. Rafferty prepared, but the dress was not with the shipment.”
The elderly woman spoke English now. “I’m sure Lloyd put that in the container. Textiles are always the first things he packs because they aren’t fragile. Did you ask him?”
Leaphorn nodded. “He packed it. Mr. Sakiestewa at the post office said Mary asked him to help her remove it.”
“No. You must be mistaken.” Mrs. Rafferty looked at Mary.
Mary studied the carpet at her feet. Leaphorn continued.
“The woman at the museum who received the box asked me to find the missing piece. She is concerned that her assistant, Mary’s sister, may have been involved in the disappearance.” He didn’t say Tiffany’s name out of respect. “Mary’s sister is dead, but I’d like to make sure that she isn’t blamed for something she didn’t do.”
“Dead?” Mrs. Rafferty turned to Mary. “Collie is dead?”
“No, ma’am. Tiffany.” Mary put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Our baby sister.”
Leaphorn had not imagined that Mrs. Rafferty could grow any whiter, but she did.
“I’ll get you some water.” Mary rose and walked away.
Leaphorn leaned toward the wheelchair. “I’m sorry to have shocked you. Did you know Tiffany well?”
“I never met her, but I heard Mary speak of her. Our Mary had just gone to visit her last month. They were trying to repair their relationship. I hoped . . .” Mrs. Rafferty’s voice trailed off. “Why would that post office man steal the dress?”
Leaphorn left the question and asked his own. “Do you know Collette?”
“Yes. Collie is the eldest of the three. She came to help us years ago, but it didn’t work out. She has a different personality than dear Mary. Mary always dreamed of getting along better with her sisters.” Mrs. Rafferty looked at him. “I wonder why she didn’t mention Tiffany’s death? I sensed that something was bothering her, but when I asked, she didn’t want to talk about it.”
They heard a car engine starting.
“Mary?” Mrs. Rafferty began to roll herself toward the front door, pushing with arms as thin as willow twigs. Leaphorn raced ahead of her.
The door stood open, and the white Mercedes he’d seen in the driveway was gone.
“Lloyd? Lloyd!”
“What’s wrong?” He was in the room a moment later.
“Something’s upset Mary and she just drove away.” She looked at Leaphorn and frowned.
Lloyd Rafferty’s face contorted. “What did you say to her?”
Leaphorn had his truck keys in hand. “Do you know her friend Sakiestewa?”
“Yes.” Rafferty pursed his lips. “He’s a good man. If that’s where she went, he’ll calm her down.”
“Where does he live?”
Rafferty gave him the address and directions.
Mrs. Rafferty rolled to the entryway. Her voice sounded shaky. “I keep my gun in that drawer in the table by the front door. It’s open and the gun is gone.”
Leaphorn double-checked his weapon before he left the house.
Rafferty’s information led him to an apartment building on the south side of town. The Mercedes stood out among the well-used vans, pickups, and aged sedans. Lights shone in the windows of about half the units. Evening quiet blanketed the complex except for the wail of an infant and blaring rap music from a lower apartment. He climbed the stairs to the second floor and heard a woman shouting before he reached the door.
He tried the knob, and it moved in his hand, unlocked. The room’s air-conditioning reached him milliseconds after the angry voice. “. . . trust you and look at what happened, you worthless piece of . . .” The woman stood with her back to the door, the gun pointed at the Hopi’s chest.
“Baby, calm down.” Sakiestewa spoke slowly. “Tell me what’s up. Why are you here?”
“Mary?” Leaphorn said her name with all the calm he could muster. She turned, and when she did, the weapon pointed toward the floor. As Sakiestewa lurched toward the door, she swung around and leveled the gun at his heart. “Back up, idiot.”
The Hopi complied, and Leaphorn noticed that the man’s pants had a dark stain in the crotch and partly down one leg. Mary moved so she could see both men. “This has nothing to do with you, Lieutenant, except that your meddling led to it. Get out. This is between me
and my boyfriend.”
Leaphorn took a breath, remembering similar situations and the same cold fear. He spoke in Navajo. “Mary, what’s going on here? Put the gun down. Talk to me.” He wondered if Sakiestewa understood. Even if he couldn’t follow the words, Leaphorn hoped his tone of voice would get the message across.
She spoke fast, her English fueled by anger. She kept the gun leveled at Sakiestewa’s chest. “He betrayed me. He’s a scumbag.”
“I’m sorry that happened. Put the gun down, and tell me about it.”
“He said you and the professor came to talk to him, and he told you about that dress.”
Sakiestewa clenched his hands in front of him. “Baby, I gave him the truth. You wanted to come clean, you told me as much. I only helped so you and your sister could embarrass Tiffany, remember? And then make peace with her. You’re my girl, but I can’t lie for you.”
“That’s not what Collie told me. She said you were calling Tif behind my back, trying to set up something with her. You don’t deserve to live. Neither do I.”
Leaphorn moved closer. “Put the gun down. Let’s talk about all this.”
She shook her head. “This lying jackass deserves . . .”
Sakiestewa raised his palms as in prayer or surrender. “Mary, Collette is the one who caused this. I’ll help you make things right. It’s not too late, baby.”
“You’re wrong. Tiffany died before I could explain, and now I’ll never have a chance to ask her to forgive me. It is too late.”
Leaphorn took another step toward Mary. “Andrews needs you. Think of the boy. He’s already lost one of his Little Mothers.” Her shoulders drooped, and Leaphorn knew she was listening. “The Raffertys are worried about you.”
He could see her thinking.
“They only want the car back and their gun. And me, their sweet Mary who helps with everything without complaining.”
Sakiestewa said, “Think of your father.”
“Azhé’é?” When she said the word in Navajo, her heartbreak came through. “I abandoned him.”
“No, babe, you told me he was happy for you to go. To spread your wings.”
The Tale Teller Page 24
