A Dead Nephew

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “It’s hard to think clearly when you’re dealing with grief and the loss of a friend under such horrible circumstances. From everything I’ve learned, Sacramento was a wonderful young man. It can’t be easy losing him.” Louie Jacobs’ eyes were teary again, and his hand shook a little as he wiped away a single tear that rolled down his cheek.

  “I’m confused about something else,” I said after giving Louie a minute to grieve. “From what Agnes told me, it’s almost as if Sacramento knew more about the Cleaner Man than you did. He warned you about him right away. Auntie Agnes claims she overheard Sacramento telling you he was afraid the Cleaner Man would kill you because he’d done it before. Where did he get that idea?”

  “Sacramento didn’t say where he heard it. It might have been someone he talked to when he visited the new Soaring Hawk Casino near Twentynine Palms. He was going to train as an Assistant Manager at the casino until he worked out a deal with his parents about going to college. It was too late to apply for the fall semester, so he hoped taking a job at the casino would calm down things and give his parents time to come around to his way of thinking.” Louie shrugged.

  “Do you know who Sacramento spoke to when he visited the Soaring Hawk Casino?”

  “He hit it off with Sammy Keanu—the man who was hired to run the casino. Sammy’s the guy who said he’d put me to work. If you talk to him, maybe he knows more about the Cleaner Man or who Sacramento spoke to besides him.”

  “We’ll arrange a meeting with Mr. Keanu as soon as we can. Thanks, Louie.” I made a couple notes in the folder I’d brought with me. I had a million questions, including a few for Sammy Keanu, like who would take Sacramento’s place now that he was dead. Not everyone might have been devastated by Sacramento Lugo’s death if a coveted position suddenly became vacant.

  “I have another sensitive topic to discuss with you. What drugs was Sacramento using?” I asked.

  “Was he a pothead or a dope fiend or something like that?” Louie asked in a belligerent tone.

  “I’m not looking to slap a label on Sacramento. I just don’t want to overlook any reason someone might have had to end your friend’s life,” I responded, trying not to be defensive.

  “You don’t have to be a dope fiend to get into a messy conflict over drugs,” Kim added. “Did any of the money in his drawer come from selling drugs?”

  “No! I told you his parents gave him a crazy amount of money as an allowance. They wanted him to dress nice and drive around in a sports car, and he wouldn’t do it. Sacramento wasn’t a big druggie because he was serious about being a good student. He always had drugs around, like the ones we had with us that night. Once school was over, we got high more than just on weekends, but I know he wouldn’t have done it if he was in college.” Louie grew quiet.

  “Maybe the Cleaner Man blamed Sacramento for giving drugs to me, although I don’t remember ever saying where I got them. I didn’t get all of them from Sacramento. In the dark, the Cleaner Man must have believed it was me and killed Sacramento instead.”

  “Where were you when Sacramento was killed?” Kim eyed Louie skeptically as she questioned him.

  “I was passed out in this space where I keep a few things at the campsite. My backpack was in there, and I went to see if I had candy bars, nuts, or anything we could eat. When I got back, Sacramento was sound asleep. I covered him with my bedroll, and then remembered I had an old blanket and a tarp in the space with my backpack. I figured I could sleep on the tarp, cover up with the blanket, and use my backpack as a pillow. I must have dozed off or passed out while I was still searching for them. That’s where I was when I suddenly woke up. Then…” Louie paled as he went silent.

  “Noises woke me up, and I could tell right away something was wrong. It was dawn. I was cold and confused when I realized where I was, and saw Sacramento lying on the ground where I usually sleep. When I went to check on him, he was on his back, and he wasn’t moving. It wasn’t until I got close that I saw the knife in his chest. I dropped to my knees and pulled the knife out. When I leaned over and listened for his heartbeat, it wasn’t making any sound, and he wasn’t breathing. I tried to do CPR the way I’d seen it done in the shelters, and when I pressed on his chest, blood poured out from where the knife had been.”

  “If what you’re saying is true, you must have put the knife down to try to revive Sacramento. How is it that the tribal police found you with the knife in your hand?” I asked.

  “I was sure the Cleaner Man had killed him. When I heard feet on the path behind me, I grabbed the knife. I wasn’t a murderer, but if the Cleaner Man had been standing there, I would have become one. It was a good thing for Timothy and Billy that the sun had come up enough that I could see it was them. In the dark, I might have stabbed anyone standing there and asked questions later. Are you still sure I’m the wrong man?” He began to sob, and I felt sick about the entire situation. “Before I knew it, one of them hit me, the knife went flying, and I was on the ground. I must have passed out because later, Timothy was hovering over me, telling me to wake up. When I woke up, I was holding onto the knife. It wasn’t too long before officers from the County Sheriff’s Department showed up and arrested me.”

  “Nothing you’ve said has changed my mind that the courts convicted the wrong man.” I tried to sound as reassuring as I could while going over his story in my mind. None of this was in the police report, and what was in the report didn’t fit the story Louie just told us. I’d checked again after hearing the version of the story George had been told. The tribal police had reported they’d found Louie Jacobs passed out with a bloody knife in his hand. There was nothing about fighting with him or knocking him out.

  “Later, when I tried to tell my side of the story like I just told it to you, the deputy laughed. He said if I’d gone after him with a knife like that, he would have shot me. Then he asked me to show him a bullet hole.”

  “Okay, I don’t get it, but there seems to be some confusion about what happened that night—not all of it coming from you, either,” I said. If they’d found Louie with the knife in his hand while blood poured from his friend’s body, why hadn’t the tribal police reported it that way, rather than saying they found him passed out? If he’d lunged at them with the knife, why didn’t they report that too? Something was off.

  “Louie, what happened when you woke up?” I asked, wondering if there was more to the story.

  “I sat up, and I felt like I was going to vomit. There was blood on both of my hands, and like I said, I was holding the knife again. It was getting light enough to see Sacramento. It was a horrible sight, and that’s when I said it was all my fault.”

  “What did the officers say to that?” Kim asked.

  “That they’d already figured that out. Then one of them asked me why I killed him. I tried to tell them that’s not what I meant—that the Cleaner Man had killed him, but it was because of me. Timothy—I think it was Timothy—called me a liar and slapped me. I cried like a stupid baby. They just kept asking me questions and told me to tell the truth when I said I didn’t know what happened after Sacramento fell asleep.”

  “How many times did they hit you?” I asked, beginning to understand why it hadn’t made it into the police report.

  “I don’t know. I got more confused about what had happened. They kept asking me what drugs I’d given Sacramento, and he he’d brought me anything before he passed out. I told them I didn’t give Sacramento any drugs and that he hadn’t passed out, he’d fallen asleep. I didn’t want to wake him up, so I went to find another blanket and tarp. They said, ‘Show us the blanket and where you slept.’ I explained I never got that far because I was the one who passed out. I showed them where the blanket was, and they pulled out everything and searched the place I’d kept it. When the other police got there, I shut down because I couldn’t go through it all again. Like I said, later, at the Sheriff’s Department, I tried, but it didn’t do any good.”

  “Hang on a little longer whil
e we try to sort out the situation. Am I right to assume that you were surprised to find the tribal police there at that hour?” He nodded, yes. Then Louie stared at me as if all was lost.

  “Does it matter?”

  “If they weren’t there on a regular patrol, we intend to find out why they showed up at your campsite when they did. It’s a deserted spot, and the two of you weren’t doing anything to attract attention.”

  “We were too far away to attract attention from anyone except for the Cleaner Man. They’re tribal police, so maybe someone told them where to find us. Before he was eighteen, they used to pick up Sacramento and take him home when we were hanging out in town or around the casino, and it got late. The reason I like my campsite so much is because there’s no one around—at least there wasn’t until I met el hombre limpio.”

  “Louie, did the tribal officers tell you why they called the Sheriff’s Department?”

  “No. I didn’t know they’d done it until the other officers showed up. I was surprised they didn’t tell them to go away. That’s what they usually do if the Indio Police show up when they’re already handling the situation. I’d never seen them handle a death before. Don’t trust my memory, though. I don’t.”

  Louie put his head in his hands. When he looked at Kim and me, he was pale, and his skin had an unhealthy cast to it. There were dark circles under his sunken eyes. I worried that the Cleaner Man might claim another victim if we didn’t figure out what was wrong with Louie’s health.

  “Louie, I want to have you moved to a hospital to run more tests before you go to Calipatria. It might mean you’ll have to stay in Indio for a few extra days. Will you cooperate if I can arrange it?”

  “Sure, I don’t feel so good. My head is pounding, and my stomach is hurting. Can we stop now? Is there a way to call you if I remember anything else later?”

  “Here’s my card with my office phone number. You can also call me on my cellphone, okay?” I wrote that number on the back of my business card and handed it to him. “Will someone here give you something for your headache and upset stomach?”

  “I already have it in my cell.”

  “I want to hear from you right away if you feel any sicker. If you’re too sick to call me, ask someone to call for you. I’m going to get you admitted to the hospital this afternoon if I can. Kim and I will visit you there tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s good. Thanks for trying to help me. I wish I’d never met the Cleaner Man. Whatever you do, please don’t let him hurt you like he hurt Sacramento.”

  5 Louie’s Place

  “Are you sure you want to visit Louie’s place?” Nick asked when we reached his house. He’d suggested we leave our car at his house rather than in the lot at the casino. I wasn’t sure why, but Nick was doing us a favor, so I didn’t object. “I can drive you close, but we have to walk around after that if you want to see where Louie and Sacramento used to hang out. Those fine shoes you’re wearing won’t look so nice after a few minutes in the sand and gravel.”

  “No problem, Nick,” I said and got out of the driver’s seat. “Kim and I came prepared.” Nick and Kim followed me as I popped the trunk and pulled out the shop ‘til-you-drop shoes Kim and I kept at the office. I’ve become much better at fighting the urge to solve all my problems with binge-shopping, but on occasion, I still give in and drag Kim and Amy Klein, our office manager, along with me. It’s the cost of doing business on El Paseo Drive, lined with shops bearing designer labels.

  Once a case takes off, there are also lots of situations in which you don’t want to be caught wearing heels. That’s true even if they’re sensible ones, although, in a pinch, the spiky ones can make good weapons. We put our pumps in the trunk and switched to the cross-trainers. I brought my cellphone with me but left my purse in the trunk.

  “I should have known better,” Nick beamed his winning smile at us. Auntie Rosie’s charming young nephew was not only personable but smart as a whip as well. He was also well-versed in some of what his aunt regarded as “the old ways.” That included tracking, knowledge of healing plants, and, according to Betsy, a library of stories in his head about the indigenous people in this area. He’d committed them to memory, sitting with elders from various tribes since he was a small boy. “Let’s take this vehicle. When we reach the unpaved road, it will work much better. We won’t have air conditioning, but we won’t slide off a ridge or get stuck in a rut.”

  Now I understood why we were at his house. Nick’s dune buggy resembled a golf cart but was wider and lower to the ground. The two front seats seemed ample, but the two in the back were small. Kim didn’t hesitate to climb into the back seat.

  “Do you fit?” I asked.

  “Yep. Being a shrimp occasionally comes in handy,” she replied, grinning. A familiar spark of adventure was in her eyes.

  “Auntie Rosie says almost the same thing. She loves me to take her for a ride since walking great distances has become difficult for her. I don’t usually put the top on, but it gives us a little shade from the heat today.”

  “I’m surprised she’d take a back seat to anyone,” I quipped.

  “I’ll tell her that joke; she’ll use it all the time. Auntie Rosie has no choice when she brings Betsy with her. Betsy’s lucky to fit in your seat, Jessica.” I smiled, imagining the two women sitting in the vehicle with Nick at the wheel. “My aunt was relieved it didn’t tip over. She wonders what we would do if Betsy ever brought along the giant man who loves her so much.”

  “Wow, I’d pay to see that,” Kim said. “Those two in the back, with Brien riding shotgun!” Nick laughed as he started the engine.

  “They’d need a heavy-duty version like the one Betsy says her man, Peter, owns. Buckle up!”

  “I haven’t seen it, but it wouldn’t surprise me that he has one. I doubt he bought it to take Betsy on romantic moonlit desert drives, though,” I muttered.

  “Brien says his firm has all sorts of special equipment for doing security work in the desert,” Kim responded. The next word out of her mouth was, “Whoa!” in perfect mimicry of “her man,” Brien.

  “Auntie Rosie says if I go fast, it cools her off.” Nick grinned as he raced along the empty side street where his house was located. He slowed down when he reached the main road that led through the rest of the old neighborhood that had been built long before Nick’s band of tribal members had much money. As soon as he turned, he picked up speed again.

  We rode along in silence as he headed for the low foothills in the distance. With the wind whipping at us, and the engine growling away, we couldn’t have carried on a conversation anyway. The Indio Hills run west to east, north of the Coachella Valley, and almost to the Salton Sea. It’s largely a rugged, sparse, uninhabited area. When the paved road ended, Nick slowed a little as he veered to the right onto a trail wide enough that you might be forgiven for calling it a road.

  There wasn’t room for two-way traffic, but that wasn’t likely to be a problem in the triple-digit heat. Auntie Rosie was right that it was cooler in the dune buggy when Nick drove faster. Soon after we switched to the dirt road, we began to climb up into the hills, and Nick had slowed even more. It was quiet enough now that I took a stab at speaking.

  “Kim, I don’t remember if Louie told us how he and Sacramento got out here. Could they have found their way up here in the dark?”

  Thank goodness it’s bright daylight, I thought as Nick went around a curve in the road and the land on our right dropped away, or so it seemed. I caught a view of the neighborhood where Nick lived, the casino just east of it, and the valley to the south. Then it was gone, and we were in a narrow passage with rocky outcroppings on both sides.

  “Sacramento had a motorbike,” Nick offered. “Louie often used it to get around. You can also get to Louie’s place using foot trails that are much shorter than the route we’re going. If they were at the casino and had used the trail before, they could have walked up here without any problem.”

  “There’
s nothing in the police report about picking up a motorbike or any other type of vehicle,” Kim responded. “It never occurred to me that Louie got around any other way than on foot, hitching a ride, or by bus if he had money to pay for the fare.”

  “That’s about it unless he had Sacramento’s motorbike. Sacramento had a car too, but if he drove it that night, he would have left it in the parking lot at the casino. I can check to see if it was towed. Since he’s ‘family,’ it’s possible it’s still there.”

  “A car and a motorbike,” I said. “Louie said Sacramento tried to avoid the ‘trappings’ of his family’s new-found wealth.”

  “That’s true,” Nick said. “Some of us prefer not to own so much you have to worry about it and take care of it all the time. The tribe has had money for some time, but it was the nineties when it became big money. When they went to court and won the right to contract for ninety-nine-year leases on tribal land, businesses became more interested in building properties, and they began to collect much more leasehold money. Gambling has grown even more since then too, but Sacramento’s family and his friends’ families were very well off by the time he was born.”

  We rode along in silence again, and I lost track of time. When Nick pulled around another corner, I sucked in my breath as we found ourselves in one of the exposed spaces again. There was a break in the line of ridges surrounding us. In seconds, it had passed, along with my vertigo, as Nick drove on. When we reached a wider place along the road, Nick slowed, then pulled as far to the right as he could and stopped. There was a flat, open space on our left and sort of a berm on the right in the shadow of the hills that lined the roadside. If you ever had to turn around, this was a place where you could do it. A flicker of crime scene tape told me we’d arrived.