“Yazzie!”
“Charlie, it’s Billy. Captain Beyale had a heart attack! At least they think that’s what it is. I knew he was getting pretty worked up as we talked earlier but had no idea it might lead to this. The clinic’s ambulance was on another call along with the only Fire and Rescue unit. Lieutenant Arviso has him in our van and on the way to the clinic. It’s not far—I should hear something pretty quick—I’ll get back to you, Charlie.”
The phone clicked off but continued buzzing until Charlie finally realized he still had the receiver to his ear and hung up. Dammit! Captain Beyale was barely forty years old and in good health, as far as a person could see. He was known to work out on a regular basis and insisted his officers stay in shape too. He’d almost fired Hastiin Sosie for being too fat. Beyale had been letting him slide, until one day during a highway traffic stop, Hastiin went back to his unit, and in the process, inadvertently missed his footing and slipped backward into the ditch—a deep one. Rolling nearly to the bottom, he came to rest wedged between two small junipers. He was stuck, unable to disentangle himself. The detainee watched from the highway and only when he quit laughing did he go down and pull Hastiin loose then help him back up the hill. The laughing cost him. The red-faced officer gave him a ticket despite his help. Needless to say, the incident got around and excited a good bit of interest at headquarters.
Charlie was still thinking about the Captain when, right in the middle of everything, Harley Ponyboy up and walked into the office. Didn’t stop at the front desk, or even take notice of his cousin Gwen’s protests. Being his younger cousin, Gwen knew better than to try stopping him. She knew that would not have turned out well. Harley stood in the doorway clasping and unclasping his hands and frowning at the Legal Services Investigator.
“What is it, Harley?”
“Why didn’ someone tell me Old Man Paul was missing?
“You don’t have a phone, Harley. That’s why.” Charlie’s patience had worn thin, and he was having trouble controlling his voice. He hoped he didn’t lose his temper right there in the office. Several employees were already looking their way.
Harley didn’t quit. “So…no one knows where I live anymore? Same old place I been living over fifteen years.”
Charlie rubbed that little place between his eyes, a headache was starting up again; he almost never had headaches. This one might be a doozy. “You’ve been working with the professor, Harley, out of town half the time. Have you not seen Thomas today?” It was rare for the two of them to go twenty-four hours without talking to one another. “If he didn’t tell you, who did?”
“I haven’t seen Thomas. I been over ta Doc’s helping him catalog some specimens…but when I do see Thomas Begay, he’ll get a piece of my mind too.” Harley scrunched up his shoulders and squinted his eyes. “Sue’s the one who told me…if I hadn’t run into her, I guess I still wouldn’t know!”
Now Charlie knew it was going to be one of those days and wondered if he was up to it. “Harley, I’ve got about a dozen things going on this morning, and I don’t need you busting in here disrupting the entire office. What does Gwen have to do—tackle you? We have a protocol here that everyone follows…except you…and Thomas.” Charlie’s voice became a little edgy, “And you two don’t even work here, although a couple of the staff were surprised to hear it.” The investigator narrowed an eye and barked, “Call ahead, Harley, or at least check in at the desk before bulling your way in like this.”
“Oh, so now I’m not welcome here—is that it?”
Before Charlie could calm himself enough to offer a civilized answer, Harley Ponyboy had spun on his heel, slamming the door on the way out. He took no notice of the open-mouthed staff as he marched himself through the front office. He did give Gwen an apologetic little wave and everyone was surprised when she whispered, “Bye Harley.” Gwen, nor anyone else, had seen Harley Ponyboy lose his temper before, nor had anyone heard Gwen whisper.
Charlie stood helplessly clinching his hands and trying to calm down. Before this day is over I’ll be damn lucky if I don’t have a heart attack myself. When the phone rang he was almost afraid to answer.
Fortunately, it turned out to be Sue. “Has Harley been there yet?”
“He just left and before you ask, no, it wasn’t pretty.” Charlie and his wife were at the point in their marriage they often knew what the other was thinking, sometimes anticipating what the other would say, before they said it.
Charlie knew Sue was trying to keep from laughing when she said, “Harley let me know he was going to give you a piece of his mind.”
“Well, he did that; by the time he left here I doubt he had much left.” Charlie was beginning to see the humor in the thing himself.
Sue could hear the smile in her husband’s voice and chuckled at the thought of a confrontation between Charlie and his old friend. She knew Harley didn’t stay angry with anyone very long, and almost always made up for it one way or the other. The last time this happened he’d brought them half a goat he’d bought from a man parked alongside the highway in town. The man set up for business knowing full well there was an ordinance against it. Shortly after, Hastiin Sosie came along and made him take down his sign and go away, but he was unable to catch Harley for his share of the warning. Most people thought the new ordinance unfair and were sure local businesses were behind it—afraid perhaps, it might somehow cut into their trade, though none carried goat meat on a regular basis.
~~~~~~
Charlie kept one eye on the clock as he grappled with the Tressa Tarango situation. Finally picking up the phone, he dialed DEA’s Bob Freeman. After a short time on hold, the agent came on line sounding out of breath. “Hey Charlie, what’s up?”
When Charlie explained he was unsure how to keep Tressa and Abraham around should they show back up, Bob had to think a moment before answering. “Didn’t you say they have to stop off at the funeral home to retrieve her husband’s remains?”
Charlie confirmed that was the case, and when asked, gave the address and name of the director.
Bob hesitated before admitting, “I called the Coroner’s Office after we talked and had the Doc stall them by saying he was having trouble locating Tarango’s possessions. I’ve been thinking about it, too, and sort of anticipated you might have a problem with them sticking around. Let me see what I can do to make this easier for you. How about I try this…”
~~~~~~
Despite Charlie’s vehement protests, the DEA Agent finally won out, insisting Charlie was the only one the fugitives trusted and it was imperative they play on that. It was agreed; the Investigator, being closer, shouldn’t wait for the pair to return, but should instead intercept them in town. Hopefully Bob and his partner would arrive in time to back them up at the funeral home should it be needed. Bob, after a quick calculation, figured he was less than an hour away. The wind in Farmington had been so bad their light aircraft had diverted to Durango where the pilot still had to come in nearly sideways. When Bob finally hung up, Charlie was still wondering how far ahead of him Agent Freeman might have been all along.
13
Lucky 7
Tressa Tarango sat tapping her foot and shifting position on the cold hard bench outside the Medical Examiner’s Office. She was pretty sure she knew why they had to keep it so cold in there. It had been over thirty minutes since the Coroner met them at the door and went into a lengthy explanation of the steps required to claim her husband’s remains. The Doctor hadn’t spared her the details of Luca’s autopsy report, and Tressa became even more distraught as she listened to the graphic account. She’d done her best to prepare herself beforehand, but now felt a growing sense of unease at a process becoming more frustrating as time wore on—certainly not the pain-free process Charlie Yazzie led her to believe it would be.
Finally, the Doctor sent an assistant for what few personal possessions Luca Tarango had on him when the body came in. As time passed, Tressa was beginning to wonder if the package was wo
rth the wait. But no, it would be important to have some small something of Luca’s on the Day of the Dead. She had nothing left of him, not even a picture, and it was customary to leave something of the deceased with the remains or at the site. This wasn’t a tradition to be taken lightly and Tressa was resolved to do the right thing by Luca, to do otherwise would risk the unknown, and in the case of Luca Tarango, that risk could be far reaching.
Little Abe watched from drooping lids and idly judged Tressa to be nearing the point of throwing a fit. The woman was a study in contradictions and one never knew how such a thing, once begun, might wind up. He couldn’t help being a little nervous at the prospect. Abe had no idea what was involved in a procedure such as this, or how long it might take. He wanted her to think he was a person who remained calm in the face of hardship, a rock she could lean on in times like these. He couldn’t help thinking his support through these adversities would eventually help bring them closer and to a more binding relationship.
The Medical Examiner eventually emerged from his office bearing a small package: a brown paper envelope enclosed in a plastic bag and bearing a case number in black marker. Tressa appeared somewhat mollified that things were at last on track, and stood, motioning the sleepy-eyed Abraham to do likewise.
The white-coated Doctor remained unapologetic. “There was some difficulty locating these items due to the length of time since closing the case. This particular item,” he said, patting the package, “had already been set aside for disposal. That’s why we couldn’t find it right away.”
Tressa eyed the man skeptically, as though still not fully understanding.
The doctor frowned. “When a body is unclaimed for so long a time as this, their personal effects do occasionally get misplaced.” He held the package up. “You’re lucky,” he said, again frowning at the brown paper package as though it should have made itself more available. “Yes, you are quite lucky indeed.” He looked over the top of his glasses at Tressa. “I’ll have to watch as you verify the contents and sign off, of course.” The Medical Officer led the way to a small table where he opened the wrinkled envelope, spilling the contents onto a metal tray.
Tressa was surprised to see a rather large folding knife fall out with a clunk, followed by a shower of smaller items. The doctor glanced at the writing on the package. “Hmmm…‘seven items’, it says. There are only six here, that I can see. Upending the envelope, he gave it a good shake, and then smiled as a tiny obsidian arrowhead fell out. He picked it up and held it to the light. “A fine example, I’d say.” The Doctor then stroked his chin for a quick moment before turning his attention to the heavy folding knife. “I recall this being the weapon used in several of the murders committed by the deceased.” He puckered his face into a frown and scratched the lobe of one ear. “There was never an actual trial as such…you know…only a Coroner’s Inquiry sanctioned by the courts. It was all pretty well cut and dried. I suppose that’s why we still have this.” He studied the knife with obvious distaste before pushing everything toward Tressa, indicating she should examine the objects as well. “If you’ll just verify the contents of the envelope…” He passed her a form to sign, along with the official release required to claim the cremains at the holding facility.
Tressa looked briefly at the items, which other than the knife and arrowhead included only a few coins, and a small turquoise ring. How little there is to show for a life…regardless how bad a life it might have been. She picked up the ring and examined the stone. Maybe Luca was bringing me this as a present. She couldn’t help wondering this, regardless how unlikely it might actually be. She was well aware how improbable it would be for Luca to pick out such a thing, even for her. She couldn’t imagine how he might have come by it but could only suppose it belonged to one of his victims.
One thing Tressa was sure of—her husband was not a thief, and wouldn’t have stolen it unless, of course, the owner was already dead and had no further use for it. She hoped this wasn’t the case but held the ring more gingerly than before. She did her best to push such thoughts away, fearing they might somehow taint her carefully nurtured dedication to what she saw as a duty…and in fact, a mission.
Slipping the ring into her pocket Tressa turned her attention to the folding knife. Without a word, she handed it to Little Abe who was quick to take it, and eagerly opened it, and held it up to examine the blade. It occurred to him there might still be traces of gore, should the stories be true. He seemed almost disappointed, seeing it clean and well polished with a razor edge. This husband of Tressa’s had taken good care of the weapon, as one naturally would should he believe his life might depend on it. Where Little Abe came from, a knife engendered a certain respect or at least envy, and he was proud to have it regardless what its former job might have been.
“You can keep that, Abraham, just you remember who it belonged to, and try to put it to some better use.” Tressa put the stray coins and small obsidian arrowhead in her jacket pocket with Luca’s crystal amulet but on the opposite side of the automatic pistol. Now both she and Abe were armed, and though she had never fired a gun before, it seemed a simple enough thing to do. She’d often seen women shoot pistols in movies. Women you wouldn’t think capable of shooting a person, but they did and made it look easy, too. Should she sometime have need of this pistol of Hector’s—a thing she deemed unlikely—she would at least have the element of surprise in her favor, at least she hoped it would be a surprise.
~~~~~~
Little Abe pulled the old Ford truck up to the funeral home and cautiously examined the building. So this is where the ashes of the notorious Luca Tarango are stored. It was almost churchlike, even had a small steeple, which for some, he thought, might evoke forgiveness, perhaps even a hint of redemption.
A newer grey Chevy Suburban with dark windows was parked on the opposite side of the street, and Little Abe glanced its way briefly, dismissing it almost immediately as a vehicle which might reasonably be associated with the funeral business. There was no one visible inside, as would be expected, given the impenetrable limo tint.
Walking up the steps, a clearly emotional Tressa, unsteady on her feet, and already trembling, put a hand out to Abraham, who was quick to take her arm. The woman was obviously distraught at the thought of being so near the mortal remains of her former husband and she waited as Little Abe pulled one of the big double doors open and held it open as she entered. He hesitated a moment, turning slightly, to reconsider the Suburban across the street. The vehicle was of the same sort that would draw suspicion back home. The Mexican Federales—almost all government officials and drug cartels, too—found that particular model’s intimidating appearance indispensible in the pursuit of their various and nefarious enterprises. Abe fingered the Buck knife in his pocket and for just an instant imagined he saw a shadow, or at least some sort of movement behind the suburban’s opaque side window.
~~~~~~
Charlie Yazzie backed his truck into the drive of a vacant house with a For Sale sign on it, yawned, and turned off the key. Far down the street the funeral home made the old Ford truck look out of place. It seemed Bob Freeman’s plan to stall Abe and Tressa had worked.
What appeared to be one of the mortuary’s courtesy vehicles was parked just across the street from the establishment. “We’ll wait for them to come out and then I’ll try to make a case for Bob Freeman’s offer of immunity…if that’s what it turns out to be.”
Thomas lolled back against the seat. “I don’t know why Drug Enforcement didn’t just call the FBI to handle this little job. I mean I’m sure it’s fun for you to play undercover agent and all, but it seems a little silly to me.”
Charlie touched his tongue to his front teeth and thought about that. “I suspect Bob doesn’t want the FBI involved just yet, and I imagine that’s because the Bureau goes strictly by the book. Once the FBI steps in, they’ll take charge—Bob won’t have as free a hand to work his own agenda.” While this was mainly speculation Charlie thought h
e had Bob Freeman figured out, at least in that regard.
Thomas sat quietly for a moment. “So, I guess the local law wasn’t informed for the same reason? I guess those boys would screw things up for damn sure.
“Probably.” Charlie thought this a reasonable assumption.
Thomas fidgeted in his seat trying to cover all the empty bases in his mind. “How long do you think this is going to take? I told Lucy, Billy Red Clay and Tribal are doing everything they can to find her father, but she still wants me to go along with her and talk to those people at the Episcopal Mission. Lucy still don’t do too good with white people. Paul did work there for a long time and she’s got it in her head he might have gone for a visit and someone there might know something.” Thomas still wasn’t sure why they had to go at all. “I told her to just call ‘em up. But she said, ‘No, there’s a lot of people there who knew him and might have heard something. We need to talk to as many people as we can find.’ So now she’s determined to talk to all of them I guess…” Thomas stopped short and came upright in his seat. “There’s someone getting out of that Suburban.”
Charlie had been watching the other direction, hoping Bob Freeman might make it in time to take part. Now, he turned his attention to the man headed for the mortuary’s front door. He didn’t look like a funeral employee to him.
“I thought those guys all had to wear suits…even the drivers.” Thomas had no real experience with the occupation but had observed a funeral service or two from a distance. Even from a long way off, cemeteries made him nervous.
As the two Navajo pondered the mechanics of the funeral business, the Suburban started up, crossed to the side entrance, and then disappeared behind the building.
Day of the Dead Page 13
