The Bible Seller: A Navajo Nation Mystery (Navajo Nation Mysteries Book 7)

by R. Allen Chappell

  Harley tried to look surprised, though he had, himself, worked one summer on those farms and was well aware of the heat and humidity in that country. “Well, you won’t see that up here, Eileen. I would be surprised if it gets much over ninety here today…and that’s with a humidity well under fourteen percent.” Harley had worked closely with Professor Custer for the last several years and thought he had learned something about the proper way to couch certain day-to-day comments on the weather––always a popular topic of conversation.

  “So, no swamp cooler?” Eileen couldn’t imagine living without air conditioning. “I thought I noticed one up on the roof. I would think they would work pretty good up in this dry country.”

  “Yep, there’s one up there, like new, too––never been used that I know of. It would probably work great if I could keep it in water. You’d be surprised how much water they use up on a hot day.” Harley made a mental note to pick up some more water barrels next time he could afford them. He was sure Eileen Smith would enjoy that cooler on some of the warmer days.

  Eileen just started clearing the table and running water for dishes when Harley Ponyboy cocked his head to one side, listened, and then looked toward the highway.

  Eileen, noticing this, shut off the water and said, “What?”

  “I believe someone’s coming up the road from the highway––and I think I know who it is.” The sound of Thomas’s diesel truck was unmistakable, even more so, since the muffler had fallen off. A lot of vehicles on the reservation were without mufflers. It’s hard to keep a muffler intact when you’re high centering all the time. Thomas thought it sounded good that way and had decided not to replace it unless he got stopped––not likely on the reservation––but he had to be careful in Farmington.

  Eileen ran to the window in the front bedroom and peered from behind a curtain. “There’s someone coming all right!” she sounded a little distraught and called to him, “Don’t tell anyone I’m here Harley. Go outside to talk to them.”

  Harley walked over to the little round window in the door and sighed. It was Thomas Begay and he was by himself. He would expect to come in and have coffee at the least. Harley glanced toward the front bedroom just as Eileen slammed the door, and he heard the lock click. The lock on that particular door didn’t work but he doubted Eileen knew that. He sighed, hitched up his pants, and walked out to greet his visitor––catching Thomas by surprise.

  Thomas’s first words were terse, “Where you been, Shorty?”

  When Thomas called him Shorty, Harley knew his friend had his back up about something and might be hard to deal with. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  “I have been right here,” the little man smiled. “I jus’ been working on the place.”

  Thomas looked around. “Everything looks about the same to me. You must not be making much progress.”

  “I been working inside painting, if you must know.” Harley kept whatever trepidation Eileen had engendered out of his voice and broke into a grin. “So, what brings you out here this morning big boy, and why so damn grumpy.”

  “Grumpy? I’m not grumpy. I’m pissed. Where were you last night? You were supposed to come by for supper, if you’ll recall. Lucy had a big meal fixed and when you didn’t show she packaged up a mess of it for me to bring you this morning.” Thomas scowled and narrowed one eye in Harley’s direction waiting for him to make some sort of defense. When the little man didn’t say anything, Thomas jerked open the truck door and reached inside. It crossed Harley’s mind his friend might have something in there to hit him with––one never knew what Thomas might do. He was not as unpredictable as back when he was drinking, but still…it gave Harley pause. When Thomas pulled out the food package and headed for the trailer, he growled, “Let’s have some coffee.”

  Harley knew he couldn’t avoid such a courtesy without arousing suspicion. The two had known one another since they were young. He pretty much knew what he could get away with…and what he couldn’t. On the porch he reached to open the door and raised his voice several decibels and at least two octaves. “Come on in. The pot’s still warm on the stove and there’s plenty of it.” He knew the breakfast dishes were already soaking in soapy water and out of sight. He couldn’t recall anything that might give Eileen away. He could probably bull his way through this with a little luck.

  Thomas shouldered his way past and sniffed. “Bacon, huh? You must not be as bad off as Lucy thinks you are.”

  Harley took the food from him without comment and deposited it in the refrigerator. “I picked up a few groceries yesterday but you tell Lucy this will be a welcome change from my own cooking. Last night I had some of that stew she brought over. You be sure and thank her for that, too.”

  Thomas sat down at the table watching as Harley poured two cups of coffee, brought them over, and sat one in front of him and the other just across the table. As he sipped from his cup, Thomas looked things over, noting the freshly painted baseboards, and seemed to relax a little.

  “This is starting to look real nice, Harley. What’s that door to the bedroom doing closed? It’s going to get hot in here today; you ought to have that front window open…pull a little breeze through here.” Thomas turned a little toward the door and moved as though to get up. “You want me to open that up? This wool shirt is getting warm.”

  Harley put a hand on his arm. “We can’t open it.”

  “Why not?” Thomas had that suspicious little twist back in his voice like he might, all of a sudden, jump to a conclusion of some sort.

  Harley didn’t even have to think. “There’s a rat in there…you know…a packrat. Must have gotten in through that front heater vent last night.”

  Thomas perked up at this. “Damn, Harley! You just had a rat in there a week ago. Don’t you think you ought to do something about it?” Thomas looked around as though searching for something he could use as a cudgel. “Do you want me to help you corner the little bastard?” Thomas was always up for a little excitement. Anything, he would say, to lighten the day.

  “No, no. I threw a bar-bait in there; once he settles down, he’ll go ta eating it. It won’t be long then till he’s done for. I’m going to nail some tin over that hole under the vent. I think that’s where they’re getting in.” Harley squinted hard at the door and pretended to listen for rat noises before going on. “Do you want a doughnut with that coffee? I just picked some up fresh yesterday at the store. Chocolate, too.”

  “Well, I don’t mind if I do. I ate pretty early so I could get the kids off to school. Lucy was helping the old man with the sheep; he’s taking them out today so she can work on a blanket.” He smiled benignly. “I can hang out here and help you with the painting and then later we can go into town. They’ve got a new shipment of boots in at the Co-op; I was just thinking the other day we could both use a new pair.”

  “Oh, there’s no need in you bothering to stick around. I know you’re busy, what with the kids being home and all. And I’ve about finished with the paint work now.” Harley thought from the beginning there might be some ulterior motive for Thomas’s visit, and when he brought him the doughnut, he asked him straight up. “Is there something you want to talk about? You look a little down in the mouth to me. You and Lucy have a fight?”

  “Naa, we don’t fight much since I quit drinking.” Thomas looked down at the doughnut but only pushed it around the saucer. “Charlie Yazzie brought some news yesterday evening.” He paused and looked up at Harley, “I guess my dad is dead.”

  Harley wasn’t expecting this and was somewhat taken aback. “Gilbert’s dead! I didn’t even know he was back in town.”

  “I didn’t neither, really. I’d heard rumors, but I never really thought he’d be back…but he was. Now he’s dead.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, buddy. I know you haven’t seen him in a long time and didn’t get along there for a lot a years…but still…it must be tough.”

  Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. “It didn’t both
er me so much there at first but when I woke up this morning it just sort of climbed all over me. I was just lying there in bed when it hit me, and for a minute, thought I was going to lose it. But you’re right about one thing: there wasn’t really much between us anymore, that’s for sure. Still, I can’t seem to get him out of my mind this morning. I told myself, ‘He’s just another dead drunk,’ and then I realized I had been heading that same direction myself…before I quit drinking. If it hadn’t been for the kids, I probably wouldn’t have quit even then. At least that’s what Lucy thinks. Maybe that’s why my old man came back––maybe he thought this was the only thing he had to leave me.”

  Harley didn’t know quite what to say to this. Thomas Begay had always been a private person and one who seldom showed any personal emotion.

  Thomas could see Harley felt genuinely sorry about his father and that was enough to make him look away for a minute; when he turned back he smiled and winked. “If you don’t need any help this morning I guess I just better get back and check on old Paul T’Sosi. He’s only taking those sheep across the road today but that’s where he damn near got run over that time before.” The tall Diné rose from his chair, picked up his doughnut, and moved toward the door. “I’ll just take this along with me, if you don’t mind. You sure you don’t want help with that rat?”

  Harley followed him out the door. “No, that’s all right. It’s probably already done for.” Harley watched as Thomas Begay turned his truck around and headed for the highway; he paused before going back in the house. That’s a helluva thing about his father, he thought. Though still feeling sorry for his friend, Harley was pretty sure Thomas meant this to be a lesson for him, as well. Maybe that was the real reason he came out this morning. No one ever thinks they will become a ‘lost one’ until it happens, and then, of course, it’s usually too late to do anything about it.

  When Harley Ponyboy went back into the trailer he knocked on the bedroom door and called softly to say Thomas was gone. Then he went back to the table to finish his coffee and doughnut.

  Eileen first peeked out to make certain, then went directly to the window to look off down the road and assure herself the danger was past. “Why didn’t you tell me there had been a rat in that bedroom last week?”

  Harley didn’t look up, took another bite of his doughnut, and then, after washing it down with a swallow of coffee, said, “First of all, Eileen, these aren’t the same kind of rats they have in the city. These are packrats: little wild creatures that have been around as long as we have. They live on grass and seeds and such. They are quite clean, and in fact, our people have been eating them for maybe a thousand years––same as eating a rabbit really. We ate plenty of them when I was a kid up in Monument Valley. The old people liked them. They said, ‘they are tender for our teeth and have a good flavor.’ They’re easy to come by, too. That can be important should times get hard and there’s not much else to eat. They don’t usually bother anyone. I just don’t want them in the house––they chew the insulation off the electric wires. That wasn’t so important before we got electricity, but now it could be a problem.” He threw her a reassuring look. “Anyhow, Eileen, I already put a piece of tin over that hole after I trapped that first one. You won’t be bothered with them.”

  Eileen opened the front door about half way and leaned against the frame as she breathed in what was left of the cool morning air. “It’s going to get hot in here today.”

  8

  Fallout

  Charlie Yazzie found Monday mornings depressing. Legal Service’s share of all the illicit, immoral, or criminal happenings of the weekend were generally dumped on his desk within an hour of coming in. Granted, he had the biggest desk in the office, but this morning, when he spread out the reports, there wasn’t room enough left to set down a cup of coffee.

  It was sometime past noon when Thomas Begay showed up, and when the receptionist told him to go on back to the office, he knew Charlie had been expecting him. The door was part way open so he didn’t bother to knock; just went in and closed the door behind him. He sat in his usual chair and waited for the investigator to look up from his papers and when he did, Thomas gave a lift of his chin in greeting.

  Charlie nodded and studied him a moment. “You okay this morning?”

  Thomas nodded. “I’m good. I just got back from Harley’s. Lucy sent me up there with some food. She always thinks he’ll starve left on his own.”

  Charlie shook his head and smiled. “So how was Harley Ponyboy this morning?”

  “Oh, he was fine. Best I’ve seen him for a while, actually.” Thomas fiddled with his truck keys and wasn’t really looking at Charlie when he said, “He’s got some woman living with him…a full-time night woman, unless I miss my guess.”

  “Really! Who is she?” Charlie was genuinely surprised.

  “I have no idea who she is. Harley was hiding her in the front bedroom. It’s no wonder he can’t win a hand at poker.” Thomas chuckled to himself, “I can read that boy like a book.”

  “You never saw the woman? Don’t know what she looks like?”

  “Nope. I knew when I first drove up in the yard but didn’t say anything. I figured he’d mention something when he was ready, but he never did. Unless, of course, he’s taken to wearing ladies’ underwear.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t see him wearing ladies’ underwear.”

  “No, but there were two pair hanging on that old clothes line of Anita’s. I’ll bet she would be mad as hell at that.” He looked up at Charlie from under the brim of his hat and smiled. “If a little gust of wind hadn’t come up just as I pulled in I wouldn’t have seen them at all, but just for a second, there they were, flapping in the breeze.”

  “Well, I’ll be go to hell.” Charlie grinned, “And he never said a word about her the whole time you were there?”

  “No…no he didn’t, and that’s what pisses me off. Gave me some phony story about having a rat trapped in the bedroom––said he’d taken care of it already.” Now both men were chuckling. Thomas slapped his leg. “He’s apparently doing all right though. They had bacon for breakfast and there was a fresh box of doughnuts open. Maybe he’s found himself a rich woman? And here Lucy thought he was living on potted meat and crackers out there.”

  “Why do you suppose he didn’t say anything about her?” Charlie could come up with several reasons right off the top of his head.

  Thomas was thinking the same way. “You figure maybe he’s ashamed of her…or her, of him?”

  “Maybe it’s someone’s wife or girlfriend?”

  Neither man thought this last thought much of a possibility. They couldn’t see Harley making so bold as to lure away someone else’s woman; and she would have to be a desperate woman at that.

  “Whatever the case, I don’t think we should tell the girls. I know it would be hard for Sue to keep a secret like that, and this is obviously something Harley doesn’t want known. I believe we’d best just keep this to ourselves for now.”

  Thomas smiled and agreed it was Harley’s business, however outrageous the details might turn out to be.

  Charlie shook his head to clear any remaining thoughts of what Thomas would later refer to as ‘Harley’s affair’, then picked up a folder. “Billy Red Clay’s not happy with us this morning.”

  “He knows about us being down at the Social Club?”

  “I finally had to tell him but I think we can trust him to keep it quiet, if at all possible.” Charlie held up a report. “I did receive this about an hour ago. Billy’s apparently not so upset as to take me out of the loop. It’s the investigative report on old man Klee’s pickup. It’s about what we thought: whoever killed the old man knew what he was doing. The Feds went over the truck with a fine-tooth comb, according to Billy, and came up with almost nothing. They’re running what few prints they lifted––old prints for the most part, they think––probably from Benny’s family or whatever. I expect it’ll take a while to sort those out. The only o
ther thing they found was a blue silk…uh, I guess you would call it a bookmark for lack of a better word; at least that’s how Billy described it. It had some gold lettering that read, Living Clean and that’s all it said.”

  Thomas was listening but finding it hard to concentrate. Thoughts of his father wandered through his head––scenes from his childhood mainly––those being the only happy times he remembered with his father. He finally stood and walked over to the window to avoid embarrassing himself. After a minute or so he wandered back to his chair but still didn’t trust his voice. He just let Charlie continue talking about the old silversmith’s murder.

  The Investigator pretended not to notice and appeared to be absorbed in the report. “Billy added a little note here at the end,” he said, finally, tapping the page. “He mentions the FBI can find not a single witness who saw the person who parked that truck in the lot behind the Social Club.” He went on, “This, though it had to have been dropped off in the early morning hours, essentially broad daylight. The Feds seem willing to believe the driver simply got lucky and walked away.” Charlie looked up. “But you and I both know those Indians that hang out down there wouldn’t talk to a Federal Agent, let alone admit to seeing anything.”

  “You’re not saying we should go back to Rosie’s again?”

  “No, that’s pretty much off the table at this point. What I am saying is someone, somewhere, knows who brought that truck into town. There’s something here I’m missing and I intend to find out what.”

  Thomas, who was a great believer in luck, was not so sure. “Well, you let me know if you come up with something…pretty much looks like a dead-end to me.”

  Charlie nodded but was not yet ready to say what was in the back of his mind. One thing was for certain; he had already put Thomas on the spot once and he wasn’t willing to go that route again.