A Foreboding Felony

by Constance Barker

  Charli ran to the edge and looked down but saw no sign of any living thing, save a circling red-tailed hawk riding thermals below the mesa. Further down a thin river flowed calmly. As she turned her attention back to the ground near her, she saw something. A gun. A pistol, lying on the ground.

  A man came running over and snatched it up. “Mine now,” he said. Then he scampered away, disappearing into the distance.

  The woman came over to stare down the cliff. “A bad ending for them both,” the woman said. “Perhaps I should’ve blessed them.” Then she walked calmly away.

  “That didn’t work out for them at all,” the coin counter said. “And I would’ve offered reasonable terms to either of them.”

  “I thought you said they needed more than they can replay?” Charli said.

  He smiled. “Of course, but I didn’t say I wouldn’t lend them whatever they asked for,” he said. “That is what I do, loan money.” He stood and began putting his coins in his pocket and they seemed to melt away. When the table was empty he folded up the tablecloth and tucked it under his arm, then grabbed the table in one hand, carried it to the edge and tossed it over.

  “You’ll just leave?”

  He squinted. “Of course. I must relocate quickly. Nothing more will happen here, and location is so important to a business,” he said.

  Then he walked away and Charli woke from her dream with a start, drenched in a sweat.

  Chapter Eleven

  A Gambling Motive

  The next day, Terri took them to see the place Jake's body had been found. Charli found it eerily familiar in some ways, but didn't all open spaces look alike?

  Then Terri suggested returning to the station. “The chief will get upset if we don’t bring him up to date,” she said. “He fancies himself an Irish/Apache Colombo and if we don’t involve him he’ll insist on tagging along.”

  “Don’t you like him?” Elle asked.

  “He’s great, but who wants the boss looking over their shoulder all the time.”

  It was a valid point, and a small concession to make. So they went to the station and briefed him on what they’d learned.

  “So it was a waste of time?”

  “Probably. We just wanted to see it with our own eyes.”

  “I do think there might be something to the fact that he was killed near the race track.”

  “Well,” Terri objected, “that’s where the body was found. We still don’t know where he was killed. We had the stables checked for blood, but they clean them regularly and finding traces is a long shot.”

  “Especially without more people and better forensics equipment,” the chief agreed. “Still, I smell a connection. We haven’t interviewed the right people to find out if he was gambling.”

  “Gambling?”

  “Horse racing, gambling of any kind, often results in problems,” the chief said. “People who need money and get desperate can turn to the track to try to earn it.”

  “True,” Elle said. “So you have a theory?”

  “From what this character Bill said, this lad had fallen onto hard times and he had known better. If he managed to scrounge up a few dollars, well that would give him a gambling stake.” He held up a finger. “Now suppose for just a moment, that he went and bet on a race. Hanging around the tracks he might’ve had some tips to play. What if he won big? It would be public. People would know and there would be a fine motive for ya.”

  “True.”

  But Chief O'Shaughnessy wasn’t done. “Now, if you will, consider the more likely alternative—that he lost it all. Perhaps he had borrowed some.... enough to make his wager worthwhile. When he left with his pockets empty, the chaps he got it from might've worked out that he wasn’t going to be able to ever pay it back.”

  “So money as the motive?”

  The chief snapped his fingers. “Exactly. People like that would want to send a message. They’d want people to know what happens to those who might overestimate their net worth when borrowing to gamble.”

  “So is there a local gambling syndicate that he would go to?” Elle asked.

  Terri chuckled. “Not really. Welcome to the land of payday loans and low-rent crime, for the most part. Without a job, I can’t see even the sharks loaning him money on zero assets. Besides, if he won big, enough to kill him for, the track would’ve given him a check. I ran his financials looking for any sort of unusual activity and there’s no sign of him depositing or cashing any checks at all.”

  “What about using his property for collateral?”

  “It's tied up in a loan already,” Terri said. “I'll go to the bank and confirm that.”

  Chief O’Shaughnessy sighed. “You do realize that your summary does incredible, possibly irreparable damage to my fine theories, young lady? Are you determined to demolish your career while still so young just to show me up?”

  She laughed. “If I let you get away with that one you wouldn’t even respect me in the morning, Chief O’shillelagh.”

  “It’s O’Shaughnessy, lass, and you darn well know it. Show the boss a tad bit of respect, if you please.”

  Charli noted the twinkle in his eyes; it didn’t require a mystic dream to see that the chief had a thing for his officer. She wondered if Terri realized it. It didn’t seem likely.

  “The gambling theory doesn’t work anyway,” Elle said.

  Eknar grinned. “And you’ll be telling me why not, I trust?”

  “Charli already told me that his death doesn’t have anything to do with horses.”

  “A horse,” Charli protested. “I said ‘that horse.’”

  “And what’s this?” Eknar asked.

  “A joke,” Charli said. “Ignore my friend.”

  The chief shrugged. “Ah well, I hoped for a moment you had something more substantial.”

  “Nothing that would hold up in the real world,” Elle said.

  Eknar gave her an odd look, then handed Terri a piece of paper. “In the excitement of the chase, I almost forgot to give you this. It came in from records while you were out,” he said.

  Terri looked at it. “Carmella Garcia’s address.”

  “And are you sure it’s the right Carmella Garcia?” Eknar asked. “As I mentioned...”

  “There are many Garcias, yes. But this one’s previous address was the same as Jake Ravenwing’s ranch. I think that is a significant clue, at least to her identity as the beneficiary of the policy.”

  He laughed. “A clue if ever I heard one.”

  “That makes her a person of interest to me, whether she is a suspect in the case or not,” Elle agreed. “I need to confirm her identity.”

  Terri went to her computer and called up a map. “It’s quite some distance out of town. I suggest we leave first thing in the morning.” She glanced at Elle, staring at her heels. “And I suggest you wear jeans and sensible shoes,” she said. “Just in case we need to walk at all. There won’t be sidewalks.”

  “Charming,” Elle said. “I’ve not always done sensible well.”

  “Not ever,” Charli said. “And she doesn’t do camping.”

  “Then we best leave early in the morning so we don’t get caught out there.”

  Caught. It was an ominous word.

  “Is there any more information on her,” Elle said. “Anything about what she does for a living, for instance?”

  Terri picked up the page, scanning it. “It must be a mistake,” she said.

  “The address?” Charli asked.

  Terri looked at them. “No. It's that it gives her occupation as a bruja. A witch.”

  “It figures,” Charli said. Then she realized where this was leading. “Please don’t ask me to explain. It won’t make any sense at all.”

  They looked at Elle, who shrugged. “Just go with it for now,” she said. “You’ll understand as much as is possible to understand later.” Then she sighed. “Although what is possible to understand might not be all that much.”

  “I appreciate your
candor,” Eknar said. “Assuming that’s what all that rambling was, that is.”

  “Be here at seven,” Terri said. “We need to get going early. It’s going to be a hot day.”

  Eknar was rubbing his chin. “If none of you has any reason to object, while you are off interviewing this Carmella person...” he chuckled, “off on a witch hunt, as it were, I’m going to get a search warrant and take Officer Evans with me to check out the trailer of this Bill person who found the body.”

  “Still bird-dogging the gambling track?” Terri asked. “I thought we decided that was a cold trail.”

  “Still, it’s a trail and I’m not willing to give it up without more checking,” he said. “If we find a stash of cash, that would also be a clue. Perhaps he did the deed, put the money aside for a rainy day and then called 911. If we find nothing, perhaps it rattles him a bit and some more information falls out. You can’t know without trying, can you now?”

  “Go for it,” Terri said, looking at Charli and rolling her eyes.

  “Witch hunt?” Elle asked. Then she stood up. “I vote for a drink. Do either of you care to join us?”

  “I have to get home and feed Sandy,” Terri said. “Another time. I’d like it.”

  “And I need to figure out my justification for a warrant,” Eknar said. “The judge doesn’t enjoy signing things and it will take a bit of arm twisting to make it happen. I might well wind up having a drink with him.”

  “That man does enjoy being who he is,” Elle whispered as they walked to the car. “The Irish/Indian/Colombo.”

  “No talking shop over drinks,” Charli said.

  Elle held up a handed and nodded. “I hereby promise.”

  They went to the restaurant they'd gone to the night before. It had a quiet bar with no television. She didn't want to talk about the case, but as they sat there, flashes of her dream came back to her. Pieces tried to fit together. “Something is gnawing at you,” Elle said, staring at her over her glass of wine.

  “I can't talk about it. It has to do with the case. We have a pact.”

  “No. I made a promise to you. You are still allowed to talk about the case.”

  Elle had a point. “It's really just thoughts about a dream,” she said.

  “Just? Your dreams are practically fuel for our investigations. Give, girlfriend.”

  So Charli told her of the second dream, of the men fighting over the woman, the moneylender, and the gun.

  “What's a bruja?” Elle asked. “The name the moneylender called her.”

  “It’s the Mexican word for a witch,” she said.

  “So sorcery is involved?”

  “I don't know. I'm telling you all I know.” Then she finished telling the dream and saw that Elle was grinning. “You think my dream is funny?”

  “No. I'm just interested to see how those things will turn out to have something to do with this case. Especially the witch.”

  “You think they actually do all fit in with the murder?”

  “How knows? We've barely scratched the surface and there aren't but a couple of tenuous leads. Maybe Jake Ravenwing was killed in a fight over a witch woman. Or money.”

  Charli shook her head. “Not that long ago you didn't even think my dreams meant anything.”

  “I've matured,” she said. “Wonderfully, don't you think?”

  “I do.” And even that showed how much Charli's world was changing. It was nice to be accepted for who you were, of course, but accepting her dreaming power so completely was extreme.

  Chapter Twelve

  Conversation with a Witch

  The next morning, Elle and Charli had an early breakfast at a diner and met up with Terri at the station.

  As it happened, the Carmella Garcia in question, beneficiary of the insurance policy and professional witch, lived a long way down a dusty dirt road that ran through a thirsty canyon. The ground didn’t appear to have seen water since several millennia before when it had been the bottom of an ocean. As they left Ruidoso Downs, Charli watched the scenery, growing sullen as trees gave way to shrubs and grassland gave way to sand and rock.

  “Does it ever rain here?” Elle asked finally from the front passenger seat. “Has it ever rained here?”

  Terri Johns who was driving, glanced at her and grinned wryly. “Sometimes it does. When it does, you don’t want to be here.”

  “I’d think it would be refreshing,” Charli said from the back seat, nestled next to a box marked, ominously, “Emergency Supplies.” This area struck her as different from the flat arid area around the Ramah Navajo reservation. It had a different feel to it that was somehow more desolate. Heading out into the desert made her long for the tree-lined mountains of the Mescalero reservation. But why didn't it make her think of Tennessee and it’s greenery? Tennessee had begun to seem like a different universe. Was that totally in her past now?

  Up front, Terri shook her head. “It smells nice when it rains. You get the powerful odors of sage and oregano flooding your nostrils. But this is flash flood city. The ground is so dry that it can’t absorb the water fast enough. Even a small rainstorm will make water start rushing through those arroyos run hard and fast.”

  “Charming,” Elle said. “And people live out here on purpose?”

  “It’s their home,” she said. “Not everyone has a choice. Some of them grew up here and have roots that they relate to. Others are connected to the land in some other way. Or maybe to the animals.” She shook her head. “Some have told me that they are here because the spirits want them here.”

  The comment made Charli sit up. “The spirits?”

  “I don’t know much about them, they talk of Coyote as if he is a person,” Terri said. Then she laughed. “Maybe they got it from a John Wayne movie.”

  Charli was tempted to ask if she and Roger had studied the Wild West together. But Elle piped up. “Do you believe in that stuff yourself, Terri?”

  Elle’s question made Charli wince. “Does it matter?”

  “Well it seems a lot of people out here believe those legends and myths,” Elle said. She turned to Terri. “Charli lives for the stories people tell, their legends. Me I’m an insensitive city clod.”

  “She means that legends and myths are my bread and butter,” she corrected. “When I'm not freelancing for insurance companies, I teach Cultural Anthropology at the University of Tennessee, at Martin.”

  “When she has a class to teach,” Elle said.

  “Is that why you got that look on your face when I said that Carmella Garcia is a bruja, a witch? Professional curiosity?”

  “Not exactly,” Charli said. “Besides, as Eknar suggested, odds are that she is more of a healer who also whips up love potions for people.”

  “Aha!” Elle said. “Maybe this witch killed our victim with a spell of some kind.”

  “Don’t laugh,” Officer Johns said. “I’ve seen some things. Since I came here I’m a little less hard-nosed about everything matching up one-to-one with the reality I always accepted.” She grinned. “You can’t reject something just because you had no reason to accept it, I guess.”

  “But you can question it,” Elle said firmly.

  “And questioning is exactly what I do for a living,” Terri said. “I just don’t dismiss much out of hand anymore. It turns out that waiting for answers before I take a position works better for me.”

  Charli was glad to be left out of this part of the conversation but decided that Terri Johns was right. She had the right attitude—learn to tentatively accept things and question them later. That was the same advice Torre had given her about her dreams. “Elle isn't the skeptic she pretends to be, Terri. She is being sarcastic to cover the fact that she's worried that the truth will turn out to be something she can’t sell to the home office,” she said.

  “There’s that,” Elle admitted. “They wouldn't be happy about denying a claim because the beneficiary used sorcery to collect. I’m also concerned about my own peace of mind. I like to beli
eve that things are understandable.”

  Charli laughed. Like the power of my dreams? Elle definitely was finding it convenient to forget how she accepted them. “Well, if this adventure is like our one and only camping trip you might have to deal with giving the home office a cleaned up version of the facts.”

  Elle gave her a dark look.

  “Here we are,” Terri said.

  She pulled the SUV off the road at a collection of mobile homes that seemed to have been arranged so that each one got maximum exposure to the sun. There wasn’t a tree in sight, much less any shade. “This is it,” Terri said. “Let’s go have a nice chat with our witch.”

  Elle got out and looked around before walking toward the house. “This doesn't seem right,” she said.

  Charli stopped. “Do you sense something wrong?”

  Elle laughed. “No, but you’d think a witch would prefer a more central location. She can’t have much walk-in business out here.”

  As they approached the front door they saw the shadowy face of someone glaring at them through the screen. “Go away,” a woman said.

  Terri grinned. “She’s probably reacting to my uniform,” she said. “I get that a lot.” She strode up to the door. “Ms. Carmella Garcia? I’m officer Terri Johns and I need to talk with you.”

  “Then call my phone like everyone else does.”

  “I tried. Apparently you never answer your phone.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to talk.” She laughed, and Charli thought it made her sound remarkably like a witch. “Besides, there’s no cell service here.”