Wind Spirit: An Ella Clah Novel (Ella Clah Novels)

by Aimée Thurlo

  “I hope your day is less eventful than our breakfast,” Rose said, smiling.

  Ella laughed. “I’ll see you tonight, Mom.”

  Kevin didn’t live too far away, having constructed his own home a few years ago on land allotted to his family. The location was perfect for him now because he wanted to be as much a part of Dawn’s life as he could. Though his busy schedule meant that his visits weren’t as frequent as he would have wanted, Ella knew that he really loved their child.

  Today, besides the heads-up on their intruder, she had other serious matters she wanted to discuss with him. She’d never had a will made, for one. It had never seemed like a pressing concern. That was about to change. She also needed to find out more about his arguments with Councilman Hunt.

  As she pulled up, Kevin walked out to the porch and waved, obviously having heard her vehicle coming up the road. He looked like he’d been just about ready to leave for work. He was wearing dress slacks, a long-sleeved shirt, and a bolo tie. His boots were crafted of the finest leather.

  “Are you back on duty already?” he asked, leading the way inside.

  “I’m working a case,” she said. “Early bird gets the worm.”

  “Pity the early worm.” Kevin chuckled. “So what brings you by?” he asked, pouring himself some coffee and offering her some as well.

  Ella noticed that the Dineh Times was on the breakfast table, open to the editorial page. She sat down in the chair he offered opposite his, but Kevin remained standing, leaning against the counter as he sipped from the cup.

  Ella told him about the person she’d seen near the house last night. “I’ll ask for extra patrols, but I’d like you to keep your eyes open anytime you come to visit, and let me know if you see any strangers in the area who don’t seem to belong here.”

  “You can count on it,” he replied. “And thanks for the heads-up.” He refilled her coffee cup, then joined her at the table and turned the paper around so it was right side up for her.

  “You hadn’t commented about it, so I suppose you don’t know there’s a letter to the editor that concerns you professionally. The writer doesn’t think you should be working with the PD until you have your Sing.”

  Ella groaned, and looked down at the signature. She didn’t recognize the name. “I am going to have a Sing, but first I have to find the medicine man who can conduct the right one. I’m looking for John Tso, but he’s hard to track down.”

  “So I’ve heard.” He nodded slowly. “What really happened to you at the mine, Ella? I was in Window Rock all that day, but I’ve heard a lot of variations of the story since then.”

  “Well, obviously, I didn’t die. I’m here and feeling just fine, but the whole thing scared the hell out of me, Kevin.”

  He nodded. “That’s to be expected.”

  “The accident woke me up and made me think about a lot of things, including writing a will and getting life insurance so Dawn will be provided for even if I’m gone.”

  “I would always make certain that our daughter never lacked for anything. You know that, don’t you, Ella?”

  “Sure, but I still want to leave her something . . .” She shrugged.

  “Everyone should have a will, of course, but in your profession, life insurance is going to cost you a fortune.”

  “Probably, but I still need coverage at some level. I’d also like to have you draw up that will for me. Can you do that?”

  “Sure,” he answered. “The will should designate a guardian for Dawn, but I assume that’ll be me, right?” he asked.

  Ella gave him a wry smile. “Kev, I know you mean well, but be realistic. You’re not suited to being a full-time daddy. You don’t realize how complicated that can get. I think Mom’s the logical choice with Clifford as backup.”

  “You’re wrong about that, Ella. She’s my daughter and I’m the one who should take care of her if something happened to you. But even setting kinship aside, she’d be far better off with me than with the others you mentioned. Rose’s life has changed drastically in the past few years. She’s taken on a lot of responsibilities. She’s the main reason those mines are now being sealed up. I don’t think it’s fair to ask her to give up the work she’s started so she can become a full-time parent to Dawn. She raised you and your brother. That should be enough, especially at her age. Your brother, too, has his own concerns and I’m not convinced Loretta would welcome Dawn into her household.”

  Ella sat back and considered what he’d said. Kevin was right, her mother was working for the tribe as a consultant and resource on several environmental and cultural concerns, not to mention getting up in years. Her brother Clifford had his hands full with his patients, and she couldn’t see choosing Loretta to raise her child.

  “Good points,” Ella conceded. “But so was the one I made about you.”

  “I’d bring Boots over here. She would continue her role in Dawn’s life, like she does now while you’re at work. Of course, this is all assuming that you passed away while Dawn was still a child.”

  “Of course.” Ella weighed what he’d said. “Let me see how Mom feels about all this. She has to be given first choice on whether to keep Dawn with her or not. But if something does happen to me in the future, and Mom is unable to take care of her, Dawn should come to live with you as long as Boots is here to help. As Dawn gets older, of course, I’llamend the will to meet whatever new circumstances arise.”

  “Fair enough. But make sure you let Boots in on this before I start on the paperwork.”

  “I will.” Ella looked directly at him as she got ready to move on to another subject. “I’ve been working on the Hunt case and your name came up. I understand you two got into an argument over the phone recently.”

  “We argued whenever we saw each other, too. Both of us want better laws to address the problem of violent crimes committed by minors, and to be honest, I never thought his idea to push for handgun registration was so bad either. But the way he was going about it all stunk. Hunt has a reputation as a manipulator, getting others to lead the way and then taking the credit later. But in this case he’s not even bothering to try a little arm twisting. He’s thinking with his heart instead of his head. It all goes back to his wife getting shot, of course.”

  “Can you think of anyone, maybe another councilman, who might have had a serious grudge against Hunt?”

  He shook his head. “It’s been said he’d sell out his best friend to get what he wants, and maybe he has a few times. But, no, in general, we’re all politicians, Ella. We present, discuss, argue, then deal. It’s the way things get done.”

  Ella drove to the police station in Shiprock thinking about what Kevin had said. Maybe a compromise hadn’t gone the way someone else had expected, or he’d twisted somebody’s arm just a little too hard. Retaliation could be termed the flip side of compromise.

  As Ella stepped inside the lobby, which was pretty quiet today, she saw Justine standing by the candy machine, sorting through her change. “Did you get anything new from the evidence collected at the arson site?” Ella asked.

  “Tests reveal an accelerant was used, which was proof of arson. Other than that, we don’t have anything that points to a particular individual.”

  “Then let’s go canvas that neighborhood again.”

  “We worked it all yesterday, Ella. No one knew anything—at least nothing they were willing to share.”

  Something in her tone alerted Ella. “Did you think someone was holding back?”

  Justine took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. “I don’t know anything for sure, and it could be nothing . . .”

  “But?”

  “One of the people I spoke to was Vernetta George. She and I go back quite a ways and I had a strong feeling that there was something she wasn’t telling me.”

  “Did you press her?”

  “You bet, but it didn’t work. I was planning to go back today and work on her some more. I had a feeling that Netta was being secretive becau
se her husband Norman was there beside her.”

  “They must have a lot of money if they can afford to live in that area. What do they do for a living?”

  “Norman used to work for the power company, but he got laid off because he missed too much work. Netta is a CPA for the tribe.”

  “Why do you think she’s reluctant to talk around Norman?”

  “I have no idea. After she got married three years ago we quit hanging around as much as we used to.”

  Ella motioned toward the parking lot. “Let’s go pay her a visit and see what we can get from her.” Ella tossed Justine the keys once they stepped outside.

  Although they took Ella’s unit, Justine usually drove. That left Ella free to think without having to worry about the road. Soon they were heading east toward Waterflow.

  “Tell me more about Netta. In your opinion what’s the best way to handle her?” Ella asked as they left the community of Shiprock.

  Justine considered it. “She and I were good friends once, and that means that she’s not likely to be intimidated by me, even when I’m visiting her in an official capacity. You’d probably have a better chance of getting answers from her. If we do the hard-soft approach, I’ll take good cop. But my gut feeling tells me that the key is making sure Norman is not around.”

  They arrived in the higher income area south of the river fifteen minutes later. A winding, paved road led into the housing development. The Hunt home was clearly visible from here and Ella could see the yellow crime-scene tape that had been erected there after the firemen had moved their equipment from the area.

  Since this was a residential area occupied mainly by modernist Navajos there was no need for them to wait for a customary invitation before approaching the door. Ella and Justine got out of the unit, but even before they reached the front porch, Netta came out to greet them. “I knew you’d be back,” she said, looking at Justine with a relieved expression. “Come in. We’ll have some privacy today. Norman drove to Farmington for a job interview.”

  Ella introduced herself, then sat across from Netta at the opposite end of the couch while Justine took a seat on the easy chair.

  “This is now officially a murder investigation, Mrs. George, so you should know that before we begin,” Ella said, polite but firm.

  Vernetta nodded. “I heard that the poor woman’s body had been dug out from beneath the wreckage of the house. We’ve been talking a lot about it.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?” Ella asked. “You and . . .”

  “Norman. Right before you came, Justine, Norman told me not to volunteer any information even though I thought there were some things you needed to know. Norman figured that the police would find out everything sooner or later so there was no reason for us to muddy the waters or put ourselves in the middle of it.”

  “If you know something that pertains to this case, you’re doing the right thing telling us,” Ella said quietly, trying to motivate her without coming on too strong—unless it became necessary.

  “I’m not sure how much this is going to help, but here’s what I know.” She hesitated, gathering her thoughts, then continued. “Lewis Hunt has made lots of enemies, and more recently because of his stand on the gun control issue. But one guy stands heads above the rest. He’s a loudmouth who has a tendency to go off half cocked. In fact, two days before the Hunts’ home burned down, he took a swing at Lewis right here in my own home after they got into an argument about the issue.”

  Ella knew that it was a mistake to rush most Navajos. They told their stories at their own speed and attempts to interfere with that process usually backfired. Forcing herself to be patient, she waited.

  Vernetta paused and cleared her throat. “I should tell you that Norman thinks I’m overreacting and that the man is completely innocent. But I think that, like me, he’s afraid of retaliation. If this man ever found out that I told you about him, he’d come after me for sure. Can you keep my name out of it?”

  “I’ll do my best, but you do need to tell us the other person’s name,” Ella said firmly.

  “Bruce Smiley,” she said.

  Ella didn’t know him, but when she glanced at Justine her partner nodded.

  “You should have a police file on him,” Netta said. “He was arrested last year for bringing a gun into a Chapter House meeting.”

  Ella recalled the incident although she hadn’t responded to the call. “Smiley’s a tribal activist, right?” she asked, searching her memory. “Doesn’t he travel all over the country fighting for Indian rights, stirring people up?”

  “Yeah. Bruce isn’t happy unless he’s fighting something or someone. Lately, he’s been focusing on the gun control issue here at home.”

  “And you think he might be the one who burned down the Hunts’ home?” Ella pressed.

  “I have nothing to offer you that might be even remotely considered evidence, but I do think he’s capable of doing something like that. Last year Hunt pressured other councilmen to vote for using the revenue from the casino in To’hajiilee to fund an addition to the health clinic, then was absent himself when the vote was taken. It ended up a tie, and Hunt’s vote could have made the difference—if he’d have shown up. Bruce took a baseball bat to Lewis’s car, he was so mad.”

  “That was a hot issue,” Justine said, remembering. “A lot of people felt that the money could be better spent.”

  “Bruce was afraid that if the tribe didn’t channel those funds to the clinic, the money would end up being spent on salary increases at the tribal administrative level or more government. Later on, Hunt voted in the majority when it went toward a new tribal office, exactly what Smiley predicted would happen. But it’s the fight he had here with Lewis that made me think of him when the Hunts’ house burned down. It may be coincidence, but there it is.”

  “Did you see him hanging around the neighborhood the day of the fire?”

  “No, but he was here that day. I’d gone shopping and when I came back I noticed several empty cans of beer in the trash. The brand was Coors, but Norman buys Budweiser and he seldom drinks more than one. I asked my husband about it during lunch, and he told me that Bruce had stopped by with some cold ones earlier.”

  Netta paused thoughtfully, then continued. “But I will say this for him—if Bruce is responsible, I can almost guarantee that he didn’t know the councilman’s wife was home. His argument was with Lewis, not his wife. Although she campaigned with him on the issue, Bruce would see it as a wife supporting her husband, nothing more. His enemy was the councilman.”

  “Maybe he thought killing her would be a way to demoralize or destroy Hunt,” Ella suggested.

  Netta shook her head. “Bruce is not a deep thinker—he just reacts.” She looked at Justine and then back at Ella. “Will you be checking this out?”

  “Yes, but we won’t mention your name or your husband’s,” Ella assured, addressing her concern.

  “Thanks. Oh, and one more thing. If Bruce set that fire, I’m sure he’s heard about the death and knows the police will be working extra hard on the case. So be very careful around him. When Bruce feels threatened, he gets even more aggressive.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Ella said.

  They were in the SUV moments later when Ella glanced over at Justine. “Head for the station. Once we’re there, get me an address, a rap sheet, anything and everything you can get on Bruce Smiley. Also ask Special Agent Blalock to run him through the NCIC and then check the sheriff’s department and Farmington PD. Let’s see what we’re up against before we pay him a visit. I have a bad feeling about this.”

  SEVEN

  It was late morning by the time the two FBI agents who worked the Rez met with Ella and her special investigations team in Big Ed Atcitty’s office. Dwayne Blalock, the senior agent, was an Anglo the Dineh had nicknamed FB-Eyes because he had one brown eye and one blue.

  Lucas Payestewa, a Hopi, was at least twenty years younger. He had been assigned to the area two years ago to concent
rate on a long-term investigation on organized crime, but Ella had heard a rumor that he was about to be transferred. Several complaints had been lodged against the Hopi man and he was making too many waves—a situation the Bureau didn’t like at all.

  Ella began their meeting by briefing everyone on what she’d learned, then continued. “Men with Bruce Smiley’s reputation sometimes think of themselves as crusaders. They like headlines and sometimes they will do anything to get attention. So, before we pay him a visit, I wanted us all to be prepared. Smiley lives in a house less than a mile inside the Navajo Nation over by Hogback, so I asked Sheriff Taylor to loan us a deputy who could help us study the house from the off-Rez side while Neskahi kept watch from inside our borders. My caution paid off. Both men found a good surveillance site and Neskahi reported seeing Smiley carrying assault rifles from an outside storage into his house. Then the deputy saw him filling sandbags and bringing them inside. My guess is he suspects we’re coming and is getting ready for a siege.”

  “If those weapons are fully automatic and not registered we can arrest him right now and figure out the rest later,” Payestewa said. “I’m sure we can round up an ATF man to do the honors.”

  “I agree that he’s trouble, but maybe he’s just paranoid. Let’s come up with a more subtle approach than a clear and direct confrontation,” Blalock said. “Those sandbags make it sound like he’s going to make a stand and is going to try and set himself up as a martyr. A shoot-out might eventually force us to kill him so that’ll play right into his hands and, unfortunately, a few of us may also go down with him.

  “If he’s responsible for Mrs. Hunt’s death, he may be trying to confuse the issue hoping he’ll be remembered not as a killer, but as a man who was willing to fight for his right to bear arms. Or he may have rationalized Mrs. Hunt’s death as collateral damage, and convinced himself that he’s a patriot and we’re the bad guys. I don’t know, but experience tells me that men willing to die for what they believe in all too often take others along with them. I want to cut the chances of that happening—to him and to us.”