by Aimée
TEN
Ella arrived at the Farmington post office just outside the Rez shortly after seven. She parked across the street and walked inside.
Justine was walking around the lobby, pretending to sort through mail in her hand, glancing only casually at those who entered. Ella gave her a nod, and met her by the self-serve desk next to the postal scale.
“I’ve been here all of today. No one’s opened that box. I don’t think my cover’s blown either. No one’s paid attention to me at all, except for a cute guy who tried to strike up a conversation. Either this isn’t a pressing letter, or the recipient has no idea it’s coming.”
“That’s not only possible, it’s likely. From what Dr. Kring told me, Yazzie doesn’t talk to anyone except Bruce Cohen, his lawyer.”
“So this stakeout could go on for several more days.”
“No, not really. We don’t have the manpower to invest on it. I figure we’ll do another full day, then we’ll have to pull back unless Big Ed gives us some backup.”
Ella shifted so she could see the entrance doors. “Why don’t you go home, have dinner, then come back tomorrow? I’ll finish tonight’s watch.”
“I can stay…”
“You’ve done more than your share already today. I’ll take over. Go home, get some rest, and we’ll meet at the office tomorrow at seven A.M. We need some time to catch each other up on the case.” Ella picked out some discarded envelopes from the trash. These would add to her cover.
“See you tomorrow then.”
Ella watched Justine walk out of the post office, her assistant blinking in the direct sunlight. She could tell Justine was beat. Sometimes lengthy stakeouts punctuated by nothing but boredom turned out to be the hardest ones to handle.
Ella strolled around the lobby keeping several empty envelopes in her hand as she pretended to walk to one box, then another, as patrons entered or exited.
For an hour, nothing happened. Even the walk-in traffic began to trickle to practically nothing. The janitor came, swept the floor and emptied the trash cans, then left. Noticing that a broom had been left out, and needing to stay busy, Ella picked it up and pretended to be part of the cleaning crew.
Ten minutes later, restless, and almost certain that once again she’d wasted their time, Ella stopped sweeping and glanced around. The post office lobby was completely empty. She was putting the broom back when an Indian man wearing a baseball cap and a blue windbreaker ambled up slowly to the section she was watching. Ella moved to one side, trying to figure out if he was going to the right box. His back was to her and he was blocking her view. She strolled toward him casually just as he opened the door and extracted the letter.
Ella stopped, not wanting to alert him, but something about her actions must have spooked the man. He turned and raced out the door.
“Police officer! Stop!” she ordered, but the man never slowed.
Ella was only a few yards behind him when she saw him jump inside an old Chevy and take off down the street. It took Ella less than ten seconds to reach her Jeep. He wouldn’t be able to get far. Requesting backup from the Farmington police and giving a general description of the car, she weaved through the early evening traffic. She kept her eyes glued on the speeding vehicle ahead. No way he was eluding her.
Ella saw the Chevy turn into an alley behind some old four-story businesses facing Main Street. She pressed down on the accelerator, anxious to keep him in sight. It was just a matter of time before he was intercepted by the Farmington police or she forced him to pull over. Either way, this jerk wasn’t getting away.
As Ella entered the alley, she felt a prickling over her skin that warned her of trouble. Her cop instincts began working overtime. Her gaze darted everywhere, searching beyond the illuminated area of her headlights with her searchlight to see around the Dumpsters.
Slowly she drove on a little farther. Suddenly the Chevy shot out from behind a trash-filled Dumpster, blocking her way. The barrel of a shotgun appeared from the backseat window behind the driver.
Ella slammed on the brakes, whipping the Jeep to the left to put the engine block between her and the threat. She ducked down just as the windshield exploded into a waterfall of cubed glass. The shotgun continued its thunderous blasts, striking the front end and passenger doors with hammering blows. Ella, on the floorboard, threw open her door to slip out.
Suddenly the new blast of a rifle was added to the shotgun fire, and a bullet ricocheted off the pavement beneath the car. Her left front tire exploded, and the car sagged on the driver’s side. The rifle sounded again, and she realized that the other front tire was now history. Her vehicle was being ripped apart!
Ears ringing from the noise, she hugged the transmission hump and called for help again on the radio. “Ten-eighty-three. Shots fired, in the alley between Broadway and Main. Cross street is Auburn. Officer needs help!”
Ella kept her head low as she dove out the door, then crouched low behind the flattened front tire as another shotgun blast shattered glass above her. Her vehicle was disabled, and there were two well-armed assailants out there, gunning for her. There was no way she was going to let them just walk up and blow her away while she was cowering on the floorboard of the car.
Nine-millimeter handgun in hand, she felt inside her jacket pocket for the two extra clips. She had plenty of ammo, but her pistol was outgunned against the firepower of a shotgun and high-powered rifle.
A deadly silence fell and seconds crept by with agonizing slowness. She resisted the temptation to take a look. They were probably waiting, their sights trained, trigger fingers ready, hoping she’d do just that. Instead, she listened, ready to nail them when they tried to move in.
Another thirty seconds elapsed. She heard sirens wailing in the distance. There was no sweeter sound. Her odds were looking better. Gathering her courage, she moved to the rear of her Jeep and peered out, looking from underneath. To her surprise, the Chevy was gone. She cursed loudly. They must have taken advantage of the covering fire that had kept her head down and ears ringing, and slipped out of the alley. They were long gone.
Ella stood up as two patrol vehicles shot into the alley. She held up her badge immediately and ran toward the lead car. Giving the officers a fast description, she watched them race away after her attackers. She didn’t hold much hope that they’d catch them now. Those two guys had been prepared for trouble.
Ella accepted a ride back to the Farmington police station. After she filled out a report and made a telephone call to bring Big Ed into the picture, Justine arrived, ready to take Ella back to the Rez.
As Ella rode back with her assistant, her thoughts continually drifted to Yazzie, and she cursed the day he was born. Lately, all the wins had been his. “My car’s going to be in the shop for days, so I’ll be using my own pickup unless Big Ed finds me a loaner. After my conversation with him tonight, that may take awhile.”
“Yeah, when he called me at home and asked me to pick you up, he sounded really ticked off.”
“He doesn’t like surprises. I should have filled him in on what we were doing at that post office. But he hates to have someone in charge report every action they take. He likes his people to take the initiative. And the fact is, until now, I really had nothing concrete to report.”
“What’s changed? The suspects got away.”
Ella told Justine about her meeting with Yazzie. “I’ve been thinking about what he told me. He said I had the key I needed already. What if he meant it literally, and was referring to the key that was taken from beneath my—his—old desk? He may not know one of his followers had removed it recently. Peterson also said something about blue. I have no idea what that suggested. Let’s see if anything’s come back on that imprint.”
“I remember inheriting that from Harry Ute.” Justine nodded. “I’ll check if it’s in any of the reports that have come in via fax.”
“Let’s go back to the office then. My meeting with Big Ed is tomorrow first thing.” Ella br
aced herself for a very long evening.
* * *
Forty minutes later, they sat in Ella’s office. No report on the key had come in from the lab. “If it wasn’t one A.M., I’d call the labs.”
“Shall we call it a night? I don’t see what else we can do.” Justine yawned.
Ella pursed her lips. “I’m going to call Blalock.”
“At this hour? What for? He won’t know what the labs have.”
“Maybe he can goose someone on duty at the Albuquerque office, and they’ll get back to me tomorrow morning. I owe old FB-Eyes a wake-up call or two anyway, after what he put me through last year.” Ella gave Justine an evil smile, then picked up the phone. Blalock wasn’t thrilled to hear from her, but he seemed alert enough to take action. “I’ll get back to you,” he said.
* * *
Ten minutes later, Ella’s phone rang. She had it in her hand instantly. “Hello, Dwayne. What’s the word?”
Blalock was almost upbeat, considering the time. “I got ahold of the agent on duty in Albuquerque, Ella. The crime-scene unit is out in the field right now, working a suspicious death on one of the local pueblos. When they go back to the labs, one of them will check and see what they have so far on that key of yours and fax you a preliminary. I gave them your fax number there.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Good. Now can I get some sleep, or do you have any other crimes you’d like me to solve for you before sunrise?” Blalock mumbled.
“Get your beauty rest, guy. You need it.” Ella hung up the phone, a smile on her face.
“So what now?”
“We wait until it comes in. If there’s any chance it’s something we can move on before morning, I’d like to know about it. I have to find answers soon. Fear of what’s to come is translating into restlessness now, but the longer this is drawn out, the more dangerous things will get.”
Justine nodded. “One of my brothers works for the tribal council. I understand that the tribal president is going to be increasing pressure on the department. The families of the victims, including the ones who died in the bus accident, have gone directly to him. We’ll be getting that backlash soon.” Justine stopped abruptly. “But you didn’t hear that from me, okay?”
Ella nodded. “I appreciate the advance warning.”
“Let’s go to my office. The fax machine is there, and we can try to get some sleep while we wait,” Justine suggested. “The ringing phone will wake us up the second the fax comes through.”
“I suppose we can try sleeping in the chairs there,” Ella said slowly.
“I have a two-man sleeping bag in the back of my vehicle,” Justine said. “It belongs to my brother and his wife, but they won’t mind. If we lay it out, neither one of us will have to sleep on the floor.”
“Sounds good to me,” Ella answered.
Ten minutes later, Ella lay down on the soft, down-filled sleeping bag. It felt wonderful beneath her, despite the tile floor underneath. She closed her eyes, intending to will herself to relax, but there was no effort involved. Without even being aware of it, she drifted off to sleep.
The next sound she heard was the fax machine phone ringing, then the feed of paper coming through. Ella was up in a second, reading the report as it came in. “They suspect it came from the trunk of a Ford sedan made between 1958 and 1963. If my memory serves, Peterson used to drive an old Ford Thunderbird, and it was blue. I wonder what happened to it?”
Justine yawned. “A car that age is probably falling apart by now. We could try old Ralph Ben’s place. That salvage yard of his has practically everything. Maybe Yazzie ended up selling it to him for parts.”
“It’s worth checking up on. Though whatever might have been hidden in that car is probably long gone, it still could give us some clues. We’ll head over there at sunup,” Ella said glancing at her watch. “That’ll be about two hours from now. If they’ve hidden something in his old car, then for whatever reason they’ve chosen to call attention to it now. I’m eager to find out why, and what it is.”
“Well, until then, we might as well go back to sleep. I’ll set my watch alarm.”
“All right. We’ll grab all the sleep we can, then get going.”
* * *
The next sound she heard was the electronic beep of Justine’s wristwatch alarm. Ella opened her eyes slowly and reluctantly. Taking a deep breath, she realized slowly where she was, and why.
“Wake up, cousin. Time to get going,” she said, nudging Justine.
Justine’s eyes blinked open and she sighed. “I don’t want it to be morning yet.”
“You can quit early tonight. For now, we’ve got to get over there.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were on the highway. Ella rolled down the window, allowing the cold morning air to hit their faces and force them awake.
“Why don’t we stop and get some coffee someplace?”
Ella was tempted to say no, but without sleep and food, they weren’t going to be much good to anyone or the case.
As the sun peered over the Four Corners power plant far to the east, Justine pulled into Millie’s, an all-night coffee shop next to the highway.
After consuming two coffees and a half-dozen honey-glazed doughnuts, they got back on the road. Ralph Ben’s business had originally been an auto repair shop. He’d done a good job, and cheaply, so his services were much in demand. Often, however, the clunkers people brought to him were beyond repair. As the years passed, the land around his home had become a graveyard for cars nobody wanted.
The Ben family eventually had turned it into a salvage yard. It was nothing more than a rolling stretch of rocky soil and arroyos the Ben family had asked the tribe to allocate to them. Still, it was a profitable sideline. People came here searching for old parts no one could order anymore.
“I’ll be willing to bet that Old Man Ben will be able to tell us exactly where any old Ford Thunderbirds are,” Justine said.
“Even so, that’s no guarantee we’ll find the right one there.” Ella glanced at her watch. “Big Ed will be at the office at eight-thirty. That gives us a little over two hours to get this done.”
“Well, at least you found out something about the key. That’s certainly positive information you can tell the chief.”
“I’d also like to give him the name of a suspect linked to the attempted bombing.”
“Why are you so worried about this Farmington thing? I mean, granted, your Jeep was all shot up, and it’ll cost a bundle to repair, but you were able to flush out some of Peterson’s band and still keep from being shot in their ambush.”
“When Big Ed came on as police chief, I know he had implicit faith in my abilities, and in the training I’d received in the bureau. I’d hate to see that faith eroded, particularly now. I’ve had my share of opposition from the community, and there are those who would like to see me off the force. So it’s important to me that Big Ed knows that my instincts and abilities can be trusted. Otherwise, next time I need for him to let me handle things my own way, he may not be so inclined, considering the politics of his job. I work better when I don’t have to keep checking in every time I make a decision.”
Justine nodded slowly. “I can understand that. And from everything I’ve heard, Big Ed has a long memory. You don’t get a lot of chances with him if he thinks you’ve messed up.”
Thanks to Justine’s penchant for speed, they arrived at Ben’s Salvage ten minutes later.
“Park near the front of his house, then let’s see if he notices we’re here,” Ella instructed. “It’s still awful early in the morning.”
Justine followed the suggestion. “How long do you want to wait? He may not even be up.”
“If he’s not, then we’ll start looking around the yard for Peterson’s old car. There’s no fence here. I don’t think he’ll mind.”
“Probably not,” Justine agreed.
Ella caught a flicker of movement from around the side of the house. Ralph Ben, dress
ed in jeans and an old work shirt, was walking toward his front porch. “It looks like he’s been up for a while. Morning prayers maybe,” Ella commented, seeing the pollen bag tied to his belt.
Ella opened the car door and stepped out to stand beside the car. She saw Ralph look their way, then wave, inviting them to join him.
“You two are up early,” he said as they reached the porch. “I haven’t seen any cops around here for a long time. What brings you to my place?”
Ella studied his expression. “Tell me, when was the last time you saw cops here, Uncle?” She used the title not to denote kinship, but out of respect, as was customary on the reservation when addressing an old person.
He smiled. “Oh, close to a year ago, I think. Peterson came by. But then, he’s not a cop anymore, so maybe that doesn’t count.”
Ella nodded. “Tell me about Peterson’s visit, Uncle. Why was he here?”
His eyebrows knitted together. “I’m not sure. Let’s see…” He stared across the salvage yard absently. “Sergeant Yazzie was looking for a part. No, wait, that’s not it. He was looking for that old Ford Thunderbird he used to own. I tried to tell him that it was no longer worth fixing up, but he wanted to check it over anyway.” He shrugged. “Peterson wasn’t the kind of man I’d ever argue with.”
“So, did he find the car?”
“Yeah, it’s still here, a sixty-two T-bird. It’s one of those from after they started getting big. He must have believed me after all about it not being worth fixing up. He just looked it over. Then he left, and that was the last time I saw him.” Ben gestured toward the north end of the yard. “Funny thing though. About two weeks ago, someone else came by. He was interested in that car, too, but then I guess he came to his senses. It runs, but I’d be willing to bet that you couldn’t get more than a few miles down the road without it overheating. The transmission is bad too.”
