by Aimée
“Who was this man who came by, Uncle?”
Ralph shrugged. “I know almost everyone around here, but this fellow wasn’t familiar. He was Navajo, but he sure didn’t talk much. I tried to get him interested in some other cars I have for sale, but he wasn’t listening. Kept turning away when I spoke. Rude, for a Navajo.”
“Tell me everything he did, from the time he arrived.”
“He walked over to the T-bird right away, carrying a big wooden toolbox. Looked it over, listened to the engine, lifted the hood and trunk stuff, then just stood there for the longest time. Really strange fellow. I finally decided to leave him out there, thinking that the hot sun would help him make up his mind.”
“And?”
“I went back inside the house where it was cooler. I looked out the window every so often, and he’d be just standing there. Sometimes he’d open the trunk or hood again, then look inside, tinkering with his tools. Finally he came over. He left some money and told me it was a deposit. He told me to make everybody keep their hands off of it until he returned with the rest of the money. As far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t apply to cops.”
“Can you show us where the T-bird is, Uncle?” Ella asked.
“Sure. Let me find the keys first.” Ralph went back into the house and came out again a few minutes later. “Here’s the ignition key and the trunk key.”
Ralph led the way across an area filled with rusting car parts, old tires, and junkers that would have needed a miracle to run. Ella heard movement under an old pickup chassis as they passed by.
“Mind the snakes,” he said.
Ella minded. Snakes had a place, but out here one was likely to run into rattlers, and she’d seen the damage those could do. She had no desire to test the theory that their fangs wouldn’t penetrate boot leather.
Finally they arrived at a faded blue Ford Thunderbird. It was the longer, heavy version, not like that red sporty one she used to see on a TV show. She studied it, noting the elements had been kind to the car and remembering Peterson’s single, grudging clue.
The car looked operable, if shiny chrome mattered. Ella could feel Justine’s eyes on her as she walked around it then crouched by the rear tires. After a moment, Ella stretched out and studied the underside of the car. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed there.
“Do you want me to open the trunk?” Justine asked as Ella got to her feet.
“No, don’t disturb anything. Something doesn’t feel right here.” Ella glanced at Ralph. “The man that looked at this car, did he focus his attention on one part of the car more than another?”
“I couldn’t say,” Ralph replied with a shrug. “I got tired of watching.” As a pickup trailing blue smoke approached, Ralph shielded his eyes from the sun and peered over at the newcomer. “That’s a customer now. I’m supposed to fix Hubert Franklin’s truck this morning. I don’t know how much good I’ll do—that pickup needs a new engine—but I told him I’d try.” The ancient pickup rattled to a stop near the front of Ben’s house. “If you don’t need me here, I better get to work.”
“We’ll take care of ourselves, thanks,” Ella assured him. As the old man walked out of hearing range, she glanced at Justine. “Good. I was hoping he wouldn’t stick around.”
“What’s up? Did you see something that bothered you?”
“No, but something’s fishy. Think about it. The key and this car are linked to Peterson. Nothing about him, or connected to him, can be trusted. I want to make sure of what I’m doing, or not doing, from here on.”
“You think they’d booby-trap this car? If I’m reading you right, that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Sure. It’s something he’d do almost instinctively. Trickery is in his nature.” Ella glanced into the rear seat of the car. “And he did lead me to this vehicle. Considering we know it has been tampered with lately, we need to go slowly with this.”
“So how do you propose we go about opening the trunk?”
Ella took her time studying the back door, and making sure there were no wires connected to either the handle or the door itself. “I’m thinking of checking out the interior first, and under the seats. Then if I don’t find anything suspicious, we’ll drill a very small hole in the trunk and take a peek.”
“I’ve got just the tool that will let us have a real clear look. It’s a small laparoscope. You can look through keyholes, under doors, and so forth. Real spy gear.”
Ella nodded in approval. “Excellent.” As she slid into the rear seat of the car, she looked around carefully, checking under the front seats first.
Justine leaned inside and crouched by the open door. “Maybe we should lift out the rear seat. We could get to the trunk through the back panel.”
“No, don’t touch it.” Ella tried to move the cushion slightly to check for wires. She found none, but was still uneasy. “If we continue using common sense, we’ll be following the steps Yazzie would expect someone to take.” She shook her head. “We have to do something unpredictable. Let’s drill that hole through the top of the trunk right now, instead. Once we take a look, we’ll have a better idea.”
“We could call Sam Pete.”
Ella shook her head. Sam Pete was their bomb squad, but his role had always been to disarm and dispose of ordnance, not search for it. If they found a bomb, then they could call him. “Let’s not bring anyone else in, until we have more to go on than Yazzie’s puzzles.”
“I’ll go borrow a drill.”
“Tell Ralph we’ll reimburse him for the damage.”
“To this clunker? What damage?”
“Just tell him.”
“Okay, okay.”
While Justine walked back, Ella sat on her heels and studied the backseat. Nothing could be trusted. If she kept that firmly in mind, she’d be fine. She stepped out of the vehicle as Justine approached with a big, battery-powered drill and a metal box Ella figured contained the laparoscope.
“This drill isn’t as powerful as one of those extension-cord jobs, but he put in a new, especially hard bit for us. Ralph said it’ll go through that sheet metal like it’s butter.”
“Good.” Ella took the drill from Justine’s hands. “I’ll start this. Just in case, why don’t you wait behind that row of cars?”
“No way. You might need my help.”
“Definitely a possibility,” Ella conceded, stepping forward and picking a spot on the trunk where she hoped there were no metal braces underneath.
She worked the drill slowly, concentrating on creating a big enough hole before the battery ran down. “I don’t know what’s going to piss me off more—finding out he’s really booby-trapped this, or finding out he hasn’t,” Ella joked cynically.
“Let me finish that for you.” Justine looked around Ella’s arm for a closer look.
“I’ve just got a little to go,” Ella answered, then a moment later the drill bit broke through, slipping forward and speeding up to a whine. Ella worked the bit back out, then shut off the drill and set it down on the ground. “Now get out the laparoscope.”
Justine inserted the optical fiber tip carefully into the hole, and they both looked at the small viewing screen.
Ella was first to speak. “There’s our dynamite. It’s been booby-trapped to the trunk door with a blasting cap. Had we used the key, it would have been the last thing we would have done.”
“I hate to bring this up,” Justine said slowly, “but we really have no way of knowing in what condition that stash has been kept. I don’t know much about explosives and detonators, but I do know they have a tendency to become unstable with age and under harsh conditions. If there ever was a time to call in some backup, I think this is it.”
“Yeah, we’re in perfect agreement. Call Sam Pete.”
“Oh, and while I’m at it, are you aware of the time? We’re going to be late meeting Big Ed.”
Ella glanced at her watch. It was eight already. She groaned. One more thing she’d have to explain. W
ell, maybe the progress she’d made on the bombing attempt would be enough to offset her absence at a meeting and her bullet-ridden Jeep.
ELEVEN
Two hours later, Ella sat on the tailgate of an old Dodge pickup. Big Ed was next to her, watching Sam Pete work about a hundred yards away. “The Jeep we gave you was brand-new. Now it could be proudly parked in any row of this salvage yard.”
Ella said nothing, mostly because she had a feeling that anything she could say right now would be precisely the wrong thing.
“I’ve looked over our inventory for another vehicle, but we don’t have a large number of cars on hand.”
“Do you want me to share with Justine?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. But the vehicle that’ll be assigned to you is several years old. It’s low mileage though. Harry takes care of all our cars, and he tells me it runs like a charm.”
“Thanks. I appreciate getting another unit quickly.”
“Don’t thank me. I got the order to give you one from a higher authority, and I don’t mean God. I, personally, wanted to let you sweat for a while.”
Ella kept silent. Something was really bugging Big Ed, and she had a good idea what it was. She figured that sooner or later he’d get around to it. It was better not to press.
“From now on, I want you to fill me in daily on your plans, in writing or orally, before you get started. I realize that I’ve always encouraged autonomy from my department heads, but this case is different. I have to report to the tribal president myself now. And I never want to hear from an outside source, like the Farmington Police, what one of mine is doing. Clear?”
“Crystal,” she answered. “No problem.”
“The tribal council is getting nervous. There is a lot of political pressure to solve the murder, and to get Peterson’s people taken care of once and for all. When politicians call me on the carpet about what my department’s doing, I like to have ready answers, you get me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Getting results, that’s the most important thing now. I don’t want you or any of our people hurt. That’ll just feed into the belief that the evil in our land is getting stronger and heighten the fear that’s been just beneath the surface among the Dineh. But I don’t care if you destroy half the vehicles in the department as long as you put this case to rest.”
Sam Pete extracted the case of dynamite from the trunk of the Ford. After placing it inside an armored box, he waved to them. “I’m taking this a few miles out into the desert, away from any possibility of breaking windows, then I’m going to blow it up. I’ve got lot numbers and photos for you, but this stuff’s unstable and even transporting it that far is risky. We can’t keep it.”
“Go ahead,” Big Ed yelled back.
“Yazzie has answers,” Ella said. “I’m going back to that hospital and wring them out of him.”
Big Ed gave her a long, thoughtful look. “If you think that you can force anything out of that man, you’re wasting everybody’s time. You’re smarter than that, aren’t you?”
The words stung, but she knew he was right. “I’d like to shut him up and wipe that superior smile off his face.”
“Understandable, but don’t let him lose interest in the game he’s playing with you. If that happens, he’ll shut down completely, and you’ll lose a possible source of future information. Just remember, he set you up with this bomb. Everything he did or has done was to lead you here, to open that trunk. Blowing you and anyone else unlucky enough to be near you into pieces was part of his plan. Stay one step ahead of him—always.”
As Big Ed walked away, Ella found Justine busy searching the interior of the Thunderbird. “We’ll get this car towed to the impound yard,” Ella said. “Then you and I are going to go over it with a fine-toothed comb. I want fibers, fingerprints, hair samples, dirt, anything that will lead me to the Navajo who booby-trapped it.”
“We can check and see who has experience with explosives too.”
“Yeah, just remember it doesn’t take a genius to make a bomb like this. All they need is one of those how-to-make-a-bomb manuals,” Ella said. “We should check people who worked construction or mining and feel comfortable around dynamite.”
“That list may be lengthy,” Justine warned. “A lot of the Dineh have worked the mines.”
“Maybe once we’ve gone over the car, we’ll be able to narrow it down. The man who made the bomb might have been sloppy. He figured most of the vehicle was going up in smoke.”
As Justine went to call in for a tow truck, Ella met Ralph Ben. “It seems this got a lot more complicated than either of us expected,” she commented.
Ralph shrugged. “That’s okay by me. I still get paid for that old clunker, and no one got hurt here, including me.”
“I’d like for you to try and remember back. I need to know everything you can recall about that man who came to see the car.”
“I didn’t recognize him. I already told you that.”
“I bet there are things you noticed without even being aware of it. Let’s go over to your porch to talk. It’ll be more comfortable for both of us out of the sun.”
Ella walked back to the house with him. It was still early, but the temperature was already climbing. At least clouds were amassing to the west. It might rain later on this afternoon. That would help cool things off again.
“Was he as tall as I am?” Ella asked Ralph as he sat down on one of the old metal folding chairs.
“No, he was more like Big Ed, but not as fat.”
Ella tried not to smile. She could imagine what her boss would have said if he’d heard that.
“My age, maybe?”
He considered it. “He was wearing a cowboy hat, and dark glasses. I really couldn’t tell you how old he was.” He paused. “But he stood straight, and walked like a young man.”
“Good. Think back. What color was his hat? Black?”
“No, brown. And he had long hair. I remember it stuck out around the hat,” Ralph nodded.
“Excellent. Did he look like someone who makes his living working indoors, or outside?”
“His hands weren’t like a workingman’s. I remember thinking that. He also wasn’t wearing any rings. He had a gold watch though, on his left wrist. Looked expensive, with one of those metal bands. Not leather.”
“Did he have a western belt buckle, like yours?” Ella smiled.
“Yes, he did. I recall it was gold, like his watch. And his boots were shiny. I forget the color, black or brown. Not those snakeskin kind.” Ralph smiled, pleased with himself.
“I knew you could do it! Keep thinking about it, and if you remember anything more, give me a call,” she said, handing Ralph her card.
Justine came up and cleared her throat. “Do you have a moment?”
Something in Justine’s tone made Ella’s flesh prickle. Something was wrong. She was suddenly very tired of surprises.
Ella led Justine away from the porch. She could feel her young cousin’s growing tension. When she was certain they were out of Ralph Ben’s hearing range, she stopped. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve got bad news. The hataalii, Leonard Haske, was just found dead.”
It took a few seconds for the news to register over the sudden numbing of her brain. “You don’t mean from natural causes, do you?” Ella observed, her voice uneven.
“No. He was murdered, and it’s some sort of ritualistic thing, from the preliminary report I just got.”
“Where?”
“Near the Shiprock itself. I’m not sure about this, but I think it’s at his family’s shrine. He was supposed to meet with someone he was training to take over for him someday, Vernon Kelewood. Do you know him?”
“Vaguely.”
As Justine started her vehicle, Ella placed the bubble on top of the car and switched on the siren. “Step on it. The way the clouds are building, I’m almost certain it’s going to rain this afternoon.”
The irony of such a crime
occurring near Shiprock, Tse’ Bit’a’i’ to the Dineh, passed through Ella’s mind. The dark igneous rock, once the throat of a volcano, stood over 1,450 feet above the floor of the desert. The massive geologic feature figured prominently in Navajo ceremonial lore.
In one story Monster Slayer hid on the mighty rock and killed two enormous bird-creatures who had been preying on the People. Later, he turned the babies of the creatures into the eagle and the owl.
Shiprock itself had once been considered sacred too. Part of the Enemyway ceremony, which included rituals for protection and power, was performed near the rock. But when a Sierra Club climbing party profaned it in 1939, it could no longer be used in sacred rites. Ella wondered if the killer, or killers, knew this.
They arrived forty minutes later. The trip would have taken closer to an hour if Justine hadn’t practically floored the accelerator until they left the main road. Ella glanced at the police officer who was standing alone at the scene, his back to the high volcanic wall or dike that projected from the desert floor. The massive structure was one of three ancient lava flows extending from the volcanic neck of Shiprock like collapsed tripod legs. Officer Winston Atcitty looked as if he would have rather been anywhere else on earth than there.
Ella stepped out of Justine’s car, her gaze taking in the scene. As she walked closer, she saw that Haske’s body lay facedown near a cairn of rocks, halfway up the slope to the dike. This was, in turn, about fifteen yards from the dirt track that passed as a road. Blood stained the ground around the body, having seeped from its back and legs. “Who found him?” she asked the officer.
“His apprentice, Vernon Kelewood. He’s with the family right now. The daughter took it badly.”
Ella nodded. “Did you call in the crime-scene unit?”
Officer Atcitty nodded. “They’re on the way.”
Ella glanced back and saw that Justine was already busy taking measurements and sketching out the crime scene. “Stay here until we’re finished. I’ll be needing you to help us canvass the crime scene for evidence.”
