by Aimée
“If we had someone like that around us, he would have been driven out,” she said flatly. “Our community wouldn’t have allowed it to continue. We listen to what is going on in our world. Everybody knows about the historian and his eye, and now about the hataalii and what happened to him. It’s spoken about in whispers, but people know. That’s why they’re afraid. More bad things will happen now, like the bus accident. You can count on it. People sometimes say that fear of the unknown is the greatest fear of all. But in this case they’re wrong. It’s what they know that terrifies them most.” She glanced around. “Now you better go before I end up in trouble with my neighbors.”
“One last thing. If someone’s vehicle, a car, suddenly turns up missing, will you call me?”
“Sure. I’ll get hold of you, one way or another.”
Ella walked back to Justine’s car, checking out the vehicles she passed. Once again, she was faced with a man who had many friends and few enemies, a man who was nonetheless dead.
TWELVE
It was midafternoon by the time Ella entered the station. Stopping briefly by the front desk, she picked up the keys to her “new” police car then continued down the hall. Justine was coming out of the lab, newspaper in hand, as she walked by.
“Anything new?” Ella asked, handing Justine’s car keys back to her.
“Big Ed is now doing the press releases himself,” she said, accompanying Ella to her office. “He wants you to concentrate solely on the case. Also, Carolyn … Dr. Roanhorse called. It’s a cat bone again. She thought you’d want to know as soon as possible.”
“Anything else?”
“Carolyn sent over the victim’s clothing and I managed to get pieces of the grille and another tiny piece I’m sure came from a turn-signal light. I sent it to the lab, and they’ll get back to us. There wasn’t much to work with, so they warned it would take some time.”
“Great. At least that’s something.”
“We are getting answers, though admittedly we’ve had to work for each little piece. We are now pretty sure that both victims were killed by the same man,” Justine said.
“And that he may be targeting authorities on Navajo culture. Get me a list of known authorities in every area of our culture as soon as possible. Wilson Joe may be able to help you compile it.”
“You’ll have it. When it’s ready, do you want me to put those people under protective surveillance?”
“We don’t have the manpower. What we have to do is warn them of the danger, ask them to keep a close lookout, and make sure they know to call us at the first hint of trouble. Of course if anyone has been threatened, or feels they’re in immediate danger, we’ll place them in protective custody right away.”
“I’ll get started on that. Meanwhile you might want to take a look at the tribal newspaper.” Justine placed it on Ella’s desk. “Check the headlines, then the editorial page.”
Ella glanced down at the front page briefly. Another disaster of sorts made the top story. “COAL MINE TO SHUT DOWN. HUNDREDS WILL LOSE JOBS.” Ella felt her flesh prickle. This story came on the heels of the hataalii’s death. Fear would hold the People in a tight grip now.
No arguments supporting logic would matter. Some would claim that evil was methodically destroying the tribe from within. In a way, it was true. Belief and fear had always been her most dangerous adversaries. Struggling against the heaviness of spirit that weighed on her shoulders, she turned to the editorial page.
A long letter written by Walter Billey suggested that Ella’s brother, Clifford, could be involved in the murder of Kee Dodge, and might be indirectly responsible for the bus accident the same day in the same area. Billey then hinted that other troubles would follow unless the entire Destea family, including Ella, was driven off the reservation.
“I’ve checked on the author of that letter,” Justine said, walking back inside Ella’s office. “There is no one in the records by the name of Walter Billey. There’s a Warren, and two Wesleys, but that’s it. The name is as phony as the charges.”
“You sure? No distant relatives of the Billey clan?”
“I tripled-checked it. Trust me.”
Ella nodded, lost in thought, as Justine dropped off the daily report for Ella’s signature and left the office. Ella’s thoughts were racing. The writer had obviously expressed the sentiments of at least a few people in the area. He’d probably just been too afraid of retaliation to use his own name. Personally she hoped the gossip monger got a sunburn on his tongue while spreading his lies.
Ella picked up the list of phone messages Justine had collected for her. Bruce Cohen had called three times. She picked up the phone and dialed his number.
“I’ve been trying to get hold of you, Detective Clah. Where have you been?” Bruce demanded.
“You’ll hear about it soon enough on the news. That’s my concern anyway. If you needed me right away, you should have said it was an emergency. The dispatcher always knows where to reach me.”
There was a long pause. “It’s not an emergency, just something I thought you should know. Peterson asked me to mail two letters yesterday. One went to the tribal paper, the other went to you.”
Ella cursed herself for not checking her telephone messages yesterday afternoon, but things had been so hectic. “Do you know anything about their contents?”
“No. All I can tell you is that they were in plain white legal-sized envelopes. But the one that went to the paper can’t be very private.”
“I’ll look into it. Thanks for letting me know. How are you holding up?”
“I tried the tactic you suggested with my client, and so far it’s worked. The creep likes having people who worry about what he might do to them. There have been no further threats.”
“There probably won’t be any more, unless he feels you’re getting too complacent or cocky.”
“I wish I’d never heard of this case,” Cohen muttered.
“We have something in common then.” As Ella hung up the receiver, she felt genuine sympathy for the man. He was stuck trying to protect his family, forced to deal with a dangerous killer whose legal rights he was also sworn to protect. But Yazzie had underestimated the strength of family ties. Perhaps not ever having experienced that love was his biggest weakness.
Ella checked in with tribal patrol units, county law enforcement agencies, and body shops, hoping they’d found the vehicle used as a murder weapon, but there was still no trace of it. She was sitting back in her chair, sorting her thoughts, when Clifford walked in.
“Hi, Special Investigator Lady. I was driving back home and since I had to go by your office, I thought I’d pay you a visit.’
“Then this is the first time ever,” Ella smiled. “What’s really on your mind?”
Clifford gave her a quick half smile, then his face grew serious. “I’ve been thinking about that day when I told you to seek out the old Singer. Now he’s dead.”
“I know,” she said sadly. “The backlash already started too. There’s talk that our family brings trouble and is responsible, directly or indirectly, for the tribe’s problems. The next thing you know, they’ll claim we’re responsible for the coal mines’ closing down.”
Clifford nodded. “Evil brings evil. All things are connected. What people don’t realize is that our family weighs in the scale for good. We are needed more than ever if balance is to be restored.”
Ella knew that her brother was referring to more than the fact that they were honest people who fought on the side of right. His beliefs centered on the special abilities—gifts, some said—that they both possessed. But her intuition was based mostly on logic and training. Not wanting to argue, she let the matter drop.
“Your instincts tell you the murders are going to continue?”
She exhaled softly. “Unless I catch the killer, they will.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“Not usable ones. So far, everything points to Peterson, and he’s in custody. He knows s
omething though. I’m going to have to try and get some more information from him.”
“He’ll give you enough to keep you coming back, but never enough to solve the crimes,” Clifford warned.
“So far that’s been the way it is. Any idea how I can trick him into making a mistake?”
“I don’t think there is a way. Remember that although we both know a great deal about him, he also knows about us. And he has one advantage: he doesn’t care what happens to anyone else. To him, your desire to catch the killer before he strikes again makes you vulnerable. It also makes you susceptible to his deceptions.”
“Susceptible how?” Ella prodded, her gaze thoughtful.
“The more time you spend with him, the more opportunities he’ll have to manipulate you. Soon he’ll get you used to making concessions in exchange for information. Nothing will happen abruptly, little sister, but he’s counting on a slow progression that will give him the opportunity he wants to strike back hard.”
“He’s already tried, and failed.” Ella told him quickly about the bomb in the car. “I can deal with him eye-to-eye,” Ella assured him. “Now let’s change the subject for a moment, brother. Do you know Walter Billey?”
Clifford gave her a puzzled look. “I think you have the name wrong. There’s a Warren and a Wesley. Which one are you interested in?”
“Neither.” Ella passed the newspaper across the desk toward him. “Have you read this little gem?”
Clifford scanned it, but his expression remained calm. “There is no Walter Billey. This phony letter was meant to stir up trouble. The newspaper publisher should know better than to print this without verifying the source.”
“That’s why I’m going to go talk to the newspaper editor. I believe there’s a good chance that this came from Peterson.”
“How can he get a letter out? Aren’t there restrictions on him?”
Ella explained. “The thing is, I don’t want to put a stop to it. He may know something.”
“Then the progression I warned you about has already begun.” Without further word, Clifford walked out of her office.
Ella considered what her brother had said. He didn’t understand. She would use Peterson, not the other way around. She’d be on her guard.
Ella closed her office door and went down the hallway scarcely looking at the other officers along the way. Ella stopped by Justine’s lab and peered inside. “I’m going to the newspaper office in Window Rock. I’ll be back in a couple of hours or so.”
“Do you need me to go with you?” Justine glanced up from the microscope.
“No, you can probably do more good here.”
Justine rubbed her eyes. “Don’t count on it. I got zip on the herbs in the medicine pouch. They’re mostly weeds with no use that I’ve been able to discern. At least if it had been tree leaves, I could have considered the possibility that they had come from a tree struck by lightning—that makes sense and has a recognized use. Bits of pollen, soil, water—all those are tokens of power. But the stuff in this pouch was probably just grabbed off the ground as filler. I think there’s even potpourri in here, but I’m still checking that out.”
“Another non-lead,” Ella muttered. “If they want us to believe in the validity of the clues they leave, why do they make such basic mistakes?”
“I’ve given this some thought. What if it’s not meant to mislead anyone except the general public? The perp may be counting on the gossip that flows naturally after each crime. Someone sees a medicine pouch, they tell someone else. But police findings aren’t necessarily made public. The public may never know that it’s not a genuine medicine bundle. That may be precisely what our killer’s counting on.”
Ella considered Justine’s theory. “That’s Peterson Yazzie’s type of game. I feel him in this. Yet logic tells me that all he’s doing is trying to get some attention, and the extent of his involvement could be limited to his imagination. Meanwhile, how are you coming with the evidence?”
“I’ll have a better handle on things by the time you get back. I’m going to be running the fingerprints I’ve lifted from the vehicles next. Some PD’s in our area have Descriptor Index files in their data banks. I can describe both murders, and if there’s a similar MO, then some of the data bases will supply me with fingerprints I may be able to link to the crime we’re investigating. It’s a long shot, sure, but I figure it can’t hurt.”
“Keep up the good work,” Ella encouraged. “I’ll take care of the footwork while you track down things from your end.”
Ella went out to the parking lot and located her vehicle, a four-year-old generic Ford sedan, in gray. At least it had the proper equipment, and air-conditioning.
Ella started up the unfamiliar vehicle, discovered the air conditioner really did work, and forced herself to concentrate on the facts they had on the case. Speculation on the extent of Peterson Yazzie’s involvement was distracting her from the main path of the investigation, she knew. Someone had murdered two of the tribe’s best cultural resources. That was the heart of the investigation. She had to let her instincts take command and let the killer lead her back to Yazzie, if he was indeed part of all this.
Fifty minutes later, she pulled into the parking area of the newspaper’s Window Rock office. She walked inside, identified herself, then asked to see the editor-in-chief.
Jaime Beyale stepped out of the adjacent office and gestured for Ella to come inside. “Ella! I haven’t seen you in a good fifteen years.” The woman smiled. “Of course you may remember me twenty pounds thinner.”
Ella grinned. “Jaime. You were the editor of the Tomahawk, our school paper, and now you’re the editor of the Dineh Times. Seems fitting.”
“Somehow I remember you as more of a homebody,” Jaime observed, “not as one of the People’s top cops.”
“Back then I was a lot more domestic,” Ella agreed. “But life has a way of changing you.”
“Is it the editorial letter we printed that brings you here? It’s our policy never to print a letter unless we verify the source. But there was a slip-up. I had a call from Warren Billey because he wanted to know if there is some relative he didn’t know about.”
“Is that possible?”
“You tell me,” Jaime answered and slid a plain white envelope across the desk for Ella to see.
Ella saw the Farmington postmark, and the handwriting. “I think I know who wrote this, and it wasn’t anyone in the Billey clan. Mind if I take it and check for fingerprints?”
“Not if you tell me what’s going on. Trade?”
Ella paused, considering the newspaper woman’s request. “Will you keep it under wraps for now?”
“If you’ll give me the rest of the story first, as soon as it breaks,” Jaime said.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Ella agreed. “I visited Peterson Yazzie a few days ago. I have reason to believe that he wrote this, hoping the paper would print it after confusing the similar names.”
“Yazzie, why? I thought he was out of the picture now. Isn’t he?”
“He’s supposed to be getting psychiatric care, if that’s what you mean.”
“So now he’s trying to stir things up again?”
“I think that’s part of his plan.”
“Well, that certainly explains the tone of the letter. I don’t think Peterson hates anyone as much as he hates your family.”
“Does Peterson Yazzie have any friends here on the Rez who you know about?”
“Not any who would stand up and be counted,” Jaime answered.
“Will you double-check any more letters that come in on this vein? I mean, if they’re legit, then it’s your call on what to do, but it’s the bogus ones that I don’t think either of us needs.”
“You’ve got that right. Our newspaper’s reputation is on the line here. I’d like to print an editorial, challenging this impostor to come forward under his or her own name. That would, in a way, invalidate the impact of the letter we printed.”
Ella considered it, then shook her head. “It might stir up more questions and keep the issue alive. That would only give Peterson more publicity in the long run. I’d rather you just let it drop for now.”
“All right. I’d hate to give Yazzie any more power and influence than he already has. There’s a lot of bad things happening to the People right now, and we can’t give him credit for that too.”
As Ella walked to her car, she had a good feeling about trusting Jaime. She hadn’t disclosed any information that could jeopardize the investigation, but she sensed she had made a valuable ally.
As she started back, her radio crackled to life, and she heard her code coming through the air. When Ella picked up the mike and acknowledged the message, Justine’s voice came through clearly.
“Boss, I just found out something I think you need to know. My second cousin Leroy Johnson is the postmaster at the Shiprock office. I was talking to him on the phone during my break, and he told me that the Singer’s family has taken the death harder than we expected. His daughter is taking her new baby and moving to Fort Defiance to be with her ‘little mother,’ you know, her mother’s sister. She left a change of address with him.”
Ella thanked her assistant. “I’ll go over there now. Maybe I can talk them into staying until the case is closed.”
Ella went past the station and continued toward the remote community. It took her only half an hour at top speed, but by the time she arrived, the house was empty. Ella left the vehicle and glanced at the small sheep pen. All the animals were gone too. Ella walked to the house and peered inside the window. The curtains had been taken down, and outlines remained on the wall where pictures had been.
Lois Mike saw her and came out. “They left this morning. The water in their well had dropped so low the pump wouldn’t draw up any water. They had to fill their jugs from my house. They took the sheep in the back of a pickup. They’re not coming back.”
“Where did they go?” Ella wanted to confirm what she’d heard earlier, and if possible, nail down an address.
