Death Walker

by Aimée

  Setting aside those concerns, Ella walked out to her car and drove to the college. There was business far more pressing to occupy her thoughts right now. She had to find the right way to approach Naomi Zah. If anyone could help her, she was confident Wilson could. When she’d first returned to the Rez after her father’s murder, Wilson had been her best friend and ally. She owed him a lot, and now she was once again going to him for help. Somehow, it felt right.

  Ella parked in the college lot, then walked to the hexagonal building where Wilson’s office was. She knocked on the open door of his cubbyhole and was rewarded by a genuine smile of welcome.

  “Hey, it’s good to see you! You never come around anymore.”

  “There’s been a lot going on, as you’ve no doubt heard.”

  His expression grew somber. “Yeah, gossip’s all over the campus. Two murders already.” He shook his head slowly. “Then there are traffic deaths, coal mines closing, wells going dry. But the talk is confusing, as always. Some blame skinwalkers. Others say a Singer has gone bad.”

  Ella rolled her eyes. Even that had somehow leaked out. She needed to find a way to keep a lid on all pertinent information. If all the details got out, the killer could change his strategy and make things even more difficult for them. “We don’t know anything for sure. The signs point in a variety of conflicting directions. They’re meant to confuse and raise the anxiety level of the public. At that, they succeed admirably.”

  “You’ve got to hurry and catch whoever’s doing this. I don’t like the talk I’ve been hearing about you and your family, and how you are bringing disaster upon the tribe.”

  She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “It’s a mess, and I am trying to clean it up. That’s why I’m here. Do you know Naomi Zah?”

  Wilson nodded slowly. “If you need to question her, I better warn you that it’s going to be tough. She’s had problems with your brother. They don’t see eye to eye on things. Singers sometimes use stargazers to ascertain the nature of an illness. Your brother treated a relative of Naomi’s once, but he didn’t ask her to come and help. The woman recovered, but Naomi never forgave Clifford for not calling her. Your brother tried to explain that he didn’t want to burden Naomi with such a long journey. It would have been a day’s travel for her and it was during our rainy season. But Naomi felt she’d been insulted.”

  “I have to talk to her. Will you help by introducing me?”

  “I can take you out there now if you want. She’s always home. But after that, I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Wilson offered to take his own vehicle, but Ella declined. She had a radio in hers, and there was no way she was going out to a remote area without it.

  “Do you think Naomi’s in danger?” Wilson asked as the miles stretched out between them and Shiprock.

  “I don’t know, but it’s possible. Naomi may have a lead, and that’s why I have to speak with her. If I don’t start getting answers soon, I’m afraid other people will die.”

  “I’ll do my best to help you, but if you tell her honestly what you just told me, you won’t have a problem. Naomi takes her work as a stargazer very seriously. Her life is dedicated to helping others who need her.” He paused. “You know, one of the things she does is find people and items that have been lost. I don’t know if that ability of hers can help you track down the killer, but if she offers to use it to help you, say yes. You can judge the validity of what she finds later.”

  “You sound like you believe in it, or her,” Ella said.

  “She’s done some remarkable things. My grandmother went to her once. She’d spent months searching for a ring her mother had given her. I remember Naomi told her to look in the vegetable garden, and that’s where she found it, between the rows of squash and carrots.”

  “If Naomi knew they’d searched the house, it wouldn’t take a giant leap to conclude it was outside. Almost everyone has some kind of garden out here. It’s brilliant logic coupled with a lot of luck.” Ella’s tone was skeptical.

  “I’d say so too if this had been an isolated instance, but I’ve heard too many stories about her.” Wilson crossed his arms and shrugged.

  “All I need from Mrs. Zah is a description of someone. If she gives me that much, I’ll consider it a win.”

  “A description of whom?”

  Ella shook her head. “Sorry. This is one thing I can’t share with you. It’s a matter of duty, not of trust. I hope you can understand.”

  Wilson nodded. “But I don’t like it.”

  “I know. You’re an old friend, and I don’t want to annoy you, but this isn’t my secret to divulge.”

  A lengthy silence stretched out between them as Ella drove rapidly down the asphalt. Finally Wilson pointed to a dirt road ahead on the left that cut across a sagebrush- and juniper-covered lowland. “Her son-in-law cleared that path with a bulldozer, then hauled in some gravel. It was almost impassable in winter before that. Just follow it straight to the hogan.”

  Several minutes later, Ella parked in front of a large hogan, well hidden among the low trees. A thin red and black blanket covered the entrance, stirring gently in the morning breeze. A short distance away was a sturdy wooden storage shed.

  They didn’t have to wait long before Naomi Zah came to the entrance and waved them inside. It was quiet out here, and Ella knew she must have heard the car a mile away. Ella’s gaze rested on Naomi. She was a wiry, strong-looking woman in her early sixties.

  “I’ll introduce you and try to break the ice,” Wilson whispered as they walked up to the hogan’s entrance.

  “I’ll need to talk to her alone. Is that going to present a problem?”

  “Not to me, but it might to her. If it’s not going well, do you want me to stick around?”

  Ella considered it. “I need answers from her, so we’ll play it any way she wants.”

  Wilson led the way up and introduced Naomi to Ella.

  “I need your help, please,” Ella said. “I’m investigating the deaths of two of our people.”

  Naomi bowed her head once. “Then you are here officially?” she asked Ella.

  “Yes.”

  Wilson cleared his throat. “And that’s why it would be better, providing you agree, for you two to talk alone. Is that all right with you?” Wilson asked.

  Naomi’s gaze was skeptical as it fell on Ella. “The policeman who came here before thought I was either lying, or just a foolish old woman. Are you prepared to take my word?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Ella answered.

  “Then I will speak to you alone.” She led the way inside, and both women sat on a blanket beside a small potbelly stove. The stovepipe extended out through the smoke hole in the center of the hogan’s roof. “Now tell me what it is I can do for you.”

  “I need you to remember everything you can about the assault.”

  “Why do you want to know now? It’s old news.”

  “It was an unexplained act of violence, like the recent murders. I’m trying to follow up on anything that might point me to the killer.”

  Naomi nodded slowly. “Yes, that makes sense. I can’t find the killer for you stargazing. I’ve tried that already. But maybe I can remember something useful to you, even though this happened several months ago.” She took a slow, deep breath. “He frightened me. To come here, to my home, and then try to harm me…” She shook her head slowly. “It doesn’t happen, or I should say it never used to happen, here.”

  Ella braced herself for some comment about her family bringing trouble, but none came.

  “That night I’d gone outside the hogan to look around. I was worried about my husband,” Naomi continued. “He had left to go to the store in town, but he still wasn’t back. Our truck is old, and it was a cold night. I grabbed my blankets and decided to go to the top of the mesa and see if I could see him. I was only a few feet away when someone came up behind me.”

  “You turned ar
ound?”

  “I never had a chance. He was on me like a hawk. I wasn’t expecting trouble, so the first thought I had was that my husband had returned and was playing a trick on me.”

  “When did you realize you were in trouble?”

  “As soon as he tightened his hold, I realized it wasn’t Raymond. This man was about the same size as my husband, but thinner and stronger. I remember the scent on his clothes. It smelled funny.”

  “Can you describe the scent?”

  She hesitated. “A little like whiskey, but it wasn’t liquor. It was strong and unpleasant.”

  “Did you ever see his face?”

  “Yes, but it was nothing more than a glimpse. I was fighting for my life! His arm was around my neck, and he kept tightening it.”

  “Show me how?”

  Naomi stood and faced away from Ella. Taking Ella’s arm, she brought it around her neck. Ella completed the choke hold. “Like that?” Ella asked.

  “Exactly.”

  A move learned in police training. Though it had been outlawed in several counties, it appeared on TV shows regularly. “How did you get free?”

  “I tried kicking him, but he just laughed. I had one hand loose, so I reached up behind me hoping to get to his eyes, but grabbed the top of a stocking cap instead. I couldn’t do anything else, so I yanked it down over his face so he couldn’t see. He had to ease his hold to pull it back up, and that’s when I got away from him. I think he expected an old woman to be weaker,” she chuckled.

  “What happened then?”

  “I ran inside the shed and held the door shut. I had my ax right beside me.”

  “Did he try to force the door open?”

  “No. He heard Raymond’s truck coming up the road and ran away. I never saw him again, and I’ve waited. I loaded our shotgun. He won’t take me by surprise again.”

  Ella saw the determination in Naomi’s face. “I believe you. Now tell me what he looked like.”

  “It was dark, but he was Navajo. His hair was long, like a warrior’s, coming down to his shoulders. His face was narrow, and he had hairs on his face, like he was trying to grow a beard. Silly thing for a Navajo to do.”

  “If you saw him again, would you recognize him?”

  Naomi considered it. “I think so.”

  “One more thing,” Ella remembered. “Did you notice what type of shoes he had on? Were they boots, sneakers, or what?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t. He could have been barefoot for all I know.”

  “All right.” Ella stood up from the blanket. “I really appreciate your help. Would you look at some photographs for me if I come back?”

  Naomi nodded. “If you will do something for me.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Need? Nothing, but I’d like you to talk to Officer Joseph Neskahi. Tell him I was telling the truth.”

  “I will do that,” Ella assured her.

  Ella walked back out to the car where Wilson was waiting. “Thanks for helping me today. It went well.”

  “I guess Naomi was pleased that one of Clifford’s family came to her. I think in her mind it balanced the scales.”

  “Yes, there’s that, but I also think she was glad for a chance to help protect the tribe.”

  Ella took Wilson back to the college. As she drove, her mind wandered to Naomi and what she’d learned. There had to be a way to track down the man responsible, even now. The scent she’d detected was a clue, but so far it pointed nowhere. Could it have been alcohol after all, or maybe a paint solvent? Or perhaps even cheap cologne?

  “I heard that an officer came to speak to one of our teachers, Sadie Morgan. She’s a good friend of mine. Is she in danger?” Wilson asked as they approached the campus.

  “She may be,” Ella admitted. “It’s not a good idea for her to be alone.”

  “Thanks for telling me. I know she likes to work late, and she can be extremely stubborn. I’ll see to it that she gets some company.”

  “I hope she took the warning seriously.”

  “She did, but Sadie’s also convinced that she’s safe. Like many people she owns her own rifle, and she can use it. She’s keeping it with her when she’s working late.”

  Ella felt her stomach tighten. People on the reservation were raised around shotguns and rifles. They weren’t careless with them, but fear had a way of making a trigger finger itchy. “Tell her to be careful anyway. Too many things can go wrong.”

  “She knows enough to take care picking a target, and she’s a good shot.”

  “That’s all good, but being armed won’t help if she’s caught off guard.”

  Wilson nodded. “You mean it may be someone she knows or trusts.”

  “That’s one possibility.” Ella parked her car in the college lot. “If she’s your friend, talk to her. Her best defense is to avoid making herself into a target.”

  She was working her way out of the parking lot when a student walking by waved at her. It was Justine’s contact, Furman Brownhat. Ella stopped and rolled down the window. “Hello. How are your classes going?”

  “As well as could be expected, I suppose, considering what’s been happening around Shiprock lately.” Furman sounded a bit uneasy, but for now Ella was willing to attribute it to the circumstances of their last meeting.

  “What’s the talk among the students you deal with? Are they worried about the murders?” Ella wanted to get the pulse of some of the students. If they were as concerned as their parents, the community was indeed in trouble.

  “It’s that, all right. And all the other disasters that seem to be hitting the Navajos. Some of the kids will have to leave at semester because their fathers or brothers will be out of work since the mine is closing. Do you think it’s all connected, like some are saying? Will bad things continue to happen?”

  “I hope not, but I am doing all I can to nail this killer. The other things—well, they’re beyond my ability to prevent, or fix.”

  A car behind Ella honked and she realized she was blocking the way. “Gotta go. Talk to you later.”

  “Sure. Say hi to Justine for me, okay?” Furman stepped back and waved again as Ella drove past.

  Moments later, Ella was on her way to the station. Picking up her mike, she checked on Justine’s whereabouts and asked to be patched through. Justine seemed eager to meet as soon as possible. After agreeing to rendezvous at the Totah Café, Ella racked the mike. Justine was on the trail of something. Ella could tell from the change in her assistant’s tone. Curious, she pressed a little harder on the accelerator.

  Twenty minutes later, they met at the coffee shop. Justine was already sitting at a table that faced the room, waiting with coffee and two slices of pecan pie. “You’ve got to try this pie, boss. It’s excellent.”

  Ella smiled as she sat down. Taking a bite, she found her assistant was right. “Do you have something for me besides the best pie around?” she teased.

  “Well, I asked Vernon Kelewood to check the list of items his teacher had with him when he died. He did, and noticed something was missing.” Justine’s voice rose slightly.

  “According to Kelewood, his teacher always carried a special piece of abalone shell in his medicine pouch. It was supposed to have special healing powers.” Justine shifted, leaning forward conspiratorially. “The shell was not there—not in the pouch, and not in the area. We did a thorough grid search the other day, even raked through the sand in several places. Had it been there, we would have found it,” Justine assured her.

  “You think the killer took it with him,” Ella concluded, nodding slowly. “It’s very possible.”

  “And guess what else I found out. The historian was missing a page from his notebook. Our killer is taking souvenirs from his victims,” Justine said.

  “Or maybe he views them more as trophies,” Ella answered. “Anything else?”

  “Well, nothing as intriguing as what I’ve just told you. I did complete a background search on all the people who attended the
historian’s lectures. Not everyone has an alibi—in fact few do—but none of them has a criminal record. I’m now checking to see who may have a connection to both victims. Oh, and one last thing: I did find out that the Singer was approached by the college to teach classes on traditional Navajo medicine.”

  “What was his answer?” Ella asked.

  “He refused to teach just anyone to become a Singer. He insisted that wasn’t the way it was done. But he would teach classes about Singers. He would tell about their lifestyle, what was expected, how difficult the training was, and why some chose to follow that life path anyway.”

  “Was the fact he’d been asked common knowledge?”

  Justine hesitated. “Everyone in administration knew. One of the secretaries said that she was asked to do a course description of it for the fall catalog.”

  Ella considered everything she’d learned. “I sure wish that the trail to the killer was a little more clear cut. All these bits and pieces still don’t map it out enough.” She exhaled softly. “The next thing I’m going to do is bring mug books over to Naomi’s and see if she recognizes anyone.” Ella paused. “I sure wish we had a police artist available. Ever since we got that computer graphics program that allows us to generate sketches of suspects, we haven’t kept anyone on the payroll. It does a great job with Anglos, but that program has a hard time creating images of Navajos.”

  “I have a friend who’d help. He’d stay quiet about it too.”

  “Who?”

  “Victor Charlie.”

  “You want me to go to a cartoonist?”

  “He does caricatures and portraits too,” Justine said. “He sketches well, and fast. He’s got the skill, believe me.”

  Ella considered Justine’s suggestion. “Do you think he’d agree to go with us to Mrs. Zah’s hogan? I think this would work better if we brought him to her, rather than the other way around.”

  “I can ask.” Justine shrugged.

  “Good. You take care of that while I go find Officer Joseph Neskahi.” Ella dropped a few bills on the table. “Let’s get busy.”