Dark Reservations

by John Fortunato

  “Our odontologist has not done a comparison yet, but I think you’re looking at the remains of Nicholas Garcia.”

  SEPTEMBER 29

  WEDNESDAY, 3:08 P.M.

  EDGERTON FOR GOVERNOR HEADQUARTERS, SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO

  Joe and Bluehorse parked in the lot next to Grace Edgerton’s campaign office. Joe thought about having Bluehorse park his marked unit elsewhere to avoid attention, but when they pulled up, there were no news vans or cameramen hanging around outside.

  Edgerton’s campaign office was situated in an art district, surrounded by galleries and bistros and money. It had all the elegance of a weed in a finely manicured garden. A banner across the front showed a giant picture of the possible future governor looking proud and determined, and next to her were the words BELIEVE NEW MEXICO.

  “You think they’re going to circle the wagons?” Bluehorse asked.

  “Probably.”

  “My people are used to that tactic.”

  “Let’s be straight on something,” Joe said. “Grace Edgerton is a possible suspect so we’re here to get information, not give it, okay?”

  Bluehorse nodded in agreement.

  Inside, Joe found the receptionist, an older, friendly-looking woman with gray hair, metal-rimmed glasses, and a cookie baker’s face. She was on the phone, asking the person on the other end whom he or she would vote for in November.

  They waited only a minute for the woman to hang up. “Hello, how may I help you?”

  “We’re here to see Mrs. Edgerton.”

  “You need to speak with Cassie. She’s Grace’s secretary.” She pointed to a young woman sitting behind a desk at the back of the large, open room. Behind the young woman, along the back wall, were office doors, all closed.

  As they walked over, Bluehorse leaned in and whispered, “Things are changing, Joe. The oldest person in the room is not always the one in charge.”

  “I thought the Navajo believed in respecting their elders?”

  “We do. We also believe Sa, Old Age Woman, keeps her promise and lets the old die off so the young can take their place. That’s how we learn patience. So don’t worry, I can wait.”

  Cassie was in her midtwenties, no older. Her warm smile gave her a country-girl look, but Joe doubted there was any naïveté when it came to this woman. She held a phone to her right ear and a pen in her left hand, jotting notes in a calendar book, alternately looking at her computer screen and typing. When she hung up, Joe identified himself.

  “Yes, they’re expecting you,” she said. “I’ll let Mr. Staples know you’re here. Please have a seat.” She waved toward several chairs that sat along the wall.

  So they were expecting him. A private meeting with Grace Edgerton seemed unlikely now.

  The door to the office directly behind Cassie opened and two men exited. The first was a tall Native American who looked Navajo, but Joe couldn’t be sure.

  Next came Senator Kendall Holmes. Joe knew him instantly. He’d been a fixture of New Mexico politics for many years. Holmes was also mentioned in the Edgerton case file.

  Joe approached the politician. “Excuse me, Senator Holmes.”

  The Native American placed a hand roughly on Joe’s chest, stopping him in mid-stride. Up close, the man looked Navajo.

  “It’s going to be tough wiping your ass without that hand,” Joe said in a low voice, so only the tall man could hear him.

  The Navajo neither blinked nor budged.

  “It’s okay,” Senator Holmes said.

  Joe stepped past the bodyguard, who continued to scrutinize his every move.

  “Senator Holmes, I’m Special Agent Joe Evers with the BIA. I’m following up on Arlen Edgerton’s vehicle. I’d like to speak with you today, if that’s possible?”

  “I’m sorry, Agent. I’m due back in D.C. this evening. Perhaps you can call my office and set up an appointment. But to be honest, I’m not sure what more I can offer other than what I told the investigator back when Arlen went missing.”

  “I just have a few follow-up questions. It won’t take long.”

  “Sorry, I need to catch a flight.” He strode away. His Navajo muscle followed.

  A portly gentleman with thick eyebrows and bouncing jowls came out of the same office from which the senator had emerged. He wore a look on his face that said everything was peachy and even if it wasn’t, he could make it so.

  “Mr. Evers,” the man said. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Christopher Staples, Mrs. Edgerton’s campaign manager.”

  He yanked on Joe’s arm as they shook hands. Each jolt released aftershave from Staples’s body. Joe blinked from the burn as he introduced Bluehorse. More aftershave mingled with oxygen.

  “Thanks for coming in today,” Staples said. “We appreciate your giving us an update.”

  Joe had spoken to Staples earlier that morning, asking to speak to the congresswoman. He never said he would be giving an update on the investigation. Apparently, Chris Staples liked to play with words.

  “Come this way, gentlemen. The future governor is anxious to meet you both.”

  Joe glanced toward the street entrance. The tall Indian stared at him as he and the senator exited the building.

  Mrs. Edgerton’s eyes were puffy, as though she’d been crying. She stood in the center of the room, talking to an attractive middle-aged woman dressed in a simple neutral-colored dress that reached below her knees. The woman wore little makeup. Joe guessed she was an adviser and knew better than to draw attention away from the person she was working for. The congresswoman wore a tailored red pantsuit that probably turned a few heads in the Capitol Building. It would have turned his. Joe guessed he and Mrs. Edgerton were close in age, she only a few years older.

  Staples made the introductions. The woman was Paige Rousseau. French. They shook hands and exchanged smiles. Joe liked a few things French. Baguettes. Croissants. Women in berets. And now Paige. She appeared serious but geniune.

  “Pleased to meet you, Agent Evers,” Grace Edgerton said. “And you, Officer Bluehorse. I appreciate your finding the time to give us an update on the case.”

  More word games.

  They all sat down, Mrs. Edgerton moving to the chair behind her desk, Staples and Paige taking the two seats in front, leaving Joe and Bluehorse to sit on the sofa.

  “Sorry for the confusion,” Joe said, “but I’m not here to give you an update on the case. I’m here to talk to you because you’re part of my investigation.”

  Edgerton glanced at Staples.

  Joe continued. “I was hoping to speak to you in private because I have to ask you some questions about your husband, which may be … very sensitive.”

  “Years ago, when I decided to run for my husband’s seat, I accepted that my life would be an open book.” She looked directly at Joe as she spoke, her posture straight and her tone even straighter. “I’m in a gubernational race right now and cannot afford to keep anything from my team. I trust them, and I appreciate your concern and sensitivity. I have nothing to hide, and neither did my husband, so you can speak freely in front of Paige and Chris.”

  “Fine.” Joe paused, ordering his thoughts. “I’m sure this whole matter has come as somewhat of a shock after all these years, and—”

  “Of course it’s a shock,” Staples said. “Look at the damn timing. After twenty years, you find the car only weeks before the biggest election of her life. And now a body. Grace was upset all morning. You couldn’t have given us a heads-up about the body? She had to read about it in the paper. It all seems a little too much. A little too staged.”

  “If you’re trying to imply that we’re conducting this investigation based on some sort of political agenda, then you’re way out of line,” Joe said. “The congressman’s car was found in the woods while Navajo PD was investigating an entirely unrelated case.”

  Staples opened his mouth and then closed it again. Paige pursed her lips, but the corners raised ever so slightly, betraying a smile.

 
; Bluehorse shifted next to Joe. “Ma’am, I’m the officer who found you husband’s vehicle, and I can assure you it’s just as Agent Evers said. I have no interest in politics, especially politics off the reservation.”

  “I never thought otherwise,” Grace Edgerton said. “I think Chris is only being protective of me and the campaign. I don’t think he was trying to imply any sort of impropriety on anyone’s part.”

  Staples gave a dismissive laugh, as though he found such an idea a joke. “Not at all. I thought the vehicle might have been found after a tip from an anonymous caller or something like that. I wasn’t trying to imply you two were … were involved in something.” He gave another awkward laugh. Laughing seemed uncomfortable for him.

  Joe shifted into interrogation mode. After a few basic questions to gauge her response, he moved to the meat of the interview. “At the time of his disappearance, what was going on in his personal and political life?”

  “That’s a very broad question, Agent Evers. And also very difficult. It’s been a long time.” She looked away, seeming to stare off toward nothing. “As to his personal life, that was basically me. We didn’t have kids, but we had talked about having them. He wanted two. A boy and a girl.” She hesitated. “But I guess that wasn’t meant to be, was it? Politics was who he was. From the minute he woke up till his head hit the pillow, which was usually past midnight, he was being the statesman. We did have our ‘us’ time, not a lot, mind you, but we had it. Arlen was a good man. He loved me, but he also loved the people of New Mexico. He wanted to take care of his constituents, and that meant bringing jobs here, bringing federal money, and increasing federal support to the tribes. I’m sure you’re most interested in knowing whether he took the payoffs they accused him of, and if he had an affair with his secretary. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” Joe said. “But that’s not all.”

  She took a breath and leaned back in her chair. “No on both counts. He would never have taken that money. He didn’t need it. We both came from wealthy families. We weren’t rich ourselves, but we were never concerned about our finances.”

  “Maybe your husband didn’t take the money for himself. Maybe he was hoping to use it for something else. Something good.”

  “He would never have jeopardized his seat. He loved our system of government too much. And, even if the idea of the end justifying the means ever did cross his mind, he would have shared those thoughts with me. We had no secrets. He respected my counsel. He did not take that money.” She paused, pressing out imaginary wrinkles on her red slacks. “He was a good man.”

  Joe picked up on her change in demeanor. “I think there’s something you’re not telling me, Mrs. Edgerton. If you want me to find out what happened to Arlen, I need to know what you know.”

  “I think she told you what she knows,” Staples said.

  Joe’s tone softened. “I know there’s something you want to tell me. I don’t know if it’s important or not, but I do know that in a cold case sometimes the smallest thing can make the biggest difference. Everything we talk about is confidential, Mrs. Edgerton. All we want to do is find out what happened to your husband.”

  “So do the papers,” Staples said, his voice thundering in the room, which had just gone quiet.

  The congresswoman looked up, but her gaze fell on Paige.

  “Grace,” Paige began. “I think Agent Evers is right. Do you remember how we wrestled with the Patriot Act? In the end, we agreed that law enforcement needed access to the tools and information to investigate national threats. It’s the same here. He needs information to do his investigation. I know you don’t have anything to hide.” Paige turned and looked at Joe and Bluehorse. “And I believe they will respect your confidence.”

  The congresswoman looked down at her desk.

  “In Navajo, words are magical,” Bluehorse said. “They can give you power over a person or situation. A Navajo will not reveal his Indian name to just anyone, only to someone he trusts. Your words right now may help us find out what happened to your husband. I’ve known Joe only a few days now, since we’ve been working this case, but I believe he’s a good man. Someone you can trust.”

  “What about you, Mr. Bluehorse?” Staples asked. “Can she trust you?”

  The congresswoman raised her head and looked at each of them in turn, ending with Joe. “I don’t want you to read too much into what I’m going to say, because it’s really … I don’t know. When the investigators asked me about Arlen and Faye back then, they wanted to know if they often traveled together. I said they did, but … but that wasn’t necessarily true.”

  Staples raised his right hand, cutting the congresswoman off. “Grace, if you’re about to say you … misspoke back then, I think we should have Ed in here just to be on the safe side. We’re moving into his territory now.”

  “I’m not concerned about whether she lied twenty years ago,” Joe said. “I’m only interested in having all the information now, so I can do my job. And besides, the statute of limitations ran out a long, long time ago.”

  “The press doesn’t have a statute of limitations,” Staples said. “Most of the time, they respect no limits.”

  “All I care about right now is what happened to your husband. What didn’t you tell the investigators?”

  “It was true that he sometimes took Faye around with him, but only to meet and greets and things like that. He always told me when he would be taking her, and I would go along, if I could.”

  “Why was that?”

  “We were very conscious about his image. I don’t believe anything ever would have happened. I trusted my husband. I wasn’t foolish then, and I’m not foolish now. We were in love, plain and simple. He would not have done anything to ruin our marriage.” She wiped at her eyes.

  “I could see why he loved you,” Joe said. “You’ve proven yourself an amazing woman.”

  “No offense, Mr. Evers, but I don’t need to be charmed or cajoled. I’m going to tell you everything.”

  Staples shifted in his seat.

  “Ken Holmes was my husband’s chief of staff back then. He felt that people might question Faye’s role because she was an attractive young woman. Rumors might circulate about them—or any woman around Arlen. He was very handsome.”

  “It’s Senator Holmes now, correct?” Joe asked.

  “Yes, Ken was very ambitious. Still is. I heard he might be planning a run for the White House soon.” She laughed. “The day Arlen went missing, Ellery Gates was flying in to meet with him. Gates held a seat in Oklahoma. They had planned two days of fishing. Arlen loved fishing and was taking Ellery to Farmington. He used to say he was going to make fly-fishing the state sport because New Mexico had some of the best rivers in the country.”

  Staples lowered his head, either embarrassed by the touching remembrance or annoyed. Paige pulled a tissue from a box on the credenza beside her and handed it to the congresswoman. After a few moments, Mrs. Edgerton continued.

  “Arlen was working on two bills impacting Native Americans. He loved their culture, but he also wanted their votes. Arlen and Ellery were sponsoring an Indian gaming bill together, but they disagreed on a few points. That’s why they were meeting.” She took a deep breath. “Arlen’s second bill was to protect Native American artifacts from a growing black-market trade. He went to the Navajo Nation that day to visit a site where a number of ancient artifacts had been stolen. What I didn’t tell the investigators was that Arlen hadn’t told me he was taking Faye with him. I don’t know why, but I just blurted out that it was normal for him to take Faye along. And once it was out there, I couldn’t take it back. But it wasn’t true. He would never take Faye without me, but I couldn’t go that day because I was in Las Cruces, meeting with the University Hispanic League. I so wish I had canceled that trip.”

  “Do you know where they went that day?” Joe asked.

  “He was meeting with an archaeologist at the Navajo Nation dig site, but I didn’t know precisely where. Arlen was l
ooking for anecdotal stories to bring to the floor.” She shook her head. “Both bills were eventually passed, but they removed Arlen’s name because of the scandal.”

  Joe took out a pad and jotted a few notes. “What were the bills?”

  “The Indian Gaming Regulatory Bill and the Native American Graves and Repatriation Bill.”

  “Do you remember the archaeologist?”

  “No, but I remember Arlen saying he was from UNM. He asked if I knew him, but I didn’t. Arlen and I both attended UNM. We met there.”

  “What can you tell me about your husband’s driver?”

  “Nick?” She grinned. “He was very loyal to my husband. He’d worked on his first campaign. After getting elected, Arlen gave Nick whatever work he could. Nick helped write some speeches and also drove Arlen around. That might sound like a strange combination, speechwriter and driver, but Nick was an aspiring novelist. He wrote mostly short stories—fantasy, I think. He appreciated the odd jobs. It let him focus on his writing. He had just finished his novel when he went missing. I’d told him I wanted to read it.” She put her tissue to use.

  “Did anyone ever threaten your husband? Any enemies?”

  “Of course. It comes with the office.”

  “Any threats that stand out? Odd letters or messages? Anything strange around the time of his disappearance?”

  “Nothing really. He received the usual threatening letters. The investigators asked about them. They did seem interested in one, though. A letter from someone on the Navajo reservation. I think … I think the person who sent the letter was a member of AIM, or some other movement. I don’t remember his name, but I’m sure it will be in your file. I gave permission to the investigators to search Arlen’s office as well as Faye’s desk. They found the threat letters. Oh, and they were also looking for Faye’s calendar book. It was gone, but that wasn’t unusual, because she always had it with her, even took it home.”

  “Tell me about Cedro Bartolome,” Joe said.

  “I don’t know a Cedro Bartolome.” She hesitated. “At least I don’t think I do. Who is he?”