Tracking Bear

by Thurlo, David

  “That’s thin, Clah.”

  “Not when you factor NEED into the equation. That’s bringing in all our area’s scientific talent for one big showdown.”

  “Okay, I get it. But I’m still working on your request. I’ll shake a few more trees and see what falls out. It’ll help if you can seal the tie to the Redhouse murder, so let me know, okay?”

  “Will do.” Ella hung up the phone and went back to see Justine in the lab. “I’m on my way to talk to George Charley again. Maybe I’ll get incredibly lucky and find out that his vehicle is a match for the sedan at the crime scene, bumper sticker included. Or, if not, he may be able to tell me which of his NEED supporters has a vehicle like that.”

  “I think I should go with you. While he’s busy answering your questions, I may be able to take a look around.”

  A short time later they arrived at the NEED office, which was, literally, just down the road. This time, Marie Betone was sitting behind the front desk, and the lights were on. She gave them an icy look as they walked in.

  “We need to see George,” Ella said.

  “Is this official business? He’s awfully busy today.”

  “It’s official.”

  She nodded and went into the adjoining office, closing the door behind her.

  Ella smiled ruefully at Justine. “I don’t think we’re going to win any popularity contests here.”

  “She’s protective of George. Probably thinks we’re out to get him.”

  Before she could reply, Marie came back out. “You may go in. He’s cut his conference call short so he can speak with you.”

  Ella went around her and Justine followed, closing the door behind her and leaving Marie in the other room.

  George stood up as they came in, then gestured toward a couple of folding chairs as he sat back behind his cluttered desk.

  “We need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Charley. We’ll be as brief as possible,” Ella began.

  “I’m having a lousy day anyway, so don’t worry—you can’t make it worse.” Seeing the questioning looks on their faces, he added, “My car was stolen last night.”

  “Did you file a report?” Justine asked, “and tell your insurance company?”

  He nodded. “Both—a few hours ago. I spent the night with a friend, and I didn’t realize my car was missing until then.”

  “What make and model was it?” Justine asked.

  “An ’88 Ford Taurus. It’s sand-colored. I figured no one would be able to tell when it got dirty that way.”

  “Any bumper stickers or other identifying marks on it?”

  “Marks, no, but it’s got a NEED sticker on the rear bumper. The one promoting clean air with nuclear energy. Why do you ask?”

  “A tan sedan was used in a vicious crime last night.”

  He groaned. “Okay—I take it back. You’ve just made the bad day I was having much worse. What kind of crime?”

  “The murder of Tribal Councilman Billy Redhouse.”

  George sat there with his mouth open for a while, then finally stood and walked to the bottle of antacids on top of the file cabinet, shaking his head.

  Ella noted his Western-style boots. They were well made and a golden brown. She really couldn’t tell if it was the same brand Justine had identified as having made the distinctive tracks at the crime scene. But the possibility was enough to make her want to take a closer look at George.

  “Nice boots,” she said.

  “Yeah. They’re real comfortable—” He glanced at her abruptly. “No, don’t tell me. The killer was wearing boots exactly like these—and no one saw his face, but they all remember his boots?”

  “Not quite,” Ella said with a tiny smile.

  “But close—tracks made from boots like yours were found at the crime scene,” Justine said.

  “Things get better and better for me today, don’t they?” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “But listen, I don’t want NEED to suffer from any of this, so why don’t I save you some time? Take a look around here. When you finish with my office, I’ll personally give you a guided tour of my home. I want to be off the suspect list as quickly as possible.”

  “I can’t guarantee anything, but cooperating like this will help,” Ella said. “By the way, do you own any firearms?”

  “A twenty-two single-shot rifle my father gave me when I was twelve. It’s in a closet somewhere at home, I think.”

  “No pistols?” Ella prodded.

  “No. I hate guns, actually. Kind of makes me strange around here, huh?” George said with a shrug.

  “Do you have an alibi for last night?”

  Finally, he smiled a little and breathed a little sigh. “I was with Marie,” he said, motioning toward the other room. “You can ask her. She’ll verify it. We were at her place. Her neighbor saw us as well when we pulled in. That’s the reason I didn’t know my car had been stolen. We went home in her car.”

  “Your left yours parked here last night, and that’s when it was stolen?”

  He nodded. “I think someone’s trying to frame me, but my guess is that NEED is the real target. They’re attempting to discredit the project by discrediting its creator.” He stared at the floor, his hands clenching. “You better get started. If you need help finding anything, just let me know.” He sat down in a folding chair and leaned back, staring at a color sketch of the proposed nuclear plant tacked up on the wall.

  Ella began searching through his file cabinet while Justine checked his computer records.

  Two hours later, Ella glanced over at Justine. George was now outside waiting for them to finish. “If George had a connection to Billy Redhouse, it isn’t apparent from anything I’ve seen,” she said. “No money was being paid to George directly, and every dollar they spend here seems to be documented. Did you find anything?”

  “No, and I think that between us we’ve looked in every computer file and record in this office. There’s that list of NEED opponents and their credentials that you found in his computer, but Redhouse isn’t on it—and the file hasn’t been altered recently,” Justine added.

  Justine went to the window. “I know I protested when George asked if he could go outside for some fresh air, but it looks like your instincts were right. He hasn’t run off or anything. He’s still out there playing the wounded party, and Marie is still with him. They both look like they’re freezing.”

  “It made sense to let him do whatever made him comfortable, especially because he’s cooperated completely without asking for a search warrant.” Ella glanced around the room lost in thought. “If he’s holding back something, I don’t know what it could be. Go ahead and motion for them to come back in now. We’re pretty much done here.”

  Justine waved at them, catching their attention, and gestured for them to come inside. A moment later George stepped into the office, but Marie remained in the outer room. “Are you satisfied now that I’m playing it straight with you?”

  “Your cooperation says a lot for you,” Ella said. “But I have a question for you now.” Ella pulled out a printout of the file that had listed all of NEED’s known opponents. “How come you didn’t include Redhouse in this list? I understand the councilman was against NEED.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not entirely true. Billy was still undecided, which means we had to keep lobbying for his support. I studied his political record personally, so I understood his tactics. Whenever he was trying to decide on an issue, he’d challenge both sides to convince him that they were right and then hammer them with questions. One weekend he debated with a pro-NEED advocate and went after him with everything he had. Then the following Saturday he did the same thing with someone who’s against NEED. Putting both sides on the defensive until he made up his mind was just his way of doing things.”

  “Do you think Redhouse’s support was for sale? Would he have been open to getting some money under the table?” Ella decided to speculate out loud and see where it led.

  “No one associated
with NEED would have the money to bribe an official. Even if we wanted to do that, we couldn’t.” George said forcefully. “Every supporter we get has to be convinced, not purchased.”

  Ella nodded. “Did you know the councilman personally?”

  “I only met him once when I went to his office to drop off some pamphlets,” George replied.

  “Okay, then. We’re finished here,” Ella said.

  “Then come on. Let’s finish this. You can follow me home and have a look there, too.”

  Ella walked out with Justine to the parking lot. Either George Charley was a man with nothing to hide, or he was extremely clever. She toyed with the badger fetish around her neck, but it was nothing more than cool stone at the moment. Knowing that her intuition had never failed her, she searched her feelings but, this time, she found no answers there.

  Eleven

  The drive took them east toward the edge of the reservation. North of the river on the mesa above were scattered small homes surrounded by very dry land capable of supporting only a few animals per mile. Most of the corrals they saw, constructed of split wood taken from felled cottonwoods along the bosque, contained a horse or two. Often a half dozen lean-looking goats could be seen scratching for grass along a low spot or within an arroyo.

  Hogback was a few miles away when George turned off onto a narrow path to the left, north, and they continued on to a fifty-foot-long single-wide mobile home sitting beneath several elm trees. The branches were bare this time of year, and the ground hard.

  Two minutes later they were at the door of the faded blue-and-white trailer, on a wooden step comprised of stacked pallets ingeniously bolted together.

  “I rent the place from René Capitan,” George said, opening the door after a brief struggle with an uncooperative lock, a worn key, or both. “His family was allotted this land, but they’re not interested in raising livestock. He and his wife work at the coal mine that feeds the power plant over there.” He pointed toward the tall smokestacks, visible for miles along the river valley and from adjacent mesas.

  Ella looked around the small living-room-kitchen-dining area. The place was impeccable, and there was no clutter anywhere, even on the kitchen counter, which held a small built-in microwave and a coffeemaker, There was no sofa, just an easy chair and a long wraparound desk with three computers. Beneath and beside the central computer was a two-drawer file cabinet. A small television sat on a shelf above the window at the front end of the mobile home.

  Casually Ella looked along the bookshelves, which began above the desks and continued all the way around and above the door. All the books appeared to be in alphabetical order by title.

  “You’ll find that I like order and neatness. My files—personal and business—are all alphabetized in that cabinet. Look through anything you want, but put things back the way you found them. I’ll go outside.”

  “You’ll freeze,” Ella warned, pointing out the window. “It’s starting to rain. Make that sleet.”

  He nodded, then sat down on the easy chair and stretched out his legs, looking down at his boots.

  Justine concentrated on the file cabinet while Ella looked along the desk and associated drawers and built-in cabinets above. On the lowest shelf above the left-hand computer, beneath a black stapler, Ella saw a Farmington dry cleaner’s ticket dated that day. “This says that pants and a shirt were dropped off to be dry-cleaned this morning.”

  George came over and stared at the ticket in surprise. “I use that dry cleaners, but I haven’t dropped off anything there in a couple of weeks.” He paused. “And, more to the point, I didn’t put that ticket there.” He pointed to a bulletin board attached to a partition serving as a divider between the living room and kitchen areas. “All pending business is tacked up so I see it every time I come in. That way I don’t forget.”

  Ella picked up the ticket by the edges. “Do you mind if I take this? If you’re sure it isn’t yours, I’d like to examine it for prints. I’m also going to go to the cleaners and see what I can find.”

  “Knock yourself out,” he said.

  Ella reached for an evidence bag, placed it inside, then handed it to Justine, who labeled the bag with a permanent marker.

  “I want to go with you to the cleaners,” George said. “I’m getting a bad feeling about all of this. First you come and tell me that my car may have been used to commit a crime, ask me about a pistol I don’t own, and now a claim check comes out of nowhere, dated today, for clothes I’m not having cleaned.”

  “Could someone you know have planted that ticket on your desk?” Justine asked.

  “I have people over all the time, but I haven’t been home since yesterday.”

  “Who else has a key to your place?” Justine asked.

  “No one.”

  “Not even Marie?” Ella asked.

  “She doesn’t need one. I keep one at the office—” He stopped speaking and cringed. “It’s on a hook, but it’s not labeled,” he added quickly. “And it was there this morning.”

  “Are you sure?” Ella asked.

  He nodded. “If it hadn’t been there, I would have noticed. I’m always aware of things that are out of place. It’s possible someone took the key before now and made a copy, but I can’t imagine that happening without either Marie or me noticing.”

  Justine went to the front door and checked the doorknob. “It’s pretty beat-up,” she told Ella. “Someone could have jimmied the lock, but I can’t say for sure.”

  “Do you have any explanation for how the ticket got there?” Ella asked him.

  “Someone obviously found a way inside while I was gone.” George looked around quickly. “I wonder if anything is missing.”

  They searched the small mobile home, but there was no sign of a break-in anywhere else, and nothing grabbed Ella’s and Justine’s interest. George, following behind them, couldn’t find anything missing or that didn’t belong there.

  At long last they left his home and headed to the dry cleaners, George following close behind them in Marie’s car.

  “There’s something really weird going on,” Justine said, watching George’s car in their rearview mirror. “This guy’s not stupid, nor the kind to rob the Quick Stop or kill a councilman for a roll of cash. I know you suspect that it was a hit disguised to look like a robbery, but even so…”

  “I agree with your instincts. Too many coincidences keep popping up, and that makes me distrust what we’re seeing. But we have to follow all the leads and act upon whatever we find.”

  “To me he seems more like a crusader than a murderer, you know? He’s not rich—not by any stretch of the imagination, yet he’s apparently willing to put his future on the line to get a power plant built that could really ease the tribe’s burden. I think that’s admirable.”

  Ella smiled at her. “Hey, are you getting the hots for this guy?”

  “Oh, please.” Justine rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying he’s got a lot of courage. These days people generally aren’t willing to go out on a limb for anything.”

  “Noted,” she said with a nod. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s being set up. I know what it’s like to be framed, so I’m going to cut him all the slack that I can.”

  When they arrived at Romero Cleaners in Farmington’s west side mall, Ella showed the young Hispanic clerk the ticket still inside the evidence bag.

  “I remember Mr. Charley’s order,” he said. “I was in the back, helping Shirley, when he came in. He took one of our pads and made out his own ticket for a shirt and pants. He also scribbled us a note asking that a stain be removed off the shirt. He’s a regular, and I recognized his car as it was pulling away, so we took care of it right away.” Glancing over Ella’s shoulder and seeing George Charley come in, he smiled. “Your shirt and pants are ready. Those bloodstains on the sleeve of the shirt were difficult to get out, but they’re gone now.”

  “Bloodstains?” Ella asked.

  The clerk nodded. “We do our own clea
ning on-site, and we’re very good with stains,” he answered. Shifting his attention away from her, he pressed a button and a carousel-type of mechanism brought the shirt and pants right to the clerk. “Oh, and we repaired a small tear on the sleeve, Mr. Charley.”

  George Charley stepped around Ella and looked at the clothes. “These aren’t mine. I admit they look like they’re my size, but I don’t own dress slacks like those. Nor do I have a wool shirt. Sweaters, yes. Shirts, no.”

  Ella met the clerk’s gaze. “Did either you or Shirley get a glimpse of the person who dropped these off?”

  “I just saw Mr. Charley’s car pulling out. Shirley never came out of the back at all.” He looked at George. “You didn’t write the note or leave these clothes?”

  George shook his head. “Has anything else been dropped off in my name?”

  “Just these slacks and that shirt, that I know of. You sure it wasn’t you this morning?” he insisted, puzzled.

  “It wasn’t me,” George assured.

  “Do you still have the note with cleaning instructions that you said the customer left here for you?” Ella asked quickly.

  The clerk looked at them and shook his head. “No. We added the instructions to our portion of the ticket, then threw the note out.”

  “Where’s your trash?” Justine asked.

  “I took it to the outside bin. But the truck has already picked up the trash for today. It’s long gone.”

  George Charley looked at the clerk. “That figures. From now on, if I didn’t drop it by personally, don’t accept it.”

  “What would you like us to do with these clothes?”

  “Give them to Goodwill, or the Salvation Army. Or throw them away, for all I care,” George said.

  “I’ll take them,” Ella corrected, handing the man a business card with her number on it. “If anyone comes in to claim them, just say they’re not ready and give us a call.”

  After taking the pants and shirt from the clerk as evidence, Justine got a quick sample of George’s fingerprints. Finally, they headed back to Shiprock.