Tracking Bear

by Thurlo, David

  “I haven’t caught him at a lie—yet.”

  Judy shrugged. “I’ve lived on the Rez almost all of my life, and I’ve been a tribal cop for the past fifteen years. I know a lot of people around Shiprock, and Albert in particular. When I patrolled that area a year or so ago, Albert often talked to me about local crimes. He liked being involved, you know? But I never could shake the feeling that he was the one behind the petty crimes I was looking into and that he liked trying to lead me around in circles.”

  “Did you ever get any evidence to back that up?”

  “No, and I tried very hard. There was something about that kid that always bugged me. I did arrest his cousin, Oliver Washburn, once, for slashing somebody’s tires, and the boy told me that Albert had a finger in every pie. Rumor has it that he’s made a bundle fencing stolen property. But I couldn’t follow the trail, so I had to let it drop.”

  “Do you think Albert Washburn may be involved in what happened to Jason, then?”

  “If he is, you’re going to have a really hard time proving it. That boy is very street-smart and a skilled liar.”

  Ella drove away with Judy’s words still echoing in her mind, recalling Albert’s last phone call and his failure to identify his source. Had he made up the whole thing? This case was filled with leads that detoured, and half-truths. But somewhere within that maze lay the answers she needed to find. Ella had intended on calling Albert back, but hadn’t done so yet because she’d been so preoccupied with other matters. She made a note either to call or stop by his home soon.

  It was seven in the morning before Ella was able to contact her brother. When she arrived at Clifford’s medicine hogan, he was speaking to one of his patients in the doorway. Ella waited in the SUV until the elderly woman turned and walked off, heading into the desert.

  As Ella went toward the hogan, her gaze stayed on Clifford’s patient. The elderly woman had chosen a path that Ella had gone down many times when jogging. That section of desert was rugged, and even at a walk, could become strenuous exercise after a mile or two.

  “Maybe she shouldn’t be going in that direction,” Ella said, pointing by pursing her lips, Navajo style.

  “She’ll be fine. She’s tougher than you and me put together. She’s going to go tend her sheep. They graze on whatever they can find this time of year. Toward evening her daughter meets her in their pickup and they haul the animals back to their pen.”

  Ella smiled. “Old meets new. It’s that way everywhere these days.”

  “Including in this hogan, sister,” he said, glancing down at the shield on her belt. “So what brings you here this early in the morning?”

  “I need to ask what you know about the wife of the councilman who was killed.”

  “I’ve never met her, but I’ve heard from my wife that other woman have already begun gossiping about the widow. My wife says the others are just jealous.”

  “Tell me what you’ve heard?”

  “That the councilman’s wife won’t have to look far for another husband,” Clifford said as he began making preparations for his next patient.

  “Her husband just died. Who’s giving her attention already, according to the gossip?”

  “I’m not sure I want to discuss that with you.”

  Her brother was stubborn, and Ella knew she’d have to word what she said carefully or she’d never get an answer. “Do you think our tribe will be better served if you withhold information when I’m trying to catch someone who’s killing Navajos?”

  Clifford pursed his lips. She had him now. Whenever he got that expression on his face, it usually meant that he didn’t like what he was going to do, but he’d do it anyway.

  “Your child’s father has been over to her house at least twice already,” he said at last.

  Ella stared at him. “Then it’s just since her husband’s death. It’s probably just lawyer business. No way he would have done anything out of place with a married woman. He’s better than that.”

  “No one has suggested that she was unfaithful to either of her late husbands. But that doesn’t mean other men weren’t pursuing her, or harboring desires that aren’t always hidden.”

  She remembered how Kevin had been so attentive to Emily. But Kevin was no murderer. She was as certain of that as she was of tomorrow’s sunrise.

  Clifford studied Ella’s expression. “Does this gossip bother you?”

  Ella considered it. “It’s never easy to acknowledge the ending of a familiar situation…particularly one that left me with a wonderful daughter,” she said slowly. “Do you understand?”

  He nodded. “Our mother has a new life, and your child’s father is finding a new path. But what about you? How will you move on, sister? Is your future with the Deputy Marshal?”

  She shrugged. “Are there any others you’ve heard of that have shown a romantic interest in the widow, either now, or before the death of her husband?”

  “Yes.” He wrote a name down on a piece of paper and handed it to her.

  Ella read it. She knew Larry Tso—a married man, at least the last time she’d heard. Tso owned a restaurant in Farmington—the Fair Winds. It was said to be an expensive, classy place, catering to businessmen. “Thanks.”

  “You should listen more to the spirit of the Navajo Nation. Wind carries messages. Tune in to the People, and you’ll have all the answers you need without ever asking a question.”

  “That works for you—but I’m a cop. Asking questions is the only way for me to ferret out secrets people choose to keep.”

  When Ella returned to the station she tried to call Albert, but either nobody was at home, or he didn’t want to answer. She’d try again later. She got to work, trying to catch up on all the pending reports. She’d just started with one due on the chief’s desk at the end of the day when Big Ed walked into her office.

  “Are you any closer to finding the killer or killers?” he asked, taking a seat.

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly, and filled him in on the physical evidence, the money Redhouse had hidden, and her impressions of those they’d interviewed, including the gossip about possible men in Emily’s life.

  “I don’t think Councilman Tolino is our killer,” Big Ed said. “He’s got too much character to kill except in self-defense, or to save the life of another. And if the same person killed both our officer and the councilman, what motives are we talking about? If Tolino killed Redhouse, what would be his motive for killing our officer first?”

  “I agree that Kevin doesn’t fit the profile, so I’m currently checking on the other name mentioned in connection with Mrs. Redhouse.”

  “Let me know what you find out.”

  “Of course.”

  “How did the training session go yesterday at the power plant?” Big Ed asked.

  “Bruno caught us off guard, and we failed to stop the simulated bomber. It was a humbling experience, but I think we all learned something from the session. I won’t be caught like that again.”

  “Pissed you off, huh? I know what a perfectionist you are, Ella.” Big Ed leaned back in his chair.

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “Just remember that you’re the team leader, and the others respect your training, ability, and self-confidence, Shorty. Don’t let a little training setback become a big thing. You’re the best cop around, but you’re not perfect. Learn, adjust, and move on.” Big Ed stood, and smiled. “Okay?”

  Ella nodded. “Carolyn told me the same thing.”

  “Good advice from two very smart people.”

  As soon as Big Ed walked out of her office, Justine walked in.

  “The only fingerprints I was able to find on the bills from Redhouse’s hidden money stash are his,” Justine announced.

  “Were the bills new?”

  “No, so I expected to find partials on whoever else had them before Redhouse, maybe even a bank clerk. But they’d been wiped clean, which makes them even more likely to be dirty.”


  “I agree,” Ella said. “What else have you been able to find out since yesterday?”

  “Well, I’ve done some testing on the hairs we found at Wilson’s home. Some came from a wig, and seem to be a match to the ones we found in the garage where Jason Franklin was killed.”

  “Any theories?” Ella asked.

  “I can’t even begin to imagine what this person is looking for, but we can at least find a roundabout connection between Wilson and the Franklin family. Professor Franklin has been to the garage and to Wilson’s office. Do you suppose the burglar-killer was looking for something he thinks Franklin left at the garage, or in Wilson’s storeroom? Of course when he didn’t find it in either place, his next move was to check and see if Wilson had taken it home. I’m sure he figured that the missing briefcase and computer were possible hiding places, which tends to support the notion that he’s searching for a document of some sort. But that still doesn’t tell us why Redhouse was killed.”

  “I know, and I was thinking along those lines myself.”

  “Maybe the thefts took place simply to mislead us, and the rifle was taken to provide extra firepower for the next crime.” Justine suddenly cringed. “Our vests won’t stop a rifle bullet like that.”

  “You’re right,” Ella said with a shudder, then filled Justine in on the theft at Kee Franklin’s place and everything else she’d learned so far.

  “I know you want to tie all the break-ins and thefts together, but the evidence just doesn’t support that yet,” Justine said. “We didn’t find any matching wig hairs in the storeroom, and the bullets recovered, though they are of the same caliber, are too deformed to make a positive match. Ejection markings on the shell casings might have helped, but these are the first the shooter has left behind. We need more.”

  “True, but the absence of hair may be because the perp’s wig didn’t shed at the college. It’s a good bet that the same person broke into the storeroom and Wilson’s home. He or she apparently spent a lot more time at Wilson’s home and did a lot of hard work going through everything so thoroughly. But you’re right. We need more to go on, like a motive,” Ella said. “I’m going to pay Oliver Washburn a visit. Why don’t you come with me?”

  “He’s a tough cookie, Ella. He’s not going to give you much. I met him here at the station once when he was brought in for trying to shake down a neighbor by threatening to vandalize his car. I’ll be surprised if he even talks to you.”

  “He talked to Judy Muskett on at least one occasion. Let’s give it a try and see how far we get.”

  They drove to a small residential area on the eastern edge of Shiprock occupied mainly by employees of the local power plant and local mines. The houses were small, eight to a block, generally. A few had carports, but most of those only served to shelter discarded household items, old stoves, bald tires, and piles of trash.

  “I used to look at places like this and wonder why people lived this way,” Justine said softly. “Then I grew up and learned that when circumstances defeat you, externals don’t matter much,”

  Ella nodded slowly, thinking much the same thing. The despair and loss of hope that went hand in hand with poverty often manifested itself in this way.

  “There he is,” Justine said, pointing to the house just ahead. A young man about nineteen was sitting in an old folding chair under the carport, smoking a cigarette.

  As soon as they pulled up, Washburn recognized Justine and bolted. Throwing the car door open, Ella raced after him and caught him before he could get around the house, where he had a motorcycle parked. “If you gave up smoking,” she said, twisting his arm and pinning him to the wall, “you’d be in better shape when you need to make a run for it.”

  “Tell it to someone who gives a damn.”

  Ella held him against the wall. “I’m not here to arrest you, so try and keep your cool, and I won’t have to change my mind.”

  “Yeah, right. Let me guess. I just won free tickets to the pig ball, and you’re my escort.”

  “Cut the crap. I don’t have the patience today,” Ella said, twisting his arm a little farther up until she heard him gasp. “Let’s make this easy on each other. Talk to me, and I’ll be on my way. If you’d rather not be seen talking to a cop, we can do it in my unit, where we’ll have some privacy. I’ll even be glad to handcuff you to keep up appearances.”

  “Why should I talk to you about anything?”

  “Because otherwise I’ll escort you back into your house and my partner and I will stay and visit you for an hour or longer. I’ll also make it a point to stand in front of the window long enough for people to see me writing things down—like maybe all the names and addresses you’re giving me. It’ll be a great visit.”

  “Your patrol car,” he muttered.

  Ella loosened her hold and cuffed his wrists behind his back. “Let’s go,” she said, just as Justine came over.

  Ella rode in the front with Justine, who drove, while their prisoner remained in the back behind the wire screen. Oliver didn’t say a word until they were out on the highway.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “For a drive. You probably don’t want to be seen or overheard as you tell us all about Albert.”

  His eyes widened slightly. “What about him? Concerned that he’s smarter than you?”

  “I’ll ask the questions, okay? Any idea where he’s getting his extra money?”

  Oliver shook his head. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell a cop. I don’t want to end up with a knife in my gut.”

  “He’d do that to you? His own cousin?”

  “No. One day when everyone else has forgotten all about it some guy I’ve never seen before, from someplace on the Rez no one’s ever heard of, will come up and stick me. And my cousin won’t be anywhere around. In fact, he’ll probably be in church beside a priest and three nuns.”

  “Oh, come on. You make him sound like a crime lord,” Ella said.

  “Well, whenever something big goes down around here, he seems to know all about it.”

  “It’s probably just talk.”

  “No way. He always knows exactly what’s going down.”

  “Okay, so his sources are good. That doesn’t mean he’s behind the crimes,” Ella responded. “Let’s move on now. Did Albert ever mention Officer Franklin?”

  Oliver nodded. “I think he really respected that cop. But he also told me that Franklin’s days were numbered—that he’d end up dead.”

  “Do you think his remark was meant as a threat against the officer?”

  Oliver shook his head. “No. I told you. He liked him. Besides, he never threatens. When Al has an enemy, that person ends up getting hurt somehow. There’s never a warning.” He saw they were near the reservation line now. Beyond was Waterflow, a farming community on that side of the San Juan River. To the south a few miles was the coal power plant, on reservation land.

  “Okay, Oliver. Thanks.”

  “If you’re finished, then drop me off here.”

  “Are you sure? It’s a long walk.”

  “I’ll be okay. Just don’t come back to me with any more questions. I’ve told you all I’m ever going to tell you.”

  Justine pulled over to the side of the road, and Ella stepped out to open the door for Oliver. He scrambled out of the SUV quickly, then after she’d removed his handcuffs, he hurried away from them, walking south toward the old highway without looking back.

  “That was an interesting meeting,” Justine said softly, when Ella returned to her seat. “What do you think? Is Albert trying to run a crime ring here on the Rez, or is Oliver just trying to give his cousin a reputation? It sounds like mostly BS to me.”

  Ella considered it. “I wish I knew. What bothers me most is that comment about Officer Franklin’s days being numbered.” Ella thought about that a moment longer, then glanced at Justine. “Let’s go see what Albert has to say about that.”

  They arrived at Albert Washburn’s trailer twenty minutes later.
He answered their knock and invited them inside almost immediately.

  Ella could see his computer was on and that he’d been working on something. As she got closer to the screen, he turned off the monitor casually and invited them to sit down. “So what brings you two here?”

  “We need to ask you a few questions, Albert,” Ella said.

  “Go ahead,” he said with an almost regal nod as he sat on the easy chair across from them.

  “You told me that one of your friends saw someone hanging around the garage a few days before Officer Franklin was killed there. Who is this friend?” Ella asked.

  “He made me promise not to say. Trust me that he didn’t know any more than I told you.” Albert crossed his arms across his chest.

  “Trust isn’t at the top of my list right now. I’ve been hearing some very disturbing things about you, Albert,” Ella said.

  “Disturbing things about me? Don’t you know gossip on the Rez can’t be trusted?”

  “Yet it’s interesting how often your name comes up in relation to the crimes being committed here. Let me give you an example. You were one of Officer Franklin’s snitches. Now he’s dead, and one of your friends may have seen the killer,” Ella said.

  “What’s your point?”

  Ella sat back and regarded him thoughtfully. He didn’t rattle easily. Even worse, he seemed to be enjoying their cat-and-mouse game.

  “What brought us here was a comment you made about Officer Franklin. I’m told you said that his days on the force were numbered.”

  “Was I wrong? At the time, it seemed a reasonable assumption.”

  “Why is that?” Justine jumped in.

  “I don’t know how well either of you knew the officer, but he sure didn’t seem like a team player to me. He was trying to save the world all by himself. He tried to investigate every crime in his area, even if it meant working on his own time. He took too many risks. That’s why I figured he’d end up dead sooner or later.”