Sonoran Sun

by Sharon Canipe

  Finally, Lin felt herself beginning to nod off, as Chris and Neal were engaged in some sort of archeological conversation regarding how best to handle the remaining artifacts. Neal noticed she was about to tip over her wine glass and came to her rescue. “I think it’s time to call it a day,” he smiled, “especially if we expect to get up early for work tomorrow.”

  The three of them made their way back to the car and headed north to their lodgings. “I’ll call you tomorrow when I get up, I’m setting an alarm for six. I’d like to be working before eight and hopefully be able to leave by early afternoon. If we can get in about six hours we should be in good shape for finishing up the repatriation this week,” Chris offered as he pulled up in front of their place.

  Lin was already half asleep. She couldn’t fathom getting up at six, but she simply nodded her agreement as she and Neal headed inside. It had been a long day.

  Chapter 4

  Despite the early hour, the day was already growing quite warm by the time Chris arrived to pick them up Sunday morning. Somehow Lin had managed to pull herself awake when the alarm rang at six. Now, fortified by a wake-up shower and her grande dark roast she’d picked up when they stopped at the Starbucks drive-thru, she was more or less ready to face the day.

  They were all pretty quiet as they drove west toward the site along somewhat deserted streets. Chris did mention his plans to talk to Pete Tedder later that day in the hopes of setting up a meeting with him early in the week. Pete would be their primary advisor on the actual repatriation process for the burial remains and artifacts. He had promised to help them expedite this process as soon as they had completed their cataloging work.

  As they turned onto the dirt road that led directly to the parking area at the site, they all realized there was something going on. A cloud of dust hung over the parking area closest to the actual excavation. At first it was difficult to see what was happening, but soon the outlines of vehicles parked nearby became evident through the dust cloud—at least half a dozen—and the source of the dust was revealed as a line of people marching back and forth in front of the dig. They were waving signs and their feet were kicking up a steady cloud of dull brown as they moved to and fro.

  Chris parked at the far end of the lot and they got out of the car. They could hear the marchers chanting something but the words were unclear. Lin was struck by how futile the entire demonstration seemed. There were about twenty folks walking back and forth but the three of them were the only audience available to hear their pleas.

  I suppose they might be seen from the freeway if passersby happened to look this way, Lin thought, but traffic was especially light this early on a Sunday. As she thought further about the situation, Lin came to the realization that this demonstration was not necessarily intended for public display. Perhaps the marchers intended the demonstration just for them; perhaps they knew that someone would be coming to work at the dig. After all, it had been discussed previously with the tribal head of cultural resources—folks in that office would be aware that they would be here. This march was clearly directed toward them it seemed.

  As the three of them approached the dusty line, the chanting ceased and Doug Davison stepped forward to greet them. He waved a sheet of paper in Chris’s direction. “Here’s our permit. This is a lawful demonstration against the degradation of our tribal history and culture. We are exercising our constitutional rights.” He spoke with a defiant air.

  Chris simply waved in Doug’s direction with a shrug, “I’m not here to stop you. We just came to work. As long as you follow the rules and don’t interfere with what we’re doing here, I have no problem with your demonstration. Would you like for me to take some photographs so that the company officials can know about this?”

  Davison seemed a bit disarmed by Chris’s friendly response but he shook his head in refusal, turned, and resumed marching back and forth with the group. Chris led the way around the area to the actual excavation site, giving the marchers a generous berth. Lin felt a little weird about this, but after all, they were staying a good distance from the dig and she realized they could go ahead with what they had planned, expecting no interference. It would take some getting used to, but she supposed they could carry on. Hopefully, John Manuel would arrive soon to provide tribal supervision of what they were doing.

  When they arrived at the tented area, Chris and Neal unloaded some tools. Turning toward Lin, Chris pulled out a handful of keys and offered them to her. “Would you be willing to take photographs of the remains in situ?” he asked. That was what Mark was going to do when…” he left the rest unsaid. “There’s a digital camera in the office, in the file cabinet in the reception area. I don’t thing anyone else is down there, at least I don’t see any vehicles, but you should be able to access everything with these. He handed the keys to Lin who was more than happy to have a specific task to do and was more than willing to walk back to the construction office leaving the noise of the demonstration behind for the time being.

  “I’ll be happy to do that,” she smiled, taking the keys and heading back toward the mobile office location. It was a short walk. Soon she was mounting the steps to the small front landing. Almost immediately, as she inserted the key in the door, she realized something was wrong. There were dark smears on the doorknob and red smudges along the edge of the frame. Lin was fairly certain this was blood. She made sure that she touched only the key, using it as leverage for opening the door and pushing it inward.

  As she entered the outer office she checked the floor for more red spots, sure enough there appeared to be a trail of red dots that led in front of the file cabinet and then back toward the private office. The office was stifling. The AC was off. It was absolutely quiet. Lin listened intently for a moment and then called out, “Anyone here?” a couple of times. There was no answer. She became aware of a strong odor of decay emanating from the back office. She decided to check but elected to go around the front desk, avoiding the trail of what appeared to be blood spatters. Arriving in front of the office door, she saw that it was slightly ajar. Again she utilized the key to push the door open further without touching it with her hands. What she saw sickened her. The odor she had detected earlier now flooded over her and she was barely able to squelch the wave of nausea that swelled through her body.

  A man’s body was sprawled across the desk; blood soaked papers lay across its surface and spilled onto the adjacent floor. The stench was unbelievable and Lin knew she had to get out of there. She retraced her steps back to the front landing. Leaning over the railing she vomited bile mixed with coffee into the dust below. Gratefully, they’d not had breakfast yet. She’d planned to go out and pick up something for the three of them after they’d worked a while and needed a break.

  Recovering a bit, Lin grabbed her cell phone and quickly punched in Neal’s number. She was grateful when he answered promptly. “You and Chris need to get down here as soon as possible. Try not to attract the attention of the marchers. I’m calling 911 next. Dave Jennings is dead.”

  ***

  It was almost noon by the time they were finally released by the sheriff’s men and allowed to leave the site. Ben Ramirez and his men had responded promptly to the call but it had taken a long time for the medical examiner to check the scene and have the body removed. Because the temporary construction office was the crime scene, the work tent was the only place available for talking to those present.

  It was clear that Ramirez wanted to release the native protestors to return to the reservation as soon as possible, except for their leader Doug Davison. The deputies briefly questioned the protesters about anything they might have seen or heard, collected their contact information, then excused them to return to their homes. Doug Davison had been questioned more extensively, but he too had been released after being warned not to leave the area as he might be contacted again.

  Lin had been interviewed in depth since she’d been the one to find the victim. She’d also been told to report to the
Sheriff’s office later that day to be fingerprinted since she’d been in the office. Apparently Dave had never left for home after Lin and Neal had talked with him the previous day. The ME had, at least initially, placed his time of death as sometime the previous afternoon. The big unanswered question was, since he never left, where was his truck?

  “When we locate that vehicle, we may also find our perp,” Ramirez said. “Maybe this was a robbery—someone killed him and stole his truck. His wallet’s missing also.”

  It made sense in a way, Lin thought. This site was pretty remote and a thief might consider anyone here on a weekend an easy mark for some cash. She doubted that Dave Jennings would readily hand that over—maybe there’d been a struggle and the thief had resorted to killing his mark but then, if the killer took Dave’s truck then where was his transportation—how had he arrived? Whose blood was all over the front door and spattered on the office floor? Was the killer hurt during a struggle or did Dave Jennings attempt to leave. Maybe he initially tried to go for help but was forced to return to his office when he saw no one about. Lin recalled that the phone on his desk also had appeared to be covered in blood. Had he called someone or tried to do so? Too many unanswered questions.

  As if reading her mind, Ramirez continued his assessment of the overall situation. “There were probably two people here and one of them drove Jennings truck away.” He turned to one of the other deputies and instructed him to get information on Jennings vehicle from the DMV and issue a bulletin.

  “Are we free to go now?” Lin felt dirty all over and could hardly wait to get a shower. They surely wouldn’t get back to work at the site today—maybe not for several days now. Of course, she still had to get fingerprinted.

  “Yes, you can leave here, but please go by the office for the prints as soon as you can.” He turned to Neal and Chris. You need to be printed also, even though you weren’t there today; you probably have prints around the office somewhere. We’ll want DNA as well. We’ll have to get the other workers also. How can I reach them?”

  Chris gave him a card with contact information for Lancer Ltd. “Someone at the main office should have contact information you might need. Actually, there aren’t but one or two people working in that office. Dave Jennings was the one there most of the time.”

  The three of them left the sight under the watchful eyes of the deputies who were still collecting evidence. Neal suggested they stop for something to eat before getting their prints done, but Lin wanted to get it over with. She didn’t really have much of an appetite despite the fact that they’d had nothing but coffee earlier. All she could think about was the sight of Jennings body, sprawled atop the blood soaked desk and that smell…she would never forget that.

  As they were leaving the site, Chris’s cell phone rang. The caller was John Manuel. He’d never arrived at the site, having spotted the police presence as he drove past and electing not to get into the middle of what was going on. Now he wanted to find out what had happened. Chris brought him up to date and promised more information as soon as it was known. “For now, I think it’s pretty clear our work is at a standstill,” Chris reported, “Everything was in place and protected when we left and the sheriff’s men are still there. I’ll check again tomorrow and make sure everything’s OK at the site. We’ve been relying on the company security contractor’s regular patrols thus far, but with all that’s been happening, I’ll request that they maintain an onsite presence until we can get back in there and remove the remains and artifacts.” This seemed to address Manuel’s concerns and they agreed to meet again later in the week when they hoped work could begin once more.

  Lin felt like she was in the twilight zone. She couldn’t really comprehend what was going on around them. It was Sunday afternoon, she and Neal had only arrived a couple of days ago yet here they were in the middle of huge mess—two men were dead, another in jail accused of murder, protesters were picketing the work site—where little productive work was likely to be done any time soon. It was overwhelming. She was shaken from her deep thoughts when they pulled up in front of the Sheriff’s office. Fingerprint time—then she wanted to go home.

  ***

  A brilliant desert sunset painted the western sky and reflected from the surrounding clouds as the sun set in a golden pool behind the Tucson Mountains. Lin sat relaxing on the casita patio, a tall margarita on the table beside her and a plate of cheese and crackers nearby. She felt almost human again having had a shower and a nap. The events of the day still disturbed her thoughts but she was beginning to focus on the questions she found even more troubling. Just what was happening here? First Mark Garcia had been found dead on Friday—Sam Stevens was in jail, facing possible murder charges in that case—but that ruled him out as the killer of Dave Jennings. On top of all this, Mark Garcia’s mother seemed to feel someone named Mendoza was responsible for her son’s death.

  The most troubling thought was that no one else seemed concerned about that fact. It was pretty clear that Ben Ramirez, the chief deputy in charge of the investigation, was certain Stevens was Garcia’s killer, but didn’t Jennings death change that? What were the odds that two completely separate crimes would occur at that site with no connection between them? Even if Stevens was guilty, someone else was involved here. Lin couldn’t stop herself from thinking about what was happening. Clearly someone wanted to make sure that the archeological work at the Lancer site was delayed. That certainly pointed toward their competitors but then there were other issues as well. What about Doug Davison and his protest group?

  Just then Neal appeared, freshly showered and smelling of soap and after-shave. He leaned down and softly kissed Lin’s forehead. “Feeling better now?”

  “Indeed I am,” Lin smiled, “and I’m starving. The crackers and cheese were great but I’m ready for something more substantial. I also have a lot of unanswered questions about what’s going on here…”

  Neal interrupted, “Don’t we all, but hopefully we’ll have answers soon. For the moment there’s nothing we can do about this situation.” It was clear he didn’t want to pursue Lin’s many questions—at least not at the moment. “Chris called. He’s bought some steaks and stuff and suggested we come over to his place for dinner. He’s already fired up the grill.”

  “Sounds great,” Lin said, “we can walk over. I’ll grab a bottle of wine from the kitchen.” She was eager to enjoy a good meal and Chris’s company but if Neal thought she wasn’t going to find some answers to her questions, he’d another think coming!

  Chris greeted them with a smile, clad in a chef’s apron with a grill fork in his hand. “I just put the steaks on and you’ll find a pitcher of margaritas in the kitchen. I’ve got garlic bread and some salad fixins also…”

  Lin took the hint, “I’ll put the bread in the oven and fix the salad.” Neal grabbed the pitcher of margaritas and headed out to the patio with Chris. Actually, Lin was grateful for some time alone in the kitchen. She couldn’t stop thinking about all the events of the weekend, and now that she felt more relaxed, she wanted some quiet time to think about the questions she’d begun to contemplate earlier. One thing was certain, the death of Dave Jennings put a serious new wrinkle into the situation and raised a lot of new questions that seemed to have no easy answers.

  By the time Chris came back inside to tell her that the steaks were almost done, Lin had sorted through her seemingly random thoughts and come to focus on what she thought were key issues that needed to be explored. Number one in her mind was the issue of this “Mendoza” character. It seemed important to know what his connection had been to Mark Garcia. It also seemed obvious, at least to Lin, that Dave Jennings’s death had to be connected somehow. It was simply too much of a coincidence to assume that what had happened to him was just a case of robbery and auto theft.

  Given these questions, Lin had begun to formulate a plan for seeking more information—regardless of what the sheriff and his men might be doing. For starters she wondered about the role of S
am Stevens in all of this, especially considering the obvious fact that he couldn’t have killed Jennings—not unless he was part of some significantly larger plot. Chris had described him as a hotheaded arrogant young man but that didn’t necessarily make him a cold-blooded killer. Lin was eager to share her thoughts with Neal and Chris but the moment didn’t seem right. The two men were definitely in a relaxation mode enjoying good food and drink and trying to put the recent troubling events on a back burner. She decided to put the subject aside for the moment, but she vowed that when she and Neal returned home they were going to have a serious discussion.

  ***

  It became a late evening. The food and drink created a relaxed mood. The desert breezes were warm, but the stifling heat of the day was past; bright stars decorated the blue-black skies. Lin found herself quite relaxed in a state somewhere between being fully awake and dozing on the chaise lounge on Chris’s patio while listening to the two men contemplate how and when they might be able to proceed with their work.

  “It doesn’t look good,” Chris lamented. “When I talked to Pete Tedder he was very concerned about the burial site remaining as it is indefinitely. He actually mentioned the possibility of undertaking an expedited removal of the bones and artifacts and storing them at the museum on campus—the actual cataloging to take place later in their facility rather than onsite.”

  “Would the tribe agree to that?” Neal asked.

  “Probably, rather than risk damage to the remains if they remain at the site,” Chris responded. “Lancer would be happy, that would speed up their work and relieve them of the costs of maintaining security for the dig site. Assuming, of course, that the law enforcement folks give them the go ahead also.”

  Neal shook his head. “I was really looking forward to our work at the site. I haven’t really had the opportunity to see such an extensive village in a long time. I’m afraid we could lose some of the depth that goes with studying things in place, but I can see why that might be the better option.” He reached for Lin’s hand that was dangling from the arm of the chaise. “Besides, we have a definite deadline for returning to North Carolina that neither of us want to miss so…maybe we should talk to John Manuel about Pete’s suggestion—the deputy also, of course.”