Bad Medicine

by Aimée

  “Do you want me to go?” Justine asked. “The senator may talk to me more willingly than he would with you.”

  “No. It’s important he know that I’m going to stay on this case until I get answers—whatever those might be.” Ella replied.

  “Speaking of answers, I’ve decided on one myself,” Neskahi said, smiling. “If you can use another permanent member of your team, or even if it’s only part-time, I’m your man.”

  “That’s great news, Sergeant. I promise to keep you busy no matter how many hours the chief can spare you. And speaking of busy, it’s about time I visit the senator again.” Ella stood up from her desk and followed Justine and Sergeant Neskahi out the door.

  Ella drove to the senator’s home, a less-than-half-hour journey. Abigail Yellowhair was sitting alone on the porch weaving a blanket. She smiled thinly as Ella parked in the driveway, then waved for her to approach. “My husband is not here. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I certainly hope so. Can you tell me who your daughter might have visited in Farmington, or maybe between there and Shiprock? Did she perhaps have a boyfriend in that area?”

  “Not that I know of, but she really loved to go shopping in Farmington. There’s a little shop in the mall on the west side that she particularly liked. They carry very nice country western clothing. Do you know it?”

  Ella nodded. She’d been in there herself more than once.

  “If she was in Farmington she probably went there.” Abigail Yellowhair stared at the blanket she was weaving and sighed. “I used to be able to weave, but somewhere along the way, I’ve lost my skill.”

  Ella saw that the design was uneven, but refrained from commenting.

  “I thought that if I did some of the things that had given me pleasure as a young woman, it would stop hurting so much in here,” Abigail said, pointing to her heart. “But nothing helps.” A tear rolled down her face.

  Ella heard a vehicle approaching. She turned her head and saw the senator climbing out of a late model brown pickup. He strode toward Ella, anger flashing in his eyes.

  “What are you doing here bothering my wife? She’s upset enough, or can’t you tell?” He helped his wife up from the porch where she’d been seated in front of the giant loom. “Stay here. I’ll be back,” he said, escorting his wife inside the house.

  Ella waited. A few minutes later the senator returned.

  “My wife said you wanted to know about my daughter’s shopping habits. Don’t tell me you’re finding fault with that, too.”

  “It’s not a matter of finding fault,” she repeated patiently. “I need to reconstruct what happened the day she died, Senator. It’s my job, and one that ultimately will be a benefit to your family and our people. I’m sure that what you want is the truth.”

  “I know the truth. It’s your fabrications I have problems with. My daughter went shopping, got sleepy after a hectic morning, and lost control of the car. Why not leave it at that?”

  “The medical and eyewitness evidence doesn’t support that conclusion,” she said simply.

  “Then take another look at where the evidence comes from.”

  Ella kept silent this time about the presence of drugs in Angelina’s system. Mentioning that would end the conversation. “Have any young men come by to pay their respects?” Ella asked, searching for a lead to Angelina’s boyfriend.

  “No, but that’s to be expected. Our tribe isn’t big on funerals or funeral sentiments.”

  Ella considered that. She hadn’t really expected Angelina’s mysterious boyfriend to come out of the woodwork, but it had been worth asking.

  “Now I’m asking you to leave. You’re upsetting my wife and I won’t tolerate that.”

  Ella drove home deep in thought. The senator’s attitude disturbed her deeply. He was either really convinced that Carolyn had manufactured her findings or was willing to deny anything to save his political career: This was not just a case of a man unable to accept the lifestyle of a daughter who was now dead.

  Ella trusted Carolyn. She was not the type of person who would have falsified documents and reports. Regardless of the senator’s beliefs, Carolyn lying was not part of the equation.

  She was getting near the turnoff to her mother’s home when she noticed a truck following her. The truck stayed well behind but kept the distance between them consistent, speeding up and slowing down when she did.

  Ella picked up the mike and called in for backup. Neskahi responded almost instantly. “I can be at your ’twenty in five minutes. I was just about to make a swing by your mother’s home anyway.”

  She hesitated, reluctant to take him away from that errand. “Is there anyone else in that area?”

  “Your brother’s pickup was parked at Rose’s house an hour ago.”

  “Okay. I’m going to play this out. Stay on high ground and keep an eye out for any signs of an ambush or diversion.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Ella slowed down as she reached the road that paralleled the one leading to her mother’s home, then turned abruptly, going across country. She knew this stretch like the back of her hand, and Neskahi would be able to keep her in visual contact without any problem.

  She was halfway down the dirt track that led to some sheep pens when the truck behind her closed in. Ella stepped on the brakes, spinning her vehicle across the road. Using the Jeep as cover, she drew her weapon and steadied her aim by resting her arm on the hood.

  The truck drew near, stopped, and a moment later Billy Pete emerged. “It’s me, relax.”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I could have shot you!”

  “You said you needed help. That’s why I’m here.” He sauntered toward her. “I have some information about Noah Charley you may find interesting. We believe he was an informant for The Brotherhood.”

  “Who’s ‘we’ and what led you to believe that?” Ella secured her weapon.

  “I spoke to a member of the Fierce Ones. They’d been watching Noah and discovered he was having clandestine meetings with Truman.”

  “Maybe they were friends,” Ella countered, not really believing it but still annoyed.

  “It’s up to you to check that out. You said you could keep things from getting worse at the mine if you got some help, so that’s what I’m giving you.”

  “Tell me this: Can you think of a reason why The Brotherhood would try to hurt Senator Yellowhair’s daughter? Does The Brotherhood have any hold on him?”

  Billy Pete’s eyes grew wide. “I really doubt that. But if they’d killed his daughter, I assure you he wouldn’t let it pass. If he hadn’t been their enemy before that he would have been afterwards. He’s not the kind to back away from any fight.”

  “I realize I may be reaching, but that’s because there are so few solid leads.”

  “I can tell you this much. What the mine officials are doing to make things better isn’t working. If anything, things are worse. Do you know Randy Watson, the Anglo supervisor? I heard he talked to you the night we all found out about the shift changes.”

  Ella nodded, remembering the Anglo who’d first spoken to her at the mine. “What about him?”

  “He was in a bad accident. His pickup rolled three times. The seat belt saved him, but he’s at home now with a bad back.”

  “You think the Fierce Ones caused it?”

  “No, I don’t think it had anything to do with our people. I think that if anyone was responsible, it was the Anglos. Some were angry that he’d spoken to you. Like the rest of us, they want to handle this without the police.”

  “Thanks for the tips on Watson and Charley. I’ll check them out.”

  “There’s something I’d like you to do for me.”

  “What is it?”

  “Don’t write me up in any of your reports and don’t talk about our meetings to anyone. I’d like my head to remain attached to my shoulders.”

  “That’s standard operating procedure. Your name never appears, jus
t a code designation.”

  “Okay then. Just keep it that way.”

  As Billy drove away Ella headed home. It wasn’t late, but there were matters to take care of there.

  Ella arrived at the house and found Neskahi waiting. “What was that all about?”

  “You never saw anything. Is that clear?”

  He smiled. “So we have an informant, finally.”

  Ella said nothing, just looked at him.

  “Okay, I get the drift.” He glanced back toward the house. “I think you’re going to have to do some explaining when you go in. Your mother doesn’t want anyone watching her or the house.”

  “So what’s new?” she asked with a sigh.

  Ella scribbled down the name of the store Angelina frequented in Farmington. “Go talk to the store manager. Take a photo of Angelina and see if anyone remembers her coming in the day she died, and whether she ever came with a boyfriend. Report back to me first thing tomorrow.”

  “Got it.”

  Ella walked inside and saw her brother and mother waiting. Rose’s expression was one of undisguised annoyance. “You could have told me that I was going to be watched.”

  “It isn’t a permanent thing, Mom. Officers were just passing by more than usual. I just wasn’t sure you’d be safe after that intruder.” Ella glanced at Two who was walking around normally now, though his bandage was still in place.

  “Guards won’t be necessary,” Rose said flatly. “It was a measure taken to frighten us, and if we let them know that it worked we’ve lost a major battle.”

  “Fear and caution are two separate things,” Ella protested.

  Clifford sat down and regarded her thoughtfully. “I’ve never liked having our mother alone, but I respect her right to do whatever she wants. There’s no need to have policemen passing by so often.”

  “Oh, and you two have decided this, have you?” Ella snapped.

  Clifford shook his head. “She won’t be alone, not anymore.”

  “You’re planning to stay here?”

  “No. But a friend of mine, who like you went to make a living outside the reservation, has returned for good now. He will be building his home nearby, on this side of the mesa by the dry arroyo. He’ll be just a short distance away.”

  “What friend?”

  “Do you remember Kevin Tolino?”

  Ella felt a rush of adrenaline surging through her. Judy Lujan, Bitah’s girlfriend, had said he had been an associate of the murdered man.

  “He serves the tribe as an attorney. He’s a good man, little sister. You don’t have to be concerned.”

  Ella struggled between the need to keep police business confidential and the need to protect her family. “He was also a friend of the miner who was killed,” she said at last.

  “I know,” Clifford answered. “He told me. But when the miner left the Native American Church that my friend belongs to, their friendship cooled considerably. The only time they ever met was on business, since my friend was handling some legal matters for him.”

  Ella shook her head. “I don’t know about this.… It sounds too pat.”

  “Talk to him yourself. If there is more to it than he’s saying, you’ll know,” Clifford said.

  Rose placed her hand on her daughter’s arm. “This man is not an enemy. I’ve spoken to him. He is a very private person who will not interfere with us unless he’s asked.”

  Ella knew her mother’s intuitions were as accurate as her own. “Okay, but I’m still going to talk to him myself.”

  Clifford smiled. “You may find he’s as curious about you as you are about him. Distrust of others is a quality you share.”

  Ella said nothing.

  “Either way, you’ll remove the watcher, right?” Rose insisted. “I can’t believe those men aren’t needed elsewhere right now.”

  “They’ll go for now, Mom. That’s the only promise I can make to you.”

  * * *

  Ella met with her team the following morning.

  “So far, I’ve got zip on Noah Charley,” Justine said.

  “What about you?” Ella glanced at Neskahi. “What did you learn in Farmington?”

  “I found out that Angelina purchased an expensive man’s belt the day she was killed. It couldn’t have been for herself since it was way too large, a size forty-two. I checked the accident report and I found out that there was no belt in the car when she was found.”

  “So that means she met the man after she went shopping, and before her accident,” Ella said, sitting forward. “Did the clerk remember anything else?”

  “Only that the senator’s daughter was alone and acting just fine when he sold her the belt. The salesman claims she was flirting with him and insisted on buying the most expensive belt there. I got a copy of the receipt and put it in her file.”

  “Good. Now if we find the man she gave the belt to, then we may also find her killer. Did you get a description of the belt?”

  “Silver buckle and brown braided leather. And I checked to make sure she hadn’t given it to her father or another male relative for a present.”

  “Don’t expect to find anyone wearing it, but keep your eyes open whenever we question suspects. I want updated reports on my desk by noon tomorrow. I need to make a report for Big Ed, and I want to add yours to it.”

  As her two assistants left her office Ella leaned back in the chair. They were getting closer to finding answers, she could feel it.

  Ella dialed Blalock’s number and filled him in on what she’d heard about Randy Watson. “Can you go interview him and check out the accident report on his truck? He seemed really open with me when I spoke to him.”

  When Blalock agreed, Ella left her office and drove out to see Kevin Tolino. The morning was already hotter than it had been in months. The dry air and heat made her roll up the windows and switch on the air conditioner, all the while cursing herself for going soft.

  When she finally arrived at the half-completed wood-framed dwelling, surrounded by low piñons and junipers, she found Tolino stripped to the waist, cutting through a piece of two-by-six across a work bench with a hand-held power saw. A portable generator provided the electricity.

  His body was lean and muscular, and he was tall for a Navajo, at least six two. The sheen of perspiration that covered his chest made his bronzed skin gleam in the strong light.

  Ella climbed out of the Jeep, deliberately keeping her expression neutral. She was surprised to see the same guarded look mirrored on the face looking back at her. “Hi,” she greeted. “I heard you were building here and thought I’d stop by and introduce myself.”

  “No introduction is necessary. I know who you are, just as you know who I am. I believe your assistant, Justine Goodluck, has been looking into my background.”

  She smiled. “I’m sure you realize that this is a difficult time for everyone on the reservation.” Seeing him nod, she continued. “My family has many enemies and you’ve chosen to build your home fairly close to ours. That makes me want to be very cautious.”

  Tolino nodded slowly. “I’d do the same if our situations were reversed.” He took a deep breath, then let it out again. “But I’m at least five miles away from your mother’s and your home. It’s close only in the relative terms used here on the reservation.”

  “True enough, but your choice of locale still raises questions in my mind.”

  “This land was set aside for my grandparents long ago, even before your father built his home.”

  “Why claim it now?”

  “I have returned to the reservation to live and this land is part of my family’s legacy. I want to connect myself to that again.” His voice was deep and persuasive.

  “You’ll be doing the construction work here yourself?”

  “Most of it. It’ll take time, but I have plenty. In the meantime, I have an office and a small apartment in Shiprock.” He leaned the cut piece of two-by-six against what was obviously the beginning of a door frame among the wall
studs. “Your brother has asked me to keep an eye out for any strangers. Is that what you want, considering that you don’t really trust me?”

  “You’re right, I’m not sure I do trust you. You were the murdered miner’s friend, so I’m not exactly sure where, if any place, you fit in with his death,” she said directly. With some people it was better to be blunt, and she had a feeling Tolino was one of them.

  He picked out two cans of soda from the ice-filled cooler near his feet. “I knew Stanley and we were friends at one time. He was a member of the Native American Church for a while, too, but then he started crossing too many lines.” He offered her one of the soft drinks.

  Ella opened the lift tab, glad for something cool to moisten her dry throat. “What do you mean, ‘crossing lines’ ?”

  “The Native American Church holds to certain tenets. Stanley no longer felt he could adhere to them,” Tolino said with a shrug.

  “Counselor, I could use a little more help,” she prodded.

  “Yes, but nothing I can tell you can be substantiated.”

  “I’d still like to know.”

  “Stanley Bitah was a strange man. When he first joined the NAC he wasn’t like that. But then he began to change. He told the others that the enlightenment he received during our peyote rituals dictated he stand up for the rights of the Navajos in whatever way got results.”

  “Meaning confrontations and violence?”

  Tolino nodded. “When he finally left us for the Navajo Justice Church he created, none of us were sorry to see him go.”

  “Did you see him after that?”

  “From time to time, but not often. I handled a lawsuit that stemmed from a car accident he had, but our meetings were strictly business.”

  “Do you know much about the Navajo Justice Church?”

  “Only that their philosophy is very different from ours, and dangerous. As I see it, the only link we have in common is a peyote ritual.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “Does that ease your fears?”

  “Meaning do I trust you any more now?” Ella paused, measuring her words. “Your answers make sense, but I’d like to check them out. If you learn anything that could help solve the crimes that have been committed, will you let me know?”