Turquoise Girl Page 10

  Ella stopped, though she was in a hurry. Bruce Little and she went way back. Ella was one of the few people who could call him Teeny and not end up needing a new set of teeth. The tall and muscular, pro football player–size ex-cop had always had a sweet spot for her.

  “Thank’s for caring, Teeny. This one’s practically in my own backyard, but I’m handling it. I’m working the case now, in fact. That’s why I’m here, to see Blalock.”

  “Don’t let me stop you, then. Just remember if you need anything, call me.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Big Ed and Teeny were from the same clan, and that cultural connection carried a lot of weight on the Rez. No one ever complained when Ella, normally shorthanded, brought Teeny in on a case.

  Ella eased past him carefully. Teeny could block the narrow hallway all by himself.

  Special Agent Dwayne Blalock’s office, last door down at the end of the hall, was smaller than the others she’d been in and hopelessly cluttered. The two metal desks inside were usually stacked high with files. As recently as a few years ago, two agents had been assigned to the Four Corners area, but Blalock was the only one who’d managed to stick around for long. The younger agents could never get out fast enough because there was no opportunity for career advancement as long as they stayed here. In fact, this was the type of assignment young agents went out of their way to avoid.

  “About time you got here, Clah. I’ve been digging through VICAP and I uncovered something interesting. It was a case you and your old partner, Dennis Anderson, worked on at one point.”

  “Anything you can tell me?” she asked, trying to recall the specifics. Only bits and pieces, like the fact the murder scene had included biblical quotes teased her memory. It had been over fourteen years ago.

  “No details, just the category of the crime, dates, and the names of the investigating officers. It’s a cold case, with no arrests and no suspects. The specifics are in another California agency database I can’t get into directly. I’ve put in a request, so I’ll have more for you soon.”

  “Can you access my old Bureau files and maybe cross-reference? That’ll at least give us part of the picture.”

  He tried for a few minutes, then looked over at her. “Come back in a while. I can’t work with you sitting there staring at me.”

  Leaving Blalock at the keyboard, Ella walked back outside and joined Justine, who was still on the phone. As Ella slipped inside the patrol vehicle and fastened her seat belt, Justine hung up and glanced over.

  “The Morning Stop Café has two waitresses, Ella. Lea Garner was part-time until a few days ago when she got fired. Lynn Bidtah’s full-time. She also helps Stan Brewster with the cooking. Since Lea was just fired, she might be willing to give us more dirt on Brewster than Lynn. So, what do you say we go see her first?”

  “Good idea,” Ella said.

  They drove to an area of scattered homes, site-built houses provided by the NHA. These structures were nicer than most Navajo homes, and many had late-model vehicles parked outside. “Lea’s parents are professionals?” Ella asked, seeing the address where they were headed. The house was spacious for a reservation residence.

  Justine nodded. “Her dad, Arnold, is a mining engineer. Her mother, Vina, is a nurse.”

  “Any idea why Lea got fired?”

  “Not really, but I guess we’re about to find out.”

  As they pulled up into the graveled driveway, a middle-aged woman wearing slacks and a long-sleeved red sweater came out of the house, cell phone pressed to her ear with one hand and keys and a purse in the other. Seeing them, she ended the call and went over to meet them just as Ella stepped out of the SUV.

  “I’m Vina Garner. Do you need to talk to me?” she asked quickly as Ella flashed her badge. “I was on my way to the store.”

  “Don’t let us slow you down then, Mrs. Garner. We only need to speak to your daughter, Lea,” Ella said.

  “I heard about the death of that woman. My girl isn’t some kind of suspect, is she?” the woman asked.

  “Not at all,” Ella said calmly. “We just need to ask her a few questions.” Ella noticed someone standing at the open door, listening.

  “Well, you might have wasted a trip. Lea was home that day and won’t know a thing.”

  A young woman around nineteen, wearing a tight sweater and even tighter, low-cut jeans, came out onto the porch. Her hair was long and pulled back into one long, loose braid that fell halfway down her back. “Mom, they said they wanted to talk to me,” she said and rolled her mascara-lined eyes. “I’ll be fine, now go on and do your shopping.”

  As Mrs. Garner got into her vehicle, her daughter waved to Ella and Justine, inviting them inside.

  “Sorry about that, officers. I wish I didn’t have to live at home, but until I get out of school, I’m stuck here,” she said, plopping down onto the couch and inviting Ella and Justine to take a seat. “You want me to tell you about Valerie, right?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Ella said.

  “For a woman old enough to be my mom, she was all right. She started off as a waitress at the café, went to school at the same time, and ended up doing Brewster’s books. She was a superhard worker. And street-smart, too. Valerie could say no and still get what she wanted,” she added, in a barely audible voice.

  “What do you mean by that?” Ella asked.

  Lea shrugged. “Brewster’s a dirty old man. He liked hiring waitresses who looked like me. With curves, you know? And if you played along with his games, then you’d get extra.”

  “What games?” Ella pressed.

  “After we closed for the day, he’d catch one of us alone and ask us to strip for him, to music, like at a strip club. He’d tell us what to take off next. He kept his clothes on, so nothing was going to happen. It wasn’t a big deal, at first, and he’d pay us for it. Then one day he told me he wanted to give me a bath—lather me up and make me feel good all over. That just creeped me out. Him touching me. I told him I wasn’t interested. Two days later, he fired me. He said I was being rude to the customers.”

  Ella and Justine exchanged glances. “Did Valerie play his games?” Ella asked.

  Lea nodded. “I think she did at the beginning. But Valerie had serious clout these days. She kept his books and made his daily deposits so I think he was afraid to push it. He’d still come on to her, making little suggestions, but she’d just laugh and walk away.”

  “Do you think it’s possible that Brewster killed her?”

  Lea considered it for a long time before finally answering. “I don’t think so. He liked Valerie…and I think he respected her, too. He told me once that he admired the way she’d pulled herself out of the gutter.”

  “Is Brewster a Christian?”

  She laughed. “Naw, he’s a real hypocrite. He’s looking out for himself—for old number one. See what I’m saying?”

  Ella nodded. “Is there anything else you can tell me about Brewster?”

  “He’s doing his thing with Lynn now, last I heard. She’s hoping he’ll eventually leave his wife and marry her. But who in their right mind would want a pervert like Stan?”

  Ella stood, and Justine followed suit. After thanking Lea and giving her Ella’s business card, they returned to their unit.

  “I want to go talk to Lynn, but first we’re going to pay Brewster a little visit,” Ella said as they were driving away. Before they got to the highway, Dispatch came through on the radio.

  “SI One, see the minister at Good Shepherd church. Reverend Campbell needs you to take a look at a message someone left for him.”

  Justine spun the vehicle around, and was racing up the mesa even before Ella racked the mike. They arrived at the church less than five minutes later. Coming up the road, it was obvious why Campbell had called. The large, carved sign that had stood beside the steps of the main entrance was now flat on the ground. The wooden post that had held it upright had been snapped in half. A long length of heavy rope was
still tied around the sign.

  “Did you see this happen?” Ella asked, joining Reverend Campbell.

  “I was alone working when I heard the commotion. I rushed out from my office just in time to see them driving away, going north,” Campbell said in an unsteady voice. “It was two people in a big gold or bronze Ford pickup. I didn’t notice the license plate. They must have attached the rope to a bumper or trailer hitch.”

  “Anything else?” Ella asked.

  “They left a note. It was stuck to the entrance door with a knife.”

  “Did you touch any part of it?” Ella asked.

  Reverend Campbell nodded, looking disgusted with himself. “I should have known better, I know. But I came rushing out sure that there’d been an accident. When I saw what had happened, I could hardly believe it. I was on my way back in to call the police when I saw the note and the knife stuck on the door…of God’s house. It was an offense—do you understand? That’s why I reacted without even thinking. I pulled the knife out and grabbed the note.”

  “Where are the knife and the note now?” Ella asked.

  “In my office. I bent the tip of the knife blade prying it out, I’m afraid.”

  Ella tried not to groan. That meant he’d probably wiped all usable prints from it in the process—providing the vandals had been dumb enough to leave any. “Let’s go take a look,” she suggested.

  Moments later Justine placed the blade, an inexpensive hunting knife with a handle made from deer antlers, into a cardboard express mail envelope provided by Campbell. Ella slipped the note into a clear glassine envelope, then studied the message a while longer. Unless she missed her guess, this was also a warning that the worst was yet to come.

  “What’s it say?” Justine asked.

  “‘Our land, our justice,’” Ella answered.

  Eight

  Ford, who’d just returned from visiting a sick parishioner, came in with freshly brewed cups of coffee for everyone. “This incident must have something to do with our membership drive. It’s the only explanation that even comes close to making sense.”

  Ella could think of other reasons, but didn’t comment. If there had been a leak at the station or one of her people had inadvertently let the Fierce Ones know how the victim had died or about the biblical quote found at the scene…

  “But we’ve had membership drives before,” Reverend Campbell protested. “We’re simply opening our doors, inviting people to come join us. But maybe I’ve been overzealous and have offended someone. I suppose that’s possible,” Reverend Campbell added sorrowfully.

  “It would probably be a good idea for you to ease up for a while,” Ella said, looking closely at Campbell’s hand as he held the coffee cup. There were no cuts or bruises. “But in all fairness there are other factors at play here that I’m not at liberty to discuss at the moment.”

  “Could any of our parishioners also be in danger of retaliation?” Ford asked.

  “I don’t have any reason to believe that at the moment, but both of you may be targets,” Ella said slowly.

  Reverend Campbell nodded and took a sip of his coffee trying to calm himself. “I can’t for the life of me think of anyone I’ve offended,” he said, then paused. “Well, I did have a serious discussion with Stan Brewster not long ago, but it was church business, not related to any of this.”

  “I’d like to know more.”

  “It was about the example he should set for the community since he sponsors our team,” he said with a shrug. “As I said, unrelated to this.”

  Justine caught Ella’s eye. They both had a good idea what Campbell had talked to Brewster about.

  Then Ella looked at Ford. He was Navajo and she doubted the people who’d pulled down the sign would have had him in mind as a target, but she couldn’t guarantee anything at this point. “I’ll do my best to find out who’s responsible for this, and to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  As they left the church, Ella realized how quiet Justine had become. That usually meant she was nothing short of furious. “Okay, spill it, partner. What’s bugging you?” Ella asked.

  “I think we have a leak in the department. I’d be willing to bet that this attack ties into the fact that the victim was ‘baptized.’ If word got out that the note contained Scripture, it might have easily caused the Fierce Ones to jump the gun and react. I’m sure Lena Clani has gone to them already for help.”

  “That occurred to me as well. We should increase patrols in this area,” Ella said, then called it in. As soon as she was finished, she added, “What do you say we go lean on Jimmy Levaldo?” Ella suggested. “Word is that he’s calling the shots now for the Fierce Ones.”

  “Great idea.”

  They arrived at an old crumbling gray stucco-coated house southwest of the San Juan River about a half hour later. The road, really not more than two ruts, was in terrible shape and the trip had felt like a motorcycle ride down the center of a railroad track.

  “Jimmy’s a traditionalist. Do we wait?” Justine asked, parking.

  “Let’s give him that. We know he’s here. That’s his pickup over there,” Ella said, pointing to the side of the house.

  They were there less than a minute before a beefy Navajo man appeared in the doorway and waved, motioning for them to enter.

  Ella led the way, letting Justine watch her back. If anyone else was there, they wouldn’t be surprised from behind, at least. Neither of them liked dealing with vigilante groups, but a line had been crossed and Ella intended to make sure that it didn’t happen again.

  “I’ve already heard what happened at the church,” he said, preempting them. “It wasn’t our doing, though the two people responsible were hoping you’d think it was. In any case, I’ve handled the matter. It won’t happen again.”

  The statement surprised her. “You certainly didn’t waste any time. Who was responsible?”

  Jimmy said nothing, staring off at a corner of the room, and Ella guessed from his expression that he was trying to decide if he should tell her or not. It took several long moments before he finally spoke. “We have a younger generation. They’re more…impatient,” he hedged.

  “Maybe you should muzzle them,” Justine said sharply.

  He looked at her, then nodded. “Ah. You go to that church, don’t you? The Good Shepherd, is it?”

  “Yeah, and…?”

  “It was just a statement of fact,” Levaldo said calmly.

  “If you have knowledge of a crime and are keeping it from us, that’s a crime,” Ella pressed, deliberately getting in his face and staring into his eyes.

  “I have no knowledge of anything,” he said smoothly, looking away. “I hear things, that’s all. I was at the Quarters Laundromat earlier. I was nowhere near that church.”

  On the Rez, where water was a precious commodity and septic systems were poorly maintained or nonexistent, people regularly used Laundromats. Ella had learned that you could find out just about anything you wanted to know if you hung out in one long enough. Laundromats were a legendary source of gossip—a gathering place on weekends for many.

  “Do not let this happen again,” Ella said in a hard voice. “This is our case and we won’t tolerate interference.”

  “Understood. But perhaps you should spend more time investigating the death of that woman than running down petty crimes like church vandalism. Unless you’ve already made an arrest in the murder case?” His expression was one of faint amusement.

  “Now who’s being impatient?” Justine replied.

  He walked to the door and held it open for them. “I would like you to leave now. You bring disharmony to my home.”

  Justine was muttering all the way back to the vehicle. “Can you believe that?” she said, slamming the car door. “We bring disharmony.”

  “To people like Jimmy, we’re just an arm of Anglo law,” Ella said, wishing things were different.

  Justine said nothing at first, then finally added, “Maybe we are, but we’re
still needed here.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  When they reached the main highway, Justine glanced over at her. “Where to now, Ella?”

  She was about to answer when her cell phone rang. It was Blalock.

  “Hey, Ella. I finally got a copy of your old files. I think you should get over here.”

  “To Blalock’s,” Ella told Justine as she hung up. “It sounds like we’re finally about to get some answers.”

  Ella sat across from Blalock’s desk, looking through the printout, which included copies of her own handwritten notes. “It’s coming back to me now. I remember a lot of this. Dennis still has possession of his old notes, maybe he’ll have something to add. Feelings and impressions can make a difference beyond what was written down at the time.”

  Blalock punched the speaker button on his phone. “Dennis, you hear me? I’m here with Ella and her partner, Officer Goodluck.”

  “Hello, Officer Goodluck. You have my sympathies. Not to take anything from Officer Goodluck, I heard from Agent Blalock that you’re lost without me, Ella,” her old partner quipped.

  Ella laughed. “Don’t you wish.” After exchanging a few friendly words, they quickly got down to business. “It’s the same scriptural quote that was left at the crime scene way back then. That can’t be coincidental.”

  “I dug into my files and finally found my own notes, then spoke to a friend in the L.A. Bureau. There’s been no repeat of that MO there, not since our time,” Anderson replied. Blalock nodded in agreement.

  Ella took a deep breath. “Okay, if you’ve got your old notes in front of you, let’s go over the details, at least those we have concerning our involvement in the case. Correct me if I remember something wrong,” she said.

  She continued. “We’d been called in to consult because the victim was a Navajo woman from the Four Corners area, my home turf. The crime scene had been staged—like the one here—except that the victim in L.A. hadn’t been robbed and, unlike Valerie, she’d been drowned in her tub. We were barely past the preliminaries when we were pulled off the case and reassigned to a high-priority op.”