Authors: David Thurlo
“I agree. So what have you got so far, people?” Big Ed asked, looking around the room.
Dan spoke. “John Curley, the man arrested while trying to assume Chester Kelewood’s identity, is definitely a person of interest. Since he was in custody yesterday afternoon, he couldn’t have been the perp who shot Investigator Clah, but it’s possible he’s working
with the snake-eyes killer. That could explain how he ended up with Kelewood’s checkbook. Of course, this is all just speculation until we can get ID’s on the victims.”
The theory didn’t feel right to Ella. A lot had happened since she busted the guy, and the connection just didn’t seem to be there except by coincidence. The murders were carried out by someone who was very careful to protect
their own identity. Curley would have to be really stupid, at this late date, to pose as one of his own victims and finger himself as a suspect. Now, if Kelewood did turn out to be one of those buried beside Hogback, all that could change. She glanced at Justine and saw her partner shrug.
“We don’t have much on Curley,” Justine said. “We identified him after a fingerprint check. He has a record
of assault on a police officer—stemming from a tribal fair disturbance where he ended up getting Maced. He received a suspended sentence, probably because the Mace put him in the hospital. After that, he’s been clean. So far, he hasn’t said a word to us directly. He speaks only through his attorney. He also hasn’t been in contact with anyone else since his arrest.”
“What else do we have?” Big
Ed glanced around the room again.
“I’ve got a follow-up,” Justine added. “Five state law enforcement departments made purchases of the brand and type of AP rounds used to kill the first victim, including FPD and the local sheriff’s department. Most of that stock was returned to the manufacturer seven years ago, but hundreds of officers were issued those rounds, and some of those rounds were never
returned, according to their armory records. There’s no official report of thefts of any of that ammunition, either. We’ve got a boatload of possible suspects if we include cops in our investigation.”
Benny spoke next. “I got more information from the M.E. this morning. The four victims, three male and one female, range in ages from their late twenties to their early sixties. We’ve compiled a
list of area citizens reported missing during the years that correlate to the vics’ deaths, but it’s extensive, so narrowing things down is going to take time. And if any of the victims was passing through the state, an ID is going to be even more difficult.”
Big Ed’s phone began to ring, and he picked it up. A second later, he glanced up at them. “We’re done here.”
Ella looked at her team.
“Let’s move to my office,” she said quietly. “Dan, I’d like you to come, too, if you can join us.”
Ella had just stepped out into the hall when Big Ed called her back. “Hold it a moment, Shorty,” he said, and came out to meet her. “You’re putting in long hours, so it might help you to know that the council is starting to see how badly we need additional funding.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
As Ella walked
down the hall, she thought of what her brother Clifford would have said. Navajo ways taught that everything had two sides, and this was a good example of that. From the apparent disharmony funding meetings created, harmony would come.
Ella entered her small office, full of officers now, most standing, and walked to her desk. “What is county doing to identify the vics?” Ella asked Dan.
“Our list
of missing people is larger than the tribe’s, so I’ve got every deputy I can beg, borrow, or steal, including our auxiliary people, running down names. We’re going to be checking each person, ruling out those who don’t fit the parameters right away, and updating each hour.”
“I’m helping county narrow down the list, too,” Blalock said. “I’ve got access to a variety of databases not available to
Sheriff Taylor. I can speed things up a bit.”
Ella looked at the members of her team. “Talk to the relatives of the missing people whose descriptions and time frames fit. Our first priority is to identify those victims.”
“Many of our people won’t want to speak of the dead, or those they think might be dead,” Neskahi said.
“I know, but stay on it anyway,” Ella answered.
As they streamed out,
Dan lingered. “What do you say we both have a conversation with Mr. Curley and see what we get when we push him for answers.”
Ella had Curley brought to one of the interview rooms, then led Dan there. As they went inside, Curley gave them a tired, bored look.
“Mr. Curley, we need to ask you some questions,” Ella said, sitting down across the table from him.
“You’ll have to wait. My tribal-appointed
attorney is running late.”
“Here I am now,” a voice at the half-open door called.
As Ella turned her head, it took all she had not to cringe. Martin Tallman’s reputation preceded him. The defense attorney was notorious in the Four Corners for doing whatever was necessary to get his clients off. Ella studied him as he strode into the room. He had the cool, calculating confidence of a seasoned
trial lawyer. Some still referred to him privately as Hammerhead—a lawyer/shark analogy reinforced by his high forehead.
He nodded to Ella and Dan, then sat down beside his client. “Have you said anything at all to them, Mr. Curley?”
“They haven’t asked me any questions yet.”
Tallman gave Ella a flat, emotionless look. “I need five minutes to confer with my client.”
Ella tried not to curse.
She already knew what was going to happen. He’d advise his client not to say a word until he could negotiate a deal, and she’d waste half the morning playing games. Her hope of interviewing Del Bitsillie this morning was fading fast.
Ella gave Tallman a curt nod, then led the way out of the room, Dan a step behind her. As they waited just outside the door, Dan gave her a long look.
“I can tell
this guy’s been around the block. Should I assume from your reaction to him that we’re all but screwed?” he asked.
“Tallman knows how the game’s played,” Ella said. “He pushes hard for his clients and never backs down. His usual strategy is to make his client look like a victim.”
A moment later, Tallman opened the door. “Come in. Mr. Curley is ready to talk to you.” As they each took a seat,
Tallman continued. “In exchange for my client’s cooperation, we’d like all the charges dropped.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Ella said after a beat.
Tallman said nothing and continued to stare back at her.
“I think you need a reality check, Mr. Tallman. We’ve got your client for assault on a police officer and identity theft. That’s just for starters,” Ella said.
“Maybe so, but that’s not
your real interest in my client. I know what you’re investigating. Mr. Curley isn’t involved in those murders, not in any way, but he has information that could help you find answers.”
“If, as you say, he’s not involved and has valuable information, we could subpoena him to testify before a grand jury,” Ella said.
“True, but that could take weeks, and you might end up with a witness who’s hostile
or has memory problems.”
“Only the US Attorney can grant your client immunity from prosecution on these charges, and he won’t do that unless he knows that the information is worthwhile. Give us something to use,” Ella said.
“Not without some assurances. We have every reason to believe the information might be very valuable. Just to prove we’re willing to make a deal, we’ll be happy to wait while
you make the call.”
Ella looked at Hammerhead, trying to decide if Curley really knew something or this was all a bluff. As it usually was with Tallman, she couldn’t tell.
Ella nodded to Dan, then walked out of the room, the door automatically shutting behind them. Out of hearing range, Ella leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “We’ll wait here for a bit.”
“You’re the officer Curley attacked,
right?”
“Yeah. I could drop the charges and have the D.A. recommend lenience on the forgery part in exchange for cooperation, but I want Tallman to sweat it out. Do sharks sweat?”
Ella waited, deliberately biding her time. She bought herself and Dan a soda then drank it at leisure before going back inside.
When they entered the room, it was Tallman who looked bored this time. His client seemed
to be on the edge of his chair.
“If the information’s good enough, we’ll water down the assault charge and recommend leniency in exchange for cooperation. Your client has a real chance of getting off with probation—if he cooperates fully.”
Tallman sat back, apparently satisfied, then gave his client a nod.
“So what’s your story? How did you end up with the checkbook?” Ella asked Curley.
“I
found Kelewood’s checkbook and wallet a little over a year ago, I think. I remember it was warm out by then, so I think it was the end of May or maybe a week or two into June,” Curley said. “I was driving back from Farmington on Highway 64 when I started having some steering problems with my truck. Something always acts up on that piece of crap.”
Ella and Dan waited.
“I took a left onto the
old highway near Kirtland, then found a place to pull off the road. I wanted to take a look and see if I could fix whatever was wrong. Turns out I’d picked up a nail and my tire was going flat. When I was searching for a rock to put behind my tire to keep the truck from rolling, I spotted the wallet in the drainage ditch. A little farther down I saw the checkbook. Both were brown, almost the same
color as ditch dirt, so I nearly missed them.” He shrugged. “I tossed them onto the seat of my truck, changed the tire, then drove to the closest gas station to get the flat fixed. It was that Phillips 66 across from Flare Hill, I think.”
“The wallet and checkbook—did you try to return them?” Ella asked.
He shook his head. “I meant to—at first. I asked around about Kelewood, did a search on
my nephew’s computer, and found out the guy had a real good job working for the state. He was some kind of mine inspector. Then I lost my job, and my life got complicated. I had to spend the money in the wallet, about some sixty dollars in cash, but I hung on to the wallet and checkbook. I kept looking in the newspaper, hoping he’d offer a reward, you know?
“Not long after that my wife ran out
on me and I started drinking. I forgot all about the wallet and the checkbook until about a week ago. I found them at the bottom of a drawer while looking for a clean pair of socks.”
“Was there anything else in the wallet—not counting the cash you’d already spent?” Dan asked.
“Yeah, his state ID, driver’s license, a few credit cards, some receipts, family photos, stuff like that. I thought I
should at least return the credit cards and the two ID’s.”
“Decent of you. So what happened next?” Ella said.
“I asked some friends about Kelewood, trying to come up with an address. The house listed on his driver’s license was rented to someone else, so I called the number given on the Web site for his job description and asked for him. They said he no longer worked there. When I pushed for
more info the secretary told me he’d gone missing a while back.
“That’s when I decided to write myself a check to cash and sign Kelewood’s name. He wasn’t around, so I thought, what the hell? The photo on his driver’s license was crappy, but the license was still good. I figured I could pass. Problem is, the clerk knew Kelewood. I’m telling you, I’ve had nothing but crappy luck lately.”
“You
want us to believe that you found Kelewood’s checkbook and wallet by accident, then sat on it for a year? Give me a break,” Dan said. “You killed him, found yourself low on cash, and decided to try and cash one of his checks.”
“No way, man. I’ll take a lie-detector test if you want, but what I’ve told you is the truth. I found that wallet and checkbook, but I have no idea what happened to Kelewood.
I’ve never even seen the guy.”
“Think back,” Ella said, playing a hunch. “Once you found the wallet and checkbook, you probably kept looking, maybe for car keys, a cell phone, stuff like that. Did you see anything else there, something that caught your eye but wasn’t worth picking up?”
Curley stared at his lap. “Like what?” he muttered.
“You tell me,” Ella said. “If you want a deal then you’ve
got to give me more than what we already know.”
“Now that I think about it, I remember seeing a smashed-up cell phone,” Curley said after a beat. “It looked to me like someone took a boot to it and stomped it pretty good. It was black, one of those flip-open kind. It was trashed, so I left it there.”
“You never saw Kelewood’s body, or some clothing, or maybe papers or a notebook?” Ella leaned
back, her gaze still on him.
“There weren’t any papers or stuff like that, and I’d definitely remember seeing a dead guy or bloody clothes. I’m not holding out on you. I took the wallet and checkbook, sure, but that’s it.”
“Tell me
exactly
where you found the checkbook and wallet, Mr. Curley,” Ella said.
“About a mile before you pass the high school, on the right, make that the north side of
the road, about fifty feet before you get to the big casino billboard,” Curley said. “I remember the billboard because of that blonde on the swing. You’ve seen the ads on TV, probably.”
“There you have it, Inspector Clah. My client has cooperated and told you all he knows,” Tallman said. “You’ve even brought out memories he didn’t know he had, which is more than you could have hoped for. You
have a relative date, time, and place to search for evidence. The locale Mr. Curley mentioned is miles east of Hogback, where you found all those bodies. Now it’s time for you to hold up your end.”
Ella nodded. “One more question, Mr. Curley. Do you own a rifle or handgun?”
“No, I don’t. I had a hunting rifle years ago, but I hocked it and I guess it was sold to someone else. I never went back.
It was a thirty-thirty lever-action Winchester.”
“Thanks. We may call on you again, though,” Ella said, still staring at Curley. “Especially if one of the dead turns out to be Chester Kelewood.”