Authors: David Thurlo
“Do you know why we were hit?” Rose asked.
“I have a few ideas.” Ella looked at her mother carefully. “Do you have a theory?”
Rose nodded slowly. “It might have been in retaliation for my public stand against gambling, something I’ve gone on record about and made clear long before tonight. Some people, like your daughter’s father, don’t
approve of my speaking out. My opinion carries weight among the traditionalists and they know that.” Rose stood up slowly. “I’m going to bed, daughter. I’m too tired to stay up, and my hand aches from the cold. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”
“Feel better, Mom.”
Ella continued staring at the list and trying to create a picture in her mind. Finally, too tired to think anymore, she walked
to her room. Two was lying in the hallway. “You were a good dog tonight,” she said patting him on the head. “Glad to see you’re safe, mutt.”
Ella peeked in on Dawn, making sure her blankets were in place but not entangling. Then she crept across the hall into her own room.
As Ella crawled into bed, Two followed, positioning himself beside her, snuggling against her legs. Appreciating the warmth,
Ella turned off the lamp on her nightstand and fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
The next morning Ella arrived at work early. Yet, despite the early hour, Justine was already there ahead of her again.
“Good morning, boss,” Justine said as Ella passed by the vending machines where she was standing.
Ella eyed the stash of candy bars in Justine’s hands, but didn’t criticize
her eating habits after Justine offered her one.
Ella opened the chocolate crunch bar and took a bite. A tortilla smeared with butter and peach jam, a cup of coffee, and now a chocolate bar—that was some breakfast. She made a mental note to pick up some vitamins one of these days.
“I thought I’d be the only one here this early,” Ella said, stifling a yawn.
“It’s definitely a coffee-by-the-gallon
morning. But I figured you’d want me to run a make on the perps and try to lift prints off that bottle you found at the house.”
“I’ve got the list you found too,” Ella said, handing her the plastic bag, sealed, signed, and labeled.
“Thanks. The rap sheet on the suspects is already on your desk. This morning I’ll also try to match the tire prints at your place to those of their vehicle. With
luck, I’ll have everything ready for you before the end of today.”
“Thanks.”
Ella stopped by her office first. Then, as she passed the briefing room on her way to the holding cells, she saw Sergeant Neskahi and asked him to join her. While they walked toward the lockup area, she briefed him on the two suspects they’d brought in the night before. “I need to question the pair a little more and
push them for answers. James was the only one who cooperated last night. What I’d like you to do is help me out in there and jump in whenever you want, especially with Eric, the die-hard.”
“Wanna play good cop/bad cop?”
“No, not with these two. They’ve probably seen it before. Let’s try to make them feel as disoriented as possible since they’re on the Rez and away from their turf. I think that’ll
work to our advantage.”
Ella led the way to an interrogation room, then asked the jailer to bring one of the suspects in. She’d begin with the one who’d cooperated the evening before.
This morning, however, James had an industrial-sized hangover and was in no mood to be helpful. After getting only curt replies and statements contradicting the answers he’d given them last night, Ella tried another
tactic. “James, you told me yesterday that you had a family who needed you, and that you wanted to cut a deal by cooperating. I
will
help you, but not if you clam up on me now and start changing your story,” Ella said.
“I’ve decided to wait for my attorney. The courts provide one and I was told he’d be here today.”
“You have the right to have an attorney present, I told you that last night,
but also remember that you want something from me. Cooperate, and I’ll make sure you get the best break possible.”
“I’ve already told you everything I know,” he grumbled.
“Let’s concentrate on the Indian who hired you.” “As I said before—I only saw him twice and both times it was at night, outside.”
“Tell me about that second meeting, then, not the one near the union hall. You didn’t describe
it last night.”
“We were walking from Eric’s car toward the bar, expecting to catch up with him inside, when he stepped out between two pickups and blocked our way. Eric almost took a swing at him, thinking we’d been set up to be robbed. But that didn’t make sense, because he already knew we were out of work. Anyway, the guy was spruced up in a nice suit and spoke real polite, you know?” he added
with a shrug.
“No, we don’t know,” Neskahi said. “Polite how?”
“His English, man. It showed respect. He kept calling us ‘gentlemen.’ ”
Neskahi glanced at Ella with raised eyebrows. “What else?” he pressed.
“He reminded us that we’d told him we were interested in picking up some quick cash. Then he pulled out a roll of fifties. That got our attention.”
“What did he look like?” Ella asked.
“I don’t really remember details, you know? Hell, to be honest, I’d been powering down beers all day, and all I can really tell you for sure is that he was wearing a cowboy hat and had a dark mustache. His face was pockmarked, too,” he added.
“Anything else?” Ella asked.
“I never saw his eyes. I remember that. His cowboy hat had a wide brim and it hid most of his face. It made me uneasy.”
“Then
why did you take the job?”
“The money, man. Why else? But I’ve got to tell you, this guy had thought of everything. He left us a different car or pickup each time, and got us the police scanner the girl cop found under the seat. He wanted us to know what you guys were doing so we could stay ahead of you.”
“How were the targets selected?” Ella prodded.
“I don’t know. All I can tell you is that
he would make up a list of instructions on what he wanted done, along with addresses and directions, and leave them in the car or pickup each time. He also left the materials—the bombs, and whatever else we needed—for us. The bombs already had blasting caps and fuses, so all we had to do was stick them somewhere, light the fuse, and haul ass. It was mostly local stuff except for one time when he
had us roaming around the mountains driving nails into all those trees. But even that was in the general area of Shiprock. It was a place where folks around here would go to get their firewood. That time he even provided
us with a forestry map, two hammers, and a sack of nails.”
He paused, then added, “But I’m really sorry that old man got cut the other day. We just figured we’d ruin a few chain
saws.”
Again Ella tried not to let her anger show, recalling the nightmare the victim had gone through, and how Justine had beat herself up feeling guilty. Wanting desperately to know who was sponsoring all this, she considered finding a copy of the Navajo newspaper and showing him a photo of Arthur Benjamin, but knew that would be thrown out of court. Still, if she did manage to get a photo
of Benjamin and place it among others in a photo array . . .
“How about that hogan? Did you set off the timer using a remote?” Ella knew that the person who planted the bomb was probably the Indian Harry had seen carrying in the box, but she wanted to check now to see how the two Anglos fit in.
James looked genuinely puzzled. “What hogan? We just blew up things like that pump house and the garbage
container. Oh, and that outhouse. Blew the crap out of it, I guess. The bombs we got were just sticks of explosives with blasting caps and fuses. I wouldn’t know how to use a timer anyway. I just work as a framer. Never did any wiring.”
Ella stared at him, trying her best to look skeptical. Although she believed he was telling the truth, anything more he could add would just sweeten the pot.
“Why did this ’Indian’ choose you and James, and know where to find you?” Ella asked. “Did you see him talking to anyone else?”
“I didn’t notice him with any of the other guys who came to the union hall looking for work. I guess we were just lucky. Or maybe not, now that I think about it. Look, I’m trying to cooperate because I want out of here, but that’s all I know. Really,” James insisted.
Ella reached into her pocket and took out her small
notebook. She tore out several blank pages, then handed them to James, along with a stubby pencil.
“What’s this for? A written confession?”
“No. We can get all the formal writing done when your lawyer is present. Just write down the times and places where you did a job for that Indian, and what you remember about each time. If you run out of
paper, ask for more. The more incidents we know about, the more we can clear up and the better it will look for you in court. Anything you can add that will keep people from getting hurt cutting down those trees will also go a long ways in helping you avoid a negligent homicide charge.”
Ella looked at Neskahi, and added, “Sergeant, will you stay with James while he writes? I’m going to talk to
Eric now.” Ella stood.
Neskahi nodded, bringing out his own small notebook. “I’ve got more paper, James.”
The prisoner looked up. “Do you happen to have a pocket calendar?” he asked Neskahi.
Ella slipped out and tried to interview James’s partner in his cell, but Eric simply sat there and glowered at her, even though Ella urged him to tell his side of the story.
Neskahi joined her a short
time later and tried his luck next, but got no further.
An hour and a half later, Neskahi walked with Ella back to her office. “Things are going pretty well now, for a change. We’re making progress and it looks like we’ll clear up a lot of the open cases with these two, including the tree spiking. So why are you so quiet? What’s bothering you?”
“I’m not sure. For now, keep what we’ve learned
from the prisoner to yourself. I want to play this real close until I’m ready to make a move on the person who’s behind this. These guys aren’t very bright, but they were sure getting good intelligence from someone.”
“You’ve got it. Let me know how else I can help.” “I will.”
Ella made out a report of everything she’d learned,
but placed it in a limited distributions folder. For now, she would
give it only to Big Ed, Justine, and the rest of her team, including Blalock. There was much she hadn’t put down in the report—but theories based on gut feelings had no place in the official document.
After proofreading it, she walked to Big Ed’s office and found him there, already working.
Ella went inside, then filled him in quickly, opening the file to the spot that contained a duplicate
of the list they’d found in the men’s car. “The real problem is what the list implies.”
He studied it. “This is bad, Shorty. They knew I’d be at the Chapter House, and even that you park your unit behind the trees near the side of your house. That means that someone’s keeping tabs on us. And if these guys are telling the truth, we still don’t have a suspect for the blast at the hogan that almost
killed two cops.”
“I wanted you to see the file right away because there’s something else I need to talk to you about. It’s hearsay, so it’s not in a report.” Ella told him about Arthur Benjamin. “I have no proof. All I know is what Jaime over at the newspaper office told me in confidence. But I want to look into this. The problem is that I’m going to ruffle feathers if I do, and it could all
blow up in my face.”
Big Ed leaned back in his seat, lips pressed tightly together, and rocked back and forth in his chair—a regular habit—allowing the silence to stretch between them as he considered the matter.
Ella didn’t interrupt but, after a while, impatience began to gnaw at her, and the rocking started to get on her nerves.
“This disturbs me a great deal,” he said at last. “At one time
both Arthur and Carl were friends of mine. Of course that all ended when I got the job of chief instead of Carl. After he died, his family came to the conclusion that losing the post to me was what killed him. I couldn’t do a thing against that belief.”
“Should I start looking into Arthur’s background and that of his associates and see if there’s any connection to the trouble we’ve been having?
Almost all the major problems have been limited to the Shiprock district.”
He nodded. “Do it, but I’m willing to bet that you’ll find nothing. Arthur is a smart cookie. If he wants my job, he’ll play rough. But whether he’d actually risk lives—that I’m not so sure about. One thing I can tell you is that Carl was too soft on people and played by too many rules. But Arthur told me once that had
he been the one competing with me for the post of police chief, he wouldn’t have lost.”
Big Ed paused, lost in thought. “But the reason Carl didn’t get the job wasn’t because of anything he did or didn’t do. It was because his heart condition showed up when he took the physical. It pretty much disqualified him as a police officer at any rank.”
“Does Arthur believe that?”
“Probably. He’s no
one’s fool. But he still has an ax to grind. The real problem with Arthur is that he spent his entire life trying to prove he was smarter and better than his brother, but nearly everyone still preferred Carl.”
“So what you’re saying is that Arthur probably doesn’t really want your job—he just wants to accomplish what his brother couldn’t—become Shiprock’s police chief?”
“That’s my guess. It’s
a complicated situation, Shorty. I’ve known that family almost all of my life. Carl was just another one of the guys, but Arthur never fit in anywhere. Admittedly, it was his own fault. He always held himself apart. Even now, he goes around dressed like an Anglo, wearing a silk tie and suit. He calls it having standards that define him and thinks he’s making an image for himself. But what he doesn’t
realize—though he certainly should—is that around here what he’s doing is not a plus.”
“Suits?” Ella looked at the chief, then shook her head.
She didn’t know any Navajos who wore suits and a cloth tie to work. Even Kevin dressed casually unless he was going to court or meeting with tribal officials.