Enemy Way (19 page)

“She told me to turn around just
as we reached the police car, and slapped me as hard as she could.” Gladys smiled at Ella. “But you didn’t get away with it, even though the other policeman wasn’t looking. My brother Leo saw you, and will testify to what you did, too. I bet you don’t have many people stand up to you this way.”

Ella said nothing, but held her gaze.

Carolyn examined the woman. “Was this bruise caused by a right-
or left-handed person?” Carolyn asked matter-of-factly.

Gladys looked at Ella, then at her right waist where her weapon was holstered. “Right-handed,” she smiled confidently.

“You sure?” Carolyn shook her head, shrugged, then looked at the uninjured side of Gladys’ face.

“Maybe she backhanded me. It all happened so fast.” Gladys added hastily, then looked at Wainwright in confusion.

“Then
your cheek swelled up right away, right?” Carolyn added. “I also notice two small, curved little cuts at the edge of the bruise. Did you get those at the same time?”

“Well,” Gladys reached up to feel her cheek. “I didn’t really notice any swelling because my eyes were tearing and it hurt so much my face was kind of numb. The cuts must have come from her nails.” She looked at Ella, who had just
folded her arms over her chest, her hands tucked inside.

Carolyn nodded absently, recording her findings in the chart in front of her.

“I want a copy of that report,” Wainwright said.

“That was part of the agreement,” Tolino said. There was an impersonal quality to his tone, as if the matter had not been worth mentioning and in asking for it Wainwright had only betrayed his insecurity.

“Nobody’s
getting anything, until I have a chance to turn my notes into something coherent,” Carolyn clipped, then glanced at both attorneys.

Tolino and Wainwright both nodded quickly, and Ella had to struggle not to laugh. Carolyn could be a powerhouse in her own right when she chose to be.

As Carolyn left the room, Ella followed her, Kevin close behind.

“Let’s not talk here, not yet,” Kevin warned,
leading them outside the building. A bitter cold wind whipped against them in the parking lot.

Ella pulled at the collar of her jacket, drawing it against her to block out the icy wind that insinuated itself between her clothes.

“Did you notice how Gladys had to look at Ella’s holster before she decided she was right-handed?” Carolyn asked.

“That’s because Ella never hit her,” Kevin nodded.
“But the mark was consistent with a right-handed attacker, wasn’t it? Yet you shook your head in disagreement. Why?”

“Because Carolyn is clever. Gladys didn’t catch on, and tried to cover with that backhand possibility. That was just further proof she made the whole thing up.” Ella smiled.

“Her lawyer really cringed at her explanation. Did you catch his expression?” Carolyn chuckled.

“Next
time I question a witness, maybe you should coach me, Doctor.” Kevin replied. “But back to the real issue here. Just how do you think Gladys got her big bruise?”

“I’ll make a full report later, but I’m not going to stand out here any longer with you two, freezing my butt off.”

“Short and sweet then. Give us the encapsulated version,” Tolino said.

“It had to have happened later, and the only
time she was alone was in her holding cell. It must have been self inflicted. If Gladys had been hit hard enough to cause those marks, they would have shown up during booking. We may be able to check with the mug shots taken then and establish there were no marks on her well after she and Ella parted company. There’s another thing I notice Ella caught on to. Ella, show the counselor your hands.”
Carolyn ordered.

Ella did. Her nails were trimmed short, like a man’s. “I hid my hands when I saw that coming. Gladys was the only one of us with long, polished nails. Our jobs require a little less classical femininity, I guess.”

“It’s a win for our side,” Tolino said. “We’ll check with records and have the mug shots of Gladys blown up. I’m willing to bet, like Dr. Roanhorse here, that there
won’t be a mark on her.”

“Gladys wasn’t too confident she’d be able to pull this frame off.” Ella said. “I bet that’s why she dropped the criminal charge of excessive force for a civil suit. She could always hope for a settlement, and meanwhile, it took some of the pressure off her brother.”

As Kevin drove off, Ella walked with Carolyn to her car. “Did you get a chance to look in on my mom?”
Ella had to ask.

“Yes, but she was reading a magazine, and I didn’t stay long. She seemed down in the dumps, and had skipped a physical therapy session. I talked to one of the physical therapists, who said Rose has had some trouble learning how to use the crutches, and is getting frustrated. Your mom needs to put weight on those legs if she’s going to get strong enough to stand. Otherwise, it’ll
be the wheelchair whether she likes it or not.”

“I’ll have a talk with her, and try to boost her spirits again. She’s probably having a bit of a letdown. I thought seeing Two would have had a longer positive effect. Thanks, Carolyn, for everything.” They both walked to their cars, and Ella noticed it was even colder than before. March winds could be cruel.

*   *   *

Ten minutes later, on route
to Shiprock, Ella called Justine on the cellular. “Is my Jeep ready?”

“Yes, and they found nothing at all wrong with it. Are you coming in now?”

“Yeah, I am. I’ll be there in fifteen or so.”

She was passing through Fruitland, a small farming community along the way, when Ella noticed the power plant in the distance. Recalling her brother’s reminder concerning the danger posed by The Brotherhood,
she decided to go by there before returning to the station. After all, most of those suspected to be connected with The Brotherhood were employed at that facility.

Letting Justine know where she was going, and ignoring her assistant’s reminder that Big Ed’s orders required Ella to have a witness present whenever she dealt with the public, she continued on to her destination.

After all, she wasn’t
planning to interview a suspect, and she had the tape recorder hidden in a pocket. Taking her assistant along on this type of meeting would only interfere with what she was trying to do. The fewer people present, the more of a chance she’d have of getting straight answers.

Fifteen minutes later, she was at the enormous facility. The power plant itself was large enough, but not nearly as impressive
as the open-pit coal mine which fed its fires. It was hard for Ella to imagine what the desert around there had looked like before the plant had been constructed. At least the air pollution wasn’t nearly so bad nowadays, with the scrubbers on the smokestacks.

Ella wanted to see Randy Watson, one of the supervisors. He had helped them before, and if The Brotherhood was resurfacing out at the plant
and becoming active again, he’d know.

The office manager, a Navajo man in his late fifties, didn’t hesitate when Ella made her request. He checked for Randy Watson’s whereabouts, then escorted her to the lunchroom. “He’s on break, so you came at a good time.”

As he opened the door Randy stood up. He was a tall, lanky Anglo in his late forties, and looked more like a cowboy than an administrator
in his western-cut shirt, bolo tie, and jeans. “It’s been a while since I last saw you, Investigator Clah,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

Ella sat down across the table from him, glad to see that the room was empty and they’d have some privacy. Wanting to keep it informal so Watson would be more likely to talk freely, she didn’t take out her tape recorder.

“I need to know how active The Brotherhood
has been lately, and, since you’re close to everything that happens here, I knew you’d be the one I should speak to.”

“I haven’t seen any sign of tension involving that particular group, not since they butted heads with you last year. They’ve been lying real low. The ones who are active now are the Fierce Ones. They’ve been putting some serious pressure on the Navajo workers here who have teenage
kids, especially those who might be in a gang.”

“What kind of pressure?”

“Everything from tossing stuff out of their lockers to intimidation.”

“What kind of intimidation?”

“I’m not really sure, though it hasn’t involved anything physical—yet. I think it’s taken the form of passing comments, innuendo, and so forth. The stories that have reached me are second- and thirdhand accounts, and not
that specific. Remember, the Fierce Ones don’t exactly have a high-profile image, particularly among the Anglos here.”

“Generally, would you say that tensions are still high between the Anglo and Navajo workers?”

He shook his head. “No, not really. Lately everyone pretty much minds their own business. If I were to describe the atmosphere here, the word I’d use is ‘guarded.’ That pretty much
sums it up. But if you really want to find out more about what the Fierce Ones are doing, I suggest you talk to Billy Pete. Whether he belongs or not, he would never say. I think he’s one of their leaders. He always seems to have accurate information.”

Ella remembered her old friend. She suspected that he was part of the traditionalist’s group, too, but she’d never been able to prove it, or catch
him doing anything illegal. “Is his shift working right now?”

“Yeah. Shall I ask if he’s willing to come in to talk to you?”

She considered it for a moment, then nodded. Maybe putting things on an official footing would be best, at least for now.

Watson left, and Billy Pete entered about five minutes later, wearing his trademark faded Chiefs cap. His hard hat was in his hand. He looked around,
saw the snack room was empty except for them, then focused on her. He appeared totally calm, but she saw a line of muscle tighten across his cheek. “Sit down, Billy. This won’t take long.”

He did as she asked. “Why so businesslike? I thought you and I were still friends.”

“We are. It was just easier to get you here to talk to me now by saying it was official. I didn’t figure it would create
a problem.”

He shrugged. “That depends. What do you need?”

“Information. I hear the Fierce Ones are coming down hard on the parents of the kids they think are in the gangs.”

He shrugged again. “What does that have to do with me?”

“I believe they’re just trying to help, but this could end up alienating the very people whose support we need most. The parents are probably the best hope of controlling
the kids.”

“But the problem is, they aren’t doing it. That’s why the Fierce Ones are getting involved. They’re letting the parents know that if they don’t control their kids, neither the kids nor the parents will be welcome anywhere, even in their own neighborhoods. The whole family will be treated as outcasts.”

Ella knew that the Fierce Ones could pull that off. There was no other organization
in this part of the Rez with more support at the moment, and on this issue, The People wouldn’t hesitate to back them. “Deliver a message for me. Tell the Fierce Ones to be very careful. I don’t want to be put in the position where I have to arrest any of them. If any of the parents decide to press charges—”

“No way
that’s
going to happen,” Billy said, standing up. “Is that all?”

“Sit down.”
Her voice cracked like a whip in the empty room.

The man shrugged, and sat back down, reluctantly. “I have to get back to work.”

“I’m aware of that. This letting the parents know. How much of this is talking, and how much is intimidation?”

Billy Pete looked at the clock on the wall. “The Fierce Ones reason with them,” he said with a tiny smile. “If you go through the murdered woman’s neighborhood
now, you’ll notice adults painting over the graffiti. That’s restitution for the damage. There is one family, the Bileen’s, whom I believe you’ve dealt with personally. As you know, they cannot control their son, and now he’s out of jail despite the charges he’s facing. The Fierce Ones will be paying them a visit soon.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Ella said, quickly getting to her feet.

“Don’t mention
it. And I mean that.” Billy stood. “The Fierce Ones have a better chance of controlling the violence and the gangs than the police. You know that as well as I do. If I were you, I wouldn’t interfere with them. It’s not to your advantage nor to the community’s.”

Ella left the power plant and drove directly to Lisa’s neighborhood. She wasn’t worried. Her instincts weren’t warning her of danger,
but she knew that she had to get there right away, if she was to have any hope of identifying members of the Fierce Ones before they took action.

Ella passed by two groups of parents painting over the graffiti on the walls. As she turned the corner, she saw the Bileen home ahead. Clothing, furniture, and bedding were scattered all over the driveway and front yard. It looked like everything they
owned was outside.

As Ella pulled up, she saw Vera Bileen carrying a handful of clothing back inside. Ella surveyed the scene, disappointed that she’d been too late. Vera’s son was nowhere in sight, so hopefully he was back in school.

Mrs. Bileen glanced over as Ella approached, saw who she was, then went inside with the bundle.

Ella waited until Mrs. Bileen reappeared outside. “What’s going
on? What happened here?”

“Nothing,” the woman muttered, the anger she’d been expressing a day ago now replaced with resignation. “Please go. I haven’t broken any laws.”

“It looks like everything you own has been taken out of the house.”

“I’m cleaning,” she said brusquely.

“Where’s your son, in school?” Ella pressed. “I know he’s been released into your custody. Perhaps he can help you when
he gets home.”

Mrs. Bileen gave her a cold glare. “My son is my business. I will do my best to keep him under control. I wouldn’t want you cops to lock him up again in that cage, like an animal.”

Ella ignored the comment. “I’m trying to help you. No one has a right to come into your house and throw your property onto the ground.”

“But it’s okay for you to threaten our children with guns, and
arrest them for hanging around with their friends?” Mrs. Bileen stopped and faced her. “Go away. You’re of no use at all. At least the others have my respect.”