Rock with Wings (27 page)

Chee hadn’t seen the Lieutenant since before his Monument Valley assignment. He was glad to have Bernie with him for the visit. She always managed to know what to say to ease the conversation forward, and when to stop talking.

Louisa greeted them at the door. She wrapped him in a quick hug. “Welcome, stranger!” Then she turned to Bernie. “What happened to you, sweetie? That bruise looks bad.”

Bernie touched the tender place on her chin. “It’s nothing. I did a face plant in the line of duty. How’s the Lieutenant?”

“Joe is waiting in his office. I figured you all could talk there while I finish dinner.”

“Can I make a salad, set the table, or something?”

Louisa nudged her away. “I’ll call when it’s ready. Go and chat.”

The Lieutenant sat on an overstuffed chair with a view of the activity at the hummingbird feeders. He motioned them to the couch across from him. The Lieutenant had a computer on his lap. He looked better than he had at their last visit.

“It’s good to see you.” Bernie spoke in Navajo. “And before you ask what happened to my face—well, you should have seen the other guy.”

Leaphorn turned to Chee.

Chee said, “She’s OK. Nothing broken. No permanent damage. She’s as feisty as ever.”

The Lieutenant looked at Bernie again.

“I wanted to let you know your ideas helped solve that case in Monument Valley,” Chee said. “What you wrote about the pendant and the poker chip? That led me to remember a tourist couple who had camped where they shouldn’t have. It turned out they had carried the cremated remains of her parents out to the valley. That’s where the bone fragments I saw came from.”

Leaphorn typed something and handed the computer to Chee:
Etcitty too young
.

“What does that mean?” Bernie asked.

Chee said, “I was wrong about that. When the Lieutenant told me Robert Etcitty created the necklace, the only Etcitty I’d heard of is about my age. That’s why I thought, well, that the Lieutenant might have been mistaken.”

“Oh, right. Your friend who made my bracelet. So this man was his relative?”

“A great-uncle.”

“Remember that old photo of the cowboys and Indians at Goulding’s?” Bernie asked. “You mentioned that the man looked like Robert.”

“I told the tourist lady about that photograph. One of those cowboys might have been her grandfather.”

They watched Leaphorn hunting for the letters on his keyboard:
Chip?

“You were right about that, too. I didn’t realize it was important when I found it. It was from
Stagecoach
, like you told me, in the
poker scene. The tourist woman’s grandfather saved it as a souvenir, and she left it when she deposited the ashes. Without it, without you putting it together, I wouldn’t have made the connection.”

Leaphorn tapped three times.

“Three means maybe you would have,” Bernie said.

The Lieutenant typed: W
ork w. Tsinnie OK?

“Tsinnie? Who’s that?” Bernie asked.

“Oh, a detective in Monument Valley. She knows the Lieutenant.”

Leaphorn typed:
Trained her
.

Chee hesitated. “We only spent part of a day together.”

Leaphorn and Bernie waited. Finally she asked, “And?”

“And, she’s sharp. Asked tough questions. She reminded me of you, sir, in some ways. She made me think.”

Leaphorn nodded and tapped once, his signal for yes, for agreement.

Bernie said, “Should I be jealous?”

Leaphorn looked at Chee, then tapped twice.

“OK, then. No jealousy.”

He typed again:
Need to talk to Chee alone
.

Bernie said, “Sure. Maybe Louisa can use some help now.” But Chee noticed her frown. The Lieutenant had hurt her feelings.

At dinner, Chee tried to keep them entertained with stories of the gourmet coffee and characters he’d encountered during his movie duty. But the Lieutenant seemed distracted, glancing at Chee, then at Bernie, then turning away.

After the meal, Louisa said, “I made a special dessert tonight in honor of seeing you both again. And Joe has some good news too. So go out to the back porch while I get it ready, and we can sit and talk there.”

The Lieutenant pushed his chair back and used the table to rise. He moved better than the last time she’d visited, Bernie realized.
The therapy must be helping. She and Chee joined him at the glass patio table. Louisa had already put out the forks, white plates with an orange stripe around the rim, and matching orange cloth napkins. The Lieutenant’s news must have called for a celebration with more than disposable dishes.

The back door opened, and Louisa emerged with a layer cake with chocolate frosting studded with piñon nuts. Who knew what deliciousness hid beneath it? Bernie felt herself salivate at the thought.

Louisa put the cake at the center of the table.

“Wow,” Chee said. “That’s beautiful. Did you make it?”

“I baked it this morning.”

“So what’s the special occasion? You’re keeping Bernie and me in suspense.”

Louisa smiled. “Joe and Captain Largo have been e-mailing. Last night, the Captain asked Joe to come back to work for the department. Part-time, as much or as little as he feels up to, as a consultant.”

Chee looked at Leaphorn. “And you said yes, sir?”

Leaphorn nodded.

“Wonderful,” Chee said. “Now I won’t be imposing on you when I ask for help on a case.”

Leaphorn tapped three times.

“It probably depends on the case and how interesting it is,” Bernie said. “I’m happy for you, sir. It will be great to have you back. I mean, even though it’s on-line for now.”

The Lieutenant nodded again.

Louisa served them each a piece of cake. Beneath the chocolate frosting were two layers of yellow cake and a red filling between them. Cherry? Raspberry? Whatever it was, Chee ate every bite and looked longingly at the uncut leftovers and the big, mostly uneaten slice on Bernie’s plate. His wife had only eaten the frosting.

Louisa had moved on. “Who would like tea to go with this? It’s herbal, good for you. Won’t keep you up all night . . .”

“Gosh, not tonight,” Bernie said.

Chee said, “Sure, that sounds good.”

The Lieutenant shook his head. Vigorously.

Bernie changed the subject. “I saw your cactus over there.” She glanced toward the little plant. “It looks OK.”

“I think it’s still alive,” Louisa said. “I have more respect for the little guy after what Joe showed me about its being endangered. I guess we shouldn’t really have it.”

Leaphorn tapped twice.

Bernie smiled at him. “He’s right. It’s technically illegal, but it would never survive being transplanted again. Keep it. See if it blooms for you in June.”

Louisa asked, “What happened to the old gentleman who lived near the cactus, the man whose house blew up?”

“He decided to move in with his daughter while he recovers from his injuries,” Bernie said. “The grandson wants to rebuild the place, and the new house will have solar power. The company found an alternative site that preserves the remaining plants and the view of Ship Rock.”

“Whatever happened to the cactus thief?” Chee asked.

“I don’t know. Cordova is pretending he never existed. But somebody sent me a new backpack. And it has a wolf logo on it, the same as the logo that Miller had on his cap the night I stopped him. No note. No return address.”

Chee somehow managed to drink half the cup of tea, and then they said their goodbyes.

Bernie didn’t talk much on the trip home, but when Chee pulled into the driveway, she turned to him.

“OK. What did the Lieutenant need to tell you that he didn’t want to say in front of me?”

Chee took a breath. Exhaled. “He scolded me for not taking good care of you. He doesn’t like your bruise and your bum shoulder, and he didn’t like the way you made a joke out of it.”

“Every cop I know does that. Does he want me to be a crybaby or something?”

“I told him what happened, how you rescued the old one. I bragged on you.”

“Any officer would have done that. The Lieutenant knows better than anybody that police work is dangerous. You weren’t even there. If he has an issue with me, he should talk to me.”

“He likes you, honey. That’s why he’s worried. He knows your injury had nothing to do with me. He was just venting.” Chee put his arm around her.

“I’ll have to talk to him about that,” Bernie said.

“OK, but don’t let on that you heard it from me.”

Bernie opened the truck door and unfastened her seat belt. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing much. He passed along something Tsinnie told him. She thought I did a good job figuring out what those zombie people were up to.” Chee chuckled. “I guess he mentioned it because I asked for his advice and actually followed it.”

“I hope all the compliments don’t go to your head. Next thing I know, you’ll want that Monument Valley movie production assignment permanently.”

“No way,” he said. “The only star I’m interested in is you.”

It seems to take a village to write a book.

Detective Sergeant Michelle Williams of the Santa Fe Police Department graciously shared her experience, advice, and insights into the problems of traffic stops and other hazards; retired Navajo police officer Randy Johns generously offered great information on dealing with DWI arrests; and Farmington’s Bill Stanley taught me a lot about alternative programs to address drunken driving. Thank you.

I appreciate the encouragement of engineer Sandra Begay-Campbell, and her knowledge of solar energy, the engineering profession, and the Navajo Nation. Thank you to botanist Daniela Roth for information on
Sclerocactus mesae-verde
, a real endangered cactus growing on Navajo Nation land, including the Shiprock area.

Ronnie Baird, general manager at Goulding’s Lodge, planted the seed for part of this book with his colorful tales of working with Mike Goulding. His generosity in speaking to the Road Scholar Tony Hillerman’s Landscape tours helped me understand and appreciate the role of the movies in the lodge’s history.

My appreciation to Alex Shapiro and the fine folks at the Institute of American Indian Arts for answering my questions, and for
an extensive tour. Santa Fe’s Aldea Book Club’s astute insights into
Spider Woman’s Daughter
helped me to craft this new Bernadette Manuelito story.

Thanks to my fellow writers, Rebecca Carrier, Jann Arrington Wolcott, Lucy Moore, and Talitha Arnold, who showed me how I could do better. My editor, Carolyn Marino, added her advice, support, and wisdom, as did my agent, Elizabeth Trupin-Pulli, and copyeditor Miranda Ottewell.

Thanks to my mother; to my business partner, Jean Schaumberg; to Don, my terrific husband; and to my son Brandon and his girlfriend, Lola Sandman, for their tolerance, advice, and encouragement. And to David and Gail Greenberg for their friendship.

And finally, a tip of the hat to all the fans of Tony Hillerman’s work who took a chance on my first novel,
Spider Woman’s Daughter
, and contacted me, asking for more. Without you all, this book would not exist.

ANNE HILLERMAN
is an award-winning reporter, author of several nonfiction books, and daughter of
New York Times
bestselling mystery author Tony Hillerman. Her debut novel
Spider Woman’s Daughter
won the Spur Award and New Mexico-Arizona Book Award for best book of the year. She lives in Santa Fe. This is her second novel.

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hc.com
.