“How did it go?” Ella asked.
“I found out a few interesting things. Jim Joe says that Melvin was in serious trouble
with Agent Thomas, that Melvin had screwed up one of his cases and he was out for blood. Melvin was ducking him because he was sure he’d end up in jail even though he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. I don’t know how much truth to place on secondhand accounts like this, but it made interesting listening.”
“What bothers me about this is that I never heard anything about a murder victim
in Beclabito,” Ella said. “Did you check into their alibi?”
“Yeah, and as far as I can tell, there are no homicide reports that coincide with what they saw. Either Melvin’s lying and his cousin’s backing up the phony story or Agent Thomas was seriously misinformed.”
“I couldn’t find any paperwork in his office pertaining to the case he was working on, but if Thomas was investigating a murder,
Simmons must have known about it. I’m going to call again and press him on this.”
Ella went to her office, dialed, and after a moment got Simmons. She updated him first, then brought up what Melvin Rainwater and Jim Joe had said. “That’s what I’ve got so far, but I need you to fill me in on everything you know. Was Agent Thomas investigating a murder near Beclabito or not?”
“Hang on,” Simmons
said, then listened to an announcement coming over a loudspeaker. “Sorry. I’m in D.C. trying to get an early flight back, but some jackass apparently left a note about a bomb and now nothing’s moving,” he added. “To answer your question, there was a glitch in some paperwork filed with the county. I don’t have my notes, but I do recall the problem came from some confusion with the names of the deceased.
Daniel Yarborough was a homicide victim in Farmington, Daniel Yellowhorse died of natural causes on the reservation. If the folder on that isn’t in Blalock’s office, then I have no idea where it is. There’s more documentation in my Albuquerque office, but it basically amounts to what I’ve just told you.”
“There was nothing in Thomas’s office or in his vehicle. My team and I did a thorough search,”
Ella said.
Simmons grunted skeptically, then told her he had to hang up, and warned her that when he finally got into the air, his cell phone would have to be switched off during his flight. “I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I can.”
As Ella placed the phone down, Justine walked in. “Did Simmons have any answers?”
Ella filled her partner in on what Thomas’s supervisor had said. “So as
it stands now, a dead Navajo named Yellowhorse is our last connection to Thomas. Maybe Simmons is the one who’s been misdirected, and Yellowhorse was the one murdered after all. Thomas may be missing because of what he learned. Let’s check the computer for background information and get an address for Daniel Yellowhorse and his next of kin.” She paused. “Come to think of it, Justine, why don’t you
take care of that while I call Larry Jim and find out why my unit isn’t ready.”
“No problem.”
Ella called the motor pool and got Larry, the PD’s chief—and only—mechanic at the Shiprock station. “I really need to have that vehicle running right. I’m on a priority case,” she explained.
“I still have to get a purchase order signed and no one’s around to do it. One of the tires could be repaired,
but the other was too badly damaged to use. I was sent a retread as a replacement, but that would be dangerous because it’s not rated for higher-speed operation. I do have some tires, but they’ve already been allotted to another patrol officer.”
“Put the tire you repaired back on my vehicle and I’ll use the retread as a spare. I’ll pick up a better tire whenever. This case is time-sensitive.”
“Yeah, okay, just try not to get another flat,” he said. “Your unit’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
“Oh, and the oversized tire that’s on the rear is my brother’s. Just stick it in the back when you’re done.”
Ella remembered that she hadn’t told Big Ed about her continued use of Teeny. But he hadn’t been in his office when she’d passed by earlier, so in order to save time she scribbled a quick note
and left it with his secretary.
Twenty-five minutes later, after Justine had tracked down the address of Daniel Yellowhorse’s widow, they left for Kirtland.
“Daniel Yellowhorse died alone in his home outside Beclabito while waiting for a heart transplant. A neighbor saw him on the floor and called nine-one-one. Apparently one of the EMTs made the declaration, and Yellowhorse’s physician signed
off on
the cause of death,” Justine said. “But I suppose it’s entirely possible the paperwork got screwed up along the way.”
“A lot of crimes are committed because of mistakes and misunderstandings,” Ella said, picking up the cell phone. “I’m going to check in with Sheriff Taylor. I know there are Bureau agents working his turf, and I want to find out if there’s any information he can pass along.”
Ella got through to Sheriff Taylor quickly and gave him a progress report. “I’ll be in your jurisdiction talking to a Navajo family, but it’s mostly routine at this point,” she said. “That’s all from my end, but I understand there are FBI agents in the county sniffing around. Have they turned up anything useful?”
“They’re looking into Agent Thomas’s personal life. Thomas’s Farmington apartment
is under a microscope, practically, but I don’t think they’ve found anything significant—or, if they have, they’re being really closed mouthed about it. All I know is that they’ve been ordered not to interfere with the investigation that’s taking place on the reservation, but I wouldn’t count on Agents Newberry, Marquez, and Edwards staying out of your hair for long. These three guys are young,
eager, and determined to be The Ones who find Agent Thomas.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” Ella hung up and explained to Justine what was going on.
“Hopefully we won’t end up looking for four agents instead of just one,” Justine said, rolling her eyes. “Of course if Simmons ever makes it back, that could make it five.”
T
hey were in Farmington, heading east in the direction of Kirtland, when her cell phone rang. Ella picked it up and recognized Teeny’s gravelly voice immediately.
“I’ve got bad news,” he said.
“What’s up?” she asked, bracing herself.
“Rainwater did a jackrabbit on us before I could get back to him.”
“Damn. That means he knows a lot more than he’s been telling us.” Knowing that
Teeny would be on his trail even as they spoke, she added, “What else can you tell me, Bruce?”
“Melvin told his employer at Mesa Vista that he had an emergency, and left, but he didn’t say what kind of emergency and he didn’t go home or to either of his cousins’s—according to everyone I’ve spoken to. But don’t worry. I’ll track him down again.”
“Good. When you get a lead, let me know.”
“All
right,” he said, and without saying good-bye, hung up.
Justine looked over at her. “Let me guess. Melvin has disappeared, and Bruce is going to try and find him?” Justine asked, putting things together after hearing Ella’s side of the conversation.
“Yeah. Something must have changed and spooked him, or else he thinks we’re about to uncover evidence that shows he lied to us.”
“Teeny is an ex-cop
so he knows what to do. Best of all he has a lot of old contacts. He’ll probably track Melvin down before too long, unless he’s left the state.”
“Teeny is, was, a good cop. I wish he were still on the force,” Ella said.
“There’s something I’ve just got to ask you, Ella. Is there something between you and Teeny? Or was there at one time?”
Ella looked at her in surprise, then burst out laughing.
“No! We’ve just always got along well.”
“Then I’ve got news for you partner. You may not realize it, but that guy’s crazy about you.”
Ella shook her head. “Teeny knows what our relationship was—and is. He’s helping us now because we’re short of manpower and we need to find Agent Thomas fast. That’s all there is to it.”
Justine gave her a skeptical look but didn’t pursue it. “How long do you
think Big Ed will be able to pay for his services? Our budget is almost nonexistent.”
“Hopefully long enough for him to track down and hang on to Melvin Rainwater. Teeny’s perfect for the job, Justine. He can work on and off the Rez without a problem. And as far as Big Ed is concerned, he and Teeny go back a ways. You know the story, don’t you?”
“What story?”
“I’ll take that as a no,” Ella
said with a grin. “Before Big Ed became police chief, he and Teeny were providing security at a Chapter House meeting where tensions were high and trouble was expected. Big Ed broke up a big fight, sending the two ringleaders on their way. Later, after the meeting ended, someone tried to crack Big Ed on the head with a bat, but Teeny put his arm up and deflected the blow. His arm was broken, and two
more guys jumped in, but even with a broken arm, Teeny and Big Ed were able to fight off them off. Big Ed might have been killed if Teeny hadn’t spotted the bat and intervened. That’s one of the reasons why when budget cuts came down, and Big Ed was ordered to lay Teeny off as nonessential personnel, he held firm and
refused to do it. But Teeny had enemies and come tribal leaders went over the
chief’s head and forced it to happen anyway. Teeny was angry about losing his job so abruptly, mind you, but the two men still have a lot of respect for each other.”
“He shouldn’t have been let go. Our department needed him—and he needed us. I’ve heard stories of how Teeny handles troublemakers when he’s working security these days. He’s really physical, throwing people over cars and stuff like
that. To me, it sounds like Teeny’s become a grenade without the pin. He should stick to his computer tech work before he ends up killing someone, even by accident.”
“You’re wrong about him,” Ella answered quietly. “He likes intimidating people who mouth off to him, sure, and he’s got the physical tools to do it. But he’s really bright, with good instincts, and streetwise as well. But in any
case, what he’s doing for us now is strictly a one-shot deal. He’s on this because we have to move fast and we can’t turn away qualified help. Agent Thomas is fighting for his life. We’ve got to do all we can to find him.”
“I hear you,” Justine said.
Ella checked her watch. It was now ten, midmorning, and another hour had passed without any new answers or leads. The call they believed had come
from Thomas would soon be twenty-four hours old, and he’d been missing for nearly twice that time. “Step on it, partner.”
They arrived at Yellowhorse’s address in Kirtland about fifteen minutes later. The semirural neighborhood was filled with inexpensive ranch-style homes, some of them thirty years old, others almost new.
Ella and Justine were walking up to the front door of an older one-story
stucco house with peeling trim when an elderly Navajo woman came around the corner, a handful of bulbs in her hands. Her hair, which was tied back in a knot against the nape of her neck, was almost completely white. Her dark eyes, in contrast, were bright and shone with awareness and intelligence.
“I see badges and guns, so you must be the police. Are you here about my husband’s death benefit?”
Ella identified herself by name, seeing the small crucifix the old woman wore around her neck and assuming that she wasn’t a traditionalist. “Are you Lorena Yellowhorse?”
“Yes. Are you sure you’re not here about my check?”
Ella nodded. “But we do need to talk to you. Could we go inside?”
Lorena nodded, then led the way through the front door into the small, brightly decorated kitchen. Fresh
flowers were everywhere, and the cabinets were yellow with blue trim. “If this isn’t about my social security check, why are you here?”
Ella and Justine sat down at the small wooden table and accepted glasses of iced herbal tea. As they waited for Lorena to take a seat, Ella looked around the homey kitchen. The appliances and countertops were old, but attention to decorating details had given
the room a facelift.
“I know this must be a difficult time for you,” Ella said. She was trying to look sympathetic, but it was difficult because the herb tea was so tart she felt like puckering up instead. “The death of a loved one is never easy … .”
Lorena held up her hand. “My husband, Daniel, was sickly for many years. His death wasn’t unexpected,” she said. “But it’s strange how life works.
My husband was very organized and he worked hard to make sure that all the paperwork was ready for me once he passed on. All I’d have to do was sign a few things and go on with my life. But despite all he did, I’ve had nothing but trouble.”
“What do you mean?” Ella asked.
“I counted on his death benefit to pay off some medical bills, and was supposed to get his social security instead of mine,
which is a lot smaller because I didn’t work nearly as long as he did. But everything went wrong. After my husband died, I sent in all the right forms like he’d told me to, but his check suddenly stopped coming. I called the local office, and they sent me to Agent Blalock, an Anglo FBI agent with an office in Shiprock. He found out that the checks were going to some other address and called to
tell me that Agent Thomas, an associate of his, would find out
why and put a stop to it But I haven’t heard from either of them since then.”
“How long ago was that?” Ella took another sip of tea. It was still dreadful.
“Well, the younger man, Andrew Thomas, called me just four days ago. He said he needed to verify some things before he could give me any more details, including where the checks
were going. But I haven’t heard from him or Agent Blalock since then,” she said, then paused thoughtfully. “Maybe the reason for all my bad luck is that God’s punishing me because I left my husband and came here. I moved in with my daughter a few months ago because my husband didn’t want me at home where I’d see him dying bit by bit. He was a proud man who wanted no pity from anyone. He chose to
die alone.” There was a hitch in her voice, a hint of an overpowering grief held at bay only with effort. Mr. Yellowhorse wasn’t the only proud member of his family.
It was several minutes before the old woman spoke again, but patience, despite the urgency of the current situation, could pay high dividends.
“But everything’s going wrong. Recently someone started stealing my mail from the box
outside. I called the post office, and spoke to Agent Thomas about that as well. I was thinking that maybe it’s connected to the people who are getting the social security checks that should be coming to me. Agent Thomas was going to come by yesterday and talk to me about that, but he never showed up.”
“He’s been sidetracked with a missing-person’s case,” Ella said, figuring it wasn’t a complete
lie. “But for the time being, I’m going to ask that a county deputy be sent to keep an eye on things here for you.”
“You mean so they can catch whoever’s stealing my mail?” Her expression brightened hopefully.
Ella hesitated, not wanting to alarm her. The truth was she was worried that Mrs. Yellowhorse could be in serious trouble. It was starting to look like Blalock and Thomas had uncovered
some kind of social security scam just before Thomas disappeared. If
the perps were trying to cover their tracks and get rid of witnesses, Mrs. Yellowhorse might be in danger, too. It also meant that perhaps Blalock was on an enemies list. She’d have to try harder to track him down and warn him.
“People will be helping protect your mail, ma’am, and also making sure you don’t have any more problems,”
Ella said, not wanting to get any more specific than that for now.
“I appreciate anything you can do. Today he didn’t stop, but my mailman usually comes at around nine every morning. You might want to tell the deputy.”
Ella gave Justine a nod. Seeing it, her partner walked off, phone in hand. Moments later, she returned. “It’s being handled. A deputy will be in the area shortly,” Justine told
Ella.
“Did you talk to Sheriff Taylor?” Ella asked.
“Just for a moment. Emily’s the one making the arrangements.”
Ella nodded, and accepted the refill of tea Mrs. Yellowhorse was offering her, though she would have much rather walked barefooted through a cactus patch.
A full ten minutes later, a county sheriff’s deputy arrived out front and Ella and Justine stood, thanking the widow for the
tea and saying good-bye. Nodding to the deputy they continued to the SUV. As soon as they were out of earshot, Justine looked over at her. “I’ve got a water bottle in the seat. You want to share?”
“Oh, yeah.
What
was in that drink?”
“It tasted vaguely like peppermint—and alum.”
Sitting in their unit, they traded the water bottle back and forth until they’d each had several swallows of water.
“Were you thinking that Thomas uncovered a scam, and now the thieves are trying to cover their tracks—starting with the investigating officer?” Justine asked.
“In my opinion here’s the way it went down. Melvin picked up the body, which was released because he’d obviously died a natural death. At the same time he learned that Yellowhorse lived alone. So he and possibly Krause, who owns the mortuary,
changed the name on the paperwork and rerouted Yellowhorse’s social security to themselves or an accomplice. But they never
counted on a widow somewhere else raising the alarm when her benefits stopped coming. Plain and simple, we got lucky ‘cause they screwed up. I have a feeling they’ve been pulling this con for a while,” Ella said. “It’s a brilliant plan and a veritable gold mine because
no Navajo likes to talk about the dead.”
“Of course they could only try this with people who’d died of natural causes since then there would be no need for further investigation,” Justine commented thoughtfully. “But where’s our evidence? We can’t prove any of it, even if it’s one hundred percent true.”
“We’ll start by checking to see if there’s a death certificate for Daniel Yellowhorse,” Ella
said. “We can then—” Ella stopped in midsentence as she glanced back in the side mirror. “There’s a gold SUV parked halfway down the street. It’s been there since we went in and there’s a driver behind the wheel. He may just be waiting for someone, but let’s go check him out.”
Justine started to turn the vehicle around but, as if guided by a sixth sense, the SUV wheeled around quickly in the
street and raced south down a narrow, tree-lined residential street.
“Close in on him so I can get a look at his plates,” Ella said, reaching for the radio. “I’ll call for county backup.”
Justine shot after the fleeing vehicle, siren on and emergency lights flashing. She quickly narrowed the distance between them as they raced past fenced-in yards in the old neighborhood closer to the river.
“New Mexico tag, but I still can’t make out the letters and numbers,” Ella said.
“Is that Melvin’s Chevy?” Justine asked.
“No, it’s a Ford, probably the same Excursion that flashed Herman and me,” Ella said.
“Huh? Oh, right. The mirror.”
The SUV ran the stop sign at the end of the street, sliding out into the old Shiprock highway, then accelerating away with smoking tires toward the west. An
oncoming pickup swerved and went off onto the shoulder as the suspect came across the centerline.
The three teens inside were cursing and flipping off the driver of the SUV as Justine and Ella shot by after him.