Looking Through Darkness (5 page)

Jo knew the risks. The slightest mistake in a prayer, however long, could bring about tragedy or disaster.

“Intent and the spoken word bring about completion, which gives us harmony. Think on that and begin.”

Concentrating, hoping she'd be able to finish without mistakes, she beat on the overturned basket, using it as a drum. The monotone chant was invigorating and she felt its power coursing through her.

After several minutes, aware that her teacher hadn't commented and hoping it meant he was pleased, she looked over at him.

Rudy was blinking hard and clutching his chest.

Jo immediately stopped. “Uncle, what's wrong?”

Rudy pointed to his cup but his breathing was so rapid, he couldn't form words.

Jo dropped the basket and reached for her phone, dialing 911 as she walked to the Hogan door. “Victoria!” she yelled, calling for Rudy's wife.

She turned back toward the
hataalii
as the dispatcher came on the line.

A minute later, she ended the call. “Help is on its way,” she told him. She'd asked for an ambulance and given their location, yet even as she spoke, she could see that he was getting worse.

Her teacher began brushing aside something only he could see.
“S-s-su!”
he yelled.

The word was roughly the equivalent of “scat” but she could see nothing near him, not even a fly or bee. Jo tried to calm him, but Rudy lashed out, pushing her away.

A second later Victoria Brownhat rushed into the hogan.

Seeing her husband thrashing on the floor, Victoria pressed a hand to her bosom. “What's happening to him?” She tried to go to her husband, but Jo held her back.

“No, give him room. He can't hurt himself where he is now, but he could hurt you without meaning to. He's having some kind of seizure.”

“Why? What's causing this?”

“An allergic reaction, or maybe poison. The tea…” Jo looked down at the mug her teacher had dropped.

“Don't let him die!”

“Help will be here in just a few minutes,” Jo assured her.

Fortunately, the Brownhats lived on the outskirts of Shiprock so the regional medical center was just minutes away. Hearing the sound of sirens, Jo went to the door of the hogan, watching for the EMTs. “Here they come.”

Victoria nodded, her arms wrapped around herself in a hug. “First let the Anglo doctors help, and then do a Lifeway Sing.”

Jo nodded. That was the way it was these days. The emergency room came first, then it was time for traditional medicine from a
hataalii
.

As the EMTs raced up the dirt road, Jo dialed the tribal police. Something told her they'd be needed, too.

*   *   *

The rest of Saturday went by quickly at The Outpost. Not long after Melvin's bear sculpture had sold, another customer expressed interest in the horse, promising to come back on Monday. Leigh Ann smiled, looking forward to giving Melvin the good news.

It was approaching six when she went to check on Del, the high school senior who worked for them during the afternoons and all day Saturday. The young man had kept to himself today, stocking the shelves and organizing the storeroom.

Leigh Ann walked into the storeroom and found him cleaning out the big double sink. “It looks great in here. Good job,” she said. “About done?”

“Everything is shelved or on pallets, and I've just finished mopping the floor. I guess I better move fast and sweep the front. It's past closing time,” Del said, glancing at the clock above the door.

Leigh Ann looked over and drew in a breath. It was five minutes past, actually, time to lock up if there were no more customers inside.

The afternoon had gone by in a blur. Melvin, who'd called earlier to say he'd be delayed—they'd had a flat—would be arriving soon and she still had to prove out the cash registers.

“It's later than I thought, too,” she said.

Esther was still at the sewing machine, working.

“Esther, it's time to call it a day,” she said.

“You've got one more customer,” Esther replied, and gestured by pointing her lips, Navajo style.

Leigh Ann hurried to the cash register, where the Anglo businesswoman she'd spoken to earlier about the horse sculpture was waiting. The lady explained that she had decided not to wait to make the purchase, afraid someone else would get it first. Leigh Ann smiled. More good news to share with Melvin.

Once the sculpture had been carefully packed up, Leigh Ann escorted the customer out, holding the door open for her and wishing her a good evening. Then she closed and locked the door and hung up the closed sign. Turning back to the room, she saw Regina helping Esther add a new, obviously handmade western shirt to the clothing display. “That looks great!”

“It's still pinned in spots, but it will look fine to customers,” Esther said. “I'll take some material home and finish another top tomorrow afternoon.”

“You don't have to do that, tomorrow's Sunday,” Leigh Ann reminded her.

“I need something to help me unwind,” Esther said. “Days … are long at home—even the Lord's day.”

As Esther walked into the back to punch her time card and collect her purse, Regina remained behind with Leigh Ann. “Del's already gone, and I've got to clock out, too. Mom's got a part-time job as a waitress at the Palomino Caf
é
in Kirtland so she has to get ready for her shift.”

“Go. I'm waiting for Melvin, so I'll be here a little longer,” Leigh Ann said, recalling her own six-month stint as a waitress at the Bullfrog Tavern, just off the Navajo Nation.

A caf
é
without a liquor license was probably a better gig than a bar, though she didn't know what was worse, an amorous drunk or a bawling child whose parents were oblivious.

Regina's mom could probably handle it. Leigh Ann had met the woman, and she didn't take crap from man or beast. The thought made her smile.

As soon as the others left, Leigh Ann turned down the lights, made sure the registers balanced, then put all the cash into the safe in Jo's office. She was just finishing when she heard a knock at the front entrance.

Leigh Ann stepped into the doorway of the office and looked down the main aisle, spotting the familiar pickup parked in the lot. Grabbing her purse, she flipped off the light and walked out the door, keys in hand.

“Hi, guys!”

John gave her a nod. “You're all set, nephew,” he told Melvin, who was standing on the gravel beside the passenger side door. “I'll be going now.”

“See you later, John,” Leigh Ann said.

“You ready to go?” Melvin asked, stepping forward, feeling his way over the concrete parking barrier.

“Yep. Let me lock up, then we'll be on our way,” she said. “On the way home I'm going to make a quick stop, okay? I want to pick up some sparkling apple cider. It'll help us turn dinner into a celebration. I've got some good news for you!”

 

— THREE —

Upon her arrival at the tribal hospital, Jo turned over the herbal tea container to the doctors treating Rudy. One of the lab people, a Navajo well versed in native herbs and regional plants, had been told of the symptoms and already had a theory. Based on her description of the symptoms and their onset, he suspected that Rudy's tea had been contaminated with chopped azucena de Mejico berries—belladonna. The berries tended to be sweet and masked easily by the traditional herbal tea the
hataalii
preferred.

“Tell me why you immediately suspected that he'd been poisoned,” the Navajo tribal police officer standing at the nurses' station counter asked, questioning Jo as he filled out an incident report.

“I didn't know he'd been poisoned—
he
did,” she said. “He pointed to the teacup and tried to tell me, but by then, he couldn't speak.”

“You have no idea how the berries got into his tea?”

“If you're implying I had something to do with this—” Jo said angrily.

“Ma'am, I'm not implying anything. You've already stated that the
hataalii
was drinking from the cup when you arrived. I'm just trying to establish a timeline and sequence of events.”

“I was in the middle of a Sing I'd been trying to learn for weeks, concentrating on that,” she answered, mollified. “By the time I glanced over at him, he was already in distress and showing symptoms.”

“Beside the patient and his wife, do you know who else might have had access to that tea?” the officer asked.

“Any of his guests or patients could have contaminated the container, I suppose. He keeps it in the medicine hogan on a shelf, but anyone could have gained access. The entrance is covered only by a wool blanket.”

“That's according to the old ways,” the officer said, nodding. “Do you know if your teacher has any enemies or if anyone has threatened him recently?”

She nodded. “As a matter of fact, I do. The fianc
é
of a former patient accused my teacher and me of not giving the young woman the proper treatment when she came to us. She died a few days after the pollen blessing.”

“How, exactly, did she die?”

“The doctors here should know. From what I heard, it sounded like she had a heart attack,” Jo replied.

“What's the man's name?”

She shook her head. “Names have power. My teacher didn't share that with me.”

The officer nodded, then brought a small notepad from his pocket and handed it to her with a pen. “Then write down the patient's name. I can get the boyfriend's name from her family.”

The officer was respecting the Navajo custom of not speaking the name of the deceased aloud so soon after the fact, and Jo appreciated that. She wrote down the name: Rosemary Bernal.

Just then, a doctor came out of a double door and walked over to Victoria. “Excuse me a moment, please,” Jo said, stepping over to join Rudy's wife.

“He's out of danger now,” the doctor told them, “but some of the symptoms will persist for a while. With that in mind, we'd like to keep him overnight, just to be safe.”

Victoria nodded. “May I sit with him?”

“Of course.”

Jo remained next to Victoria as the doctor left. “Your husband's getting the best of care, but I'll be happy to keep you company.”

Victoria smiled, and shook her head. “I appreciate the gesture, but it's not necessary. I know you have things to do, so don't worry. My husband and I will both be fine.”

“All right then.” Jo returned to where the police officer waited. “There may be more of that tea at the hogan. Would you like to follow me back there and collect it?”

“Good idea. Lead the way.”

Jo walked out to her truck. All things considered, Rudy had been lucky. If she hadn't been there …

She suppressed the shudder that ran up her spine. Though it had been a long day, she doubted she'd get much sleep tonight.

*   *   *

Leigh Ann happily served her sister and Melvin her specialty, what she called New Mexican lasagna. It was her own recipe, made with lasagna noodles, fresh green chile salsa and cheddar cheese. Since tonight was a celebration she refused to count the calories and put a good-sized portion onto her own plate.

Before long, Rachel helped herself to seconds. “I'm going to have to run for five miles to work this off,” she said, “but it's just so darned good.”

“It is,” Melvin agreed and asked for another serving.

A phone rang somewhere in the room and Rachel said, “That's my cell, so it's probably Charlie. I think I'll skip dessert. Excuse me,” she added as she stood and hurried over to the coffee table where she'd placed her purse.

“Charlie's her boss. They're dating now,” Leigh Ann explained.

“That could get awkward,” Melvin said.

“Guys, I'm taking off for a bit,” Rachel said, walking back toward the table. “Charlie wants to talk to me about something, so we're meeting for drinks at the Bullfrog Tavern.”

“You're going to have a conversation at the noisiest bar in the county?” Leigh Ann asked, surprised.

“I forgot you waitressed there for a while,” Rachel said. “Now that I think of it, you might want to bring Melvin and come along. Back to your old stomping grounds, sis.”

“I never stomped, I waited tables and ended up hating the place. Why would I ever want to go back?” Leigh Ann asked.

“Pierre Boone hangs out there,” she said. “You need to talk to Kurt's former partners about what you found in that box and it'll be safer in a crowded, public place. They're not bound to get defensive there, even if you stick your foot in your mouth.”

Leigh Ann said nothing for a moment or two. “No,” she said at last.

“Suit yourself,” Rachel said and shrugged. “See you later, Melvin. It was nice having you over for supper.”

“Good talking to you, too,” Melvin said, leaning back in his chair.

“You ready for some dessert?” Leigh Ann asked.

“Coffee would be great, but nothing else.”

“You sure?”

“I'd rather just talk for a bit.”

Leigh Ann got the coffeepot going and returned to the table.

“Rachel might be on to something,” Melvin said. “If you've turned up information you think Kurt's former partners may not like, talking in a place like that may work to your advantage. Neither man is likely to give you trouble there, and even if the guys decide to follow up on it later, they'll have had time to cool off.”

She sighed. “Not tonight. I need time to think it through. Kurt's entire life was a maze of lies and secrets.”

“So what's this about a box? What's going on?”

“It's not about Kurt's women this time, at least.” Months ago, in a moment of weakness and needing the comfort of his friendship, she'd confided in Melvin, telling him about Kurt's girlfriends. “This is something totally different, but I don't understand most of it yet,” she said, then told him what they'd found in the attic.