Changing Woman (27 page)

Justine smiled. “I wish more women had your attitude.”

Lorraine shrugged, dismissing the
compliment. “There are some things a woman should never allow.” She went to a table in the far corner, pulled open a drawer, and brought out a pad of paper and a pen, talking as she
wrote. “This is his new address. I’ve never even seen the place, so I can’t tell you how to get there. But I think he said it was just south of the old high school—which is now an elementary school, of course.”

“Thanks,”
Ella said taking the slip of paper. Minutes later, after they were back on the road, Justine glanced at Ella. “She’s holding something back. She didn’t react at all when we mentioned that we were investigating a crime that might involve her husband.”

“Yeah, I noticed that, too. She wasn’t in the least bit curious about it, which indicates that she already knows.”

“I wonder what’s going on? Judging
by the way she spoke about Andrew, my guess is that if she’s holding out on us, it’s to protect herself and the girls, not him.”

“Let’s see what we can get from Andrew,” Ella said. “I intend to push him pretty hard now that we know about him and the dead woman.” Ella realized that she too had avoided using Betty’s name. Even though she didn’t believe in the
chindi,
some habits died hard.

“Both
Betty and Lorraine are meticulous housekeepers,” Justine commented, apparently not noticing how Ella had avoided saying the dead woman’s name.

“Maybe Andrew likes the domestic type. I guess that means you and I are in no danger of catching Mr. Talk’s roaming eye,” Ella joked.

“Thank fate for small mercies,” Justine said, laughing. The difference between the tiny stucco-and-wood frame house that
Andrew rented and the one where his wife and daughters lived was like night and day. The exterior of this place was falling apart, with cracked plaster and faded paint. The shingles on the roof curled up at the ends, and several were missing. But then again, for the roof to leak New Mexico would need rain or snow, so Talk was in no immediate danger.

Ella knocked and a moment later Andrew Talk
appeared at the door. He was her height, and wearing jeans and an open shirt despite the cold. She could smell whiskey
on him and automatically took a step back. Justine caught her eye, having detected the alcohol as well. They were both on their guard now, watching him carefully.

“Mr. Talk, we need a few minutes of your time,” Ella said, flashing her badge. Justine brought hers out as well.

He waved them in, slammed the door noisily behind them, and then walked slowly and unsteadily to the worn living room couch across the threadbare carpet. “What can I do for you?”

Though his eyes were bloodshot and the bottle on the small coffee table was nearly empty, his speech was clear. Ella, acting on experience, remained on her guard and was glad to see that Justine was standing near the
door, her coat open to reveal her weapon. If he made an aggressive move, both would be in position to counter it.

“I need to know about your relationship with Betty Nez,” Ella said, looking around the small room, trying to figure out where an odd smell was coming from. It reminded her of rotting leaves.

“My . . . what?” He’d started to slouch, but the name caught his attention and he sat up
straight.

“We understand that you two were having an affair,” Ella said.

For a moment he didn’t answer, he simply stared at her. Then he glanced at Justine, who simply nodded.

Andrew recovered after a beat and leaned back, his gesture overly casual. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Betty does keyboard entry and clerical work at the tribal offices, and I work with her. She and I see
each other every day, but it’s strictly professional. Did my wife send you?” he added with a sneer.

“No, she didn’t need to. But we did speak with her. That’s how we found out where you’re staying,” Ella said.

He sat up, nodded, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he spoke, “Then you probably know that my wife and I have some serious problems.
She kept the house, as is
customary among the tribe, but maintaining her and my daughters there is taking every cent I make. I live here because it’s all I can afford.”

He pointed to the dirty wall. Tack holes and lighter rectangular outlines showed where posters had hung before. They were now replaced by two small, expensivelooking oak frames that looked completely out of place. “Those are my diplomas. I have two university
degrees. The tribe paid for my schooling and I took the opportunity to attend Stanford and earn my MBA. I have a lot to offer this tribe, and I work every day to prove it. If Lorraine says that I’m a threat to the kids or something . . .”

Ella heard the barely concealed anger growing from his words, and saw his fists clench. She sat up and unbuttoned her coat. If she had to reach for her weapon,
she wanted to be ready. “Just take it easy—relax.” She smiled. “I told you, we’re not here because of your wife. We want to know everything you can tell us about Betty.”

“Why? Is there some trouble at work?” His eyes narrowed as if he were trying to focus carefully on what she was saying despite the cloud of alcohol numbing his senses.

“She was murdered.”

“What?” He started to stand, bumped
his knees against the coffee table, and knocked over the bottle. It fell to the carpet, unnoticed, spilling most of the whiskey still inside. Andrew sagged back onto the couch, scratching his head as tears started to form in his eyes. “No, that can’t be right. I was just...”

“With her?” Ella finished for him.

Talk’s face turned a sick gray color, and for a moment or two she could have sworn
he was going to be throw up right then and there. If it was an act, he deserved the Academy Award.

He took several deep breaths, wiped the moisture from his eyes with the back of his hand, then managed to
answer her, clearing his throat as he spoke. “Look, this puts a whole new slant on things. I wouldn’t have said anything—for Betty’s sake, not my own—but murder . . . How? Where? Are you sure?”

Ella nodded, not wanting to digress in order to get his story unrehearsed. “We already know you were having an affair with her, Mr. Talk,” Ella said. “What I need to know now is did you see her earlier today, and when?”

“I was planning to. We’d both taken off work so we could go for a drive and talk. I’d intended to break up with her today, but I wanted to let her down easy, if I could. Betty
is . . . was . . . a lonely woman. She was older than me by several years, and wanted more for herself than I could give her.”

“Marriage?” Ella asked.

“Yeah. Lorraine and I have an understanding, kind of an open marriage without saying so. The difference is that in the past she never knew for sure if I was stepping out on her, and she would never ask. But this time, through no fault of mine,
she found out about Betty.”

Ella stared at him with the same interest she would have reserved for an insect that had crawled out from under a rock. She noticed Justine’s scowl all the way across the room. “Did Betty tell her?”

“No, it’s much worse than that.” Andrew was quiet for several moments, staring at a wet spot on the carpet, not realizing or maybe not caring it was spilled whiskey. “Although
I didn’t know it at the time, someone had been tailing Betty and me—not Lorraine—and had taken some pretty revealing photos.”

Talk looked around for the bottle, discovered it was on the floor, then picked it up without trying to pour himself a drink. “Whoever it is has been blackmailing me for weeks. I first got a call at work from a Navajo guy, at least that’s what he sounded like. He told me
that unless I did as I was told he would make sure my wife received some photos of Betty and me together in
bed. He then described a few things to let me know he meant business.”

He paused, ran a hand through his hair, then continued. “Betty and I... well, we did a lot of things that Lorraine would think of as perverted. If Lorraine saw those photos, I knew she’d never let me near our girls again.
I asked the guy how much money it would take, but he just said he’d be in touch, then hung up. I heard from him again two days later.”

“Wait a second. He called and told you he’d seen you and Betty, I get that. But how did you know that the guy actually had photos? Did you ask him for a sample?” Justine asked.

“He was kind enough to send me one,” Talk said sarcastically. “I found it at the office
on my desk in a plain brown envelope right before he called the second time.” Andrew pressed his lips together tightly.

“It was a color shot and focused enough to show exactly who we were, and what was going on. My first thought was that Betty had set me up. After all, the photo was taken while we were at her house. But when I showed it to her, she almost passed out. She wasn’t faking either.
I don’t think she’d ever seen a graphic photo like that in her life. Once she calmed down, we figured out that the man must have gotten up right next to the back window and used a telephoto lens.” His hands clenched into tight fists. “I wanted to kill the slimeball.”

“What did the blackmailer ask for the next time he called?” Ella asked.

“He still didn’t want any money, and that took me by surprise.
He said for me to wait, remember what he had on me, and that he’d be in touch just before the gaming issue came before the council. He said he’d instruct me how to vote at that time. If I didn’t vote the way he wanted me to, then my wife would receive the photos.”

“What did you do?” Ella prodded.

“I’m not stupid. I knew that if I gave in, he’d never stop blackmailing me, and I couldn’t live
that way.” He
stared soulfully at the empty glass on the coffee table by the bottle. “I thought about it, then went home that night and told my wife about the affair, hoping she’d forgive me. But she didn’t.” He paused for several minutes. “My marriage is wrecked, but they have no hold over me anymore.”

“What about the photos?” Ella asked.

“Lorraine promised me that if she got them, she’d throw
them away without looking at them—providing I don’t contest the divorce. She’ll get the house, and full custody of the girls. Everything.”

“They could send the photos to the press,” Ella said. “They won’t be able to print them. Admittedly, the story alone would damage my career, but it wouldn’t destroy it. Many other politicians have survived scandal. But I don’t think the blackmailer will go
that route. The point has been made. I won’t knuckle under and I’ll vote the way I want on gaming. I’m even prepared to resign, if it comes to that.”

“Where were you earlier this morning, say between eight and eleven?” Ella asked.

“I was driving around. I was supposed to meet with Betty, like I said, but I needed time to myself first so I could figure out what to say to her.”

“Can anyone corroborate
where you were? Did you stop at a coffee shop, or at a gas station, for instance?” Ella asked. “A liquor store or bar?”

He stared at her in surprise. “You can’t seriously think I killed Betty!”

“Why not?” Ella countered calmly.

“I got rid of the blackmailer even though it cost me my marriage. Why on earth would I kill Betty after that?”

Ella looked directly at him. “Revenge for all the trouble
the relationship created for you.”

Rose sat with Lena Clani at the kitchen table while her friend sipped herbal tea. The years had left a mark on both of them, but together they’d shared the joys and heartbreaks of life, and the bond of friendship had remained strong between them.

“You and I have been friends for many, many years,” Lena said. “I know when something’s troubling you. Let’s talk it through like we always
do.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just feeling old and tired tonight,” Rose said slowly. Instinct and the experience that came with age told her that discussing what was bothering her with Lena would only end up putting her friend in danger, too.

Lena looked down at the tiny leaves at the bottom of her tea cup. “I understand not wanting to talk about a problem. Words have power and speaking of something
can sometimes bring it to pass. But you’re my friend and I want to help you.”

“I’m facing some serious trouble, old friend. If I tell you what’s going on, the people after me will come after you, too.”

Lena reached out and patted Rose’s hand. “No one has to know you said a word to me. It’ll stay between the two of us.”

Rose considered Lena’s offer. She desperately wanted someone to talk to
besides Ella, whose opinions seldom matched her own. “You’ll have to be careful not to let on that you know any of this.”

“That’s not a problem. Now, tell me what’s bothering you so much. It won’t make your problems go away,
but maybe they’ll be easier to bear if the two of us shoulder the load.”

Rose looked at Lena. Some friendships were beyond price. Lena was a stubborn, proud woman and maybe
that was why they understood each other so well. They’d both spent their lives on the reservation, and their hearts were part of this land. Yet, with their children grown and husbands long gone, both had reached a crossroads. Being mothers and grandmothers was no longer enough to define them, to center their days, or even give them that elusive sense of purpose they both needed so much.

“I’ve
angered some powerful people, old friend,” Rose said slowly, and told her about the politician’s visit and the controversy she’d stirred up.

Lena heard Rose’s account without interrupting. When Rose finally stopped, Lena gave her a worried look. “So what do you plan to do now that you’ve got everyone’s attention?”

“I won’t back off—that much I know. In fact, if anything, I intend to be more
vocal and public about my opinions. No one has the right to threaten me and think they can get away with it.”

Lena gave her a long look, studying her expression, before responding. “Are you afraid?”

Rose hesitated, then nodded. “My enemies know that the way to hurt me is through my family. I’m willing to stand up to them, but I don’t know how to protect my family and still do what needs to be
done.”

“Your daughter can protect herself. You know that. And she likes a good fight. She’ll stand with you. And that’s the way it should be. You’ll always love your daughter, but you wouldn’t respect her if you didn’t think she was as strong as you are.”