Changing Woman (35 page)

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Authors: David Thurlo

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“No. Definitely not, not without a warrant.”

“You said earlier you were always glad to help the police. Doing this voluntarily would make you look good to
the public, assuming of course that the weapon is not the one we’re looking for—”

“Don’t give me that crap. Your boss and I are old rivals. Right now there’s probably nothing he’d like to do more than bury my reputation in innuendoes or false charges—anything to get me off his back.”

“This has nothing to do with Police Chief Atcitty,” Ella said. “But it has everything to do with an ongoing investigation
into the attempted murder of a police officer. Now, it’s my understanding that you would like to have the job of top cop around here. It seems to me that you wouldn’t want it to become known that you refused to do your part to help track down the person responsible for attempting to murder a police officer.”

“I could still lose if I say yes.”

“Only if the gun checks out as the weapon used. And,
even then, it doesn’t prove conclusively that you or your nephew committed the crime. We’d have to prove motive and opportunity, and then build a case around it.” She paused deliberately, then continued. “Just be aware that if others bring in their weapons to be checked, and you and your nephew don’t...”

Arthur smiled mirthlessly. “Let me guess—you’d make sure word got out.”

“It would, believe
me, with or without my help. I’m not the only one who knows that the weapon is here. There are other members of your nephew’s gun club that
have already been interviewed by the FBI. They’re also going to be asked to cooperate and volunteer to bring in their weapons to be test fired.”

“All right. I’ll consent to have you take my nephew’s weapon in—if he agrees as well—but if, as I suspect, a bullet
fired from that rifle is not a match to what you have in ballistics, I’m going to make a public stink. I’ll say that this is what the PD does to cover their incompetence—going on a fishing expedition hoping the shooter is even more stupid than they are. I will use this incident to make your chief look as bad as possible.”

“Asking you and your nephew to voluntarily allow the weapon to be tested
wasn’t the chief’s decision. It’s mine. I’m the investigating officer on this case.”

“Don’t feel left out. I’ll claim you’ve been harassing me.” Arthur held her gaze. “I’ll be happy to cooperate with the police—but only under these conditions. It’s more equitable if we all have something on the line,” he added smoothly, then went to the door of the adjoining room and opened it. His nephew was
inside, standing by the pool table with a cue in his hand.

Although Ella suspected that Robert Benjamin had heard their conversation, Arthur told him what Ella was asking for and asked if he was willing to go along with the test.

The younger man shot her a glacial look, then unlocked the gun cabinet and placed the weapon down on the pool table.

“This hasn’t been fired outside competition and
practice sessions,” Robert said, opening the bolt action. “If it had been, I would have known. I want you to look it over again, write down the serial number, and take whatever notes you want, but I am definitely
not
going to let you take it in for testing, not without a warrant. I have a lot more to lose if the lab screws up or fakes the results. Anyone who volunteers for the testing is an idiot
as far as I’m concerned.”

Ella looked at Arthur’s expression. He was smiling as
if he and his nephew were sharing a private joke.

Ella handled the heavy weapon very carefully, examining the action and bore, then she pulled out her small notebook and added the serial number of the weapon.

“It was always your decision whether to help us or not, Robert. If the others volunteer, and the ballistics
tests on their weapons come back negative, maybe I’ll be back to see you again. Let’s see if your uncle can put some kind of spin on this that makes you both look good, at least for now But I wouldn’t count on it.” She smiled, heading to the door.

Five minutes later, Ella was on her way back to Shiprock when her radio call sign came over the air. She answered it and heard Justine’s voice.

“Andrew
Talk is dead. Apparently he was either hit by a car or beaten to death. He was found beside the main highway in plain view. Some of the Navajos who drove by are quite upset,” she said, then gave Ella directions to the crime scene, a few miles north of Shiprock on the Cortez highway.

“I doubt it was an accident. He was probably killed somewhere else, then dumped there to make sure word got around.”

“You mean as a warning?”

“Yeah. As soon as you get there contain the scene. Then look for skid marks or vehicle tracks to rule out the hit-and-run possibility. I’ll be there shortly.”

Ella switched off the mike. After everything that had already happened, she was convinced that Talk hadn’t died by accident. This had the feel of a gangland-style hit—payback for not doing what you’re told. She
thought of Kevin and threats he’d received. Immediately she picked up the cell phone and called him.

“I wanted you to hear the news from me, Kevin. Andrew Talk is dead, and my guess is that it’s a homicide,” she said.

There was a lengthy silence on the other end. “Is it
connected to the ones who’ve been leaning on the Tribal Council and threatening me?”

“I’m not sure yet, but it seems likely.
Have you received any more threats?”

“No, in fact I haven’t heard from them at all. I was hoping they’d given up trying to force me to dance to their tune.”

“Don’t count on that. You still planning on leaving the Rez tonight?”

“Yeah. And before you ask, nobody but you will know where I’m going. Well, Jennifer’s mother knows, but I trust her to be quiet about it.”

“Good. Don’t let anybody else
know at all, not even your staff.”

“We’ll be safe, Ella. First, they’d have to find us to do anything and, secondly, I’m still useful to them. Remember I’ve always been more progaming than against it.”

Her cell phone started giving a tone that she recognized as a low-battery warning. She’d forgotten to replace the battery this morning.

“My signal is about to go, Kevin, so I’ve got to disconnect
now. Just be very careful.” She placed the phone down on the seat beside her as a reminder to pick up a fresh battery in her office.

Ella arrived at the crime scene ten minutes later. Justine, Tache, and Neskahi were already there. Neskahi was cordoning off the area with yellow tape. Orange cones beside the highway warned oncoming traffic of their presence near the road. Ella parked a hundred
feet away from the scene, got out of her vehicle, and slipped a pair of vinyl gloves on just as Carolyn arrived in her van.

With a wave, Ella walked over to meet the ME, slipping on a second pair of gloves on the way. “You know, ever since you got married I never get to see you except when we’re both on the job.”

Carolyn laughed. “Oh, please. Like we got together
that often before? We were always
working.”

“Yeah, but we managed some time to talk occasionally, even if it was at the hospital.”

“You’re right. Lately it seems I’m either rushing around at work, or rushing to get home.”

“I guess the other Dr. Lavery gives you enough reasons not to work late.”

“Every day is a surprise,” Carolyn said with a tiny smile.

As they reached the yellow tape line, Carolyn stopped suddenly and stared
at Neskahi. “Please make an opening for me to walk through. I have no intention of doing the limbo underneath this with my medical bag.”

Ella looked at Neskahi and shook her head, signaling him to continue working. “When are you going to forgive him?” Ella asked softly as she lifted up the crime scene tape so Carolyn could pass underneath easily.

“Just so you know, he also referred to me as
Dr. Chunk to Officer Tache. I don’t take that kindly. He’ll pay until the day he retires, or I do.”

Ella cringed. No one, but
no one,
made a crack like that about Carolyn’s weight—not if you planned on continuing to live life as you knew it. Neskahi liked to joke around, and he’d undoubtedly meant no harm, but this was really going to cost him.

“I’ll talk to the sergeant. You can count on that.”
“No need. And today I intend to once again have him help me load the body into the bag. As far as I’m concerned that will be his job at every crime scene from this day until eternity. Don’t you dare interfere with that.”

“You’re the ME. I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ella said sincerely.

Ella followed Carolyn to where the body lay. Although she was a seasoned cop, she had to swallow to keep down the
contents of her stomach. The left side of Andrew Talk’s head had been caved in as if he’d been struck repeatedly by a baseball bat, or worse. Part of his
bloody shirt had been imbedded between his ribs, and one of the bones in his right arm protruded from his skin where it had been smashed with a heavy object. Several of his fingers on both hands were split open and askew, probably defensive wounds
as he tried to block the blows from whatever blunt objects were used to pummel his body. He was barefoot, and his feet were swollen and battered, as if his killers had begun there, and worked up his body, taking it slow. Small pieces of gravel from the side of the road were also visible atop the body.

Ella took a deep breath, then moved away. Bile burned the back of her throat, but she managed
to avoid throwing up. Many of the murders of Navajos that she had investigated over the years had been the result of beatings, and she never could get used to the brutality.

Justine had been hardened even less, apparently. As Ella looked around, she saw her partner coming back toward the yellow tape from a spot farther off the highway. Her face was pale, and she was wiping her mouth with a handkerchief.

While Ella began searching the area for evidence in an expanding spiral from the body, Tache concentrated on photographing the area around the body where several vague footprints remained. There was no splattered or pooled blood anywhere and that told her that Talk had been dead already when he’d been dropped here. From the wounds themselves, it was obvious this was no hit-and-run accident.

Ella went to where Carolyn was working. “See if you can find any evidence that’ll tell us where he was killed. From what I can see, he was dumped here after the fact.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Carolyn said, reaching for the tape recorders in her bag. “One interesting thing. The smell of alcohol is still all over him. The beating may have been part of a particularly nasty drunken attack. I’ll check
his blood alcohol later and let you know more.”

“This man was involved in some shady business that
would suggest this is premeditated murder, not manslaughter. If you find evidence that that’s
not
the case, then let me know as soon as possible.”

“Understood.”

Searching for vehicle tracks, Ella found impressions in the hard shoulder that showed where Talk’s killers had stopped to dump the body.
The fine gravel made it impossible to discern any tread pattern, however, and she found no footprints. Whoever it was had moved fast to avoid being seen, and scattered gravel and rubber marks on the edge of the asphalt indicated they had pulled away in a hurry. It also explained why gravel had been scattered over the body.

As Tache photographed the evidence, Ella joined her partner. “Justine,
I want you to interview all eighty-eight, now eighty-seven members of the Tribal Council—not just the leaders of the gaming issue. I want the names of everyone who has received threats of any kind—even if you get them through hearsay. You might also talk to Jefferson Blueeyes. I have a feeling that man knows far more than he has ever let on. And check with those two Anglos we nailed on the vandalism
to see if they’ve ever met Blueeyes. We never did learn how they were selected, and Blueeyes worked in Farmington at one time. You’ll need help to do all this, so recruit whoever you think might be interested in working with our unit shortterm. But be careful and pick officers you’re certain we can trust.”

“Consider it done.”

“One more thing. The Benjamins refused to volunteer the rifle for ballistics
testing. I can’t say it was a big surprise, actually. But if any of the others bring their weapons in, test them very thoroughly. At least we might be able to cross a few names off our list.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now. Since we’re not far away from the hospital, I’m going to stop by and make sure Mom’s settled in. On the way, I’ll get in touch with Jimmy
Frank and see if he’s
got anything on Blueeyes. If he does, I’ll be in touch.”

After Justine went back to the job at hand, Ella got under way. In a few minutes, just north of Shiprock, she picked up her cell phone to call Jimmy, then remembered the battery was dead. Worried about any conversations on the police frequencies being monitored, she stopped at a pay phone beside a convenience store and dialed his cell number.

“I was just going to call you,” he answered immediately. “I’ve been monitoring a meeting between George Branch, Blueeyes, and two other Indian men I’ve never met—not Navajos. I borrowed one of Tache’s cameras when I started working for you, and I took some photos with his telephoto lens. But I’m no photographer, so I can’t be sure of the quality.”

“Go back to the station and get the film developed.
I’ll see you there in about forty minutes. And good job.”

Ella’s spirits were noticeably higher by the time she arrived at the hospital. A photo of any outsiders dealing with Blueeyes and Branch would probably lead to some answers. It was about time they’d had a break.

Ella stopped by the main desk, got her mother’s room number, then hurried upstairs. Having her mother consent to surgery only
proved how badly Rose wanted things at home to return to normal. To Rose, her home was her domain, and she’d never liked strangers there for any length of time.

As Ella entered the room she noticed that her mother was talking to several nurses and an orderly. For a moment she wasn’t sure what to make of it, but as she heard their conversation, she realized that Rose was taking the opportunity
to work against gaming, even here.

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