Shooting Chant (6 page)

“What’s happening?”

“I think Jimmie’s having a Sing done over him.”

“Then don’t interrupt the
hataalii.
I’ll be there in thirty.” Ella placed a call to the sheriff’s office, but was forced to leave a message since Taylor was in court.

Hungry, Ella reached
into her purse for a grain and fruit bar. She’d barely had a moment’s peace since daybreak, and now she was starving again. She made a mental note to stick more nutritious snack food in her vehicle.

When Ella finally arrived at Gray Eyes’s medicine hogan, she saw Justine leaning against the side of the car, enjoying the early fall weather, and relaxing in the sun.

Joining her, they waited and,
as they did, Ella filled her assistant in on what she’d learned. “We’ve got the beginnings of a problem that could explode all over the Rez. We have to find a way to defuse this before the entire community gets involved and takes sides.”

“But how? From what you’ve told me things are already taking a life of their own, at least here in the Shiprock area.”

“We have to nip this now, even if it
means bringing people in to the station. If we can remind them that what they’re doing is illegal, maybe we can shake them up enough to have them stop.”

“But no one’s actually seen anyone else doing these things, right?”

“Just the red skirt in the distance, in that first instance. The rest is mostly gossip rooted in old rivalries, as far as I’ve been able to learn.”

“How can we build a case
against anyone, then?” Justine asked.

“We can’t, unless we get solid evidence. But we can still question those involved and, if we get them rattled enough, maybe someone will ‘fess up’ to their part in this. It’s the only tool we have.”

“And just when are we supposed to do this? We have the Anglo’s death to look into, the break-in at the clinic, and now this?”

“We’ll do what we usually do when
things all come at us at once—juggle.”

A few minutes later Gray Eyes came to the hogan entrance and waved at them to approach. As Ella and Justine came closer, Jimmie Herder came out of the hogan to join them.

“You can talk in here, if you want,” Gray Eyes said, indicating the hogan with a wave of his hand. “I have to leave to attend to another patient.” Without further explanation, he walked
to a hitching post where a horse was tethered, took the reins in his left hand, jumped on, and trotted away.

“I hope when I’m his age, I can still be as limber as he is. He’s amazing,” Jimmie said, then focused back on Ella and Justine, who had followed him into the hogan. “I know why you’re here, and you probably know why I’m here, but there’s nothing I can tell you that will help. I went outside
to tell the man he was past break time and to let him back inside the gate. When I got to his car I saw an arm dangling out of the driver’s side. I thought he’d gone to sleep, so I took a closer look. That’s when I saw the handgun on the asphalt and the body. I ran back inside the main building, reported what I found, then split when Doctor Landreth went out to take a look. I knew I’d have to
find Gray Eyes. I was already getting sick. I’ve never seen anything like that in my entire life, and I hope I never do again!”

“Try to remember. Did you see anything else around the car besides the handgun, maybe matches, a lighter, or a burning cigarette. Anything at all?” Ella knew her team hadn’t found any of those things in the car, on the victim, or around the car.

Jimmie thought about
it a moment. “All I remember seeing beside the car was a pistol, a semiauto.”

“Did you ever see him smoke? How did he light his cigarettes?” Justine asked, obviously following her boss’s line of thought.

“Yes, I’ve seen him smoke. He usually lit up as soon as he reached his car, and sometimes it was parked where I could see him from the gate. But not the day he died, I’m not sorry to say.” He
shuddered. “But let me answer your question. He had this fancy silver lighter his wife gave him when they first got married. He showed it to me once. It had his initials on it.”

“Okay,” Ella nodded. “Now tell me about the man. What did you know about him?” she asked, avoiding the name of the dead out of respect since they were at a traditionalist’s medicine hogan.

“I knew very little about him.
He’d had another beef with Doctor Landreth recently, I know that. They were always arguing about how to do things, and Morgan had to intercede at times.”

“Morgan, the security chief?”

“Yes. Landreth is supposed to be his boss, but, from what I can tell, Morgan is the one who has the final word on just about everything.”

Ella made a mental note to get backgrounds on Morgan and Landreth as soon
as possible, and see what happened to that lighter. Maybe it was important, maybe not.

As Jimmie left in his truck to go back to work, Justine watched his vehicle disappear from view. “That lighter wasn’t at the scene or on the victim. Do you suppose somebody took it?”

“It wouldn’t have been Jimmie, or any other Navajo for that matter. If it was missing from the scene, some Anglo took it. But
before we assume that, get Sheriff Taylor’s permission and go take a look in Hansen’s house. He might have left it at home that day.”

“I’ll also find out what his ex-wife has to say. Maybe he left it over at her place,” Justine said. After a brief silence, she added, “I wonder if the people at LabKote realize that no Navajo will ever use that parking lot again. They’ll park half a mile away if
they have to, but they’re not going anyplace that’s been contaminated by the dead. Let’s face it. Even our progressives usually aren’t that progressive,” she added with a smile.

“You’re right,” Ella admitted grudgingly. That aversion was still there even for people like Justine, Carolyn, and her. The only difference was that duty forced them to deal with it.

FOUR

Ella sat at her desk accessing credit reports and other background information on the LabKote supervisors, especially Landreth and Morgan. Landreth had been very nervous at the scene, which was understandable under the circumstances, but he’d also seemed particularly anxious to establish Hansen’s death as a suicide. It was possible he’d only had the company’s best interest at heart, but
it still set off a warning bell.

Morgan, on the other hand, was almost too cool and confident. He’d either seen violence and death before, or was playing the role expected of someone who carried a weapon as part of their job. She’d seen the false bravado of many rent-a-cops and rookie officers.

Ella picked up her cell phone, and managed to get Landreth on the line after only two transfers. “I
have a few more questions I’d like to ask you,” she said.

“I have nothing more to say to you.” he replied.

“I’m conducting an investigation, Doctor Landreth. I can haul you to the station if you prefer.”

“Look, I’m in the middle of something here. The guy you should talk to is Morgan. I know the science end of things, but he knows this operation down to the last detail.”

“Will you connect
me to him now?”

“I can’t. He’s at home. I’ll get in touch with him, then have him call you.”

Ella refused to accept his answer and continued to press him until finally Landreth got Morgan on another line, and connected them.

“Come to my apartment,” Morgan told her. “We can talk here.”

It took almost a half hour to get to Morgan’s residence, actually one unit of a duplex located just northeast
of Glade Park in the city of Farmington.

Ella pulled up into the steep sloped concrete driveway, parking beside Morgan’s vehicle, a nondescript brown pickup with New Mexico tags. She noted the empty gun rack behind the seat, which, in this part of the country, often held an emergency fishing pole, in case the urge to angle became overwhelming.

Ella noted the address on the mailbox but the absence
of Morgan’s name. Perhaps he’d never gotten around to it, or the place was new to him.

Ella was about to use the brass knocker on the front door when Morgan opened the door.

“Special Investigator Clah, please come in. I had one of my men bring over the personnel files the company keeps on Doctor Landreth and myself, and you’re welcome to look them over. How about a cold one?” As he gestured
toward a bottle of beer on the coffee table, she noticed the prominent scar on his left arm, just below his wrist.

“No thanks. Still on the job.” Ella said, looking around. There were no decorations or paintings on the wall above the cloth sofa, just an American flag flanked by photos of Morgan in a marine dress uniform and desert combat gear, and a framed set of service ribbons and insignia.

“So, you were a marine. Serve in Desert Storm?” Ella wasn’t surprised, already suspecting he had a military background.

“That’s affirmative. I spent weeks training in the sand, then cruised around on an assault ship while we threatened to invade. The whole thing was a feint, of course. Later we made our advance, but by the time our unit got to Kuwait City, most of the Iraqis had taken off across
the desert. Except for a sniper here and there, we didn’t see much real action.”

“How’d you pick up that scar?” Ella looked at his arm again.

His eyes darkened for a moment as he touched the scar, then he smiled. “From a marine, no less. We had a difference of opinion, and settled it behind our LAV. That’s one of our assault vehicles. I got the best of him, but it never got into our records.”

“How did you end up in New Mexico?” Ella looked at the file folders Morgan had placed on the coffee table, but didn’t pick them up. She preferred to hear it from Morgan first, then compare the spoken and written versions.

“I’m here as a result of the job.”

As she walked and passed an open doorway, Ella saw an assault rifle on the table and a shotgun was propped up against the wall. She stopped
in mid-stride.

“They’re both legal,” he said, following her gaze.

“Are all your guards at LabKote this well armed?” Ella asked. “It seems a bit much unless you’re expecting Indian attacks.”

“My men carry what’s needed for their duties, but we always keep a little extra firepower in reserve in case somebody goes postal. Nothing for the public or police to worry about though, I run a tight security
staff.”

“Where did you work before you came to LabKote?” Ella asked, keeping her tone casual.

“When I left the marines, I did some security work in Europe for several years, then I came back to the States. When I met Landreth and heard about LabKote, I signed on. The rest is history.”

Morgan sat down his empty Coors bottle, and gestured toward the files. “It’s all in there, one place or the
other.”

“I’ll look over the papers in a minute,” Ella said, sitting on the sofa. What do you personally know about Dr. Landreth?”

“He grew up in California, middle-class, and went to UCLA and got degrees in biochemistry and physics. He had his own company for a while, but it didn’t work out, so he decided to do something different. He and I clicked from the start, and it wasn’t long before we
were working together.”

Morgan stood and crossed his arms. “That’s pretty much it. You can read the files about the rest.” He walked into the kitchen area, and took another Coors from the refrigerator.

“What about your family?” Ella picked up Morgan’s folder, and noticed he’d listed the names of his parents, but no addresses or phone numbers. No other relatives were mentioned either.

Morgan
seemed to think about it for a while before answering. When he did, his voice was without expression. “I lost contact with my parents and my only sister several years ago. We never got along much anyway. I don’t even know where they live now.”

She couldn’t even imagine being without family. “Were you ever married?” Ella probed a little further.

“That’s where it becomes none of your or LabKote’s
business. I don’t discuss that part of my past.” Morgan’s tone suddenly became confrontational. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me about
your
personal life?” he added, deliberately looking her up and down with cold appraisal.

It was a creepy feeling. “I think I’ve heard enough. Let me take a pass through these files, then I’ll be leaving.”

Ella began to write down phone numbers and Landreth’s
address. She’d confirm these records from other sources, then leave it at that unless something pointed back at the two supervisors as suspects.

Five minutes later, she thanked Morgan for his time, and left. There was more to learn about Morgan, that was for sure. She sensed that behind the loner stood a man struggling to deal with his own demons. But Ella knew that unless Morgan became more
connected to the case, looking further into what made the man tick would become an unpleasant experience, as well as a waste of time.

*   *   *

Hours later, after plowing through a stack of paperwork on her desk, Ella finally took a break. She was standing by the window when Justine came into her office and sat down, a worried look on her face.

“I spoke with Hansen’s ex-wife briefly on the
phone. She works in Aztec, and her number was in Hansen’s file. She said that she rarely saw her ex-husband and that was the way she wanted it. She also told me that the lighter’s a silver-plated Zippo with the initials “K. H.” on it, and wasn’t really worth very much.”

“Now some bad news,” Justine continued. “Myrna Manus is on the war path. She’s got a list of fifteen missing patient files,
and some of those belong to influential people, like Senator Yellowhair’s wife, Abigail.” She stopped and, looking decidedly uncomfortable, added, “Your medical file is one of those missing.”

Ella felt a tightening in her chest, knowing what was in the file now. This wasn’t the way she wanted news of her pregnancy to get out. She wanted a chance to let Kevin and her family know first, then she’d
tell others.

“Did Myrna give us a complete list of everything that’s missing?”

Justine nodded. “Big Ed has a copy.”

As Justine finished speaking, Ella’s buzzer sounded.

Ella was in Big Ed’s office a few moments later. Seated in front of his desk, she regarded him silently.