Spider Woman's Daughter (11 page)

“So if you didn’t shoot anybody, how about this. You meet Nez and you drive your mom’s car. He shoots the officer. You two go back to Bashas’. Leave the car for your mom, drive off in his vehicle.”

“Lizard wouldn’t shoot anybody,” Jackson said. “He doesn’t even like to go hunting with us.”

“Lizard?”

“I mean Leonard. We all call him Lizard.”

“What does he look like?”

Jackson pondered. “Average. Black hair. Black eyes. Strong. Kinda short. Quick. Looks like one of those collard lizards a little. Not really, though.”

“I’m still wondering where you were when the officer was shot,” Chee said. “I know you’re lying about being in school. We checked on Nez. He wasn’t there either. You’re lying about that, so you’re probably lying about everything, about the gun, about the shooting. You are in deep, deep trouble.”

Chee didn’t say anything else. The room grew still.

After a while Jackson said, “Lizard and I weren’t actually in class. We took his truck out toward Zuni because we were working on a, um, special project. For our geology class.”

“Are you sure that’s right? First you told me you were in class. Now it’s a different story.”

“I just forgot.” Jackson worked at his nails.

Chee got up, stretched, glanced at Jackson. Sat down again. “Some people think that the shooting might have been part of a gang initiation. You know something about that?”

Jackson looked up. “There’s some gangbangers near where we live. You can see graffiti on big rocks where our road meets the highway. I don’t have anything to do with those guys. I swear.”

“So where were you really when the policeman got shot?”

“I told you. Doing that geology stuff out near Zuni.”

“A class project?” Chee waited for Jackson to elaborate. Liars got themselves in trouble by adding too many details.

Jackson paused. “Yeah. Well, sort of. An extra-credit deal. Professor Coburn, he’s the teacher, he likes for us to take pictures of formations, bring back rock samples, stuff like that. For extra credit.”

“You’re sure?”

“Dude, I’m sure we were out by Zuni.”

“Did anyone see you there besides Leonard Nez?”

Jackson shook his head. Reexamined his fingernails.

“You like that class?”

“It’s cool, dude,” Jackson said. “Because it’s summer session, Coburn does field trips. Gets us out to see the real thing. We have a chance to learn stuff that’s not from books.”

“Too bad you’ll have to drop out when you’re in jail.” Chee studied his notes, took his time. He wanted Jackson to realize this was serious.

“We haven’t told your mother yet about the marijuana.”

“Marijuana?”

“The crime scene investigators, you know, the team that’s extracting the fingerprints, looking for fibers, hairs, other things that can lead us to the shooter. They found evidence that someone had had pot in the car,” Chee said. “I wanted to talk to you first about this other crime, to see if you could help us, before I asked her about it. If you’re sure this Nez guy wouldn’t have tried to kill Lieutenant Leaphorn, who else? And why did Nez disappear? We know that whoever shot the lieutenant was in your car. You say it wasn’t you. Your mom has a real alibi, not a string of lies.”

Jackson gnawed at his lip.

“While you’re thinking, think about how we can talk to Nez to verify your story.”

Jackson pulled out his cell phone. “I remembered that I have his number here.”

“Call him,” Chee said. “Tell him I need to talk to him. Put the phone on speaker.”

Jackson did so. They head the phone ring, then a mechanical voice instructing them to leave a name and number.

“Shall I leave a message?”

“No,” Chee said. “He’ll see that you called. Just give me the number.”

L
argo met Chee in the hall. “Marijuana?”

“Just a guess,” Chee said. “Paid off.”

“We’ve got a message in for that geology teacher for you,” Largo said. “And we can trace Nez’s mobile number.”

Chee didn’t make it to the vending machines before the receptionist called him back.

Over the phone, Professor Coburn described Jackson as a nice kid. But there was no special project that involved missing class to head out to the Zuni Mountains. He did encourage students to do extra-credit work, but Jackson Benally had never done any. He didn’t need to, Coburn said. He was in the top tier of the class already.

“Leonard Nez? Lizard? He’s a different story. I don’t know why he’s even in college. He has rarely come to class this summer. Good thing the session is almost over. I can’t say much more about him. A phantom wasting his time and money here.”

Chee put the phone down and thought about it. Why would Jackson lie about where he and Nez were, and about how to find Nez, if Nez didn’t shoot Leaphorn? Time to talk to Jackson again. But first, Chee decided, he’d have a cup of coffee, check his e-mail. Give Jackson time to worry.

T
he interview room smelled slightly of sweat now. Jackson looked almost relieved to see him.

“I was on my way to lunch,” Chee said. “I thought I’d stop just in case you had anything else to tell me.”

“Did you talk to Lizard yet?”

Chee said, “Remember? I ask the questions.”

Jackson shifted in the hard chair. Uneasy. More fidgety than during the first interview.

“We didn’t actually go to Zuni,” Jackson said. “We didn’t go that far. We stayed on the highway for about twenty miles and then we drove out toward the cliffs on a road Lizard knew. His uncle has a ranch out that way.”

“Hmm,” Chee said.

“We went to the ranch. Lizard had something to do out there, and I, well, it was a nice day and I only had a couple classes and they’re easy . . .” Jackson’s voice trailed off. Embarrassed.

“Did his uncle see you?”

“No. Nobody saw us. No, sir.” Chee noticed the change from “dude.”

“What did you do out there?”

“Just a bunch of stuff. We didn’t shoot anybody.”

Chee looked at the young man. Watched Jackson fidget.

“If you didn’t do it, and you say you know Nez didn’t do it, who could have driven your mom’s car? How did some evil stranger get in there? It puzzles me. Can you explain it?”

“It’s like I told you. Lizard and I take turns driving to UNM,” Jackson said. “On the days when he drives, I leave Mom’s car there at Bashas’. Twice a week, I drive us to school. Tuesday and Thursdays. I’ve got class all day, all day until after five. The car would just be sitting there in the lot all day. So I loan it out to people.”

Chee listened.

“They give me a little money. I didn’t want to rat them out.”

“Who do you loan it to?” Chee remembered his days at UNM in Albuquerque, the hassle of negotiating the city on foot or figuring out the bus routes. A buddy who would loan him a car would have been handy.

“Some of the guys are friends. Some are sort of like, um, acquaintances. People I know from the gym. None of them would shoot anybody.”

Chee must have looked skeptical.

“Pickup basketball,” Jackson explained. “I use the money for books. Mom is proud of me being in college, but she doesn’t realize how much stuff costs. She can’t help any more than she already does.”

Chee said, “If you get out of here, you should stop letting other people drive your mom’s car. If they wreck, you’ll be in big trouble.”

“I am in big trouble already,” Jackson said. “Are you kidding? You met my mother.”

Chee tore out an empty piece of paper from the notebook and pushed it and the pen across the tabletop. “Pull out your phone again. I need the names. Phone numbers. If you have an address, e-mail, give me that, too. I’ve got some other things to attend to. I’ll be back for the list in a few minutes.”

When Chee returned, Jackson had scribbled down fifteen names with contact information. The young man showed promise as a budding tycoon. “Is this everybody?”

Jackson said, “Mom gives rides to people sometimes, too. Mostly old ladies. I don’t know all of their names.”

Chee said, “I’m still confused about two things. First, where were you when Leaphorn was attacked?”

“I told you I was with Lizard over by Zuni—”

Chee shook his head, and Jackson stopped.

“Think about this, Jackson. Is whatever you’re lying about worth it? Worth remaining a suspect in a serious crime, a police shooting, attempted murder?

“The second thing I’m wondering about is Nez, how he’s involved in all this. You’re covering up for him.”

Jackson looked at the tabletop.

“It would really help your case if we could find Nez to back up your story,” Chee said. “As it stands now, you are our main suspect in the shooting.”

Jackson looked pale. “Check out those names I gave you, sir. Maybe one of them made a copy of the key. Used our car to pin the crime on me. I was with Lizard, I swear. Hours away from Window Rock.”

Chee said, “Think about it some more. I’ll be back to talk to you again.”

As Chee headed to the parking lot, anticipating the drive back to Shiprock, an officer hailed him with the universal sign for a phone call. Mrs. Benally, wondering when Jackson would be home. Yelling at him for saying Jackson would spend the night in jail.

“Other than you, Leonard Nez seems to be the only one who can say for sure that it wasn’t your boy,” Chee said.

“Well, then, I’ll bring Lizard to talk to you. Along with the ninja,” Mrs. Benally said. “Officer Chee, I am on the case.”

“A
nd that was my day.” Chee finished the story.

“Oh, and one more thing. When I got home, there was a message from Louisa. She said she had something important to tell us.”

“And?”

“And when I called her cell, it went straight to voice mail again, and she hasn’t called back.”

“You know, Louisa is starting to look like a viable suspect after all,” Bernie said. “Odd that the feds can’t find her. That she wasn’t on a flight to Houston like she told us.”

Chee said, “Louisa as a would-be murderer? You’re not serious, right?”

“I can’t imagine her doing it, but I can’t imagine anybody . . .” She shook her head. “Too bad we weren’t here when she called. I don’t like all this phone tag.”

The phone rang. She looked at the display. “For you.”

“Chee,” he said. He listened. “Finally. Thanks. Let Largo know I’ll be in early.”

9

“W
e’ve got a new lead on the shooting,” Chee said. “One of the prints in the car traced to a guy with a record and a motive. Garrison Tsosie. He’s been arrested for fighting, DWI, disturbing the peace.”

“Like a lot of young guys,” Bernie said. “Some of my clan brothers.”

“Let me finish. Garrison has a brother serving time in the penitentiary because of Leaphorn. Now, all I have to do is track him down at his place in Crownpoint, get him to confess to shooting the lieutenant, and explain how Jackson Benally is involved in all this. Case closed.”

Bernie smiled. “You know—”

“Don’t say it,” Chee said. “It’s never that easy.”

“But it’s something,” she said. “What about Nez?”

“No luck finding him,” Chee said. “But other than the prints in the car that might be his, no motive, no connection to Leaphorn, no criminal record. He’s the invisible man and just became a low priority thanks to the Tsosie link.”

“We must have Garrison’s brother in the files. I’ll look for Tsosies.”

“That’ll help. But first, my wonderful homemade dessert,” he said. “An old family recipe. Jell-O with fruit cocktail.”

“And cookies?”

“Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll make some to go with the ice cream.”

Bernie put bowls and spoons on the table. Chee dished the Jell-O, squirted on the whipped topping direct from the red spray can. The cat came to attention and strolled into the kitchen. Chee gave her some, too.

Bernie’s list organized Leaphorn’s police files into two groups. The first featured suspects whom Leaphorn had sent to prison for violent crimes, with those convicted of violence involving a law enforcement officer topping the list. The other group were those incarcerated for drugs sales, burglary, and the like. In the second batch, among several Tsosies, they found a Notah Tsosie with the same Crownpoint, New Mexico, address as Garrison.

“Lieutenant Leaphorn arrested Notah for stealing cars,” she said. “One of the last cases he worked before he retired. Not much special here, as far as I can tell. You think he could be the ghost from the past Leaphorn mentioned to Louisa?”

Chee said, “The whole idea of Leaphorn talking about ghosts doesn’t sit right with me. I remember him telling me more than once that people get into enough trouble on their own, without any supernatural help. Maybe Louisa wasn’t remembering correctly.”

Bernie said, “Hey, she’s a researcher, always collecting stories for that book she’s working on. She couldn’t do her job if she didn’t know how to listen.”

“I’m sure she uses a tape recorder,” Chee said. “And a notebook. Did Leaphorn’s notebook have the info on relatives you needed?”

“Maybe,” she said. “He wrote everything in funny codes, but I got a hit on a guy in Farmington. Could you take a look?”

She went into the bedroom and got the notebook out of her backpack. The cat, she noticed, had not only decided to sleep on the bed, she’d curled up on Chee’s pillow. She scooped up the cat—no resistance this time—and took it back with her to the living room. She put the cat on the couch and handed Chee the little book.

“Turn to the back, where he glued in that page,” she said.

Chee glanced at it. Bernie told him her theory about the addresses.

“I called Austin Lee, left a message. So far, no word.”

“I can have someone follow up, since it is part of the investigation,” Chee said. “If this Tsosie guy doesn’t pan out, we might need these alleged relatives as suspects or as information sources.”

He sighed. “This is the point in the investigation where I would pick up the phone and make that call I dreaded making. I’d talk to him. He’d help me realize how blind I was for not seeing what was right in front of me.”

“You’re doing fine,” Bernie said. “If I’d run a little faster, I could have gotten a better description of the shooter. Maybe gotten a shot off. Saved us all a bunch of grief.”

“Don’t go there,” Chee said.

“You either.”

Chee thumbed through the notebook. “Did you get some ideas from anything else in here? Any references to ghosts wanting to take him to lunch?”

She shook her head. “I glanced at his calendar. Some of those appointments might be worth following up on if we can figure out the who and where.”

Chee turned to the calendar. “EFB, twelve-thirty. The Friday before the shooting.”

“I should have made the connection,” Bernie said.

Chee thumbed toward the front of the book and stopped. “Did you see this?” He held up the page of Leaphorn’s sketches. “I like these. They look like linked triangles, upside-down mountains. I never knew he was an artist.”

She said, “I wonder why he made those?”

“He might have just been doodling,” Chee said. “Did you see anything else like this in the notebook?”

The phone rang again. “I’m sure it’s for you,” she said.

“Let it go,” Chee said. “If it’s important they’ll leave a message.”

“Maybe it’s Louisa,” Bernie said. “Calling to confess.”

Chee looked at the ID screen. Picked it up.

“Agent Cordova, you’re working late,” he said. A pause, then Chee said, “The number we gave you for Louisa’s cell is the only one we have.”

Chee smiled as he listened. He said into the phone, “No, I didn’t ask Benally if he knew her. I didn’t explore that murder-for-hire angle.”

Bernie glanced at him, and he winked. She remembered their wager about the feds suspecting Louisa of hatching up a scheme with Jackson and Lizard as hit men. She hadn’t believed the feds would be that dense, but now she owed Chee a steak dinner.

“Hold on,” Chee said. He handed Bernie the phone.

She listened, shifting the receiver to her other ear, used her right hand to take a bite of Jell-O. “Of course, whatever I can do. Tomorrow? Where? Okay, then. See you there.”

She gave Cordova her cell phone number, then she hung up.

Chee looked at her.

“Cordova wants a hypnotist to debrief me about the shooting. Figure out if I saw more than I’m remembering.”

Chee said, “You seem pretty happy about that.”

“I’ve never been hypnotized before. It might be interesting.”

Chee frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“He already said you were a good witness. Why bother with this? Are they coming out here?”

“No. I need to meet him and the hypnotist at the FBI headquarters in Santa Fe,” Bernie said.

“He wants you to drive all that way? That’s crazy.”

“He wants to solve the case. That’s why they’re looking into Louisa and the murder-for-hire aspect.”

Chee said, “I think he likes you.”

“What’s not to like?”

“He’s flirting with you.”

“Cordova? He’s married. I saw the ring.”

“That doesn’t matter to some guys,” Chee said.

“If you’re worried, come with me tomorrow,” she said. “You can see Leaphorn. Make sure his doctor isn’t flirting with me, too.”

“You know I’ve got to find Garrison Tsosie.”

“Maybe I could put the trip off a day,” she said. “Would that make you feel better?”

Chee said nothing.

“You know this is business. Just business,” she said. “You should use Cordova as a resource instead of wasting energy like this.”

“So now you’re an expert on crime solving?”

“Don’t be so touchy,” Bernie said. “So what if he is flirting with me?”

He sighed and rose from the couch. “I’m going to take a shower. I have to go in early.”

She washed the dishes and tried not to let Chee’s mini tantrum bother her. She hadn’t talked to her mother that day, she realized, and then her thoughts shifted to Louisa, with no daughters to care about her. Louisa alone now, so it seemed. She had never mentioned her family to Bernie and obviously didn’t know much about the lieutenant’s. Bernie considered Leaphorn’s missing AIRC report. Maybe Louisa had seen it, mailed it, or seen Leaphorn mail it. Then she thought about Jerry Cordova, his nice smile, his well-tended hands, the hint of spicy aftershave. She reviewed how she’d answered his questions. What if she’d remembered wrong?

When she climbed into bed Chee was asleep, or pretending to be. She snuggled next to him in the darkness. When she awoke it was past dawn. Chee’s side of the bed was empty, and the phone was ringing.