The Tale Teller

by Anne Hillerman

  Leaphorn smiled at the fantasy. In his long career, relatives of a felon had never contacted him after a person had been in prison as long as Green Yazzie. Usually, the convict also had victimized and betrayed his parents, sisters, brothers, cousins, and the rest of his clan, leaving them wary and brokenhearted. While they wished the freed man well, they kept their distance.

  The road stirred memories of other cases Leaphorn had handled in which the victim, the victim’s family, and sometimes even the alleged perpetrator of the crime talked about witchcraft as the reason for the evil that transpired. He passed Bennett Peak to the west and then Ford Butte. Despite their American names, the monoliths came with Navajo stories of witches and skinwalkers, tales of evil meetings for initiations and other supernatural doings.

  Ship Rock rose on the northern horizon as he passed Barber Peak—hardly a peak at all but a relic of the ancient volcanic eruptions that had formed these rocky outcroppings. He watched as Table Mesa, actually three close, flat-topped plateaus, came closer into view.

  He pulled off the highway at a convenience store outside Shiprock. Besides needing fuel, he wanted to talk to the manager. Largo had mentioned that Wilson Sam, his potential mentee, had responded to a robbery here.

  Leaphorn climbed out of the truck and looked for a squeegee to clean the bugs off his windshield. The buckets of washer fluid were half full but held no tools. He went inside to ask for the equipment and pay for the gasoline in cash. Louisa teased him about this, but old habits die hard. He had lived for years on a cash-only basis. Knowing how much money was in his wallet kept him from overspending. He considered a credit card a tool for emergencies.

  The teen girl at the cash register took his money and turned on the gas pump. “The squeegees have been disappearing out there. It’s like they want a vacation, kinda like the rest of us who work here. Especially after the robbery.” She reached under the counter and pulled out a pole with a sponge and scraper on the end. “Can you bring it back, please?”

  He nodded. “Is da manjer aroun?”

  “Mrs. Roland is in the back.”

  “Speak Navajo?”

  “Some.”

  He switched. “I’m a consultant with the Shiprock police following up on that robbery. I’d like to talk to her about that when I’m done outside.” Leaphorn gave the girl his card.

  From the look on her face, she understood at least some of what Leaphorn said, and the card made it official. “I’ll tell her.”

  He filled the gas tank and washed his windshield, using a paper towel to remove the streaks. Then he moved the truck to one of the parking places in front of the store and took the squeegee back inside. Mrs. Roland, a middle-aged Navajo in a white polo shirt with the company logo on the pocket, greeted him at the counter. “Let’s go into the back office.”

  The “office” was a repurposed storage closet. She moved a cooler from a folding chair and offered Leaphorn the seat. She perched on a nearby box. Her Navajo was good. “Are you working undercover?”

  “I’m a private investigator now and a consultant with the Navajo Police.”

  “I’m glad you stopped by. Did they find the hold-up guy?”

  “Not yet. The investigation is ongoing.” That sounded better, he thought, than the “nothing new” response Largo had given him. “I wanted to talk to you for some follow-up.”

  “Sure. Whatever.” Mrs. Roland ran her hand through her short-cut gray hair. “You want a soda or bag of chips? On the house.”

  “No, thank you. I have a few questions about the officer who responded to the call. I understand that you were the one who spoke with him.”

  “Yeah, it was me all right. The night person didn’t show up, so I had to cover that shift. It was a busy evening, too. Not that I’m complaining. I’m glad I was here. I’m a marine, served in Iraq. Some of my team here are high schoolers. It takes more than a punk like that to shake me up, but I’m grateful the kids didn’t have to deal with him or with that young cop.”

  She told him a man wearing sunglasses, jeans, boots, a ball cap, and a hoodie entered the store alone about eleven p.m. “I was suspicious right away. He went over to the cold drink case and stood there until the lady I was making change for left. Then he came over to the cash register with his hand in his sweatshirt pocket like he was pointing a gun at me. He said he had one and told me to give him the money.”

  Mrs. Roland exhaled. “I gave him the cash. I shoulda taken him down, but I didn’t wanna risk getting shot over a hundred bucks. He ran out, and I could see him get into a silver SUV parked right in front. I didn’t get the license number, but it was one of those turquoise New Mexico plates. I called the police.”

  “Tell me about the response.”

  “Well, the officer got here pretty quick. He was a young guy, very formal. I hadn’t seen him before. When I had the other robberies, one time a lady cop came. Short, smart, friendly. I was hoping she’d be the one they sent out here. The other time it was a nice guy, kinda chubby. I remember him joking about how he had to live up to his name, Bigman. I think this one was Wilson Sam something, or something Wilson. I’ve got his card.”

  Leaphorn knew the questions the rookie had asked about the robbery and Mrs. Roland’s responses would be covered in his report. “What did you think of Sam?”

  “He seemed . . . I’m not sure how to put it.” Mrs. Roland readjusted herself to rest her back against the wall. “It was like he was too busy or too important or something to listen to me. He had a bunch of questions, took photos, asked about surveillance footage. I told him it would be hard to ID the guy from that because of what he had on and where he stood, but the officer didn’t believe me. He acted like I was dumb. He called me honey.” Mrs. Roland studied the ceiling a moment. “That man had a know-it-all, I’m-tougher-than-you attitude. He would have made some of the team nervous, and that’s not what you want when a robbery already has them on edge.”

  “Can you give me an example of that?”

  She rubbed her chin. “So, I thought he might want to talk to the woman I mentioned, the customer right before the robbery. She left the store with her cigarettes and was smoking outside. She could have seen the guy, maybe without the glasses and the hoodie, or noticed what he was driving. Something like that. When I tried to tell Sam, he snapped at me to stick to the facts, that he didn’t want to hear about a girl who needed a nicotine fix. I saw that attitude in a few young bucks who came to Iraq. They thought it covered up their jitters about being in a bad situation. It got to be a habit, trying to act like you know what’s up when you really don’t.”

  She sat a bit straighter. “You’ve been around the block a few times, Joe. You’ve seen it. Men who act like jerks.”

  “It makes me ashamed. I appreciate you telling me this about Sam. You have good instincts, a good memory, a good attitude. Did you ever consider joining the police force?”

  “I looked into it when I got outta the service. But I was married back then, and my husband was glad to finally have me home and not worry about me. Then he got Parkinson’s.” Roland moved off her perch. “Sure you don’t want a bottle of water or something for the road?”

  “Water would be great. I appreciate you taking time to talk to me. You have my card in case you think of something else.”

  She nodded.

  He noticed the heat as soon as he opened the doors to the asphalt in front of the store.

  He had left his phone in the charger in his truck and glanced at it now. He’d missed a call from Bernie. He listened to her message, but she must have had bad coverage because he couldn’t understand it. He called her and got voicemail. “It’s Leaphorn. I’ll be at Shiprock for a meeting. Call me or come by the station.”

  Leaphorn parked at the station, and Largo greeted him like the old friend he was. They shared a few stories and got down to business. Largo told him the rookie had not arrived.

  “That’s fine. I stopped at the gas station where he’d responded to the robbery.�
� Leaphorn summarized Roland’s comments. “I’d like to see how he wrote it up before we talk.”

  “I thought you might. You’ll find some other information here, too.” Largo handed him a folder. “I appreciate you doing this, Lieutenant. I’d like to keep the rookie on the force because he has a lot of potential. And I’d like to keep him alive. The incident where somebody broke his nose could have been worse.”

  Largo led Leaphorn into an empty office. “Take a minute to look at that stuff. I’ll let you know when Sam gets here. You can talk in the interview room.”

  Officer Wilson Sam arrived on time. Leaphorn’s first impression confirmed what he’d heard. The young man wore the uniform well and looked physically fit, lean and muscular. They walked together down the hall to the interview room. Leaphorn motioned Sam to the empty chair where the interviewer usually sat. He spoke in Navajo. “Sit there. We’ll chat a little.”

  He noted the young man’s lack of surprise at being offered the power seat. Leaphorn introduced himself with a brief overview of his career and mentioned that he and Largo had worked together and that he had mentored Sergeant Jim Chee.

  “Well, you know who I am.” Sam leaned back. “The captain said you wanted to talk to me about an incident I responded to, that bomb in the high school parking lot. Is that right?”

  “Yes. Let’s start with that.”

  “Did he tell you I was one of the first responders?” The rookie crossed his forearms and rested them on the table.

  “I heard you got to the scene shortly after the car blew up, and that you found the man who died. Tell me about it.”

  Sam began at the beginning of the assignment. Leaphorn noted that in his rendition of the story the rookie gave himself a larger role than the written reports had allotted him. He spoke concisely and had good recall of the details.

  “What did you think of the other law enforcement people who were at the incident?”

  “I know why you’re asking. The captain didn’t like the way I took charge and wants Manuelito to have most of the credit. He doesn’t appreciate the fact that I can think for myself. So is that why you’re really here? Tell me the truth.”

  Leaphorn had anticipated the question. “As I mentioned, Largo and I go back to the days before cell phones. The incident with your nose told him that you have some things to learn. He believes you could become a fine officer, so he asked me to consider working with you to sharpen your skills. Because of your injury, he figured this would be a good time for us to get acquainted.”

  Sam put his hand to his face. “You know this thing? It wasn’t my fault. I was doing my job, and next thing I knew . . . baaam. I’m on the ground, bleeding like crazy.”

  “So when you see a fight . . .” Leaphorn left the sentence unfinished.

  The rookie smiled for the first time. “They stopped once I got hit. The surprise factor. But, yeah, I don’t wanna stop a fight this way again. You want the details?”

  “Not right now. I’d like to talk about something else.” Leaphorn opened the folder Largo had given him and extracted the rookie’s report on the gas station robbery. “On my way here, I stopped at the station on 491. I spoke with the manager before I read your report. I have questions about some discrepancies.”

  The rookie uncrossed his arms. “That’s the way things go, isn’t it? The witness can’t remember or gets it wrong. I write up what she says. Time goes by, and her story changes, right? Women are the worst. They like to hear themselves jabber away, and it takes them too long to get to the point.”

  “In my experience, there are ways to help people recall details or discuss incidents they have witnessed that might be embarrassing. Many veteran officers use these—you could call them tricks of the trade—to build rapport and learn more about a crime.” He paused, giving Sam an opportunity to pursue the topic.

  “I can’t see that rapport would have made any difference with that old woman. She got testy. Change of life or something. I needed to cover the basics and move on.” He gave Leaphorn a condescending look. “Time moves faster these days, quicker than when you worked as a cop.”

  Leaphorn removed two pieces of paper from his folder. “This is your report.” He tapped it. “The next page details my observations from my interview with Mrs. Roland earlier today. We discussed the incident and your visit. Would you like to take a look?”

  Sam sighed. “I’m sick of being second-guessed, called a screwup. Is that really why you’re here?”

  Leaphorn put the pages back in the folder. “I’ll say it more clearly. The captain asked if I’d be willing to mentor you, and I told him I needed to meet you first.”

  “Mentor? Like when kids get in trouble and someone is assigned to them, some grown-up who is supposed to help them go straight.”

  Leaphorn said nothing.

  “I don’t need that kind of attention. Thanks anyway. Do you mind giving me that paper with your observations?”

  Leaphorn handed him the sheet of paper, wondering if the rookie really cared or if he mistakenly thought he could prevent Largo from seeing the comments.

  “Anything else, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes.” Despite his irritation, Leaphorn kept his voice calm. “Son, lose the attitude. It could get you killed. And one more thing. An honorable man treats women with respect. Now get out of here.”

  After Sam left, Leaphorn tried Bernie’s phone again. This time she answered and they spent a minute on small talk.

  “Sir, I was looking forward to seeing you today, but I’m dealing with a stolen-vehicle issue out by Rattlesnake. I don’t know when I’ll be done.”

  “OK then. Next trip. Say hello to Chee for me.”

  “I will. He’s in Chinle.” Bernie explained briefly.

  “What happened with that body you found over the weekend?”

  “The Feds are on it. Agent Johnson’s not saying much. I’ve been reinterviewing the Navajos I saw out there, but no one has been helpful. There’s one man I haven’t been able to find yet, but I hope to wrap that up today. We could use a break in the case.” Then Bernie laughed. “My best witness is the dog and he’s not talking.”

  He waited for her to ask about Louisa and end the call, but Bernie surprised him. “What are you working on, Lieutenant? Chee said you’re really busy these days.”

  “Oh, it’s complicated.”

  “Your cases usually are, and I think that’s why you take them. You’re making me curious.”

  “I’ll tell you over that pie you promised me.”

  After that, he walked to the captain’s office. Largo looked up when Leaphorn knocked on the door frame.

  “Come in. I’ve got some stuff to finish here, then we can have dinner and swap lies about the old days.” He motioned Leaphorn to a chair. “What do you think about working with the rookie?”

  Leaphorn stayed standing in the doorway. “I’m not the right person, and the officer doesn’t think he needs any help.

  “You might ask Chee to handle it. He knows the man.” Leaphorn glanced at the clock on the wall behind Largo’s desk. “Let’s do dinner next time. I’m working a case with a deadline, and I need to get back to Window Rock and think about it.”

  “Sure. Since you’re headed that way, can you do me one more favor?”

  “What is it?”

  “It involves a stop at animal control in Fort Defiance. Bigman brought in an abandoned dog found at a crime scene, and our Shiprock shelter is full. Sandra could drive it down there in the morning, but since you’re going south, would you mind?”

  “No problem.”

  “I’ll call to make sure someone is around to receive it.”

  The call was successful.

  Largo loaded the kennel into the bed of Leaphorn’s truck. “Dinner next time then, my friend. Thanks for coming. Watch out for the crazies.”

  Normally, Leaphorn would have phoned Louisa to tell her about his day and let her know that he was on the way home. He could have reached her in Flagstaff, of
course, but she had told him she wanted time alone. She’d call when she was ready, he decided. He remembered the phone charger she’d left at the house. Maybe she couldn’t call. No, she would use the phone at her old office to ask him to bring the charger and then, well, they could talk.

  He drove a different route home, NM 134 past Sheep Springs and then over Narbona Pass at 8,721 feet. The highway took advantage of the natural break between the Tunitcha Mountains to the north and the Chuskas to the south. In the fading light, he saw thick clusters of Gambel oak and slender white aspen trunks with their quaking, roundish leaves. The steep climb to the summit drew runners and cyclists training for competitive events, including a popular race up this same road. The panoramic view of Navajoland stretching to the east was their reward, and now his. He pulled off the highway to enjoy the vista. His disgruntlement at Wilson Sam was gone.

  Leaphorn lowered the window. The cool air smelled of ponderosa pine and spruce, and he absorbed the calm. When he drove back onto the highway, he noticed motion with his peripheral vision, and then a large black bear stepped out of the trees and onto the road. Leaphorn lifted his foot off the gas and steered into the other lane, glad there was no oncoming traffic and willing the animal to run back toward the trees and not in front of his truck. It bounded away from him with strong, lumbering beauty. Leaphorn exhaled.

  He cruised past the junction for Crystal, famous for its weavers, noticing small herds of cattle grazing on the native grass, seemingly unconcerned about sharing the territory with a large predator. The road continued its descent, heading southwest toward the Arizona border. The golds, pinks, and crimsons of the sunset gave the landscape a deceptive softness. Some considered dusk a time to relax; he found the present moment perfect for rehashing the problem of Mrs. Pinto’s missing textile and bracelet.