“You’re lying. If you respected him, why did you send those men to hurt him? Why did you extort money from the granddaughter he loved? You can think about how to make all this right while you’re in jail, Cupcake.” She called for backup and, this time, talked to Lieutenant Black himself.
Black arrived quicker than she’d hoped. After they’d asked a million questions and learned the name of Tattoo Man, Lieutenant Black hauled Adakai away in the patrol car.
Bernie met Ryana and her sister in Mr. Natachi’s room. The old man slept while she told the girls what had happened.
“I don’t have to worry anymore.” Ryana’s relief showed in her smile. “But I’m not leaving here until my grandfather can come home, too.”
She and Darleen walked back to her car and, while they drove, Bernie explained the mess at Ryana’s and Mr. Natachi’s house.
Darleen said, “No problem. I can help with that. And Ryana called her boss at the senior center and talked to her about me. The lady offered me a little job while Ryana is with her grandfather at the hospital. Because Mama’s better now, it all worked out.”
Darleen’s luck held. Stoop Man showed up with the promised tow and a ride home for Darleen in the cab of his truck.
Bernie called Chee and filled him in before he asked. “I’m going to contact Agent Johnson next and tell her about Tattoo Man and the connection between Adakai and Nicky’s murder.”
“And I thought you’d still be obsessing about that security tape.”
“Oh, right. It slipped my mind.”
“Well, Ryana was right. Adakai showed up on the surveillance video as the man with her grandfather’s bolo. When I talked to Black about him earlier, he said he hadn’t had any trouble with the guy, but Mark went through a bad period after a girl he was dating dumped him. Black didn’t know who she was. Someone he’d had a crush on in high school.”
“Thanks for checking that. I’m on my way home.”
“Guess what?”
“The Bigman baby is here?”
“No. Burgers on the grill await.”
21
Joe Leaphorn pulled into the truck stop just west of Gallup, New Mexico, around sunrise for fuel and a cup of coffee to go. He had only slept an hour or two, and that in the cab of the truck, but he felt energized and eager to put the case of the missing dress to rest. For the last half hour, he had admired the beautiful glow that transformed the dove gray of early morning into a dusty pink, and then to red-orange and gold. By the time the gas tank filled, the blue that made the Four Corners sky famous among photographers stretched from horizon to horizon.
He remembered his grandmother welcoming the day with song and white cornmeal. He thought about her as a young captive at Hwéeldi and of her suffering there. He imagined how her voice must have joined with those of more than a thousand joyful Diné on the journey back to their homeland when they caught the first sight of Tsoodzil.
Then he started the engine, and the dreaded grinding sound set his teeth on edge.
He knew Bernie was up at dawn. He called her cell phone in case Chee was still asleep. She answered on the second ring.
“Lieutenant, what a great surprise to start the day with a call from you. I hope everything is going well.”
“Yes. It came to me that I never followed up with you and Chee on that Green Yazzie business. The case I’m on has grown more complicated, but I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
“That’s fine. I talked to the woman when she called the station for Chee and explained how busy you were, and she said she’d catch you later. She wouldn’t tell me what any of it was about.”
“Well, fine then. I’ll put that on the back burner. What have you two been up to?”
“It started as a burglary, became a rash of burglaries that were linked to an unsolved murder, blackmail, an attack on an old man, and an FBI informant. And, oh yeah, that dog you gave a ride to.” The energy in her voice reminded him of why he loved police work.
He asked about her mother and Darleen and was moving on to Chee when Bernie changed the subject.
“Tell me about your case. I heard that woman’s body went to Albuquerque for an autopsy. I wonder how she died.”
“I think I’ve got the how under control. The why is gnawing at me. I’m driving out to talk to her father again now. It looks like the young woman might have been in the middle of a family squabble.”
“That’s terrible.” Bernie said it again for emphasis.
“Her father blames witchcraft, and I’d agree that evil played a role. Not the supernatural kind but heartbreaking things people do to each other.” He felt his spirits sag as he thought about it. Time to move on. “Anyway, I am driving east into the dawn now, surrounded in beauty.”
“I remember a few years ago, when Chee and I just got back from our honeymoon, you asked us to help with an investigation that concerned a Hwéeldi weaving. Do you think cases tied to that sad time have more than the usual set of, well, problems?”
Leaphorn remembered again the old case of a Tale Teller, a rug supposedly destroyed in a mysterious trading post fire. It reappeared later and led to a very bad man. The case was the closest he’d come to abandoning the law for a deeper sort of justice. The incident still disturbed him.
“That rug served as a reminder of the bad times. I see Juanita’s dress, and the woman herself, as a symbol of courage, bravery, and resilience, the rich heritage that helped our ancestors survive.” He thought about how to explain the difference. “The rug was a manifestation of loss and sorrow. Juanita’s dress reminds us of the strength that led our people to where we are today.”
Bernie didn’t respond immediately, and when she spoke, her voice was softer. “Mama never talks specifically about what our relatives went through out there, but she says they wouldn’t have survived without knowing that the Holy People wanted them to live on the land they gave us. Be safe, my uncle. I’ll tell Chee hello for you.”
After Bernie hung up, he pushed a button that read the text message in a mechanical voice. It was from Louisa: Joe, please make sure Kitty has food and water. And remember you need to eat, too.
It was still early when Leaphorn arrived at Mr. Benally’s place. The windows stood open to let in as much cool air as possible before the day turned hot. Benally came outside when he heard the truck. The impact of losing his daughter had aged the man considerably.
Leaphorn eased out of the vehicle, his stiff back and hips lecturing him about the wisdom of stopping more often on road trips. His wrestling match with Mary Nestor hadn’t helped either.
Mr. Benally greeted Leaphorn like a relative. “Have some coffee with me, my friend. Help yourself. I was glad to hear from you. Someone else is coming, just as you asked.”
Leaphorn went inside and saw two clean cups sitting by the coffee pot. Andrews stretched on the sofa watching television and fiddling with his phone. They chatted a bit, and then Leaphorn asked the boy for a favor.
Back outside, Mr. Benally began the conversation.
“The one you want to meet, my daughter Collette, comes every Saturday. She doesn’t have to work until later. She and I are raising my grandson. She helps around here when she can.”
“Where does she work?”
“Bashas’ in Window Rock.”
Leaphorn tucked away the information. “Can she speak with us in Navajo?”
Mr. Benally smiled. “It’s easier for me, too, Hosteen. What do you want to talk to her about?”
“As you know, I am helping the woman at the museum with a project. Your daughter who died was involved with it, too. I have some questions for Collette about her sister.”
They sipped their coffee, Leaphorn’s in a mug that said “Diné College.” Mr. Benally sighed. “My baby daughter had been sick, you know. She was born with a lung condition, but the bilagáana doctors figured out what medicine helped her.” The days immediately after death, when it is especially important not to speak of the dead, had passed. “I know her troub
les came from the woman at the museum. I wanted to pay a hand trembler to tell my girl what was wrong and then for a ceremony to cure it. She said no, I was old-fashioned.”
“So, are you the one who left the note about her boss on my truck?”
“The note and then the rabbit for that woman.” Mr. Benally shook his head. “I couldn’t understand why after so many years, my sweet girl got sick again. The thought of witchcraft visited my mind and stayed there. My daughter said she worried that her boss would blame her when she found out that some things were missing from the shipment. My baby liked that job, and she wanted to keep it when the new boss came, then she would get married.”
“Why did you think the boss caused her to get sick?” Although Mr. Benally had not said that, exactly, Leaphorn made a logical assumption.
“That box.” Mr. Benally puffed out his cheeks and exhaled. “My daughter said that they had packages like that arrive before, you know, where they don’t know who sent it or what’s inside. The medicine people open those first, in case they contain bones or sacred objects that shouldn’t be seen.
“But the boss lady is retiring, so she wanted to get things set before she left. It can take a long time for the medicine people to do their work. Maybe she told Tiffany to go ahead and see what was in there. I think her boss was jealous. My girl was young and pretty and happy about getting married.”
Mr. Benally sipped his coffee. “The woman didn’t want Tiffany to get married. When she told her boss, she said wait to see if it was real love or, you know, physical attraction. Her sister Mary married a marine, Jason Nestor, and then he got killed in Afghanistan.”
The comment gave Leaphorn the entrée he was waiting for. “I met Mary in Winslow. She’s the one who mailed the box to the museum. She told me that the dress that caused the trouble wasn’t inside.”
Mr. Benally brushed the thought away. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“It does to me. That is why I want to talk to Collette. What can you tell me about her?”
“Collette came to live with Tiffany to help them both with finances. Her boy moved in with me. He had stayed with us, his grandmother and me and then just me, many times before when his mother didn’t have a job. It was good that Collette came when she did, because Tiffany started to get worse right after that. Tiffany had to take a special medicine. Collette made sure her sister had enough pills.”
Leaphorn didn’t interrupt, but his expression spoke for him.
“Collette helps in the pharmacy at Bashas’.” Benally picked up his cup and drained the last of the coffee. “I called her the icing between the two cookies, the frosting in the Oreo. She looks the most like her mother. She complained that we loved her sisters more than we loved her, no matter what her mother and I did.”
Before the man turned away, Leaphorn noticed the tears welling in his dark eyes.
A gray car turned onto the road that led to the Benally house and came straight in to park behind Leaphorn’s truck. The woman wore jeans and cowboy boots and a long-sleeved white blouse. Her hair was pulled in a ponytail through the back of a yellow ball cap. She had Mr. Benally’s lean build.
In Navajo, Benally introduced Leaphorn as a retired police lieutenant.
“Is there coffee, Dad?”
“Inside. A clean cup for you. Your boy is in there, too.”
Leaphorn listened but heard no conversation. Collette joined them on the porch.
She switched to English and asked her father for advice on her car—the steering was off, and it needed an alignment and maybe new tires. Leaphorn noticed that the woman was twitchy, as though she wished she were somewhere else, or as if some chemical in her blood had left her unsettled. Drug use could lead to this, but so could guilt and anger.
When Mr. Benally offered advice but not financing for the repairs, she spoke to Leaphorn. Her Navajo was passable.
“Andrews likes his granddad better than me. Do you turn your grandchildren against their parents?”
“I don’t have grandchildren. No little ones around. No sisters either who could have produced some babies.”
“You’re lucky you don’t have sisters. They are highly overrated. So, what do you do with yourself, Mr. Retired Policeman?”
Leaphorn put his phone on the table next to Collette’s car keys. A small light blinked. “Oh, I’m not totally retired. I work now and then, helping the police or private clients investigate puzzling cases. Like the missing dress at the museum and your sister’s possible involvement in a theft.” He watched for her reaction.
Collette stopped fiddling with her bangs. “You know, I think that dress was the reason she got so sick and died. I think she felt bad about stealing it.”
Leaphorn looked directly at Collette. “But Tiffany didn’t steal it. It was Mary. And you were the mastermind.”
“That’s quite a thing to say.”
“I don’t say it lightly.”
The woman laughed. “What’s in that coffee? You’re fantasizing. I don’t know anything about art or collecting old stuff. I work at Bashas’. Why would you think I had any connection to the dress?”
“Why? Oh, the classic reasons. Greed. Revenge. Jealousy. My colleagues at the police department should be at Tiffany’s house right about now with a warrant, searching for the dress and a bracelet that was also stolen, and confiscating the pills that you gave your sister, looking for evidence of how you tampered with her medications.”
“They won’t find anything. And how dare they invade my home!” Collette stood, keys in hand.
“It will be easier for the police to arrest you if you’re there. That’s why I asked your father to make sure you’d come by this morning. I wanted to talk to you about all this before you get arrested. I want to ask how we can help Mary, while there’s still time.”
Collette put her hands on her hips and turned to her father. “So this is about Mary? You always favored her over me, and Tiffany over both of us.”
“No, no. I loved you all. My beautiful girls.”
“Stop it. You gave Tiffany everything because she was sickly. You never put our sister in her place.”
Leaphorn said, “You were very clever to set this up the way you did.”
“Father never gives me credit.”
“How did it start?”
“Mary told me about Mr. Rafferty planning the donation and how carefully he worked on it bit by bit. She told me that she hoped he would let her take the box to Window Rock and she could visit us, surprise father. But then she called back and said no, the man was mailing it and it was going to be an anonymous donation.” Collette sipped her coffee. Now that all attention was on her, the twitchiness disappeared. “I had the idea to remove something to tarnish that golden girl, to put her in her place. A lot of people knew she was upset at her boss for not wanting her to get married. Who could blame her for a little revenge? For making Pinto’s life difficult right before the old lady retired.”
“How did you get Mary to go along?”
“Oh, I persuaded her. I’m a hard one to say no to. Rafferty had some old dress he’d always been crazy about that he planned to put in the box. Mary thought it was embarrassing to give away a ratty thing like that. I agreed and told her even though he was doing it anonymously, people would find out.”
“How?”
“I was going to tell everyone that the Raffertys were behind the donation. Those two fired me for nothing. Payback time.”
Leaphorn listened, disturbed to hear so much hate. “What happened next?”
“I told Mary she had to remove something else, too, something more valuable so we’d get Tiffany in real trouble. I told her jewelry was good, so she took that bracelet because Rafferty had packed it next to the old dress. It turned out that Mrs. Pinto wanted the dress more than anything.”
Collette looked at the clear blue sky and smiled. “As soon as Tif started to panic, I’d told Mary I would explain that we’d done it just to stop her from acting like she was better tha
n us. Then Tiffany could give back the stuff.”
“But Tiffany didn’t have a chance to give it back.”
When Collette stared at him, Leaphorn knew he was looking evil in the eyes. “That girl was so full of herself, I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand her. That the old dress had more value than dumb Mary realized. The joke was even better than I hoped.”
“Joke? Joke!” Mr. Benally’s voice rose with rage. “Your baby sister is dead. I thought the museum woman was the evil one, but no. I realize it is my own child.” His voice fell to a whisper. “Did you kill your sister?”
Collette left the question unanswered and faced Leaphorn. “Earlier you said something about helping Mary. What did you mean, ‘while there’s still time’?”
“She wanted to kill herself. She’s at the hospital now.”
Collette laughed. “So she went to blow her brains out and missed. How dumb is that? I’m the only sister left standing.” She turned to her father. “It’s not my fault Mary went crazy. You let her move out after Mom died. Last year, she met that Hopi guy and started going woo-woo, getting into all that mending-relationship garbage. He’s the reason Mary drove over here to give the dress and the bracelet to Tiffany so she could sneak them back into the museum. So Mrs. Pinto would find them and everything would be wonderful again.”
Leaphorn heard the derision. Maybe Bernie was right, he thought. Maybe the spirit of Hwéeldi did still bring out the worst in people. “Collette, where is the old dress? And where’s the bracelet?”
Mr. Benally’s voice had fire. “That’s not important. Why did you kill your sister?”
“Poor little Tiffany got sick and sicker and never got well. And Daddy always loved her best.”
Mr. Benally held his head in his hands, and his voice was just a whisper. “I have lost one daughter already. I don’t want to lose you . . .”
The Tale Teller Page 27