by Ted Clifton
June paused to take a deep breath. “I’m a Christian woman. My nephews say I’m a straitlaced old fuddy-duddy.” She smiled. “My nephews are right. I’m not a modern woman. I guess I live in the past. And I like it that way. Being polite in my world is as important as almost anything. Now,” she went on, “I’ve known the mayor since he was a baby. I was great friends with his beloved mother, may she rest in peace. Mr. and Mrs. Chavez were some of the nicest people in this town—we went to the same church. And when Frankie became mayor, I couldn’t have been prouder if he had been my own son. So when he asked me if I would be his assistant—that’s what he called the job—I was honored.” Her expression resolved from a beaming pride to a furrowed brow. “But after a while, he started to change. He was drinking in the office during the day. It was shameful. And he just got worse. That awful man Grimes started to visit with Frankie a lot.” Her eyes narrowed. “I can smell a slimeball a mile away, and Lewis Grimes was the worst I’d ever met. I’ll tell you one thing—he scared me. He was dangerous. And poor ol’ Frankie thought he was something special. He’d go out drinking with Grimes and that Martin fellow. The next morning, Frankie couldn’t do anything. He’d just sit at his desk and moan. It was disgraceful.” She paused to wipe her eyes with a delicate pink handkerchief.
“Is that why you quit?”
“No. Should have quit right then, but I was worried about Frankie. I thought if I stayed, maybe I could keep him out of trouble. I should have quit and read him the riot act as I was leaving. But, no—I stayed.”
“What happened to make you leave?”
“When you guys came to talk to him and he drank himself silly and left, I decided I had to do something. I knew he must know something about the Martin killing, yet he didn’t say anything to you. The next time I saw him, I told him I was going to talk to you and tell you everything I knew about the way he and his friends had been acting.” Her eyes flung open wide. “He threatened me. I couldn’t believe it—little Frankie Chavez was threatening me. I’ll tell you, even though I might have been able to take the little fat weasel, he kind of scared me. Suddenly, I’m wondering what he’s got himself mixed up with. I went home, locked my door and have hardly stepped outside since. My neighbor’s been getting my groceries. I think I had a panic attack or something. Anyway, I’ve not been myself. Strange—just yesterday, I decided I was going to call the sheriff’s office and talk to someone about all of this, but I got sidetracked with cleaning and forgot. And now, here you are.”
“What had he been doing?” Tyee asked, minding that he kept his voice calm. His sense was that June Walters was hanging on by a thin thread.
“Well, I have to tell you, the most shocking thing happened, and it was some months ago. Like I told you, I’m a prude. I don’t have to defend that because that’s who I am, and I’m comfortable with my morals. He was having a meeting with Martin, that’s the councilman Thomas Martin—I knew his parents, too; lovely people, always so generous, especially to the poor. Plus, my goodness, I worked for a while with the councilman’s wife, and I knew his children; it’s just all so awful. I can’t believe people can behave that way.”
Tyee and Ray traded glances, each out of the corner of his eye. “What way do you mean, ma’am?” Tyee asked gingerly.
“Oh, yes.” She blinked, as if coming to. “Well, I walked into the office—sometimes I would forget to knock—and it was shocking. They were kissing. I almost screamed. I turned around and left, immediately. I went home and had a good cry. I was so embarrassed to see something like that.” She wiped tears away. “Frankie called and left a message saying I had misunderstood, that he was just helping Thomas because he had something in his eye. Well, I knew that wasn’t true. But anyway, I went back. But when I heard Thomas was killed, that’s when I really started to worry. I knew Frankie had to talk to you and tell you all his sordid secrets.”
“Do you think,” Ray asked, “the mayor might have killed him?”
She seemed shocked by the idea. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. Oh, he’s a sinner, all right. I know that. But his parents were church people, I know they taught him the Ten Commandments. He wouldn’t kill anybody. That’s just crazy. Why would you even think that?”
“Thank you, Ms. Walters.”
Ray and Tyee were back in the truck. “Now what?” Tyee wondered.
Ray was thinking. “I don’t see how we could justify putting out an alert on the mayor. So we’re back to waiting until we can find him and get his side of the story.”
“Still,” Tyee looked out the window, “this is news. It tells us there was a lot more going on than we suspected between some of our victims and suspects. I would say the mayor is now the number one suspect in Grimes’s murder.” Tyee, like many people, often wanted black-or-white answers in a world full of grays.
“I agree. Let’s give it a day to see if he shows up and we can talk to him. If not, we go full blast to find him tomorrow. For now, let’s go see if Mrs. Grimes will talk to us.”
Ballistics results had by then persuaded everyone that someone else shot Grimes, so she no longer had guards at her room. However, she still had a frowning nurse to admonish them that they should not disturb her for long.
“How do you feel?” Ray’s bedside manner wasn’t the best. At least he smiled.
“I’m fine. There’s no reason for me to be in here, except maybe mental. I understand I’m no longer a suspect. So, who do you think might have shot Lewis?”
“Well, technically, discharging a gun in the city limits is a crime, but we’re not pursuing that, so you’re free and clear. The evidence suggests your husband was shot with a 30-30 rifle from somewhere along the back fence. At that distance, it was either a lucky—or I guess unlucky—shot, or the shooter used a scope. We found two spent shell casings. But your husband was only struck once. We should make you aware that the other shot could have been for you, and just missed. As for the identity of the shooter, your husband had enemies in business and, of course, his personal life was littered with people who could be pretty angry with him. But we have not identified a specific suspect.”
“You really think someone was shooting at me?”
“We don’t know. But I think you have to consider that a possibility.”
“Why would someone want to kill me?” She sat up, becoming alarmed.
Tyee spoke up. “Money would be the most likely answer. Your husband was a rich man. And if he was dead, you would inherit his estate. Maybe someone didn’t want that to happen.”
Joyce thought about that, then asked, “Have you seen the will?”
Ray answered, “Yes, we have.”
“Do you know who Chris Kee is?”
“He’s an old Navajo. Some call him the town drunk. It was rumored that he was the old sheriff’s father.” Ray responded.
“The sheriff who killed himself in Colorado?”
“Yeah. We’re not sure it’s true about him being Jackson’s father, though. At any rate, he’s disappeared, and we’re looking for him.”
That didn’t calm her down. “Could he have been the shooter?”
“I suppose, but he’s not in the best of health, mostly because of his age and his heavy drinking over the years. I’d be a little surprised if he could get his hands on a rifle or have the strength to fire it. But he’s still someone we want to talk to.”
She sank back into her pillow. “I knew Lewis was doing something wrong with the business. He was always hiding things or shutting me out of meetings at the house. I didn’t know it involved so much money, and damned sure didn’t know it was all so illegal. Maybe I am just a bubble-headed blonde, but mostly it was that I just didn’t want to know what he was doing. He scared me. I wasn’t going to challenge him. My dream plan was just to leave and hide somewhere where he could never find me. I always believed if he ever thought I was a threat to him, he’d kill me, just like that.”
Ray sighed. It was time to steer the subject toward his obligation to t
he governor. It wouldn’t be easy. “I don’t know all of what’s going on with the FBI and the BIA, but I doubt they suspect you of being involved. You also should know that this will be a real mess to clean up. Millions of dollars are involved. And at this point, no one knows for sure where to find that money. Even if it was all returned to the state and the feds, the fines would likely almost equal the amount stolen. And that would bankrupt the Grimes Oil Company.”
Joyce perked up. “Do you think there’s any way I could keep that from happening?”
Ray felt a mixture of relief at her interest and dread for the task ahead. “It’ll be very difficult. There are too many people and agencies involved. The governor might have been able to accomplish something. He wanted the business to continue to operate because of all of the people it employed. But, as you might have heard, he just passed away.” He shook his head. “I don’t know of anyone else who could pull it off.”
Tyee looked at him. “How about you, Ray? You know the people involved—or at least, some of them. It would be what the governor wanted.”
Ray gave Tyee a dirty look. “Yeah, I know it was what he wanted. But nobody’s going to want to listen to me. Plus, I think this matter with Kee is going to confuse the issue. Why did Grimes leave half his business to the town drunk? Unless we can answer that question, I don’t think anyone’s going to stick their neck out and try to keep the business alive.”
“The reason has to be because he’s a Navajo.”
“Maybe so. But there are thousands of Navajos. Why leave a fortune to this particular one?”
“I wonder if Begay would know the answer?”
Ray nodded. “Let’s go ask.”
They said their good-byes to Joyce, saying if they learned anything regarding the business or Kee, they would contact her. It seemed polite, but no one expected much of anything to happen.
Before they could leave the hospital, a security guard waved them down. “Mr. Pacheco?”
“Yes.”
“The sheriff’s office is calling you.”
Ray followed the guard into a tiny office. “Ray Pacheco.”
“Trujillo. Just got a call from Captain Watchman. Said he was supposed to meet with you but didn’t because of an emergency. He wants to meet now, at the same place. Then he hung up. Do you know where he’s talking about?”
“Yeah, I do. Thanks. I’ll—”
Trujillo interjected, “Be careful around Watchman. Some say he’s crooked and dangerous.”
“We’ll be careful.” Ray hung up. “Watchman called the office,” he told Tyee. “Still wants to meet at McDonald’s, right now.”
Tyee smirked. “Sounds good. If he stands us up again, at least we can get something to eat.” Tyee didn’t appreciate McDonald’s the way Ray did, but food was food.
Watchman was easy to spot—big and scowling. No one sat close to him.
“Captain Watchman.” Ray nodded.
“Sit.” It sounded like a command.
“We would like to interview Begay,” Ray said, up front. “Do you think he will agree?”
“Hah,” he snorted, “Not too damn likely. Whatever you think he has done, you’re all wrong. You have no idea what all this is about.” Watchman was in a fighting mood.
But Ray wasn’t in the mood to back down. Okay. It was time for an explosion. “I’ve got two unsolved murders—that’s what it’s about. I want to solve them so I can go home and forget about Farmington. I’ve got a new boss, the lieutenant governor, who doesn’t know shit about anything, and he’ll do whatever I tell him. If I don’t get some answers soon, I will request a full team of state troopers to join the fifty National Guardsmen already here, and I will arrest Begay if I think I should, with or without permission. Fuck the reservation.”
Tyee tensed. He knew he could handle Watchman, but he had to be prepared and not allow him to get an advantage.
Instead, Watchman leaned back. “Calm down. Begay didn’t kill anyone. He’s been a fool, just like a lot of other people mixed up in this. And he probably would have been just fine with the idea of shooting Grimes, but he didn’t do it. And Martin has no connection with Begay at all.”
“Do you know who killed Martin?”
“I can only guess, and my guess would be Grimes. They were pals. You know most people are killed by friends, and not enemies.”
“How about Grimes?”
“A long list of suspects, there. Begay hasn’t been off the rez in weeks, so he couldn’t have done it.”
“Do you know where Chris Kee is?”
“He’s in the hospital, on the reservation. That was my emergency—the reason I missed our meeting. Got a call saying he’d collapsed outside one of his favorite bars.” He shook his head. “It was bad. He was bleeding from his mouth and his nose. I took him to the hospital. He was in a coma by the time we got there and hasn’t come out of it. The doctors say his kidneys and liver are shutting down. Probably hours, or maybe days, and he’ll be gone.”
“Could he have shot Grimes?”
“I doubt it. Physically, I don’t think he could have done that, and mentally he was completely lost. I don’t think he would have even remembered who Grimes was. When you get to the point he’s at, any anger he had toward Grimes was buried a long time ago in his own decay and misery.”
Tyee leaned forward. “I don’t get it. How does Kee fit in all of this? Is he Sheriff Jackson’s father? And why would Grimes’s will name him as a beneficiary?”
Watchman sighed. “Chris Kee used to be one of the leaders of the tribe. After the last president died, the two people who were going to run for the position were Begay and Chris Kee. Now, everybody knew Kee had a drinking problem. But he was still the favorite. He was full of life, had a big personality, and was one of the smartest people I’d ever met. It was just the drinking that kept him from being a shoo-in. It was about that time that Lewis Grimes came into the picture. While the presidency was vacant, Kee sort of assumed command. That was Begay’s weakness, you see? He was not a fighter, he just wanted to get along with everybody. Anyway, Kee and Grimes seemed to hit it off and they started drinking together. Grimes took him to Vegas, I don’t know how many times, and spent a lot of money on him. He wined and dined him—mostly wined. And even in Farmington they were drinking and raising hell almost every night. Well, Kee got arrested several times, and the word got back to the reservation. People were saying he was turning into a town drunk. So, the election came, and Begay won. That really pushed Kee in the wrong direction. That was about the time he started staying with Sheriff Jackson’s mother.”
“Does that mean he was the sheriff’s father?” Ray asked.
“Nah. The timing is way off. Jake Jackson was probably seven or eight about then. I’m sure his mother probably didn’t know who the father was. Could have been she just said whoever was around at that time. There’s no way it could have been Chris Kee.”
Tyee wondered, “Why would Grimes become buddies with him, though?”
“Well, you’re probably thinking about the Kee you know now. He didn’t used to be like that. He was big, handsome, and he loved the ladies. So he and Grimes liked to drink and chase women together. They were kindred spirits. Why he got to know him in the first place was because Kee was, in essence, the acting president of the Navajo Nation at the time Grimes came to town. Grimes was just small-time then and he wanted to open convenience stores on the reservation and sell gasoline. He’d just bought a couple of run-down stations. So he approached Kee about a contract with the Navajos. Of course, technically he wasn’t president, so he didn’t have the authority to sign a contract. I think Grimes just played around with him until he saw how the election came out. Then Kee lost, and he turned his back on him.”
“But he did get the contract,” Ray said. “How did he do that? Through Begay?”
“Some of this I know because Kee told me, but only when he was falling-down drunk. So take it all with a grain of salt. One night, I got a call from the she
riff’s department saying they had picked him up. Sometimes they’d throw him in jail, and sometimes they’d call me to come pick him up because that was easier than doing the paperwork. Besides, he was a sloppy drunk and hard to handle. I got him that night, and I was taking him back to the reservation to sleep it off. He got to talking about how he was going to be rich. He said he had a written agreement with Grimes for half his whole damn business. He and Grimes were ‘partners,’ is what he said. I made some wiseass remark I thought he wouldn’t even respond to, something like, why would Grimes make him a partner in anything? He said, ‘Because I killed the SOB.’ Well I had no idea what he meant by that, and he passed out about then. Anyway, you know it’s a pretty long trip to Shiprock, and he woke up again. So, I was curious, and I asked him who was the SOB he’d killed. And just like there’d never been a break in our conversation, he says, ‘Bill McCullum.’ ”
“Bill McCullum?” Tyee asked, glancing at Ray. “Who was that?”
“He owned the Phillips 66 distributorship for this part of the state. Very successful. Hated by everyone. No great loss when he died. Died in an accident when his car ran off the road. After he died, Grimes bought the business from his widow.”
“Did you tell anyone what Kee told you?” Ray was not sure he believed anything Watchman said.
“Nah. The sheriff before Jackson was an idiot. Hell, all of these damn sheriffs are idiots. He investigated the accident and closed the case—accidental death. I could have pressed the issue, but that particular sheriff hated me, and I hated him, and it wasn’t my problem.”
Watchman looked defensive. Ray looked at Tyee, then back to Watchman.
“Do you think Kee being named in Grimes’s will was because they did actually have an agreement?”