White Shell Woman

by James D. Doss

  “And on the night April was killed, Dr. Silk—whose cell phone was on the blink—doesn’t expect anybody from the university survey team to show up for a week or so. She decides to do some excavating late in the day. But whatta you know, here comes more trouble. What with the discovery of the Twin War Gods petroglyph, Professor Axton has decided to begin his project early. And April Tavishuts—who is anxious to check out the spot where she thinks the Anasazi whatzit might be buried—is the first member of the survey team to show up. Alvah Yazzi and his dog are in the car with her.”

  “Why’d the Navajo come along?”

  “Alvah’s old Chevy pickup is broke down and he needs some wheels while his stepdaughter is working at the mesa. He hitches a ride to Chimney Rock so he can drive April’s car back to his place.”

  Parris nodded at the darkness.

  The darkness nodded back.

  Moon did not notice this exchange. “So up the road comes a car carrying triple trouble for Amanda Silk. April Tavishuts, her stepfather—and the old man’s dog. Once April tops the mesa, she pulls her car off the lane. She is going to check out the coordinates she’s worked out from the Twin War Gods petroglyph. Find out what those tilted spears are trying to tell her.” Moon paused to consider the convergence of nonparallel lines. And the ill-fated crossing of human pathways. “A big thunderstorm is brewing, but that don’t stop April. She follows her compass heading, and ends up at the very spot where Dr. Silk is currently hard at work.”

  Parris was beginning to see the picture Moon was painting. “April doesn’t hear Dr. Silk digging from the road—for the same reason the archaeologist doesn’t hear the car coming up the mesa. The thunderstorm is making too much noise.”

  “That’s the way I figure it, pardner.”

  “And while his stepdaughter goes to check out her triangulation, Mr. Yazzi stays with the car.”

  “You bet. April couldn’t have dragged that old Navajo into the ruins if she’d had six teams of Tennessee mules for the job. When April gets back, she intends to drive up to the parking area and unload her camping gear. After which Mr. Yazzi will take her car back to his place.”

  “Only she doesn’t come back.”

  Charlie Moon tried to remember what the young woman looked like. The single image he could summon was a profile of a very still face. In the grave. “When April discovers her hero digging in the pit-house ruin like some common artifact thief, there must’ve been a nasty confrontation. Accusations. Threats. A struggle. April is struck on the head by Dr. Silk’s shovel. Now the archaeologist has a corpse to deal with.”

  “And a ready-made hole in the ground.”

  “I don’t think Amanda Silk intended to leave April’s body in the fresh excavation—the very spot where she is hoping to unearth whatever the Anasazi priest has buried. But it’s a handy solution for the moment’s problem. And she needs some time to think about where to move the body so it’ll never be found.”

  “So she covers up her victim in the temporary grave, heads back to her camp trailer.”

  “And all the while, Alvah Yazzi is wondering why his Ute stepdaughter is taking so long. Eventually, the old man calls for April. Naturally, he don’t get any answer. Feeling the way he does about the ruins, the Navajo elder suspects something really awful has happened. Ghosts or witches must’ve grabbed her. It takes all the nerve Yazzi has to make himself go look for April. But he’d never have found where she was in the dark—not by himself.”

  “You’re guessing that Mr. Yazzi’s dog sniffed out the new grave.”

  “No guessing about it. That’s exactly what happened. The Navajo’s dog starts digging—uncovers just enough of April’s leg for Alvah to recognize his stepdaughter’s boot. The old man stands there for a long time, scared to death. A right-thinking Navajo knows that it is extremely bad medicine to mess around in Anasazi ruins. Especially at night. And it’s a worse taboo to touch a freshly dead body. But what if she’s not quite dead yet—what if she was buried alive?”

  Scott Parris filled his lungs with a deep breath.

  Charlie Moon’s disembodied voice continued to tell the tale. “So, stone by stone—a handful of dirt at a time—Alvah begins to uncover his stepdaughter’s body. About the time he gets started, Melina Castro shows up and sees April’s car parked by the gravel road. By now, the worst part of the storm has passed over. Things have quieted down some. When Miss Castro gets out to have a look at April’s parked car, she hears the sounds of Alvah digging up his stepdaughter with his bare hands. Thinking she’s got a pothunter cornered, she hurries away to enlist Dr. Silk’s help. At first, Dr. Silk isn’t sure what she should do. She probably decides she’d better go along just in case the graduate student finds something incriminating.”

  “If necessary, she’s ready to whack another young lady over the head.”

  “I wouldn’t bet a thin dime against it, pardner. So they go off looking for whatever is out there. About the time the Navajo gets the dirt off April’s face, the pair of women show up. There’s a big flash of lightning. And right in front of ’em is Alvah Yazzi.”

  “Not burying his stepdaughter like the grad student thought—but digging her up.” Parris shook his head. “But if he’s innocent, why does the old man run?”

  “Pardner, put yourself in Alvah’s moccasins. Imagine you’re a traditional Navajo. It’s dark as the bottom of a tar bucket. Thunder is booming like Death’s drum. You’re trespassing in the Anasazi ruins. Standing in a fresh grave. Right over a corpse that’s still warm. You’re asking yourself this urgent question: Where is the witch who killed my stepdaughter? The answer comes in a flash of lightning, a crash of thunder. You look up and see these two ghostly-pale women, practically standing over the grave. Looking down at you. You telling me you’d have taken off your hat and said, ‘Good evening, ladies—out for an evening stroll?’”

  Parris silently conceded the point.

  “Alvah Yazzi believes he’s seen a couple of white-faced witches who killed his stepdaughter. Figures he’s next on their list. So he’s gone like a shot. His dog already has a fifty-yard lead. It never enters Yazzi’s head that he could end up being a murder suspect.”

  Parris could visualize the old man’s fright. “But Mr. Yazzi has a lucky break—neither one of the women can ID him. Melina Castro don’t recognize his face. Dr. Silk don’t even see him.”

  “That’s not what the old Navajo thought. And we’ll never know for sure whether Dr. Silk saw April’s stepfather, but I’d bet ten to one she did. And after the old man runs like a jackrabbit with his tail on fire, Amanda Silk decides to keep quiet. Pretend she didn’t see him.”

  “Sure,” Parris said, “if the poor bastard who flees from the scene of the homicide isn’t identified immediately, maybe he’ll have enough time to get away to where he can’t be found. And the longer Alvah evades the authorities, the more solid a murder suspect he becomes. If the archaeologist keeps quiet, nobody’ll even think of suspecting her.”

  “And once the body’s removed from the grave,” Moon said, “it’ll be Dr. Silk’s job to see whether any harm was done to the ruin. Which adds support to her legal excuse to go back and excavate for the Anasazi treasure.”

  “Looks like her luck is finally changing for the better.”

  “Sure does. But things are looking bad for Mr. Yazzi. After the Navajo catches his breath and starts the long walk home, he’s got some time to think about his awful predicament.”

  Parris was shaking his head. “Wait a minute—”

  “You’re interrupting the flow of the story, pardner.”

  “Excuse me. But why does the old man walk? If he’s in such a big hurry, why don’t he drive the car home?”

  “The ignition key is on April’s body.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know that.” Parris began to reconstruct the events of that dark night. “So it must’ve been Dr. Silk who set April’s corpse on fire while Danny Bignight was having a pee.” That delectable story had been repea
ted in every cop shop within a hundred miles.

  “The woman was not short on nerve.”

  “Why’d she want to burn things up?”

  “Don’t know for sure. But one of April’s fingernails was broken. Maybe when Amanda undressed for bed late that night, she found a scratch somewhere. Figured bits of her skin might be under April’s fingernail. She had to destroy any DNA evidence before the medical examiner showed up.”

  “She use gasoline to get the blaze started?”

  The Ute investigator shrugged. “Or Coleman lantern fuel. We’ll never know for sure.”

  “A very thorough planner. Not a lady I’d want to have out for my blood.”

  “Alvah Yazzi felt the same way. By the time that old man and his dog got home,” Moon said, “he’d already worked out a plan to protect himself.”

  Parris rocked in his chair. “Sure. He rigs up some ashes and bone chips in his clothes—so if the witches come calling, they’ll believe he’s already dead.”

  “But brujas are hard to fool, pardner, so that Navajo left plenty of his personal items behind with the phony corpse. Wallet, money, keys, dentures—just about everything. And to make double-sure the witches don’t wise up to his scheme, he don’t even take his dog with him when he goes into hiding.”

  “Seems like he thought of everything.”

  “Almost everything, pardner. He even remembered to bring some food along. But without his false teeth that old Navajo had a lotta trouble gumming peanut brittle and buffalo jerky.”

  That sounds good. Parris searched, found a rock-hard fragment of beef jerky in his coat pocket. From the feel of it, the petrified tidbit was covered with lint and grit and a variety of other disagreeable debris. Disgusting. He stuffed the morsel into his mouth.

  Moon continued. “This is why Alvah Yazzi goes to see my aunt Daisy—to get her to provide him with some chewable grub.”

  Parris ground his molars on the gob of desiccated cow flesh. “Can I ask now?”

  “Sure.”

  “How d’you know so much about what Yazzi was doing?”

  “He told me.”

  “When?”

  “Same evening he stole a pie off of my kitchen window. I followed Yazzi to his hideout. He was holed up in the guest cabin—the one across the lake.”

  “His truck was broke down. How did a man afoot get all the way to the Columbine—hitchhike?”

  “In a manner of speaking. When Cañon del Espíritu got too hot for him, my aunt Daisy—with some help from a friend—brings Alvah Yazzi to the ranch. She stashes him in the guest cabin, tells him if anybody comes poking around he’s to hide in the root cellar. Which is where he was hunkered down the night Miss Castro was in the cabin. By and by, Yazzi needs to relieve himself. He intends to slip outside once she’s asleep. But right about this time—for no apparent reason—the young woman screams like a banshee. This makes Alvah suspect that she is demented.”

  “Why does the grad student scream, Charlie?”

  “From what she tells me later, somebody knocked on the door and this startled her. It had to be Camilla, who wants to find out who I’m hiding in the cabin.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “My very words. But when Miss Castro opens the door, she don’t see nobody. So after a while, she settles down again. By now Yazzi really needs to empty his bladder. So one step at a time, he sneaks up the stairs from the cellar. Opens the door into the kitchen. The young woman seems to be asleep at last. He slips out the back door and has a five-minute pee.”

  Parris was regretting the third cup of coffee. “He must’ve been quite relieved.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “Once was enough.” He got up. “Please excuse me.”

  The Ute waited.

  Parris returned, plopped into the chair. “Where were we? Oh yeah—the college girl is inside the log cabin, nestled in her snug little bed. The Navajo elder is outside in the cold.”

  Moon shifted to a more comfortable position. “By now, Mr. Yazzi has had some time to think about one thing and another. And, pardner, you know what thinking does for a man.”

  “Gets him worried. About one thing and another.”

  “Every time. That old Navajo starts to wonder about this peculiar woman in the cabin. There is something familiar about her scream. Sounds an awful lot like what he heard when the two witches appeared in a flash of lightning at April’s grave—and shrieked at him like bloody murder. What if she’s one of those witches who killed his stepdaughter? Maybe she followed him all the way to the Columbine with blood in her eye. If there is a yee naaldlooshii in the cabin, he’s got to find another place to hide. One way or another, he’s got to find out who Screaming Woman is. So Yazzi cranks up his courage and sneaks back inside. She seems to be asleep, so this looks like his chance to have a good look at her face. Alvah leans real close. Right about the time his nose is close enough to touch hers, Miss Castro opens her eyes. Poor thing sees his ugly kisser and hollers like she’s woke up in a tub fulla scorpions. The old Navajo high-steps it for the back door, Melina shoots out the front. She don’t slow down till she is bangin’ on my door. Next day, I check out the cabin. Nobody’s there. But after sleeping under the stars for several nights, Alvah Yazzi moves back in. He has gotten attached to the comforts of living indoors—and to the canned food in the pantry. Without his chompers he can’t eat the potatoes and raw onions and rutabagas in the cellar.”

  “Rutabagas?”

  “Dolly Bushman bought two bushels down in Salida.”

  Parris grimaced. “Why?”

  “I think they were on sale.” The Ute had a bitter taste in his mouth. “I never did like rutabagas. Matter of fact, I shot one of ’em.”

  Parris would let that dog lie. “So tell me what happened that night when you got clubbed on the head.”

  “When I showed up at her camp trailer, Amanda Silk must’ve decided that I was getting a little bit too close to the truth.”

  “Or maybe she just don’t like you. You tell her any of your long-winded tales?”

  The Ute ignored this petty barb.

  “So while you two are standing by the excavation, Dr. Silk whacks you on the head?”

  “There was nobody else around to do any whacking.” Moon rubbed at his skull; the ridge of scar tissue was still tender. “I must’ve fell into the excavation. Then she covered me with those big rocks and pine needles.” He paused to contemplate the close call. “The woman was going to burn me alive.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe to make it look like the same pothunter who set fire to April Tavishuts was also responsible for my death.”

  Parris thought this made sense. “Sure. Nobody suspected Dr. Silk of killing Miss Tavishuts. FBI cops would have fingered Mr. Yazzi for the crime.” Parris wondered what he’d do if Charlie Moon wasn’t here anymore. “So what stopped the archaeologist from lighting the pine needles?”

  Moon allowed himself a moment before speaking. “My dog.”

  Parris raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Sidewinder?”

  “I didn’t even know he was there. But that peculiar old chowhound must’ve hitched a ride in my pickup.” Had to have been him who reared up on Amanda’s trailer and looked into her window. “I figure he follows us out to the pit-house excavation. Sees her conk me on the head. Then he comes a-runnin’ through the brush, makes a leap, and nails his teeth into that candy-cane lighter—”

  “Wait a minute. Which candy-cane lighter is this?”

  “A novelty item. Dr. Silk’s nephew sells ’em. She used it to light the stove in her camp trailer.” Or whatever else needed lighting. “Anyway, when Sidewinder snatches it from her hand, Amanda Silk must think he is the well-known Anasazi Ghost Wolf come to swallow her whole—toenails, eyeballs, and all.”

  “This must’ve frightened the woman.”

  “Scared her to death.” Moon was staring at a spot under the cottonwoods. A place where the shadows danced.

  “Did
anybody see your dog at the mesa that night?”

  “Not as far as I know. But it must’ve been Sidewinder howling at the pit house when the Bushmans found my truck. Which is how they found me. Later on, that old hound could’ve hid in the back of my pickup till Pete Bushman brought it back to the ranch. Or maybe Sidewinder got scared off when the police cars and ambulance showed up, then walked all the way home.” He paused. “Dogs do that kind of thing.”

  “Charlie, I don’t mean to nitpick—but did you actually see Dr. Silk with this candy-cane lighter in her hand, ready to set fire to the pine needles?”

  “Well…not exactly.”

  “Did you see the dog snatch something from her hand?”

  “I wasn’t conscious when it happened.” Maybe I was already on the Blue Train.

  “Then how can you be sure that’s how it happened?”

  “Weight of evidence. I know she had the candy-cane thingamajig, because I’ve seen her light her stove with it. The FBI didn’t turn up any kind of butane lighter on or near her corpse.” He raised a hand to ward off the expected objection. “And you’re right, that don’t prove Sidewinder had taken it away from her. But the FBI also didn’t find the candy-cane lighter in her trailer—I checked Stan Newman’s inventory list. And it wasn’t at her nephew’s garage sale. When I asked him about it, he was sure he hadn’t seen it.”

  “Okay. The candy-cane lighter is missing. But that doesn’t prove that your amazing dog snatched it from Dr. Silk’s hand.” Parris waved his arms. “I mean, this is a lot of arm waving.”

  Moon held his tongue.

  Which made his friend suspicious. “If there’s something you haven’t told me, I’d like to hear it.”

  “You’ll have to keep this under your hat. I found what was left of that candy-cane lighter in the back of my pickup, pardner. That’s where Sidewinder keeps some of his toys.”

  “So what’d the FBI forensics experts say about this piece of physical evidence?”

  Moon hesitated. “I never showed it to the feds.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know how those guys are.”

  “I don’t follow your drift.”