Day of the Dead

by R. Allen Chappell

  Nepotism had long been rampant on the reservation and few thought anything of it. Everyone seemed to be related, either by clan or blood, and there was little to be done about it as far as Charlie could see. It was a frequent cause of jealousy and suspicion among the rank and file, and a constant worry for administrators. The subject was critical enough to occasionally be brought up at council meetings, but nothing ever came of it. Things just continued to rock along as they always had—blood and clan were not to be denied when it came to allocating jobs on the reservation. Billy Red Clay was as aware of the situation in his own organization as Charlie Yazzie was in his, and neither man bothered to pretend otherwise.

  For a moment the Tribal Officer seemed almost reluctant to continue. “Emma Bitsii wouldn’t say much in the beginning, but I went prepared and when I told her I’d been looking into her past over around Cameron, she changed her tune.” Billy pulled his chair closer as he turned to peer out the open door, checking to see who might be lurking about. Satisfied, he went on. “Charlie, I have irrefutable proof that Robert Ashki was Emma Bitsii’s illegitimate son.” He paused to gauge how the investigator would take this and was surprised at how little reaction he saw. Charlie doesn’t believe me, was his first thought, but he pressed on more determined than ever to verify the facts of the business. “The information wasn’t hard to find… once I knew where to look. There wasn’t a centralized record repository back then; when babies were born at home they didn’t always get added to Tribal Roll, sometimes not until they started school.”

  Charlie raised an eyebrow; somewhat surprised Billy would follow through with his investigation over his boss’s protests. He could see the reasoning behind the young policeman’s decision but hoped he had more than what he’d heard so far to back up this astonishing claim. “Okay…how did her relationship with Ashki not come out before this? The woman’s been around for a number of years?”

  “That’s where it gets a little sticky… When Emma up and left her hometown, on the other side of the reservation, she somehow wound up here and took up with another man who later became her new husband and he already had a son. And here’s the kicker, Charlie...” Billy Red Clay paused for effect. “That little boy, as it turns out, was Captain Beyale.” Billy feared this might stretch his credibility beyond any hope of acceptance. He kept his eyes on the investigator and wouldn’t have blamed him had he not believed the story.

  Charlie rocked back in his chair and stared across at Billy as though he thought he might be drunk…or crazy. Clearly, Billy was neither. Charlie pondered a moment more, attempting to digest this latest information, then gave a low whistle. “You’ve verified all this, Billy—there’s no possible mistaking any of it?”

  “It’s verified, and then some, Charlie. Yesterday, when I finally began putting my research together, it was pretty obvious Emma was at the center of it. When I went to the Captain for permission to question her I didn’t say anything about what I’d been up to. I wanted to talk to Emma first you understand, make sure I was on solid ground. Even before hearing what I’d come up with, he refused permission, immediately became argumentative, and went on the defensive. That was when I knew for certain there was something there. Things became heated and I could see Beyale was getting worked up. I tried to back off a little and let him calm down, but too late. He went into some sort of cardiac arrest right before my eyes; you know the story from there—he’s in the hospital in Farmington now—they had to transfer him a couple of hours ago.”

  “How is he? I got in touch with the clinic after you first called but couldn’t get a straight answer.” Charlie couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought to ask Billy right off. He’d always gotten along with the Captain, and his concern was genuine enough, though he wanted to support Billy Red Clay as well.

  “It was a stroke, Charlie, the worst kind, the doctor said, and I can only guess that led to the heart attack, if that’s what it was.” Billy looked down at the desk and when he spoke, Charlie could barely understand the whispered words. “According to the doctor in Farmington, they’re doing everything they can, but they think there’s not much hope.” The officer hung his head. “It’s my fault, Charlie, I caused it—I shouldn’t have pushed him—but there was just so obvious a connection I couldn’t help trying to get to the bottom of it.” Billy took a ragged breath, “Emma Bitsii considered both those boys her sons and loved them both in her own way I suppose, but still when the chips were down, Robert Ashki came first, I guess being her own blood he counted most.”

  When Billy paused to look him in the eye, Charlie nodded for him to continue.

  “While in prison, Ashki corresponded with his mother on a regular basis, and was eventually able to convince her to get hold of the Tarango file for him. She said Robert became obsessed with getting some sort of evidence on Thomas Begay’s uncle, John Nez. He was certain that file was the key. As you know, he and John had long been at odds in the Navajo Mountain District. John has always been fairly prominent up there—once even threatened to run against Robert for Council. And after Ashki was sent to prison, John not only ran but won Ashki’s seat on the Council. Robert couldn’t stand that and swore to get even when he got out.”

  Charlie was by now shaking his head and holding up a hand, trying to put it all in perspective, “Whoa! What are you getting at Billy?”

  When Billy looked up it was obvious he, too, was struggling with the improbability of his own conclusions. “When I confronted Emma with the birth records she broke down completely…talked for nearly an hour about the two boys and what different paths they had taken. Yet, she felt they were both her sons, and it tore her apart to have to choose between them. Robert Ashki, of course, ever the master manipulator, persuaded her he had been wrongly accused and could vindicate himself if only he had the file on the Mojado case. What he actually thought, was that it might be the deciding factor in ousting John Nez from the Council.”

  Charlie’s mind shifted into overdrive. “How in the hell did this stay quiet? It’s just the sort of crap people love to talk about around here… I’ve never heard a whisper of it.” Charlie’s voice rose, “How could anyone not know?”

  “Emma wasn’t from around here, Charlie, she was from over around Cameron, at the far edge of the reservation. Ashki’s father wouldn’t let her take the boy with her when she left, she was drinking again and running around a lot, let’s just say her reputation wasn’t the best. The woman was basically hounded out of that country by the father’s family who kept Robert, saying Emma wasn’t fit to care for a child and that he should be raised by his relatives. Normally that would have been the mother’s relatives, but Emma’s parents were dead, and her one aunt wanted nothing to do with the woman. Emma said she began drinking even more after that, and by her own admission became impossible to get along with. She eventually left her new husband, too, basically abandoning her stepson in the process. She lived in Flagstaff for a few years. You know how it is there Charlie—well, it was worse back then—a bad drug scene even back then, many of the young people who hung out in town got lost in it.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Only on the reservation.” It was clear Billy was taking no pleasure in the telling of these things and Charlie thought he detected a bit of sympathy for Emma Bitsii. “It’s no secret how women who leave their kids, are thought of here on the reservation, Billy. It’s always been that way. Mothers abandoning children—that’s one of the unforgivable sins among the old people. They call those women, Yóó’a’hááskahh—one who is lost.”

  Billy Red Clay winced. “We both know there are plenty of men on the reservation who leave their families, but there’s always been a different standard for women, hasn’t there? Fair or not, the expectations are higher for women.” Billy threw up his hands in frustration and looked to Charlie for some sort of affirmation, but the investigator only indicated the young policeman should continue. Billy sighed, “Emma kept track of both boys, and as they got older she would come to one or the othe
r, occasionally, for a little help. Finally, Captain Beyale, who had been with Tribal only a short while at that point, still managed to get her a part time job. With his help, she began straightening herself out, but never let one son know about the other, at least not as far as I could find out. The Captain may never have had any idea Robert Ashki was his stepbrother and apparently Ashki didn’t know about the Captain either. Both of their fathers have been dead for years.” Billy Red Clay looked tired and Charlie Yazzie felt sorry for him. If not for Billy’s curiosity, and dedicated police work the truth might never have come out, but Charlie could see uncovering these secrets had taken their toll on young Billy.

  Charlie looked up from the notes he was scrawling across a legal pad. “I guess that only leaves one thing we don’t know.”

  “Right. Was Robert Ashki’s death really an accident?” Billy was again thinking out in front and Charlie could see the wheels turning.

  “Well, it’s pretty clear Ashki was on his way to Albuquerque, and probably to find someone who could use the file to discredit John Nez…a lawyer maybe. Robert must have had some deranged thought he could pressure the Council into recalling John’s seat.”

  Both men now sat back in their chairs. Charlie Yazzie was first to speak. “No matter how all this turns out, Billy, I want you to know I think it was a damn good piece of police work on your part. We may never know who killed Ashki, but I’m betting we haven’t heard the last of it.”

  Billy nodded, “The reservation keeps its secrets all right, but I’m not through yet. I expect there’s more to this story than we can even imagine. Why is it nothing is ever what it seems out here?”

  This was one of the few times Charlie didn’t have an answer for the young officer.

  After Billy Red Clay left the office, Charlie closed up his desk and locked his file drawers, a precaution he had only recently implemented. He was about to take down his hat and Levi Jacket when the phone rang and he thought it could only be his wife, wanting him to stop at the store on the way home…or, it might be Bob Freeman, already long overdue checking in. It proved to be the latter, and as usual, Bob didn’t waste any time getting to the point.

  “Charlie, I know you expected to hear something sooner than this; needless to say, we ran into a little snag and, apparently, just missed you at the funeral home. We got there just as Sheriff Schott and another of his units pulled up. There had been reports of shots fired, he told us, and wondered how we just happened to be in the neighborhood. He was pretty quick to point out local law enforcement was on a different radio frequency than the Feds and wanted to know what we were doing there.” Bob chuckled. “In fact, Sheriff Schott seemed more interested in how we came to be there, than in what the shooting was all about. When I didn’t bother to answer, he sort of blew a gasket; said they’d had reports of a high-speed chase along with gunfire and he intended getting to the bottom of what was going on…then he accused us of operating out of our jurisdiction.”

  Charlie could hear the smile even over the phone. “What did you say to that, Bob?”

  “I didn’t say a damn thing, Charlie, it was Federal business and he wasn’t on our ‘need to know’ list. I’ll probably hear about it later, of course,” Bob chuckled again, “we’ll see.”

  Charlie shifted the phone to his other shoulder as he pulled his note pad closer. “I guess you’re wanting to know what happened with the Tarango woman and Abe Garza? I really wish you could have been there, Bob. We could have used some backup. There were gunmen inside the funeral home and the two of them, Abe and Tressa, barely escaped with their lives…that’s how Abe tells it anyway.” Charlie figured this was the real reason for Bob’s call and the DEA Agent had only used the story of Sheriff Schott’s intervention to deflect any blame that he hadn’t been at the funeral home in time to help. Bob was good at that sort of thinking and Charlie wondered if it was part of his training, or just came naturally.

  “Of course, I want to know what happened, Charlie. I figure you have those people stashed somewhere, and that’s good; I don’t even want to know where right now. I haven’t had much sleep for the last twenty-four hours and I’m going to catch up on that while I can. We’ve got people all over this, and there could be a break anytime. Can you shake loose early for coffee in the morning, at the Diné Bikayah? Agent Smith from FBI wants a conflab…along with Billy Red Clay, of course. Fred thinks the Tribal cops are feeling a little left out of late.”

  “It’ll have to be early, Bob, before my people get here. I’m thinking it’s going to be a full morning; the Cafe opens at six, let’s make it then.”

  Charlie was almost to his car before he remembered he should have asked if old Sancho Mariano was still hanging on, up in Colorado. He was somewhat anxious to see how that would affect Bob Freeman’s pursuit of the Sinaloa investigation, and more importantly, what charges, if any, might be filed against the pair hiding out at Alfred Nakii’s old place. Despite himself, he couldn’t help thinking like a lawyer. He also wondered if Harley Ponyboy had returned home to find his vittles missing. That was another can of worms he’d have to face eventually.

  18

  The Follower

  Tressa Tarango was not the sort of woman to wait around to see what was going to happen. If necessary, she thought, she’d make something happen. She wouldn’t allow herself and Little Abe to fall into another trap.

  Abraham Garza was still asleep, though how that was possible she couldn’t fathom. She had been banging around getting breakfast and cleaning up for half an hour. She could only attribute it to his breeding. It was different blood that flowed in her veins, bluer blood, the blood of Conquistadors, and she was determined to do it justice. Their future must remain in their own hands and despite Charlie Yazzie’s apparent good intentions—ultimately it would be up to them, or rather to her, to take charge. I am the only one who knows what’s best for us.

  “Abraham! Get up…” Tressa turned from her work at the stove to yell at the snoring figure on the couch. “It’s almost daylight, Hombrecito.” She knew Abe hated being called “little man” but felt it might at least hurry him along. She continued cutting up the last of the potatoes, dropping them into the hot bacon grease from the night before.

  There were still three eggs and when she thought it was time, she cracked them on the edge of the skillet before gently easing them to one side of the pan, where they immediately began to sizzle and pop. Toast was browning under the broiler and she watched it like a hawk. She doubted it would make any difference to Little Abe who’d known little better. She, on the other hand, had known better…much better; Luca had been a good provider when once they’d left the squalor of the village, and she’d gotten used to that new life. She meant to have those comforts back…and soon, too.

  Tressa was not convinced she and Little Abe should entrust their lives to a federal agency in exchange for cooperation—she had seen how that sort of thing turned out down in Mexico. Of course, this was the United States; still, she had heard stories. There might not be much difference—at least not as much as one might be led to believe. She knew enough about the DEA to guess they ran their business pretty much to suit themselves.

  As far as Tressa knew, all the authorities had on her so far were rumors and loose talk. According to Charlie Yazzie, they did have something more concrete on Abraham Garza. She was convinced that once they had Abe in their power they wouldn’t let him go back to Mexico at all…that was almost certain. Little Abe might not be turned loose for a long time. Maybe never. He had become crucial to her plan. No, the two of them had to make their move now. No one else had their best interest at heart—no one.

  She heard Little Abe stir behind her and turned to see him sitting up, wrapped in his blanket with one corner over his head like a hood; he looked across at her and frowned as he rubbed the sleep from one eye. “I wish you wouldn’t call me hombrecito, I’m almos’ twenty-two years old, you know” He stretched and made rough noises in his throat.

  “Yes
, yes you are, Abraham, and it’s time you started acting like it.” She waved an arm toward the back of the trailer. “Go wash up in that tiny little baño.” Let’s see what you can make of yourself this morning.” She turned back to the stove but could hear Abe muttering as he grabbed his clothes and shuffled off to the bathroom.

  “Jus’ once I would like to see a little respect,” he whispered under his breath, knowing he had not been so idle as Tressa thought. He’d lain awake half the night trying to figure a way around their dilemma. He had even tried formulating some sort of plan, but just when he seemed close to something, he had been rudely awakened, which caused him to forget the most important part. No matter, it would come to him eventually. In the meantime, he, also, was not so sure about Charlie Yazzie and his overbearing friend. In his mind he and Tressa owed their escape to only one man—the ever-dangerous Chewy Mariano. Abe believed as Tressa did, they must still be under the protective wing of Chewy’s father, Sancho—whether the old man was alive or not, was quite another matter.

  Tressa looked up as Abraham came back to the table, hair slicked back, usual grin in place. She sat the fuller of the two plates at his end of the table and motioned him to sit. “It’s not much, but there will be better days once we are in Mexico.”

  “I been thinking about that, Tressa.” Why do you think Chewy Mariano wants us to make it to Sonora so badly?”