Day of the Dead

by R. Allen Chappell

  “I’ve been a little busy, Fred, and I haven’t seen the morning briefing as yet, that generally doesn’t go out until the Albuquerque office opens at eight. I’m guessing the Bureau thinks this might be connected to the shooting at the funeral home yesterday; anything new on that, Fred? I expected the FBI to be all over it by now.”

  “We are ‘all over it,’ Bobby, and as soon as we find something we can hang a hat on, I’ll be first to let you know.” The FBI man grimaced, “Sheriff Dudd Schott found the funeral director tied up in a closet. The man was incoherent and his story still doesn’t add up. We are trying to get that straightened out right now.”

  Charlie thought things might be going off track between the agents and changed the direction of the conversation. “Bob, what’s the latest on Sancho Mariano—still hanging on I hope?”

  The DEA Agent redirected his gaze toward the Legal Services Investigator and smiled. “It was touch and go last night, according to the hospital. The doctor didn’t see how the old man could last till morning—this is the second time he’s thought that. Mexicans can be incredibly tough people. I expect you know that from your past run-in with Luca Tarango.” He smiled at Charlie. “Much like Indians, I guess.”

  Billy Red Clay couldn’t help grinning at this and lifted an eyebrow at the investigator.

  Charlie fixed the agent with a thoughtful gaze of his own. “Well, I hope you’re right about that Bob…I know a couple who may be about to find out how tough they are.”

  Fred Smith looked up at the big clock above the cash register then with a frown, double checked his watch as he pushed his plate back and announced, “Gentlemen, I’ve got to get back to the office. We have some high-level people coming in from Albuquerque this morning.” He gave them all a searching look before going on. “At the moment, the Bureau is not directing any major attention to yesterday’s incident at the funeral home. The local authorities seem to think they have that well in hand. We won’t interfere unless we hear otherwise.” The FBI man winked. “…But that could change.”

  Billy Red Clay took this as a cue and wiping his mouth on his napkin he, too, pushed back his chair and rose from the table, eyes now fastened on the retreating back of the Senior FBI Agent. Billy took his job as Tribal Liaison Officer seriously. “There’s something I need to go over with Fred on the Ashki matter.” He looked down at Charlie. “We’ll talk later, maybe by then I’ll know more about how the Captain is doing.” And with this, Billy headed for the front entryway—just as Fred looked back and held the door for him. A cold blast of sand-laden wind peppered both men, causing Billy to curse as he caught the door and then slammed it shut behind them.

  When they were alone Bob Freeman appeared more at ease as he smiled and looked across the table at Charlie. The agent pointed a finger. “You’ve still got our package I assume…” then watched as Charlie took a sip of coffee and swallowed hard.

  The investigator coughed, pretending the drink was hotter than it actually was. He touched a napkin to his mouth and nodded at the agent. “As far as I know Bob, they are safe and secure—last I saw of them anyway. I’ll be heading that direction right after breakfast.”

  Freeman frowned. “No one’s with them now?”

  “No, Bob, if you’ll remember, you wanted my part in this kept confidential. That’s what I’m doing. I can’t be everywhere at once, I do have a job you know.” Charlie kept his tone as agreeable as possible but hoped he’d made himself clear in the matter. He had a feeling Bob had something else he hadn’t touched on yet this morning; he intended to remain noncommittal until he found out what that might be.

  “Charlie, I had a long talk with the federal prosecutor yesterday and he’s willing to cut a deal for Abraham Garza. If he offers full disclosure of his connection to the Sinaloa Cartel, we’ll have some touchstones to guide us in assessing the veracity of that, and I’ll make clear to him the ramifications of not adhering to his agreement.”

  “So, the prosecutor would be offering government protection to both Garza Sr. and his son?” Charlie thought that had been the DEA’s original goal.

  Bob Freeman fidgeted and looked away for a moment. “That’s what we were asking for, Charlie—immunity for both father and son. Unfortunately, about midnight last night we were informed Abraham Garza Sr. was found dead in a field outside his home. Neighbors said he was lured out by calls from someone he took to be his son. From all reports the old man had been drinking and was not his usual cautious self.” Bob couldn’t disguise the bitterness in his voice as he went on, “That leaves us with just one card—Abraham Jr.—he’s all we’ve got now and that might not be enough. We still have the Espinosas’ bartender on ice and his cousin, too, of course, but they were not privy to the kind of information Garza Sr. had…or the son either, for that matter.” Here the agent’s voice took on an air of satisfaction. “The cousin, who was the bar’s bouncer, and found badly beaten if you’ll remember, is willing to testify he picked up Little Abe at the border, along with a suitcase full of narcotics, and delivered him to the Espinosas. We’ve got Junior dead to rights, Charlie. One way or another he’s not going anywhere…just one more reason for him to do business with us…or face some pretty serious time. You might let him know that. I honestly think you have a chance to persuade the man, and that’s why we’re giving you first shot at him. It might take us—God knows how long—to convince him to cooperate, and as you can see, my friend, time is truly of the essence.”

  Charlie remained quiet as he processed this new development and how it might affect everyone involved, including himself. It was obvious now the DEA was not going to let Abraham Garza go anywhere…not if they could help it. Agent Freeman, despite his vote of confidence, would most likely be tracking Charlie when he left the café this morning.

  Freeman sensed the investigator’s hesitation and was quick to point out, “We figure Little Abe might be more willing than ever to cooperate—revenge being what it is for those people down there. But it might take two or three days to bring him around. You can do this, Charlie, and save everyone a lot of wear and tear.”

  Charlie Yazzie just looked at him. “I notice there’s no mention of protection for Tressa Tarango?”

  Bob sighed. “We don’t have any intention of charging the Tarango woman with anything at this point…though if she comes up in the investigation of yesterday’s shooting, the local law might detain her for questioning or maybe even longer as a witness. Old Sancho Mariano was adamant the woman had nothing to do with the Espinosa murders in Colorado. If she’s out of here pretty quick she could be totally in the clear once she’s in Mexico.”

  “What about those shooters yesterday? It looked to me like they were out to kill both her and Abraham. We don’t know where they are now or where they might show up, including Mexico.” The question remained in the investigator’s eyes even after he grew silent.

  “That’s pretty much out of our hands. We have the prosecutor’s word for Garza Jr. and that’s it.” Bob cleared his throat and became even more reticent, “The woman’s situation could, admittedly, involve some risk, however, there’s still one thing we haven’t touched on. From the early ramblings of Sancho Mariano, our agents believe his son, Chewy, may have been sent after the pair as a safeguard.” The agent narrowed an eye at the investigator. “The deposition from the funeral director seems to indicate the presence of a third party; the day of the shooting, someone may have intervened on our little friends’ behalf. If that’s true, and I’m not altogether sure it is, we would be interested in him as well. Chewy Mariano is well up in the Sonora hierarchy, and while he’s flown under the radar for years, he and his brother recently came to DEA attention as this clash between the two families heated up.”

  “You think this Chewy Marino is shadowing Abe and the woman with a view to keeping them safe?” Charlie sounded doubtful. “Even if Abe goes under witness protection—do you really think this man will continue looking out for Tressa?” Personally, Charlie thought this hig
hly unlikely, but was interested in what spin the agent might put on it.

  Freeman chuckled. “Chewy Mariano is as tough as they come, Charlie…more than a match for the Sinaloa boys. As for Fred’s report this morning, the one regarding the discovery of the Hispanic male’s body, I’m inclined to think there are only two of those attackers left out there…and at least one of the two may be wounded as well. Chewy Mariano is sure to hold those boys responsible for what happened to his father; there’s no doubt in my mind about that.” Bob smacked the table. He’ll try to take those two out and that’s for damn sure.” With a wry smile the agent went on. “With a little luck, Ms. Tarango could get clear of this entire mess…wind up scot-free south of the border.”

  Charlie toyed with this thought for a moment, considering the information in the spirit it was offered, which is to say, in the best interest of Drug Enforcement. It didn’t take him long to come to a conclusion—one he’d had in the back of his mind for some time. “Let me talk to them this morning, Bob, they’ve come to trust me I think…at least to a point. Maybe I can convince Abraham that coming in is his best option given the alternatives.” He didn’t sound convinced and his hesitation was clear when he said, “If Abraham Garza’s amenable to your offer, I’ll bring him in to you this afternoon. I tend to agree it’s his best way out.”

  “And if he’s not interested?” Bob leaned forward in his chair. “I can come with you Charlie, you might need a little support out there; I may be able to help you convince him. ”

  Charlie immediately shook his head. “No, Bob, that probably wouldn’t work—if they see you with me, they’ll think I’ve already sold them down the river.”

  Bob saw a kernel of wisdom in what Charlie was saying and nodded finally. He did, however, have one final inducement he thought might further encourage the investigator to sway young Abraham Garza. “You know, Yazzie, our office in Albuquerque has an opening coming up soon. Field Supervisor at that…not like starting at the bottom, Charlie…hell, not like that at all. A man of your training and experience would be a shoo-in for the position; especially with just the right words of recommendation here and there.” The agent paused. “I could promise you, the pay would be well above what you make now. I expect our agency would jump at the chance to have you on board.” Bob Freeman watched carefully to see what sort of impression this might be making and was secretly pleased.

  ~~~~~~

  Charlie smiled to himself as he left the Drug Enforcement agent still standing in the parking lot staring after him. He thought Bob looked a little grim and knew for a fact the agent would attempt to follow him. Bob Freeman means to take Abraham Garza regardless, and Charlie was glad he’d taken the precaution the night before—asking Thomas Begay to move both Mexicans to safer quarters—and could only hope that had been done.

  The Legal Services Investigator considered Bob’s job offer genuine, despite the motivation behind it. It would please Sue to think he was coming around in regard to relocating off the reservation. Still, he was afraid she had it in her head they could always come back should things not work out in the city. Charlie himself knew otherwise. Deciding to make so drastic a change would indeed open new horizons for them—but there would be no returning to anything like the life they’d left behind. It might be a decision they would come to regret down the road. Charlie would be giving up a position that took years of hard work to attain; he would never come back to anything like it. Granted, the move could be good for the children, but they might lose in some respects, as well. A number of Charlie’s Indian friends at university had grown up in Albuquerque and he knew very few who retained any semblance of their native culture. It was a conundrum widely debated in sociology, and even in anthropology classes, but never with any real conclusions reached. Moving would be a life-altering decision for his family and once done would change everything forever, especially for the children.

  20

  The Run

  Clouds dark as slate billowed out of the northwest spitting what eventually would turn to snow. Too early for that, Charlie thought, but there it was. He turned on the wipers and settled in for the drive to Alfred Nakii’s place. He thought it might be worth risking a quick stop at Lucy Tallwoman’s house to see if Thomas had taken care of their problem. The investigator sometimes had to remind himself it was not Thomas’s house; even Thomas would have thought such thinking unseemly, if not outright presumptuous. For the more traditional folks it would always be Lucy’s house—regardless how great her husband’s contribution. Thomas Begay would always live there only at his wife’s indulgence, and subject to being divorced or ordered out, should she become displeased enough with him. Considering Thomas’s past, however, and the fact he was still there at all, made this was an unlikely scenario going forward. At this point in their relationship, Lucy considered them “stuck together” as the old people would say. For the traditionalist this was how the Dinés’ matriarchal culture was structured and in their world, it remained the way of the Diné.

  Charlie turned off the highway and was nearly halfway to the house when he saw Thomas making his way up from the corrals. He’d been watching for his children to bring the sheep down and just happened to see Charlie turn off the highway. The investigator eased his pickup into four-wheel drive and allowed it to labor through the slippery adobe mud in first gear. The investigator rolled down the passenger side window; Thomas leaned in, removing his wet hat in the process and tossing it in the seat. He rested his arms on the window frame. “You’re headed up to the stash-house?” Thomas, lifting a forearm to brush the rain from his face, smiled briefly at his own joke,

  Charlie nodded and motioned the tall Navajo to get in. Thomas unfolded his long legs and relaxed back against the seat with a sigh. “Harley Ponyboy came by here yesterday. That’s after he had that little blowout with you about Paul T’Sosi—he told Lucy he might know where her father is.” Thomas scratched his head and watched the ridge above the corrals as his kids brought the sheep skittering down through the slop.

  “So, where’s Harley now?”

  “I dunno’. I had the sheep for a while yesterday and missed seeing him, otherwise I’d have gone with him—whether he liked it or not. You know how tight they were. Harley considers Paul his spiritual advisor. He depends on him to help keep his hozo in order, and on the Beauty Path…just life in general, I guess. We all do, I suppose.” Thomas paused, recalling some fleeting thought from the past. “Do you remember that time when the two of them came into all that money and no one could figure out where it came from…most still don’t know? Well, only last week, Harley told me it came from money and jewelry buried by Paul’s uncle, Elmore Shining Horse. Elmore had been dead a while at that point and I guess when they were digging it up, Paul told Harley the old Singer didn’t want it to go to his wife and her kids.” Thomas smiled. “They were all drunkards, he told Harley. When the older Singer passed away no one even knew he was gone for a long time—his wife and those kids buried him at night. She never would tell no one where, neither. Everyone knew Elmore had plenty of money and when Paul finally figured out where he buried it, he said he and Harley might as well have that money…it wasn’t doing anyone any good where it was.”

  Thomas looked around the clearing. “That was when Paul told Harley where he wanted to wind up when he died—the same place Elmore had wanted to end up. Told him how to get there too. You know, in case he couldn’t make it by himself.” Thomas pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.

  Charlie watched from the corner of an eye, without saying anything other than “Hmm…”

  Thomas put the hanky away and clearing his throat, went on. “You know how Harley is when he likes someone; he didn’t want to hear that kind of talk from the old man, but Paul told him anyway.” Thomas shifted his wet jacket against the Naugahyde seat covers and went on with his story. “So, Harley tells Lucy he thinks he knows where her father might be…and why. He said Paul told him a long time ago where he wanted to go when his
time came. That’s when Harley told her he was going up there to see if he could find him.” Thomas shook his head and couldn’t say much for a moment. “Harley thinks a lot of that old man.”

  Charlie put his head back against the seat and rubbed his forehead with the back of one hand. He thought he felt the precursor to another headache coming on; the second one in two days. He didn’t say anything as he waited for Thomas to continue his story; he already had a pretty good idea where it was going.

  “Anyways, he refused to take Lucy with him when she asked. He said Paul wouldn’t want that.’ Harley was pretty sure, at that point, he was going to be too late to help Paul anyhow.”

  Charlie nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that’s just a bitch, isn’t it? Did Harley say how far he thought it was…or how long he thought he’d be gone?”

  “Not really, but he mentioned it would take him all day just to get up in that country. That’s even knowing where the old man was heading; he still figured it would take some time to locate him after he got there.” Thomas spit out the window. “You know Harley…if the old man’s up there, he’ll find him.”

  Thomas seemed lost in thought for a moment, but Charlie got the impression there was more to it than that. After a long pause, his friend finally got around to it. “I know you asked me last night to go move those two people someplace different until you could get some sort of commitment from the DEA. But Lucy was so upset over Paul; I almost called you back and said I couldn’t go. That’s when Uncle John dropped by…right out of the blue; I guess you’d say. John mentioned he was on his way back from Shiprock—Council business, he said—and thought he’d just drop by and see us. He didn’t seem to be in any big hurry, so I ask him if he would mind running up to Alfred’s place and see what he could do about moving those two desperados somewhere safer.” Thomas chuckled, “You know Uncle John; when someone needs help he can’t refuse. He said he’d do it—said he’d always been curious what kind of woman Luca Tarango’s wife was for the man to go to all that trouble trying to get her back, killing all those people and all.”