Shooting Chant

by Aimée

  “Try to remember. Did you see anything else around the car besides the handgun, maybe matches, a lighter, or a burning cigarette. Anything at all?” Ella knew her team hadn’t found any of those things in the car, on the victim, or around the car.

  Jimmie thought about it a moment. “All I remember seeing beside the car was a pistol, a semiauto.”

  “Did you ever see him smoke? How did he light his cigarettes?” Justine asked, obviously following her boss’s line of thought.

  “Yes, I’ve seen him smoke. He usually lit up as soon as he reached his car, and sometimes it was parked where I could see him from the gate. But not the day he died, I’m not sorry to say.” He shuddered. “But let me answer your question. He had this fancy silver lighter his wife gave him when they first got married. He showed it to me once. It had his initials on it.”

  “Okay,” Ella nodded. “Now tell me about the man. What did you know about him?” she asked, avoiding the name of the dead out of respect since they were at a traditionalist’s medicine hogan.

  “I knew very little about him. He’d had another beef with Doctor Landreth recently, I know that. They were always arguing about how to do things, and Morgan had to intercede at times.”

  “Morgan, the security chief?”

  “Yes. Landreth is supposed to be his boss, but, from what I can tell, Morgan is the one who has the final word on just about everything.”

  Ella made a mental note to get backgrounds on Morgan and Landreth as soon as possible, and see what happened to that lighter. Maybe it was important, maybe not.

  As Jimmie left in his truck to go back to work, Justine watched his vehicle disappear from view. “That lighter wasn’t at the scene or on the victim. Do you suppose somebody took it?”

  “It wouldn’t have been Jimmie, or any other Navajo for that matter. If it was missing from the scene, some Anglo took it. But before we assume that, get Sheriff Taylor’s permission and go take a look in Hansen’s house. He might have left it at home that day.”

  “I’ll also find out what his ex-wife has to say. Maybe he left it over at her place,” Justine said. After a brief silence, she added, “I wonder if the people at LabKote realize that no Navajo will ever use that parking lot again. They’ll park half a mile away if they have to, but they’re not going anyplace that’s been contaminated by the dead. Let’s face it. Even our progressives usually aren’t that progressive,” she added with a smile.

  “You’re right,” Ella admitted grudgingly. That aversion was still there even for people like Justine, Carolyn, and her. The only difference was that duty forced them to deal with it.

  FOUR

  Ella sat at her desk accessing credit reports and other background information on the LabKote supervisors, especially Landreth and Morgan. Landreth had been very nervous at the scene, which was understandable under the circumstances, but he’d also seemed particularly anxious to establish Hansen’s death as a suicide. It was possible he’d only had the company’s best interest at heart, but it still set off a warning bell.

  Morgan, on the other hand, was almost too cool and confident. He’d either seen violence and death before, or was playing the role expected of someone who carried a weapon as part of their job. She’d seen the false bravado of many rent-a-cops and rookie officers.

  Ella picked up her cell phone, and managed to get Landreth on the line after only two transfers. “I have a few more questions I’d like to ask you,” she said.

  “I have nothing more to say to you.” he replied.

  “I’m conducting an investigation, Doctor Landreth. I can haul you to the station if you prefer.”

  “Look, I’m in the middle of something here. The guy you should talk to is Morgan. I know the science end of things, but he knows this operation down to the last detail.”

  “Will you connect me to him now?”

  “I can’t. He’s at home. I’ll get in touch with him, then have him call you.”

  Ella refused to accept his answer and continued to press him until finally Landreth got Morgan on another line, and connected them.

  “Come to my apartment,” Morgan told her. “We can talk here.”

  It took almost a half hour to get to Morgan’s residence, actually one unit of a duplex located just northeast of Glade Park in the city of Farmington.

  Ella pulled up into the steep sloped concrete driveway, parking beside Morgan’s vehicle, a nondescript brown pickup with New Mexico tags. She noted the empty gun rack behind the seat, which, in this part of the country, often held an emergency fishing pole, in case the urge to angle became overwhelming.

  Ella noted the address on the mailbox but the absence of Morgan’s name. Perhaps he’d never gotten around to it, or the place was new to him.

  Ella was about to use the brass knocker on the front door when Morgan opened the door.

  “Special Investigator Clah, please come in. I had one of my men bring over the personnel files the company keeps on Doctor Landreth and myself, and you’re welcome to look them over. How about a cold one?” As he gestured toward a bottle of beer on the coffee table, she noticed the prominent scar on his left arm, just below his wrist.

  “No thanks. Still on the job.” Ella said, looking around. There were no decorations or paintings on the wall above the cloth sofa, just an American flag flanked by photos of Morgan in a marine dress uniform and desert combat gear, and a framed set of service ribbons and insignia.

  “So, you were a marine. Serve in Desert Storm?” Ella wasn’t surprised, already suspecting he had a military background.

  “That’s affirmative. I spent weeks training in the sand, then cruised around on an assault ship while we threatened to invade. The whole thing was a feint, of course. Later we made our advance, but by the time our unit got to Kuwait City, most of the Iraqis had taken off across the desert. Except for a sniper here and there, we didn’t see much real action.”

  “How’d you pick up that scar?” Ella looked at his arm again.

  His eyes darkened for a moment as he touched the scar, then he smiled. “From a marine, no less. We had a difference of opinion, and settled it behind our LAV. That’s one of our assault vehicles. I got the best of him, but it never got into our records.”

  “How did you end up in New Mexico?” Ella looked at the file folders Morgan had placed on the coffee table, but didn’t pick them up. She preferred to hear it from Morgan first, then compare the spoken and written versions.

  “I’m here as a result of the job.”

  As she walked and passed an open doorway, Ella saw an assault rifle on the table and a shotgun was propped up against the wall. She stopped in mid-stride.

  “They’re both legal,” he said, following her gaze.

  “Are all your guards at LabKote this well armed?” Ella asked. “It seems a bit much unless you’re expecting Indian attacks.”

  “My men carry what’s needed for their duties, but we always keep a little extra firepower in reserve in case somebody goes postal. Nothing for the public or police to worry about though, I run a tight security staff.”

  “Where did you work before you came to LabKote?” Ella asked, keeping her tone casual.

  “When I left the marines, I did some security work in Europe for several years, then I came back to the States. When I met Landreth and heard about LabKote, I signed on. The rest is history.”

  Morgan sat down his empty Coors bottle, and gestured toward the files. “It’s all in there, one place or the other.”

  “I’ll look over the papers in a minute,” Ella said, sitting on the sofa. What do you personally know about Dr. Landreth?”

  “He grew up in California, middle-class, and went to UCLA and got degrees in biochemistry and physics. He had his own company for a while, but it didn’t work out, so he decided to do something different. He and I clicked from the start, and it wasn’t long before we were working together.”

  Morgan stood and crossed his arms. “That’s pretty much it. You can read the f
iles about the rest.” He walked into the kitchen area, and took another Coors from the refrigerator.

  “What about your family?” Ella picked up Morgan’s folder, and noticed he’d listed the names of his parents, but no addresses or phone numbers. No other relatives were mentioned either.

  Morgan seemed to think about it for a while before answering. When he did, his voice was without expression. “I lost contact with my parents and my only sister several years ago. We never got along much anyway. I don’t even know where they live now.”

  She couldn’t even imagine being without family. “Were you ever married?” Ella probed a little further.

  “That’s where it becomes none of your or LabKote’s business. I don’t discuss that part of my past.” Morgan’s tone suddenly became confrontational. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me about your personal life?” he added, deliberately looking her up and down with cold appraisal.

  It was a creepy feeling. “I think I’ve heard enough. Let me take a pass through these files, then I’ll be leaving.”

  Ella began to write down phone numbers and Landreth’s address. She’d confirm these records from other sources, then leave it at that unless something pointed back at the two supervisors as suspects.

  Five minutes later, she thanked Morgan for his time, and left. There was more to learn about Morgan, that was for sure. She sensed that behind the loner stood a man struggling to deal with his own demons. But Ella knew that unless Morgan became more connected to the case, looking further into what made the man tick would become an unpleasant experience, as well as a waste of time.

  * * *

  Hours later, after plowing through a stack of paperwork on her desk, Ella finally took a break. She was standing by the window when Justine came into her office and sat down, a worried look on her face.

  “I spoke with Hansen’s ex-wife briefly on the phone. She works in Aztec, and her number was in Hansen’s file. She said that she rarely saw her ex-husband and that was the way she wanted it. She also told me that the lighter’s a silver-plated Zippo with the initials “K. H.” on it, and wasn’t really worth very much.”

  “Now some bad news,” Justine continued. “Myrna Manus is on the war path. She’s got a list of fifteen missing patient files, and some of those belong to influential people, like Senator Yellowhair’s wife, Abigail.” She stopped and, looking decidedly uncomfortable, added, “Your medical file is one of those missing.”

  Ella felt a tightening in her chest, knowing what was in the file now. This wasn’t the way she wanted news of her pregnancy to get out. She wanted a chance to let Kevin and her family know first, then she’d tell others.

  “Did Myrna give us a complete list of everything that’s missing?”

  Justine nodded. “Big Ed has a copy.”

  As Justine finished speaking, Ella’s buzzer sounded.

  Ella was in Big Ed’s office a few moments later. Seated in front of his desk, she regarded him silently.

  “Your medical records file is missing. Can you think of a reason someone might be interested in it?”

  “No, not at all,” she replied. “But I doubt they were after information on me. I may have just been part of a handful they picked up. They took fifteen. Maybe that was all they could carry.” That was the only explanation that made sense to her. She really didn’t see any reason to have to tell Big Ed right now that she was pregnant. There’d be time enough for that later.

  “So, why the break-in, and the theft of records? Any theories yet?” Big Ed clipped.

  “Maybe blackmail, or a legal advantage? I was thinking of injury or paternity suits and that sort of thing. Getting privileged information could be handy for someone hoping to make a few dollars or stir up trouble.”

  Big Ed nodded thoughtfully. “You may be right. Get in touch with Kevin Tolino and appraise him of what’s happening. I want the police department’s role in this to be clear, because Myrna’s convinced the clinic could be sued by the patients whose records have been compromised. Those files are supposed to be confidential.”

  “I’ll let Kevin know.”

  “Keep pushing for answers on this burglary, Shorty. Senator Yellowhair will be calling me the second he learns his wife’s records were taken. I can already feel him breathing down my neck.”

  Ella left the office and went directly to her vehicle. She first tried to reach Kevin on her cell phone, but his secretary told her he was in court. Determined to have something new to report to Big Ed later, she drove over to her brother’s home, which was within a few miles of her mother’s, but farther back from the highway. Clifford, one of the tribe’s best-known medicine men, was always in contact with The People and often knew things long before the police.

  She drove across the juniper- and piñon-littered desert slowly and maneuvered down the last section of the meandering dirt track leading to his home. Clifford was outside the medicine hogan by the time she arrived. He’d undoubtedly heard the vehicle a mile or more away on the rough road and had stepped outside to see who was approaching. He waited for her now in front of the wool blanket covering the entrance.

  Ella parked, then went to join him as he waved for her to come inside.

  “I’ve been expecting you,” he said, motioning for her to sit down on one of the sheepskin hides used as both cushion and blanket.

  “You heard about the break-in at the clinic?”

  “Yes, but there are more important things happening on the Rez than that burglary. The traditionalists are saying that Anglo ways are undermining our tribe and they have started a movement to close the reservation to Anglos, except for tourists. They want companies like the ones that own the mines, and LabKote, ousted.”

  “The Dineh need the jobs those companies bring, brother. Without work, many would have to take charity from the tribe or move off the Navajo Nation in search of employment. The land can’t support everyone as farmers and herdsmen. Why can’t our traditionalists face up to that fact?”

  He shook his head slowly. “What they see is our people losing track of who they are and becoming just like the Anglos, and that frightens them.”

  “Change can be frightening,” she admitted.

  “More so for the old ones. They feel as if their ways and everything they value is becoming obsolete.” Clifford gave her a long, thoughtful look. “But this isn’t why you came here today, is it?”

  “No, it’s not,” she admitted. “I need a favor. I’d like you to keep your eyes and ears open for me. I may need help to solve that break-in at the clinic. The privacy of many Navajos has been threatened.”

  “I haven’t heard anything about that yet, but maybe I will.”

  “I’d also like for you to help me defuse another situation, brother. This business with the animals, which began with the agricultural society competition, is getting out of hand. Most of the victims have been progressives, and the circumstances strongly suggest traditionalists are behind these acts. You might as well know that I’m going to start rousting the people that are suspected of being involved in the livestock killings. Maybe I can impress on them that what they’re doing is illegal, and that it’s helping no one.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can to help you. I don’t like what’s happened anymore than you do,” Clifford said. “But I’d like you to do something for me.”

  “Name it.”

  “Mom wants us all to go to our family shrine tonight before supper. I know she’ll forgive you if you can’t go, but I’d really like you to try and be there. This is her first long hike outdoors. She’ll be taking her cane, of course, but she’s worked really hard to get herself to this point. It’s her first sign of independence after almost an entire year of physical therapy. It would mean a great deal to her to have her two children beside her this evening.”

  “I know and I’ll do my best to be there.” Ella stared at the charcoal in the fire pit, trying to organize her thoughts. His mention of children had brought her thoughts back to her own pregnancy
. “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” she said slowly. With her own baby on the way, there were other matters she needed to pay closer attention to as well. “Do you remember the details of the legacy said to be part of our family’s history?”

  He nodded slowly. “How could I ever forget? Loretta and I are getting a lot of pressure from her family to have another child because of it. Many traditionalists feel it’s foolish and dangerous not to obey the requirement our ancestors set down for us to always have two children. They believe it could endanger our neighbors and maybe even the tribe.”

  “But you did have two kids,” Ella said softly, remembering Loretta’s first child, who was stillborn.

  “The traditionalists who have spoken to me recently, and one is the grandmother of your lawyer friend, feel the legacy calls for two living children.” Clifford stared at the sand before him. “Be honest. Does it ever bother you knowing people are watching us—waiting to see if the legacy will hold true for us?”

  “I’ve never given it much thought. I’m not even sure what that legacy entails. Mom told me everything once, but it was a long time ago, and I don’t remember most of it. But since it’s something many of the traditionalists believe about us, and since I’m dealing with a lot of them now, I figured it was a good time to refresh my memory.”

  It wasn’t the whole truth, but Clifford didn’t need to know the rest yet. The real reason she wanted to know was because she remembered enough to know that the legacy centered on the children, and she needed to know about anything that might have an impact on her child. “Can you tell me what you know?” she pressed.

  “Of course.” He started to say more when her cell phone rang.

  Ella answered it and heard Justine’s voice. “I need to meet with you. I’ve been processing the little evidence we managed to get at the burglary scene, and I’ve turned up something interesting.”