Chee nodded in agreement. He wondered if it would surprise the feds to learn that Mr. Keevama had figured out who they were.
Keevama turned to Bernie, “I heard you were there when the bomb went off in Shiprock. Do they know who was responsible for that?”
“Not that I’ve heard. It’s still under investigation.”
Keevama rose. “I need to get home. I told my kids I’d bring them some cookies and I need to talk to them about what happened, make sure they’re not scared.”
Bernie rose, too. “I could use a cookie and some quiet myself. I’ll walk with you.”
Gradually, other delegates began to drift out. Chee looked fruitlessly for more bad behavior as he watched Palmer socialize. He wished the day had ended several hours ago.
Bernie took her cookies back to the motel room. When she went into the bathroom, she noticed the damp envelope next to the sink where Chee had left it. She opened it, planning to separate the money so it could dry. As she slipped out the limp hundreds she felt something fastened to one of the bills. She saw a yellow Post-it. Someone had printed on it in big block letters: “DOWN PAYMENT.”
24
Joe Leaphorn parked his truck a respectful distance from Mrs. Nez’s hogan and waited. Not much had changed.
“Are you sure this is the right house?”
“Ya.” He nodded in Louisa’s direction.
“I’m amazed that you could find it after all those years. You drove straight here.”
He hadn’t actually. He’d made a couple wrong turns that looped back to the road he wanted without his having to turn around. Louisa had been sleeping and hadn’t noticed.
He waited for the front door to open, but it didn’t. He saw no vehicles in the driveway either.
Louisa stretched in her seat. “Either nobody’s here or nobody wants to talk to you.”
Then, just as he had begun to consider leaving, a truck pulled up next to them with two women inside, an old one and an even older one who was driving.
The truck’s passenger cranked down her window, and Leaphorn lowered his. The warm air escaped quickly.
The woman driver leaned across the seat toward him and spoke in Navajo. “I remember you. I have been thinking about you after what happened to my grandson. Come inside and help us start the fire.” She moved her lips toward Louisa. “You come, too.”
Leaphorn was glad he kept some work gloves in the truck. It had been a long time, before his head injury, since he’d done much physical work. Splitting the firewood into burnable pieces got his blood moving. Louisa assisted with hauling it into the house, and they filled Mrs. Nez’s bins.
Mrs. Nez’s sister put the coffeepot on and then settled on the couch with what looked like a quilt under construction. When the coffee was ready, Mrs. Nez served them each a cup, already sugared. Louisa said she would sit by the fire with her book and let them talk. Leaphorn knew she’d want him to give her the details later.
Mrs. Nez opened the conversation in Navajo. “You still a policeman, or did you get too old?”
“I work now and then giving police officers advice and helping people with problems. Grandmother, do you remember how we met?”
She nodded. “You brought my grandson here to keep him safe when he was a little boy. You were kind to him.”
“There was another child at his mother’s place, a baby that cried a lot. When the ambulance took his mother to the hospital, they also took the baby with them. I could tell you had worries about him.”
“That one is dead now, too.” Mrs. Nez swallowed. “Gone a long time ago.”
Just as Butterfly’s notes had said.
Mrs. Nez stirred her coffee. “Why are you here?”
Leaphorn had anticipated the question. “The woman officer who talked to you about your grandson had some questions about what happened to him and she asked me to help. I knew you would be the best person to come to for the answers. I would like you to tell me about the one who died, how he grew up and what kind of a man he became. Because of my work as a policeman, I know he had some trouble.”
Mrs. Nez let the request and Leaphorn’s statement linger for several minutes, hanging in the air with the aroma of piñon and juniper from the fire. She sat back in her chair. She was thinking, Leaphorn knew, and missing the young man who had shared her home and her life.
“Yes, that grandson had trouble his whole life but he was a good boy. I called him Zoom because when he was little he liked to push those little toys cars around and he’d make that zooooom sound. So cute and funny.” Her smile faded. “Zoom’s mother would drink and find mean men. The boy would come to me. Then she would stop for a while, and Zoom would live with her. She loved him, but she loved beer better. By the time that second son came, she was using drugs, even though she lied about it, and had more boyfriends. One of those men hit the little one. When the baby died, she sank down further with more men, more drugs, more beer. Mrs. Nez looked past Leaphorn, out the window toward the mountains. “When the baby died, Zoom changed. He felt guilty. He thought he should have saved him, even though he was still a little boy himself.
“Zoom lived here with me here for a while, and that was good. His uncle, the one we called Bizaadii helped him, taught him how to be a Navajo. But then those people who think they know everything said that my grandson should be back with his mother.”
Leaphorn knew she meant the child welfare workers.
“He met some bad boys. He starting drinking, not going to school much, stealing little things, They said he tried to drive off in someone else’s car. I knew he was going around in cars he didn’t buy. When he had no place to live, he asked if he could stay with me again. We had a ceremony for him. He stopped drinking and smoking naakai binát’oh. He wanted to become a good man.”
Naakai binát’oh, Mexican cigarettes, marijuana, was common on the reservation even in Leaphorn’s early days as a policeman. It was as easy to find on the rez as it was in the rest of America.
Mrs. Nez sipped her coffee. “I forgot something. When Bizaadii moved away after the baby died, that’s when Zoom started having problems.”
Mrs. Nez sipped her coffee and Leaphorn used the pause to ask a question.
“Can you tell me about Bizaadii?” The nickname referred to someone who liked to talk.
Mrs. Nez nodded. “Did you know I had two daughters? The younger one, she had a baby in high school and that boy, we called him Rocket, stayed with me, too. Then she married the baby’s father, the one we called Bizaadii, and they moved away. But in Arizona it was just the three of them. No, the two of them, because her husband was at work or in school and didn’t have time for her or that boy. After they divorced, my daughter found a better man, that Mr. Lee. I thought he was Navajo when she told me his name. I never met him, but he’s a bilagaana like your lady.” Mrs. Nez turned her chin toward Louisa, who was engrossed in her book. “My daughter said he liked to wear a white cowboy hat. Mr. Lee treats my grandson Rocket real good but my daughter kicked him out because she still loves that Bizaadii. That’s all I have to say.”
Leaphorn watched Mrs. Nez raise her gaze to the window and the vast spaces of Navajoland beyond. He let the silence sit, watching the vehicles in the yard catch the cool fall sunlight. Then he spoke. “Officer Manuelito noticed that your grandson’s truck was here at the house, not at the gym where he got hurt. The officer thought his girlfriend might have picked him up.”
Mrs. Nez squeezed her lower lip with her teeth, then released it. “It could have been.”
“But it wasn’t, correct?”
“The girlfriend wanted to marry Zoom, but they couldn’t until he saved money, so they broke up last month. A few days before the big basketball game, Rocket came over. He was doing some work out here somewhere with Mr. Lee. He said Mr. Lee had a friend, a man with a funny name, who needed to hire someone who knew about cars. The next day my grandson went to Shiprock, and when he came back, his spirit was restless, like when he used to get into trouble
. I asked what worried him. At first he didn’t answer, but then he showed me money in an envelope. He said the job was putting something in a car and that he would be paid more after the job was done.”
Leaphorn straightened in his chair.
“I asked what he had to put in the car and whose car it was, and my grandson said the man would tell him at the basketball game. Zoom needed money, but the secret part made him nervous. That’s why he asked Rocket to pick him up to go to the game. He wanted to talk to Rocket about the job.”
Mrs. Nez looked at the back of her hands. “If it was something bad, I know my grandson wouldn’t do it. He left the envelope here with money to go back to the man.”
“Did you ever meet that man?”
Mrs. Nez said, “No, but I saw him once, just as I got to the house and he was leaving. A tall, thin bilagaana. He wore a white hat.”
She rose and refilled their cups. The liquid looked darker now and smelled more acidic. Leaphorn sipped the coffee, seeing the pieces of the puzzle fall into place and knowing what he had to ask next.
“Someone saw a man who looked like your grandson inside Mr. Palmer’s car before it blew up. Why would that be?”
Mrs. Nez’s face fell slack. She shook her head.
Leaphorn put his cup down. “Was your grandson angry with Bizaadii?”
“Not Zoom. Rocket was the angry one. Rocket wanted Mr. Lee to be his dad, and I know Mr. Lee treats him good. But my daughter said no because her heart still belonged to Bizaadii.”
Leaphorn told Mrs. Nez a little about the shooting that left him walking with the cane. After answering his questions, it seemed only fair that he answer hers—even those she left unspoken. They listened to the crackle of the wood in the stove and the gentle snoring of the sister, who had fallen asleep over her quilt.
As he rose to leave, Leaphorn recalled Bernie’s suspicion that Mrs. Nez had lied about Rick knowing Palmer. Mrs. Nez told Bernie that Rick never mentioned Aza Palmer, never said Palmer’s name.
“You and your daughter called Aza Palmer Bizaadii. Did Zoom call him that, too? Or did he call him Mr. Palmer, or Aza?”
She raised an eyebrow, surprised at the question. “He called him shidá’í. He called him uncle, of course.”
“Did Sergeant Chee take care of that envelope?”
“I don’t know.”
“I found it here with funny name on it, and I remembered Zoom said that he would have to go to the meeting in Tuba City to give it back. They wouldn’t let me in the meeting, so I gave it to Chee. I thought I could trust him.”
“I’ve trusted him with my life,” Leaphorn said. “I’m sure he did the right thing.”
As soon as he and Louisa left Mrs. Nez’s house, Leaphorn started an e-mail. He flinched at the idea of Louisa driving his truck, but he wanted to focus his full attention on writing what he needed to tell Bernie, including the strange notion of two bilagaanas in Mrs. Nez’s circle, each wearing a white cowboy hat.
25
A streamlined white coach the length of a small school bus arrived outside the Tuba City Justice Center. Chee and Dashee watched it pull into the parking lot.
Dashee looked at the sky, then back at the bus. “Half the population of Moenkopi would fit inside that thing. Where is your guy anyway?”
“Over there on the phone. Probably thinking about a cigarette before we leave.”
“No need to be in a hurry.” Dashee glanced overhead again. “The canyon will be foggy. No one will be able to see much.”
Chee looked at the sky, brilliant blue and crystal clear.
“Foggy, huh? Like in those movies filmed in San Francisco?”
“Like the ones where the ships are getting closer and closer to each other but the captain can’t see anything.” Dashee swooped his hands up from his sides and clapped them together. “Then, ka-BAM! I haven’t seen weather like this much. But when it comes, it’s usually in November. They call it an inverse weather system. Why don’t you mention it to Palmer?”
Chee said, “Why don’t you mention it? The day looks fine to me. You’re the one who lives out here.”
“You’re the bodyguard.”
“You’re the weather expert.”
“What are you two arguing about?” Sergeant Redbone’s voice startled Chee.
“We’re talking about the weather. Dashee predicts heavy fog.”
“Yeah, that fog is something. The whole canyon disappears. My wife was telling me how beautiful it looked on her drive to work this morning.”
“You found someone to marry you?” Chee laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day you got so lucky.”
“Believe it or not, she says she got lucky.”
Dashee said, “See, I know about fog. So, is your wife a park ranger?”
“No, she has a job in the big bookstore at the visitor center. She grew up out here, went to school in Flagstaff, got a degree in library science, worked in Prescott for a while, retired with a nice pension, and then took that gig at the canyon. That’s how I met her.” He turned to Chee. “After you found Bernie, I figured there was hope for this old bachelor, too. Is Bernie here?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you think Palmer knows about the fog?”
“No.” Chee looked at Dashee.
Dashee said, “It’s a blessing. Rare and beautiful.”
“Palmer and the delegates might not see it that way. They might just see clouds where the canyon used to be. Somebody should mention it.” Redbone looked at the bus. “Why didn’t he rent a smaller van?”
“Beats me,” Chee said.
Dashee said, “That’s one of the buses the tour companies use to drive people up to First Mesa for the Walpi tour. I guess Palmer wanted to make sure there was plenty of room for us cops to go, too. And Mr. Keevama is bringing his wife and kids. Maybe Palmer’s going to toss a bone to some of the protesters and let them ride along today to see the fog.”
Redbone angled his ample weight toward Chee. “You heard any more about the problem with the heat yesterday?”
“Yeah. Looks like it was vandalism, the same as the power going off. It should be working again tomorrow.”
“Wow. Any idea who did it?”
“No. Captain Largo told me the feds now think the young guy who died in the explosion might have links to the bomber after all. One of the witnesses saw him in the car before it exploded.”
I’m following the bus in my unit, just to be on the safe side.” Dashee chuckled. “Mr. Keevama has a meeting at two, so I’m going to drive him back here if the field trip runs long. I told his kids they could ride with me. They’re excited about being in a police car.”
Chee noticed Palmer motioning his way. “I gotta see what the man wants.”
Palmer got right to the point. “Delegate Jessica Atwell has to attend a teleconference with her husband and her mother-in-law’s doctors. The old lady is in a nursing home, and they have to make some emergency decisions about her care. She won’t be done in time to catch the bus with us. You need to wait here and then give her a ride out to the site. ”
“I have to stay with you. You know that, especially after the vandalism and the dead fish.”
“Help me out here, Chee. I can’t postpone the trip long enough for Atwell to take her call. She can’t drive herself because her husband has their car.”
“Why not go without her?”
“The delegates and I made a promise that everyone would have access to all the same information.” Palmer shifted his black bag to his other shoulder. “Do it. You hate this bodyguard stuff anyway.”
Chee said nothing.
“OK, then figure out how to solve this.”
“Ask someone else to be a chauffeur.”
More cars had pulled up. He saw Blankenship, with a hat pulled over his ears, and Duke, with his jacket unzipped, talking together. The information Bernie had shared from Leaphorn’s interview with Mrs. Nez fueled his dislike for Blankenship. And Duke was on his bad list from
last night’s escapade even though Palmer had gone with him willingly.
Protesters milled about. In addition to Save Wild America, Chee saw some homemade signs that read “Let the Fish Swim.” He noticed Bernie keeping an eye on things.
Palmer spoke quietly. “Have you heard anything about Robert?”
“Not yet. The nurse promised to call me if there’s any change.” Chee hesitated. “Any change for better or worse. Did someone brief you about the fog?”
“Fog?”
Chee explained what Dashee and Redbone had said about the weather. “Dashee said he’s seen this kind of fog before, and that it fills the canyon from rim to rim. With this and Atwell’s problem, you could—”
Palmer cut him off. “Cancel? No. This is the only day we have the bus. I can’t control the weather, and besides, the drive out there and back will help build camaraderie. What about Bernie? Could she chauffer Atwell?”
“I don’t make decisions for her. You can ask her. She’s over there.”
Chee noticed how Palmer stood a bit straighter as they walked toward Bernie. And he noticed that his pretty wife didn’t notice.
“Hey, Bernie, I need a little favor.”
“First, how’s Robert?”
“No change.”
“Well, that means he’s not worse.”
Palmer said, “Could you give Ms. Atwell a ride out to the proposed development site?” He explained the reason.
Chee said, “Dashee is driving the Hopis and the feds will be on the bus with me. It might be good to have the unit out there.”
Bernie said, “Will there be lunch?”
Palmer explained that he had arranged for a food truck. “That’s why Duke is here. He and his mom are cooking and serving. Come on, Manuelito. Atwell has me in a bind.”
“OK. I’d like to see the site.” She smiled at him. “Great jacket, by the way. I love the turquoise.”
Palmer put his hands in his pockets. “These coats last forever.” He gave her Atwell’s phone number. “She will meet you in the hotel lobby as soon as she’s done. I’m going to start loading the bus.”
Song of the Lion Page 24