Mourning Dove

by Aimée

  “Has he agreed?”

  “He agreed to work on it—most of the stuff is copyrighted in his name—but he won’t let anyone else handle the materials. He said that it’s his personal collection and he doesn’t want any of it out of his sight.”

  “Security-conscious. Interesting. Let’s go pay him a visit. Maybe Ford can help us.” Ella picked up the folder containing the copies she’d made of Jimmy’s story, then headed out the door with Justine.

  As they drove up the mesa, to the north side of Shiprock, Ella glanced across at Justine, who was behind the wheel, and began thinking out loud. “Here’s what I don’t get. Jimmy’s brother is an officer. So why didn’t Jimmy send him the story? If he was trying to tell law enforcement about criminal or illegal activities, wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to contact Samuel?”

  “Samuel’s with the Farmington PD, not the tribe. Maybe that plays into it.”

  “Okay, but if that matters—why? Is something going on here on our land that ties in to what happened overseas? But what on earth could our carjackings have to do with anything going on in Iraq? Soldiers from his unit weren’t here when the carjackings started.”

  “I don’t have a clue. If there’s a connection, I don’t see it either.”

  Before long they arrived at the Christian church that Justine attended regularly. They parked in a large lot south of the main entrance, which faced west, and walked through a side door into a one-story wing containing meeting rooms for Sunday School classes. Reverend Campbell was on the phone in a small office and waved at them as they walked by.

  Justine took Ella across the hall to the second office, but no one was inside. “Maybe Reverend Tome’s out on a call,” Justine said.

  “I don’t think so,” Ella said. “I remember seeing two cars out there when we pulled up, and if I remember correctly, the custodian here drives a pickup.”

  Reverend Campbell came up to them from behind. The Anglo preacher was in his mid-fifties, with thick, bushy eyebrows that really contrasted against his baldness. “Are you looking for Reverend Tome?” Seeing Ella nod, he added, “We’re having a problem with a water leak in the garden, and he’s outside trying to fix it. Our custodian went to Farmington to get one of our pulpits repaired, and the soonest we’ll be able to get a plumber in here is tomorrow, so Ford said he’d figure it out. He’s in the garden on the southeast side of the chapel working on it now.” He gave them a skeptical smile. “God help us all.”

  After thanking him, they walked around the building and found Reverend Tome trying to fix an outside faucet attached to the wall about two feet up from the ground.

  As Ella approached, she heard him mutter something incomprehensible, then whack the open-end wrench he’d attached to the faucet with a monkey wrench. Suddenly water sprayed out in all directions like a sprinkler head.

  “Tighten the nut, or turn off the handle!” Ella yelled, turning away from the spray.

  “Water is off! But the nut’s on crooked. If I pry it off, there’s gonna be a flood!” he said, sputtering water.

  “Where’s the cut-off valve?” Ella asked, ducking and trying to avoid the main spray of water that was quickly turning the sand under her feet into a muddy soup.

  “Down at the street where the water meter is? I’m not sure.”

  Ella crouched next to him and tried to turn the wrench. It must have been hammered into place because she couldn’t budge it. The nut below was cracked and obviously cross-threaded. Soaked, Ella turned to Justine as she ducked to one side to keep the spray from shooting right up into her face. “Find Reverend Campbell. See if there’s a water-cut off where the hot water heater is. If not, get the water key, run down to the street, and turn off all the water.”

  Ford wrapped his hand around the nut and wrench to block out the spray. “I can fix this. Just give me a minute to back the nut off a few turns.”

  Ella grabbed his arm. “The nut is cracked. When it breaks loose the faucet’s going to fall off. Let’s wrap an old towel or rag over the leak and slow it down until Justine gets the water turned off.”

  As soon as the reverend let go to find a towel, the collar nut dropped off in two pieces. The pressure pushed the faucet right off the pipe, and water shot straight out like a fire hose. Reverend Tome hugged the wall, trying to stem the flow with the palm of his hand, but water sprayed everywhere. Ella looked around, desperate to find something that would plug the pipe. She saw a big, flat rock, one of several positioned around a young tree, and ran over to grab it. Maybe they could hold it against the pipe hard enough to reduce the flow to a trickle.

  “Hold this against the pipe,” she yelled, returning with the rock. He looked up and smiled, his face soaked, hair dripping down over his eyes. Just then, the water stopped.

  “Is it off?” Reverend Campbell shouted, sticking his head out an open window.

  “Yes!” Ella answered, then glanced over at Tome, who was looking down at the muddy pool they were both squatting in. He might have been a genius with a computer or pencil and paper, but his IQ obviously took a hundred-point hit when he had a wrench in his hand.

  As they both stood up, he gave her a sheepish smile and brushed droplets of water from his forehead. “Were you looking for me, Detective Clah?”

  “I sure didn’t come to try out for the mud wrestling team,” she shot back, then smiled, taking the sting out of her words. “Well, what the heck. Haven’t played in the water since I was a kid.”

  He gave her a relieved smile. “Forgive me, I’m not much of a plumber.”

  “Gee, you think?” she answered, laughing.

  They went inside to warm up, wrapped in blankets Justine had brought and, after Reverend Campbell went to the rectory and ran their clothes through a quick dryer cycle, Ella met Tome again in his office. Justine remained behind to talk to Reverend Campbell.

  Tome offered her a cup of herbal tea. “It’s hot and will help you get the chill out.”

  Ella accepted the brew, which obviously contained some mint, judging from the enticing scent. “Thanks, Reverend Tome.”

  “My friends call me Ford. So, why did you come looking for me?”

  “I need your help with a case we’re working, but I’ll need you to keep what I’m about to tell you in the strictest confidence,” Ella said.

  “I excel at keeping secrets,” he said in a quiet, somber voice.

  Something about the way he’d said it caught her attention and her eyes narrowed. She had a feeling he’d just uttered the understatement of the year. “I need help with something that’s right up your alley,” she said, explaining quickly about Jimmy’s story and the circumstances surrounding its arrival on her desk.

  He nodded, curiosity alive on his face. “I’ll do my best to help you,” he said. “But I’m puzzled about something. Why didn’t you go to your brother, the hataalii?”

  “I did, and, so far, he doesn’t know what to make of it. Then I heard about your collection on the subject,” Ella said. “Would you mind helping, too?”

  “I’d be happy to give it a try, but it wouldn’t be a good idea for your brother and me to try and figure it out together,” he said in a quiet voice.

  “It’s that big of a problem?”

  He shrugged. “A problem does exist, and trying to ignore it won’t help anyone,” he said slowly. “I respect your brother, but I think the type of work he does only ends up holding our people back. The time for medicine men has come and gone. Moving forward into the twenty-first century is our only choice if we want to survive as a nation.”

  Ella understood the problem now. Both were trying to help the tribe—but their philosophies were diametrically opposed. It was the classic struggle between the traditionalists and the modernists—with religion and healing at the center. “But surely by hanging on to our culture—the beliefs that make us Navajo—we can only get stronger.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t see it that way, and when your brother does a Sing that takes the pla
ce of medical science . . . or God . . . then we really have serious differences.”

  “Where does your faith in God come from? Were you raised Christian?”

  He shook his head. “No, my family had no beliefs to speak of. Not Christian, not Navajo, not much of anything, really. But life experience quickly taught me that I needed something strong—something that could see me through anything. This is the path I chose.”

  “My brother came from a home with strong beliefs, and chose a different path than you, but you’re both working for the benefit of others. When you get down to basic values, there’s not as much separating you as you might think.”

  “It’s what we choose to trust, to put our faith in, that’s at the heart of what divides us. Wars have been fought for less, you know,” he said, then met her gaze. “We have the same end goal—the preservation of our tribe—but our philosophies are totally incompatible.”

  “Your beliefs demand that you try and change him. Good thing his don’t require the same thing.”

  “No, we’re not that kind of church. Justine knows. We don’t ram our beliefs down anyone’s throats. We’re here—that’s all. We’re a friendly presence, and we can offer a cold drink in the name of our Lord. . . .”

  “In your case, Reverend, from the faucet!” Ella said, then laughed out loud.

  He laughed hard, too. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

  “A forced baptism? No, probably not,” Ella said, smiling widely.

  Twenty minutes later, Reverend Tome sat behind his desk, having read Jimmy’s story. He looked down at the pages again, then spoke in a thoughtful voice. “With the exception of Mourning Dove and a few other characters like Trickster, nothing here belongs to any of the Navajo creation stories I know about. Without a frame of reference, it’s going to be a tough code to break, especially with all those non-Navajo characters, like Chopra. And somehow I don’t think Jimmy was talking about that self-help guru when he wrote this. Then there’s supposed to be some kind of retribution or justice coming on page five. But there’s no page five. Where’s the rest of it?”

  “We don’t know. That’s all I got. Maybe he sent me what he had on hand—getting rid of it fast to safeguard it, and the rest was taken from him when he was killed. I just don’t know.”

  He nodded absently, his thoughts miles away. “The barter items—shoes, nails, umbrellas, even gumdrops, must have some other meaning. And Trickster, meanwhile, is probably a human with those devious qualities. But the only shot we’ve got to break this is to go deep into the head of the man who wrote it. Get me his bio and any intel you can provide or get from the military or any other government agency.”

  “We can interview people who knew him, but I don’t know how forthcoming Army Intel is going to be,” Ella said. “Getting information from them or other government agencies may take us months—or years.”

  “In that case, let me see what I can do,” he said.

  Ella nodded slowly. Somehow she didn’t doubt that he’d get more information than they could—providing Justine’s discoveries about him were on target. “If anything in the story jumps out at you, will you let me know right away?”

  “Absolutely. And I’ll keep the pages locked in my safe when I’m not working on them. I’ll also run some code-breaking encryptions on it to see if there is any structural significance or numerical relationships that could represent something else—longitude and latitude, Social Security numbers, whatever. If there’s something like that in here, I’ll find it.”

  It was the matter-of-fact way he spoke about it that assured Ella she’d come to the right place. Ford—Reverend Tome—obviously had been involved in some code breaking at one time or another.

  “I’ve always liked puzzles,” he added. “Do you?”

  She nodded and smiled, knowing that such interests were always sought after by the intelligence services. “That’s why I’m in the business I’m in. I like solving them, Reverend Tome.”

  “Call me Ford, remember? My friends do,” he said with an easy smile. “By the way, since I’m helping you, will you reciprocate and help me with a problem I’ve been having?”

  “I’ll try,” Ella said cautiously. “Not plumbing?”

  He laughed. “Besides that. The women in this parish—particularly my neighbor, Lila Curtis—keep trying to fix me up with their daughters, nieces, you name it. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but it’s making me crazy. I need to find a reason for them to back off. Will you let them see us together a few times? Give me a few nice smiles, I’ll do the same for you, and they’ll fill in the rest.” He paused. “But . . . never mind. You’re probably dating someone, maybe even engaged. . . .”

  “No, there’s no one special in my life, and I’m in the same boat you are,” Ella said, laughing. “With me, it’s my mom.” Outside the Rez she would have seen it as a deft way of finding out if she was available, but on the Rez getting paired up was as inevitable as the rising sun. And it could be annoying.

  “I think it’s a good idea, Ford, and it may work out really well for both of us. Lila Curtis will make sure the news spreads like wildfire, too. My mother will be pleased, needless to say, and won’t have a complaint about your profession—after all, my father was a preacher. The best part is that it’ll buy us both some breathing room.”

  “So you have to deal with it too—the type of logic that believes if you’re single, you couldn’t possibly be satisfied with your life, so you need to be rescued.”

  “And as quickly as possible,” Ella added, with a smile. “It’s all well-meaning, but it can make things awkward.”

  “Oh, speaking of awkward . . . your brother might have a problem with our plan. Remember that he’s not exactly my biggest fan?”

  “He won’t comment. He never does.”

  “Okay. So we have a deal?” he asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “We’ll be having the church rummage sale in a few weeks. How about if we kick it off then?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Great,” Ford said, walking her out. “Oh, one more question. Would you like me to try and find out more about Jimmy Black-sheep unofficially? People around here may feel more comfortable talking to the clergy than to an officer of the law.”

  Ella nodded slowly. “That’s a good idea, but Jimmy was murdered, and it might not have been random, so we’re dealing with extremely dangerous people. You’d have to watch your step.”

  “I can handle it. Don’t worry,” he answered without any particular inflection.

  It wasn’t bravado. It was a statement of fact, and the kind of confidence that came from a person who’d seen human nature at its worst too often to ever be taken by surprise. “Stay in touch.”

  “Will do,” he said.

  Ella walked out to the parking lot, experienced the pleasant warmth of the midafternoon sun for a moment, then climbed into her car. Reverend Bilford Tome interested her—and it had been a very long time since she had thought that about any man. And he made her laugh. It was a powerful combination.

  Justine, who’d been talking to Reverend Campbell, saw her in their unit, and joined her. Seconds later, they were on their way. “I spoke to Reverend Campbell about Samuel Blacksheep,” Justine said. “I remembered having seen him in church a few times. And here’s a surprise. Reverend Campbell heard a rumor that Samuel stole Jimmy’s girlfriend this past year while Jimmy was overseas, and that’s what caused the recent falling out between them.”

  “Interesting news. That could explain a lot. Who’s the woman? Did you get a name?”

  “Only a first name—Juanita. And she’s not a member of our church. Reverend Campbell’s never met her.”

  “We need to ask around. Maybe Randy Billie or John Lee Charley will know more—especially if we give them a name.”

  “I found out something else that’s interesting,” Justine said. “Apparently Samuel’s been out and about investigating his brother’s death, mostly
out of uniform. He’s been interviewing everyone who knew Jimmy, and digging hard. Reverend Campbell heard him talking to a few parishioners outside the grocery store.”

  “We could probably use Samuel’s help right now. Too bad I don’t trust him,” Ella said, telling Justine about the conversation she’d had with Officer Bitsillie. “I keep remembering that something was taken from Jimmy’s house—his old stories, according to Samuel.”

  “Why the old stories, unless the thief is worried about what Jimmy was writing and believes there may be a clue in there to help figure it out, like we’re trying to do now?” Justine asked.

  “Samuel could have taken them himself, for all we know,” Ella said.

  “Could be. Did Reverend Tome help you any?”

  “Yeah, he sure did.” Ella recounted what she’d learned. “Ford’s going to try to break the code—and he just might. If Samuel was the type who inspired more trust, I’d suggest that he get together with the Reverend. Let’s face it, Jimmy’s brother should be in the best position to tell us how Jimmy thought, and help crack that code. But my gut tells me that it’s a mistake to get Samuel involved. As an officer, he could have easily set up his brother and made it look like a carjacking gone sour. He had all the details of the carjackings right at his fingertips. And what if the message in the code leads to him? That would explain why Jimmy sent it to me instead and why some of his stories are missing now.”

  “Even if he’s innocent, the fact that Samuel’s questioning people without even being attached to the case worries me,” Justine said. “He’s obviously working on his own and he could easily decide that revenge is better than justice.” Justine paused for a moment then added, “He could deal with the killer in his own way and we’d never know—or worse, strike out at the wrong person or people.”

  “Okay—so we’re in agreement. We need to keep an eye on Samuel. But he’s on his guard around me, so why don’t you try questioning him solo?” she suggested. Justine’s petite good looks put men at ease, more often than not. “He may tell you more, especially if you don’t play bad cop.”