by Aimée
Neskahi got close enough to open the passenger-side door, which was slightly higher due to the position of the tow hook and therefore easier to open. Most of the water still inside came flowing out onto the dirt road, filling a long tire rut. This was one way to make sure that anything washing out of the vehicle remained at the scene, rather than flowing back down the embankment and then being carried downstream.
“Wish there was a way to drain the ditch,” Neskahi said, standing back to keep his feet as dry as possible.
“Best we can do is check the gates downstream and see if anything got washed out of the vehicle and caught against one of the screens,” Ella answered. “At least you managed to keep whatever settled to the floorboards by dumping the last foot of water onto the road.”
“Looks like the guy in the car was shot, several times,” Tache said. “He was probably dead when they dumped the car. Any idea who he is?”
“The dead soldier was supposedly traveling alone, so I have no idea who this person was.” Ella stepped in closer with a flashlight to check out the distorted face but it didn’t help. “Maybe the soldier took this guy out. We know he fought back.”
“I think I recognize the vic,” Justine said, her flashlight on the body.
Ella didn’t ask for a name as the man who’d operated the tow truck came over to unhook his cable from the wrench. Even modernists hated calling a murder victim by name at a crime scene. “Good. We need to run what we’ve got. Ask Blalock to get some background info for us on this guy. He can speed up the process.”
“The victim traded in stolen weapons,” Justine told her. “Nothing fancy or heavy duty, just hunting rifles and pistols. He had an operation where you could order what you wanted and he’d get it for you—that is, until he got busted.”
The M.O. triggered her memory. “I didn’t work that case, but I remember it. Big Ed insisted on handling it himself. His nephew had bought a revolver off this idiot and nearly got killed. The weapon had been reassembled with a hair trigger and a round went off when he picked up the gun. Nearly shot himself in the leg.”
She nodded. “The suspect got off on a technicality—the search warrant was thrown out,” Justine said, handing Ella a piece of paper with the man’s name—Herbert Edsitty, “but Big Ed continued to keep an eye on him—unofficially, of course. Word went down that if he started doing business on our turf again, we were to do whatever it took to bust him.” Justine lowered her voice. “If what I heard is true, Big Ed also hired Teeny out of his own pocket to tail the suspect and keep him apprised of his activities.”
Ella nodded slowly. Big Ed’s nephews were like the sons he’d never had. But she hadn’t known about the arrangement between Teeny and Big Ed.
“Now we have a connection between illegal weapons and the incident that resulted in Blacksheep’s death,” Ella said softly. “Unfortunately this also places Big Ed and Teeny right in the middle of our investigation.”
“As suspects? You’re not serious,” Justine said softly.
“Don’t write it up in a report yet. We don’t want to go official on this. But we’ll need to verify where Teeny and Big Ed were at the time this guy was killed. Not for our own benefit. We both know neither man is responsible. But we have to cover those bases in case somebody’s attorney brings it up later on,” Ella said. Teeny’s record for violence wouldn’t do either much good if a defense lawyer managed to discover Teeny’s interest in the dead man.
Soon the vehicle had drained enough for them to search the interior. As they went over the bullet-riddled sedan, working around the body without moving it and coping with the smell the best they could, Justine extracted a round from one of the armrests in the backseat. “I won’t know until I measure this in the lab, but I think this came from an AK-47. It’s military ball ammunition.”
Ella nodded. “Notice the damage to the dashboard and driver’s area, even the steering wheel. Whoever shot Jimmy moved in close to finish him off, and they didn’t waste ammo.”
“Yeah, but who fired the AK—was it at Jimmy, and was it just bad luck not finding 7.62 bullets in his body? I know an assault rifle has quite a bit more penetrating power, but still . . .” Justine said.
“Check out the backseat. Those look like impact marks in the floorboard and seat,” Ella said, aiming at the points of interest with her light.
“But the driver was in the front seat.”
“Maybe these bullets were intended for the guy in there now, and the AK was used on him?” Ella suggested.
“A falling out among the killers?”
“We know Jimmy shot back. If he hit this guy, and the others couldn’t risk a trip to the doctor, maybe they finished him off themselves, and this is why he’s in here now.”
Justine nodded. “Makes sense. So, if the ME recovers both AK rounds and bullets fired from Jimmy’s weapon from the vic’s body, we’ll know both sides contributed to this man’s death.”
“What’s that?” Ella pointed toward a brassy object on the seat close to the body.
“I’ll get it,” Justine said. Wearing the two layers of latex gloves used by Navajo cops, she reached in and brought out the object. “Ugh, I nearly touched him . . . it.”
“Short case with a shoulder, about eight-millimeters. From an AK-47, right?” Ella said.
Justine nodded, turning the case in her hand so she could see the markings at the base of the brass around the primer. “Arabic, and, from the triangle in the headstamp, it’s Iraqi.”
“Less of a surprise than if we’d found it on day one. The connection with Iraq and Jimmy’s unit just keeps getting stronger. Let’s see what else we can find.”
Ella worked alongside the crime scene team, and they found several shell casings for a nine-millimeter handgun on the floor of the vehicle, most in the front-seat area. Her assumption was that these had been ejected from Jimmy’s weapon as he returned fire. She was still searching the interior for trace evidence when a bleary-eyed Carolyn Roanhorse showed up.
Giving Ella a sharp look, she muttered, “Don’t you guys ever sleep?” Not waiting for an answer, she looked at the body, now on the backseat of the vehicle. “That’s where you found the body?”
“It may have been elsewhere in the vehicle the past few days, but it ended up there when we drained out the water. Nobody’s touched it,” Ella confirmed. “Justine thinks she knows who it was, but until we get fingerprints . . .”
Carolyn nodded. “I’ll do what I can here, then I’ll be needing help moving the victim out of the car.”
Ella thought of poor Neskahi. “We’re particularly interested in any slugs you recover. Could you give me a call if you find more than one caliber round in the vic?”
“I’ll let you know soon as I can,” Carolyn said. “But it won’t be before morning, probably.”
Ella went to find Justine, who’d gone downstream to check the ditch for anything that may have washed from the vehicle. “I’m going to take the car and wake a few people up. Can you catch a ride back with Neskahi or Tache?”
“You bet.” Justine wrote a few things into her notebook, then tore the page out and handed it to Ella. “This is where the victim hung out—it’s that hole-in-the-wall coffee shop across from the high school.”
“Thanks.”
Ella, driving down the highway a short time later, called Big Ed at home on her cell phone. “Chief, I have a problem that won’t wait till morning.”
“Then come over. Claire is in Albuquerque visiting her sister, so don’t worry about being quiet.”
Claire, the chief’s wife, had been lonely since her sister had moved away to the city. It was no secret that she frequently went to visit her—an arrangement that was almost guaranteed to put the chief in a foul mood—almost as foul as when Claire’s sister came to visit at their home.
Ella arrived a short time later at the modest ranch-style home and was greeted by the chief’s large shaggy dog. “Hey, Felonius,” she said, petting him, then walking up to the door. The porch light
was on as was the light in the living room.
Big Ed, in flannel shirt, jeans, and worn moccasins, let them both in. “Come in quickly. It’s too cold out tonight for these old bones. The mutt heard a coyote howling, and just had to go out and see for himself.” He waved her to the couch. “This have to do with finding the Blacksheep rental? I got a call from Dispatch earlier.”
Ella nodded, then filled him in about Edsitty.
“That walking piece of crap is still busting my chops, this time from beyond the grave,” Big Ed muttered. “Herb swore that someday he’d make my life as difficult as I’d made his. I know you need my whereabouts considering the history I had with the victim, but, fortunately I’ve got a verifiable alibi for the morning in question. I met with the tribal chairman that day in the Totah’s private dining room. On my way over, at around five-thirty in the morning, I filled up the gas tank on my truck and paid with a credit card. I got to the Totah at around six—early so I could go over my notes. Merilyn Baca was working the tables that morning and spilled coffee on my financial report. I embarrassed the hell out of her, so I’m sure she’ll remember.”
Ella smiled, relieved. “I hope Teeny has an alibi that’s as solid as yours.”
“Whatever it is, we both know it won’t lead to bad news. The important thing to remember is that you’ve got a clear lead that establishes a link between Jimmy’s death and the guns and gunrunners, especially with the Iraqi ammo expended. But here’s what I don’t get. If the gunrunners wanted Jimmy dead, why didn’t they just kill him while he was overseas? He would have ended up as one more casualty, the details lost in the fog of war. Killing him here put him into an individual spotlight.”
“Maybe they didn’t know what side of the fence he was on until he returned. Then they found out about the story he’d written. We suspect it was in two parts and I wasn’t the only one he mailed it to. In the end, he may have trusted the wrong person,” Ella said, reminding him of what they’d learned. “The way I figure it, Jimmy must have kept a copy for himself, too, so the killers may have wanted that as much as they wanted to take him out.”
“Then break that code, and find out why they considered it worth killing for.”
“I’m doing my best,” Ella said.
Ella left the chief’s home, relieved to know that his alibi was as ironclad as it could get. She’d still have to verify it later, but she didn’t expect any problems. Yet one thought niggled at the back of her mind. If Big Ed really had been involved in the victim’s death, he would have made sure his alibi was unimpeachable.
Ella stopped by Teeny’s office next, not expecting to find him, and not surprised when that turned out to be the case. Ella then went directly to his home, just off the reservation and not far from the old power plant. As she pulled up in his driveway, Ella knew that the well-lit perimeter meant that her approach was being monitored. Just then her cell phone rang. It was Teeny.
“Saw you driving up. Come in,” he invited.
Ella was inside his sparsely furnished, technically enhanced home a moment later. Near as she could tell, Teeny had been playing computer games. “Don’t you ever sleep?”
“I only need about four hours’ sack time. Comes from my days on the force. What brought you out—so late—early?” he asked, never one for idle chitchat.
“We found Herbert Edsitty’s body,” she said, and described the circumstances.
“You heard that I’d been tailing him, off and on, right?”
She nodded. “I have to clear you from my list of suspects—for the record. So tell me the whole story.”
“Herbert was walking garbage,” Teeny said. “He bought and sold guns of all makes and types—ripping off everyone he did business with, I might add. His specialty was doing business at gun shows, where he and his clients could weasel around the gun laws. But a few months ago, he suddenly decided to shut down his operation. Since I’d been leaning on him, I hoped that I was the main reason for that fortunate turn of events. I was really pleased with myself, until I started hearing some odd stories about Herbert getting into the import-export business. That news came courtesy of Philden Jackson, who owns the gas station next door to Herbert’s shop.”
“Did you get anything more, like maybe what kind of merchandise Herbert was supposed to be dealing?”
“I tried, but Herbert suddenly dropped out of sight. Guess we know where he went, don’t we?”
“Okay, bottom line. Where were you the morning Herbert got killed? I’m guessing he was killed the same day as Jimmy. The car disappeared immediately, and Herbert was inside at the time.”
Teeny paused before answering her. “You mean a case can be made that I was following Herbert and let Jimmy get shot before moving in and taking out Herbert,” he said, constructing events thoughtfully as he’d done a trillion times during his days on the force. “Then I covered the whole thing up by dumping the car and Herbert—but not Jimmy too? Come on, Ella. Does that make sense to you on any level?”
“No, but I don’t believe you’re guilty anyway. I know you too well. What I’m hoping is that we can prove Jimmy killed Herbert, or at least was the first one to shoot him, because Herbert was one of the carjackers. The rest will be fuzzy until the bullet evidence is clear. I’m guessing that Jimmy had decided to go to the authorities about their gunrunning operation and they sent Herbert and somebody else to stop him and make the whole op look like just one more carjacking. If I’m right, the evidence will bear me out and we can get back on track.”
“I appreciate your trust in me, Ella. I may beat the crap out of some lowlife, but I won’t set myself up as judge and jury, and you know that.” He paused. “You really have to know where I was that morning?”
She nodded. “Around seven, just in case it comes up.”
He paused for a long moment. “I was with Jayne,” he said at last.
“Jane? Jane who?” Ella asked, confused, then stared at him in surprise. “Jayne with a ’Y,’ as in Justine’s sister?”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “She and I . . . well, we kinda hooked up. We’ve been seeing each other. It started as a no-strings-attached deal, but I think we’ve got something. This isn’t just another checkmark in my black book, if you get my meaning.”
Ella stared at him, dumbfounded. Out of all the things he could have said, she’d never expected this. She wondered if Justine knew.
Almost as if he’d read her mind, he added, “Nobody knows—particularly her family. Jayne wanted to see how things went before she told them about us. She said that her mother has been hoping she’d get married, and makes her life miserable every time she goes out with someone. She’s barely out the door with a guy and her mother’s hearing wedding bells.”
“Are you hearing wedding bells?”
He leaned back in his chair and looked at her seriously. “I’ve never thought of myself as the marrying kind, Ella. Once, a long time ago, I met someone I thought I might like as a wife, but things didn’t work out,” he said.
Although he spared her any longing looks, Ella knew he’d meant her. “And now?” she pressed, sensing what he’d left unspoken.
“Living alone—and someday dying alone—isn’t what I want for myself. The world is made for couples, Ella. You need someone to share the day with, as well as the night. You might drive each other crazy from time to time—Jayne’s a real girly girl, you know—but she adds something to my life that wasn’t there before. I look forward to having dinner with her, or just being around her. We can talk about almost anything.”
Ella knew Jayne well enough to believe she’d be an adventure for any future husband. As the news sank in, she came to the conclusion that spring had come early to the reservation. Ella thought of Ford, then of herself and Dawn. Maybe when fall came once again, and the birds and the bees got some quiet time, sanity would return.
“Kinda weird, huh?” Teeny asked, almost as if asking for her blessing.
Ella gave him a gentle smile. “I think it’s
terrific, Teeny. And I understand exactly how you feel. I don’t want to bring another person into my life. It’s complicated enough as is. But, without someone, it can get . . .” she paused, fumbling for the right word.
“Lonely?”
“Yeah—but it’s a special kind of loneliness. I have a lot of people in my life, so I’m seldom alone. But there’s a corner of your heart that stays empty when you’re not in love. After a while, that emptiness becomes a part of you,” she said, then added, “Eventually, you start to wonder if you even know how to fill it anymore.”
Teeny nodded somberly. “I hear you. You teach yourself not to care too deeply because, if you do, someone can come along and cut your heart out. Then, after a while, you take the easy route and stop letting anyone get close.”
“Yeah, like that,” Ella said.
“Jayne reminds me of all the things life’s taught me to forget.” He paused then added, “Is that how you feel about the Reverend . . . Tome, not Campbell.”
Ella laughed out loud. “At the moment, the most I can say about Ford is that he interests me, and I’m starting to enjoy his company.”
“He’s got to be less boring than most of the . . . generic . . . men in your life,” he said with a grin.
Although he hadn’t said so, Ella knew he meant Kevin. To Teeny, and many current and former police officers, five minutes with an attorney was four and a half minutes too long. “Ford intrigues me, I’ll admit that. But as for anything else coming of it . . .” she said and shrugged. “Who knows? You can like the first part of a movie, but it’s the last reel that sells you one way or the other.”
“Just watch your step with that guy, Ella. Something about his background is . . . off-center.”
“Yeah, I hear you.” Ella stood up. “I’d better be on my way. I’ve got to check in with my people and see what we’ve got that’s new and will move the case forward. Looks like I won’t be going home again tonight.”
She’d nearly made it back to the cruiser when her cell phone rang. It was Blalock. “I’ve got some interesting news for you. ATF processed the weapons they confiscated at the raid last night. Apparently some of them still have traces of U.S.-military-type solvents—formulations that meet the military’s specifications and are used by field units. Stuff from the motor pool.”