Blackening song

by Thurlo, Aimée

  "I agree."

  "But you handled it beautifully. You were completely calm and in control."

  Ella shook her head and averted her gaze. "No, that's not true. I've learned to project confidence, my own brand of illusion. Underneath, I was really nervous. Of course, a person does her best dodging when under fire."

  "I'll have to remember that." Wilson laughed. "But truly, you spoke very well."

  "I envy your students—or maybe I should say I envy their outlooks on life. Things seem to be more black and white to them."

  "That's the way it usually is when you're young and idealistic. You have all the answers ... if only someone would listen," he observed.

  "You know, not many people around here would have asked me to talk to any group of Navajos. Most seem to want to disassociate themselves from me. You're one of the few who have made me feel at home since the day I returned."

  "I'll stand by you and your family, no matter what lies ahead. You can count on that." Wilson smiled.

  Ella took a sip of her cola. Bessie Tso walked into the lounge, shaking her head. "More bad news," Bessie said. "Have you heard?"

  "What's happened?" Wilson asked quickly.

  Bessie clicked her teeth indignantly, then sighed. "Two people have reported seeing someone wearing animal skins hanging around the college construction site."

  "Who reported it?"

  "I'm not sure—I heard the story from my sister. She says that when the tribal police went out, all they found were several disemboweled sheep."

  Ella managed to look calm and professional, though her throat had gone dry again. "Where exactly?"

  Bessie gave her simple directions. "Are you going out there to look?"

  "That's right."

  Wilson stood up. "I'm finished here for the day. I'll go with you."

  BLACKENING SONG X 2Q5

  Bessie looked at him skeptically. "Be careful what you rush into/' she warned, then left the lounge.

  "She's right/' Ella said. "There's no need for you to come along on something this unpleasant. If there are answers to be found there, I'll spot them."

  "You sure?" Wilson asked. "There are things people won't say to cops."

  "There are also things my special training helps me spot that someone else may not consider. Thanks for offering, though." Ella walked away before he could answer.

  BLACKENING SONG » 2Q7

  here, they look like a wolfs, but there's something odd about them. The stride is all wrong."

  "Yeah, the wolf would have had to be walking on his hind legs," he answered.

  Ella studied them carefully. "That's what I was thinking. Someone has done a great job faking this to look like—"

  "Skinwalkers," he interrupted softly. "The story's going to get around now. No telling what harm it's going to do."

  "People who're afraid are capable of doing some damned bizarre things," Ella agreed. "Whoever is behind this is clever, using crowd psychology. Isn't there any way to keep this quiet?"

  He gave her an incredulous look. "You haven't been away that long. News and gossip fly faster than a laser beam on the Rez."

  "Yeah, you're right. Any idea who might be behind this?"

  "No, that's the worst of it. We don't have a clue except what you see here. The other incidents have been similar. People are already looking at their neighbors funny and speculating about those they don't like. We're in for a lot of trouble."

  "Someone must know something/' Ella commented, glancing at the residential community a mile away. "The tracks lead in that direction."

  "Right. And should we canvass the people there? That's going to get us nowhere. No one is going to talk to us about something like this."

  "You have to try."

  "We intend to, but we have our own ways of working— you know that. We'll talk to people later, unofficially. Ask questions. Mostly listen. That's our way—the only way

  that's going to work. It might take longer than your methods, but your methods won't work at all."

  "Blalock does know about this, doesn't he?" she asked, glancing around.

  "He's not coming. According to him, dead animals aren't a priority. Killing sheep isn't a federal offense. He said he'd read our report when we return to the station."

  Ella sighed. "He really should be out here. Too many things like this have happened lately for it to be mere coincidence."

  "I think Blalock is spending too much time sending us to do his job while he sits at a desk and calls the shots."

  Ella smiled. "Has he alienated everyone at the department in the couple of years he's been here?"

  Peterson nodded. "You know how hard your father-in-law is to read? Well, when Blalock's around, that's no problem. The chief's face changes color every time FB-Eyes enters his office. It's like a thermometer."

  "From what I've heard, Blalock's had major problems with the tribe. My mother told me about his breaking one young man's arm, but talking about it upset her a great deal. What can you tell me about that incident?"

  Peterson glanced around to reassure himself they were alone. "Things were really tense around here for a while after that. Your father based a sermon on what had happened, asking for community restraint but demanding that FB-Eyes be held accountable. One of the tribal newspaper reporters heard about the sermon and did a story on it. Your brother took your father's side, and was quoted in the article, asking for Blalock's badge. By the time the smoke cleared, FB-Eyes had been raked across the coals more than once."

  "So Blalock had it in for both my father and my brother/' Ella concluded.

  "In a big way. I wouldn't trust the man. It would suit him just fine to arrest one for the murder of the other. Proving that one of his main attackers was a murderer might improve Blalock's standing with the regional office and earn him a chance out of here, which he badly wants," Peterson advised.

  "An interesting angle. Thanks for filling me in." It didn't mesh with her own assessment of Blalock, but she had no reason to dismiss it out of hand. It was worth checking into.

  Ella caught a glimpse of someone standing in the shade of a cottonwood tree, hidden in the shadows—Eddie Buck, a man she'd gone to school with. She decided not to seek him out until Yazzie and the other officer left.

  "Come on," Peterson said. "While Goodluck talks to the construction people, let's follow the tracks. With both of us tracking, we might see something he missed."

  It was a pointless exercise. The tracks led into a ravine and just disappeared.

  "This person sure knows how to hide his tracks," Peterson commented. "I'm almost certain he scooped up sand with his hand, then threw it over most of the tracks he'd made."

  "He also used some of the brush," Ella answered. "I saw some marks where he hurried too much." She exhaled softly. "The question is, now what?"

  "Nothing else to do, except talk to some of the people who live near here, when the time's right."

  "The vicious way these animals were killed is meant to inspire fear. It makes me wonder if the butchers are trying

  to divert our attention from something else that's going on. What do you think?"

  "That you've been around the bilagdanas too long. You're starting to sound like FB-Eyes."

  Ella shook her head. "No, listen. I've heard all about skinwalkers, but face it, this isn't one of the things they normally do. Take a human life, rob the dead, and even commit bestiality, yes, but this stuff doesn't fit—until you remember that our Way teaches that to look upon the body of a dead animal is hazardous. Someone is using these incidents to create fear and divert attention. It's a good plan, but not quite good enough."

  Peterson rubbed his jaw pensively. "You may have a point, cousin."

  Ella said good-bye to Peterson, watched as he and Officer Goodluck drove away. She looked for Eddie Buck, who had apparently managed to keep from being interviewed by Officer Goodluck.

  If her mother's gossip was current and accurate, Eddie had had too many run-ins with the police lately
. It was no secret in the community that he liked to tip the bottle with regularity.

  Ella strolled over. She'd known Eddie practically all his life. They'd never been good friends, but Ella was sure she could get Eddie's cooperation if she approached him in the right way. Years of training and field experience often enabled her to get the most reluctant witnesses to open up to her.

  Ella casually joined Eddie in the shade of the cotton-wood. "Hi, Eddie. I didn't know you were working construction here. Remember me? I'm Clifford's sister, Ella."

  "Sure, I remember. The smartest student in the school is

  BLACKENING SONG * 211

  now a Fibby agent in L.A. People starting to call you L.A. Woman, have you heard?" Eddie smiled.

  "Beats some of the nicknames you and I used to hear. How's the construction industry doing these days?"

  "Good jobs have been hard to find—on or off the Rez," Eddie commented.

  "They say it'll get better again," Ella said. "Especially with the college coming. I don't know if I would have the guts to work around here, though. There have been some strange stories about this place recently."

  "It's been weird, all right. Sometimes when I hear what's going around, it really gives me the creeps. What about Charley Atcitty? You can't tell me that was just coincidence."

  "What happened to Charley? I hadn't heard." Charley had been a classmate of theirs too.

  "Well, only a few of the guys around here know, and they're not likely to talk much about it."

  Ella knew that if she prodded now, she'd get nowhere. She forced herself to wait, grabbing a paper cup and filling it with ice water from a nearby cooler. She sipped at the cool liquid. An eternity later, Eddie spoke again.

  "Charley lived in that trailer." He gestured at a small, white metal structure resting on cinder blocks. "He was hired to watch over the equipment and supplies. One morning he came out with a bandage on his arm. He told the guys he'd been shot the night before, walking back from his girlfriend's house. He figured someone had been out hunting, or shooting at some tins cans, and one of their bullets strayed and grazed his arm. He went to the public health clinic later that day. I don't know what happened, but he came back in a panic, insisting he had to find a Singer right

  away. With your brother gone, the closest one is about a day's drive from here."

  "Wait a minute; back up. Charley was in a panic after they treated him at the clinic?"

  "Yeah. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't say a word. He was really scared. Then FB-Eyes came to talk to him. You know what that Anglo is like. Charley was really worried that he'd be locked up, and he wouldn't be able to get to the Singer. I think Charley just clammed up, because when I saw FB-Eyes leave Charley's trailer, he was really pissed."

  "What do you think scared Charley? This place?"

  "I think he saw something he wasn't supposed to and that's why he got shot at. Charley's not too smart. He may not have realized what he saw until later. That's the only thing that makes sense."

  "Where's Charley now?"

  "I don't know. The next day, he came and got his things and left. Someone said that maybe he'd gone home, but not even his family has seen him."

  "I haven't seen Charley in years. Was he the kind who'd normally go to a Singer?"

  "Charley? You've got to be kidding! He thought all that traditional stuff was bullshit. That's why he agreed to live in the trailer."

  "It was good talking to you," Ella said. "You be careful out here," she added, wadding up her empty paper cup and sticking it into her pocket.

  It was time to pay a little visit to the public health clinic. Gunshot wounds had to be reported, and the doctor's name would be on the report.

  BLACKENING SONC X 213

  By the time Ella arrived at the public health clinic, half an hour later, she'd decided to capitalize on Blalock's unpopularity and take a chance that he wouldn't find out that she'd come here today. Stepping up to the main desk, Ella lowered her voice conspiratorially and produced her badge.

  "I need to find out which doctor treated a gunshot victim recently." Ella shrugged, then smiled sympathetically. "I figured it would be easier for everyone here to deal with me than with FB-Eyes," she added in a conciliatory tone.

  The Navajo woman at the desk nodded, and without saying a word pointed to a name on the placard. Ella breathed a sigh of relief. The Navajo woman doctor had been a good friend of her family's for years. She was also the medical examiner.

  Ella walked down the brightly lit corridor. The small clinic was still familiar; it wasn't hard to remember the location of Carolyn Roanhorse's office. The office door was open, and Carolyn was behind the desk. The portly woman was engrossed in reading a medical journal, but glanced up as Ella knocked lightly on the door.

  "I was wondering if anyone would ever come around asking questions," Carolyn said with a marked lack of surprise when Ella explained her purpose. "I suppose you read my M.E. report on your father. I'm sorry. It was very hard for me to do."

  Ella sat down in the chair across from Carolyn's desk. "I did, and I appreciate what you went through. But now I have to do my job—find the killer or killers."

  "Yes, I know. I'm relieved to see you. From what I've heard, I'd rather not have anything more to do with FB-Eyes than is absolutely necessary."

  "What can you tell me about Charley?"

  "He came in with what he claimed was an accidental gunshot wound, but there were things about that injury that didn't add up." Carolyn paused, then added softly, shaking her head, "And when I told him what I'd learned, that poor man became really frightened."

  "I'm not asking out of idle curiosity, you know," Ella said, noting Carolyn's hesitancy.

  "You're a professional, and I've known your family for years," Carolyn said after a moment. "I'll trust you with the whole story, providing you don't tell anyone where you got the information unless you clear it with me first. Agreed?"

  "You've got it." Ella nodded.

  Carolyn got up and shut the door. "I found bone fragments in the wound. That really bothered me, because the bullet had only grazed muscle. So I sent him down to X ray, which confirmed that the bone was intact. Those bone fragments had nothing to do with his wound."

  "Bone ammunition?" Ella asked in a shocked whisper. Whoever had shot Charley had done some homework. Bone was the weapon of choice for Navajo skinwalkers.

  wound, without giving Blalock details that would reveal her source.

  "I've already heard about that. I hate to tell you, but it points to your brother more than ever. In my opinion this Navajo mumbo jumbo is just part of the smokescreen that cults usually throw up to make themselves seem less revolting than they are."

  "Listen to me: this has nothing to do with cults. Navajo beliefs are just as valid as your Christian religions. Sometime, try walking into a Catholic church and calling the parishioners members of a cult and see if anybody is offended. What I am talking about is rooted in ancient Navajo beliefs. Check and see if any grave-robbing has recently been discovered in the Rez or the surrounding area."

  "Give me a break; a psycho is a psycho. I'm here to find out who killed your father and bring the guy in. To do that, all I have to do is follow the trail of evidence, and that leads to your brother."

  "Then your evidence leads to the wrong man," she insisted.

  "Look," Blalock said, clearly exasperated. "I checked out the names you gave me. Allison Begay hasn't been around for years. She moved away from the Rez in the early eighties. Wilson Joe is slightly more interesting, but not by much. Peterson Yazzie hauled him in for beating the crap out of someone in a parking lot, but charges were dropped. The two men were related. Wilson Joe has a violent temper, but not much else to make him a serious suspect."

  Ella made a mental note to ask Peterson about the fight. This was the second or third time she'd heard about Wilson's darker side, but she'd yet to see concrete evidence of it. "You're too convinced it's my brother, and that's clouding your investig
ation."

  BLACKENING SONG * 217

  "Thanks for your opinion/' He stood by the door. "Now I've got work to do."

  "You sure you're being objective about this?" Ella said challengingly. "I heard you may have personal reasons for wanting my brother locked up." Her family had certainly made things hard for Blalock. Had he found a way to get back at them? Rogue FBI agents were very rare, but they existed.

  "I don't care what you've heard about me. This is my case, lady. I'll make the judgment calls."

  Ella strode out of the office. Blalock was going to continue getting nowhere if he wasn't willing to keep an open mind. Unless he never intended to get anywhere in the first place. The idea seemed far-fetched, and Ella decided to pursue a more likely direction.

  Thinking of another way to follow up on what Carolyn Roanhorse had told her, Ella remembered Ernie Leighton. The Anglo man ran a gun shop just off the main highway. He'd know who in the area had the expertise and equipment to construct reliable bone "ammunition."

  It took her most of the afternoon—Ernie liked to talk— but she finally was able to get three names. One of them, Eddie Buck, was the man who had given her the information about Charley Atcitty.

  "Do you know where Eddie Buck is living these days?"

  "The same trailer Charley Atcitty was using. Once Atcitty moved out, Eddie asked for his job. The company said yes right away. I think they were very relieved to have someone else volunteer to stay on the site."

  "And Eddie's a hunter?"

  "All his life. He's good too. He wins the turkey shoot every November."

  As she drove to the college construction site, specula-

  tions crowded Ella's mind. Eddie was a crack shot, but also a friend of Charley's. If Eddie was responsible for shooting Charlie, it fit her theory that the immediate goal of those pretending to be skinwalkers was to create fear.

  A stakeout was called for, and with a depressing lack of clues to run down, Ella had time on her hands. There was no reason why she couldn't shadow Eddie for the next few days and see what he was up to.