Cave of Bones

by Anne Hillerman

  “See what you can find out about the ranch where Curley was working. I’ll ask his wife about it, too.”

  After he disconnected, he called Bernie. She answered right way.

  “Hi, sweetheart. I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.” She sounded tired, he thought. She told him a little about Domingo Cruz and Wings and Roots.

  “Yeah, the captain told me Elsbeth Walker has been hounding you. There’s a lot on your plate.”

  He heard her sigh. “Have you ever dealt with a councilor?”

  “No. Do you think I need one?”

  Her laughter made him smile.

  Chee said, “I’ve met Walker, and I remember the Lieutenant worked with her on something. He might have a suggestion for you.”

  “I’ve talked to him, and he said he’d e-mail me some information.”

  “You’re a step ahead of me. I recall now that I arrested a San Juan County commissioner’s son once for DUI. He thought the kid was being unjustly persecuted, called to complain about me. Does that count as dealing with a councilor?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, it gave me all the experience in that area I need, thank you very much.”

  “Have you seen Darleen?”

  “Yes, I just got back from dinner with her and her roommate.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  Chee thought about how to answer. “Her work in the art show was beautiful, and she likes the girl she shares a room with.”

  “You know what I mean . . .”

  “She’s Darleen, but basically fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Mama wants me to drive to Santa Fe and bring her back here.”

  “Tell her if I get a feeling that this isn’t the right place for her, I’ll bring her back with me tomorrow.”

  After the phone call, he checked and found an e-mail, something from Leaphorn with the subject line “not much,” and an attachment. Based on the less-than-promising preview, he’d open it later, back at the hotel. He envisioned the rest of his evening. After he read the Lieutenant’s attachment, he’d spend a few minutes reviewing the notes from the training. And before any of that, a warm shower and a cup of fresh coffee from the little in-room coffeemaker.

  Santa Fe’s high desert air greeted him with a frigid blast as he walked back to his truck. He shoved his hands in his pockets. Before opening the door to climb into the cab, he circled the vehicle, as was his habit. The rear tire on the passenger side was flat. He squatted down and used his flashlight to examine it, looking for a nail in the tread. No nail, but the cap was off the valve stem. It was no accident—someone had jammed something in it to let the air escape.

  He straightened up and wiped his hands on his jeans, instantly creating a short list of suspects: CS and Herbert. If he’d been a man who swore, he would have had some choice words for the situation. He thought about changing the tire. No, he decided, he’d make the jerk who gave him the flat take care of it.

  Unlike Bernie, Chee didn’t run as a regular pastime. He felt the exertion in the burning of his leg muscles and challenge to his lungs as he headed for the studio. There were no vehicles on the road; the campus was quiet. Emergency lights and call stations glowed in the darkness to help a student who got in trouble. The jog worked off some of his anger.

  He thought about CS. He had liked the guy, admired the passion he had for using video to make the world a little better. He appreciated the way he included Darleen in his project about an old woman and her sheep. He remembered CS driving Darleen’s car. Did that mean that CS had to be in the driver’s seat in their relationship? And now CS was associating with a jerk who had been imprisoned for domestic violence. He had steered away from Chee’s question about the bad bruise on Darleen’s arm, an injury that could have been caused by a man squeezing too hard. He recalled Darleen’s tears the first night he’d talked to her about it, and the way she tried to hide the bruise. If it really were an accident, as she claimed, why would she be ashamed of it?

  As he neared the studio building, he saw a car heading toward him. It moved more and more slowly as it approached, and was nearly across from him before he recognized it as Mrs. Lomasi’s vintage station wagon. She lowered the window and stopped. He stopped too.

  “Officer Chee?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Do you need a ride?”

  “No, thank you.” He bent at the waist, catching his breath. “Is CS in the studio?”

  “Yes. Always. Why are you jogging without a flashlight? It’s dark out here, you know.”

  “My truck has a flat tire, and I want to talk to CS about that.”

  “I have Triple A,” she said. “I can call somebody for you. CS is awfully busy.”

  “Oh, he’ll make time for me.”

  “Maybe that big guy in the studio with him can help you.”

  “The Navajo man?”

  “Right. He looks strong to me.”

  He was glad to hear that Herbert was there, too. And glad his service weapon was with him in its holster.

  “You have to use the keypad to get in,” Mrs. Lomasi said. “They can’t hear the bell from the studio. Soundproofing, you know.” She gave him the code to unlock the door before she drove off.

  There were five vehicles in the studio lot, including the banged-up truck he’d noticed at the restaurant the first day he saw Clyde Herbert. Chee used the moonlight to negotiate the keypad and opened the door.

  It was dark inside except for a flashing red beacon pulsing down the hall over the entrance to Studio Four. As he felt along the cool wall for a light switch, the flashing stopped and he heard a door open. The glow from the studio backlit the large person walking toward him and shone through the brown glass of the beer bottle in his right hand.

  Chee’s fingers found the light switch, and he turned it on. Then his hand moved toward his weapon.

  Clyde Herbert stopped. “Jim Chee? You’re like a bad case of the trots, man. You keep coming back. Don’t you have some cop friends to hang with?”

  “I got a flat in the parking lot at Darleen’s dorm. I was thinking you and CS might know something about that.”

  “Yeah, I’ve had some flats, blowouts. Tires go bad, dude, even off the rez. Even for cops. CS probably don’t know much about it.” Herbert made a chortling sound. “I think he rides a bike.”

  Chee looked at Herbert’s hand. “What’s with the bottle?”

  Herbert’s attitude changed. “Nothin’. It’s empty. Don’t worry ’bout it.”

  “You know, I am worried. My wife’s sister is taking a class here, and she’s got a big bruise she won’t talk about and went to a party where things got out of hand. And she says you were there.”

  Herbert laughed. “Dude, that girl handles herself better than you think. Why are you hassling me, man? Quit blocking the hallway. I gotta go to the john.”

  Chee moved aside to let Herbert pass and walked toward CS’s studio.

  Herbert’s voice bellowed after him. “Do not open that unless you need CS to kick your behind all the way back to Shiprock.”

  Before Chee could answer, a long buzzing sound interrupted his thoughts, followed by a loud knock from outside the building door.

  12

  Captain Largo rolled his chair back slightly from the desk. Bernie smelled a hint of his Old Spice.

  “Manuelito, how cozy are you with Rose Cooper?”

  “I barely know her. I’ve spoken to her a couple times on the phone and talked to her in person when I went out to meet with the Wings and Roots group. That’s it.”

  “And Domingo Cruz?”

  “I never met him.”

  Largo sipped his coffee, then put the cup down. “That’s what I thought. Well, Councilor Walker will be here in an hour. The chief’s office called me about her again. She’s still insisting you’re part of some conspiracy with Cooper and Cruz to divert tribal funds—or maybe to cover up their misdeeds. She wants your head, and the chief wants you to talk her down
so he doesn’t have to deal with this.”

  “I don’t understand why she thinks I’m part of some conspiracy. I mean—”

  Largo dismissed the argument with a wave of his hand. “Talk to her. Make her go away.”

  Bernie got some coffee and then sifted through her messages, but she couldn’t focus. Checking her e-mail, she found the promised note from Leaphorn about Councilor Walker:

  I met Walker years ago when she accused the public safety department of collusion with the contractor the council hired to build the police headquarters (see attachments). She turned out to be a valuable ally once I realized how to stay on her good side. She has the most passion for issues that affect youth and about fiscal responsibility.

  Great, Bernie thought, with Wings and Roots she has both of those, and she thinks I’m a bad guy.

  She sent back a quick note thanking the Lieutenant. Any clues for how to get her to step back?

  Sandra’s voice came over the intercom. “Annie Rainsong on the phone for you.”

  “Put her through.”

  A moment later, the phone rang. “Hello? Officer Bernie?”

  “Hey, Annie. What can I do for you?”

  “Uhm. Well, Mom is still really, really mad at me, and she’s going to make me come with her to see you. Could you do me a favor and not tell her about the cave and the old bones?”

  “Why don’t you want me to mention the cave? I saw it too.”

  “Because Mom already thinks I’m a total loser, and when she finds out I broke the rules and hiked out into the lava at night by myself she will lose it. Again. She knows enough of my screwups already. She doesn’t need more reasons to hate me.”

  “I’ll consider your request on one condition. Annie. Tell me if what you said about your last encounter with Mr. Cruz was the truth. The searchers are focusing their efforts beginning from the place you mentioned.”

  Annie’s voice took on a ring of defiance. “What I said was what I remembered.”

  Bernie softened her tone. “When we talked about Mr. Cruz, you’d only come back from your solo. You were tired and scared. You could have said something you didn’t really mean. Or you might have thought of something else.”

  “That’s what happened. I was confused.”

  “About Mr. Cruz?”

  “No, not him or about the cave. That’s all true. But about something else, the phone you found in the parking lot.”

  Bernie hid her surprise. “Go on. Just the truth.”

  “We were supposed to put them in the box so they would be locked in the van, but I hid it in my sleeping bag, and I lost it. It fell out or something. I told Mom I left it home like she told me and didn’t take it on the trip. and then my brother broke it by accident.” Annie’s words flowed out in a torrent. “But I’m sure I didn’t lose it in the parking lot because I had it in my tent for the solo. That’s not a lie, either.”

  Councilor Walker arrived promptly. Annie stood next to her, shifting from one foot to the other, showing none of the assertiveness she’d had on the phone.

  Bernie took them into the station’s old conference room. She sat on one side of the table, and mother and daughter sat where officers usually placed the suspects.

  The councilor waved off the pleasantries and asked the first question. “Tell me why you were giving Cooper money.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Annie saw it as the girls were getting on the bus and told me. Was that to keep her quiet about your involvement in the cover-up?”

  Bernie shook her head. “I loaned her some money for gas for the van.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Mr. Cruz had the business credit card in his wallet, and the rental company wanted the van full when it was returned. She agreed to pay me back. What else are you concerned about?”

  “Corrupt cops, especially when they have access to children.”

  “I gave her twenty dollars.” Bernie pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “If I wanted to bribe someone, I don’t think twenty dollars would get me very far.”

  She hadn’t meant to be funny, but Walker laughed. “You’re right about that. It was too little money, even for a group as cash-strapped as that one. And too obvious an exchange. I guess you just lack the experience to understand how these crooks work.”

  Bernie bit back her response. Breathe in calm, she told herself. Breathe out trouble. “If you have charges to make against me, I’m happy to respond. That’s why I’m here.”

  “I came down here to look you in the eye. If you’re really not on the take, you can prove it by finding out what’s going on with Wings and Roots and the money the tribe gave them. Come up with something definite, and I won’t pursue any charges against you or the department.” Walker wiggled her middle and index fingers. “You tell me whatever you find. Since you already loaned her money, she’ll trust you.”

  “Councilor, you know that request is totally inappropriate.” Bernie studied the desktop, expecting an argument from Walker but getting none. “I understand that you know a friend of mine, Lieutenant Joe Leaphorn.”

  “That’s one smart man.”

  “I will look into Wings and Roots and how the program spends its money, and I will ask the Lieutenant to help. If we find everything on the up and up, I need a promise from you.”

  “What might that be?”

  “That you will work for a bill to give them more tribal money to keep going.”

  “You’re trying to negotiate with me? You’re a pushy one, aren’t you?”

  “I know that program helps kids, and there are more kids who could use it than they have money to serve.” Kids like Annie, she thought, who need to develop more confidence. “You’re in a powerful position to do good, to serve as a role model for these youngsters.”

  Walker picked up her briefcase—or maybe it was a purse that looked like a briefcase—and pushed her chair back, motioning to Annie with a jut of her chin. “Don’t lecture me about doing good. You find the money that guy ran off with. That new FBI woman told me she didn’t think tribal police would have the interest to get involved. Or maybe she said integrity.” Walker emphasized the word with her tone of voice.

  Annie looked up from her pink phone like a turtle rising for air. “Officer Bernie, did they find Mr. Cruz?”

  “I haven’t heard anything new about the search.”

  “At first, I blamed Cooper, but now I think Cruz is behind all this.” Walker stood. “He’s not lost. He arranged for someone to pick him up, and he’s in Hawaii or somewhere with the money. That’s what you’ll find out as soon as you start digging behind the scenes. I hope Leaphorn will help you. I trust him. I’m going to talk to your captain next.”

  Bernie opened the door, and the councilor stomped out with Annie sulking along behind.

  Bernie took a few deep breaths, regaining her equilibrium. If Largo thought she’d overstepped her responsibilities, so be it. She warmed her coffee, chatting with Officer Bigman for a few minutes about his wife and her mother and their joint expedition to Crownpoint. She had barely returned to her cubbyhole that served as an office when Sandra buzzed her. “The captain needs to see you. And Rose Cooper wants you to call her. Do you need the number?”

  “No, I have it.”

  Largo sat behind his big desk, a pile of papers before him, his computer open to several screens. “So, Walker told me how Cruz’s disappearance is tied to a big embezzlement scheme. And how our office might be wrapped up in all this and how, after she talked to you, she decided you can solve it and that I need to release you from all your other assignments. I told her we needed a place to start if we were going to look into Cruz as a runaway embezzler.”

  He stopped.

  “Did you really say runaway embezzler?”

  “No.” Largo grinned at her. “Councilor Walker asked me—told me, actually—to give you the assignment to look into a connection between Cruz’s disappearance and Wings and Roots’ money problems.”
>
  “So, first she thinks I’m on the take, and now she wants me to be her flunky or something. Do I have that right?”

  Largo chuckled. “She told me, and I quote, ‘She’s the smartest one of your sorry bunch.’ Do you want a minute to think about it?”

  “No. I’ll do it.” She wasn’t used to the captain giving her a choice of assignments.

  He handed her a slim folder on the top of the pile. “Walker left this information for you. It shouldn’t be that complicated to match it up with the reports from Cooper. Talk to Cooper about the tribal funds, how much they get and the way the program accounts for the money. Ask if there was any problem receiving the money or spending it, if the funding has increased over the . . . is it five years they’ve been operating?”

  “I think that’s right.” Realizing that she should have been taking notes, Bernie extracted her notebook and a pen from her backpack. She put Walker’s folder inside.

  The captain waited until she stopped writing. “You should be able to tell from Cooper’s attitude if she’s got something to hide. If this stinks like a real problem and not a councilwoman’s ranting, we’ll kick it up to the chief’s office and the feds. If it’s nothing, we’ll say that and get Walker out of our hair until she comes up with another scandal. You sure you don’t want a minute to think about it?”

  “No, I’ll do it.” She said it with conviction. “Will you really give me the leeway to just focus on this?”

  “Sure. Take the next twenty-four hours.”

  “You know, sir, I’m not an expert when it comes to numbers.”

  “You’ll do fine, Manuelito. Ask for help if you need it.”

  She mentioned her idea to involve Leaphorn if he were available on short notice, and Largo agreed. “We can pay him on his regular contract.”

  “So the councilor called us a sorry bunch, is that right, sir?”

  “I’ve been known to call you guys worse than that on a bad day.”

  Back in her office, she finished her coffee and called Mama.

  “We were talking about you yesterday.” Mama’s voice sounded strong and clear. “The woman I am teaching to weave says you are lucky to have a mother close by.”