Ghost Medicine

by Aimée

  “If you’re about to say heavier, don’t go there. I have a high kick, and I’m wearing my pointy boots,” she said, looking up from her last bite of burger with narrowed eyes.

  “Prettier. I was going to say prettier,” he said with a smile. “The only reason I mentioned this is because Shields is into verbal and physical intimidation. He gets off pushing women around, the ones he finds attractive, that is, and you’re his type. I’d offer backup, but if he sees the three of us together, he’ll probably bail. Of course, I could wait outside,” Teeny said, removing the straw and polishing off the last of his drink with a big glug.

  “Thanks, but we can handle this,” Ella said. She looked down at her watch. “We’d better get going, partner.”

  “Right, boss. Uh, Bruce, just how big is Albert Shields?” Justine asked.

  “He’s a real half-pint, about five-five—no offense. But he’s got that bodybuilder frame—all muscle—and likes to use his fists. You two should be careful.”

  “Always,” Ella replied, standing. “If we learn anything useful, even if it’s only to rule him out, I’ll let you know.”

  “Good. I’m rereading our friend’s reports, and I’ll call you if I find anything useful. Thanks for lunch, and make sure you grab that photo off the printer on your way out.”

  * * *

  As they continued east on Highway 64, Ella looked across the San Juan River valley, noting how much the area had changed in just her lifetime.

  “When I was a kid, this was mostly fields, orchards, and farmland. Now look at all the small businesses crowding both sides of the road. Do you remember when Flare Hill over there used to have a derrick, burning off waste gas night and day?”

  “Before my time, cuz,” Justine said, slowing at the red stoplight, the first since leaving Shiprock. They made the right turn, then drove into Kirtland proper.

  “There’s the place,” Ella said, pointing toward an off-white block building on the left-hand side of the two-lane road. “Make a U, then come back and park just off the road. We’ll walk up.”

  Ella liked to approach any possible confrontational situation with as little fanfare as possible. Less forewarning, less forearming.

  After taking another look at the photo of Albert Shields, they walked up the road and into the rental shop.

  At a glance it looked like an old mercantile shop, with everything it offered for rental on display. There were chairs, tables, sofas, a wall of electronic devices that included big-screen TVs, and even gardening tools and equipment. Outside, on a covered patio, were party and wedding supplies ranging from tables and umbrellas to an inflatable slide.

  A blond woman in her mid-fifties with big hair, jeans, and a country-western blouse came up to them almost instantly—a predictable move because the bell over the door had announced their presence. Sue Ann, according to her name tag, greeted them with sparkling blue eyes and a toothy smile.

  “How can I help you ladies this fine afternoon?” she said with a hint of an Eastern New Mexico twang.

  Ella pushed back her jacket, revealing the badge pinned to her belt. Knowing that technically she was out of her jurisdiction, she allowed her jacket to quickly cover it up again. “We’re police officers,” Ella said, identifying herself and Justine. “We’d like to speak to one of your coworkers, Albert Shields. Could you tell us where you can find him?”

  “Aw, jeez. He’s not in trouble again, is he?” she said with a scowl.

  “We hope not,” Justine said. “We just need to ask him a few questions. Where is Mr. Shields?”

  The woman seemed to relax slightly. “Al’s in the warehouse. It’s right through that door.” She pointed toward a large entryway leading into what looked to be a storeroom.

  “Thanks.” Ella went inside the combination workshop, warehouse, and garage. The walls were lined with rows of folding chairs and gardening equipment, and the big shelves were crammed with power tools.

  Across the room at the far end, Ella spotted Shields working on a power carpet cleaner. “Hey, Al?” she called, walking toward him.

  “That’s me, darlin’,” the man said, turning his head. His brown hair was cropped close, military style, and although he was smaller than Ella, it was clear he worked out with weights.

  His smile quickly faded once his gaze dropped past their breasts to the gold badges on their belts. “What the hell do you want? I haven’t seen Rachel in over a month, and if she or the goon she sent to try to intimidate me said differently, they’re lying.”

  Ella glanced around, making sure he didn’t have a gun or potential weapon within reach. Verifying that none was readily accessible, she relaxed. If the guy was hiding a weapon in his jeans, it was too small to matter, and all he had on the floor beside him was a cordless screwdriver and some kind of paper filter.

  Shields took a step toward her, then stopped and crossed his arms across his chest, pumping up like a steroid-enhanced action figure.

  Ella moved closer, forcing him to look up at her. She wanted to judge his temperament by deliberately pushing his buttons. “So tell us, what happened between you and that PI? Did he skin up your nose when he jammed your face into the ground?”

  Ella watched him carefully. His face turned a little red, but he didn’t react.

  “He say that?” Shields said, and laughed. “Bull crap. I folded him up like a taco with a jab to the gut. Guy went off retching like a sick dog.”

  Ella said nothing. Instead she took another step forward, getting in his face.

  “Back off, bitch,” the man said, throwing out his palm to slam her in the chest.

  Anticipating the move, Ella caught his open hand in a pinch grip, digging in her thumbnail below his index finger. He groaned and launched a left jab toward her jaw. She slipped the punch with a dodge to her right, pinching harder and twisting his arm painfully.

  As he sagged to his knees, cursing, Justine brought out her Taser and aimed it at his chest. “Try anything else and I’m lighting you up like a tribal casino,” she said. “Now, chill.”

  Suddenly they all heard a shrill voice behind them. “What in the hell are you doing, Albert Shields? I warned you what would happen if I ever caught you picking another fight with a woman!” Sue Ann stood in the doorway behind them, hands on her hips.

  Ella wasn’t quite ready to let go of Al. “What do you say, Mr. Shields? I let go, you step back, and then we can talk like normal people?”

  “Fine,” he whispered, his face contorted in pain, rage, or both.

  Ella eased up on the pinch, then let go of his hand as he stood again.

  Justine looked back at the clerk. “We’re okay here, ma’am. If you could give us some privacy for a few minutes, we’d appreciate it.”

  “Whatever,” Sue Ann answered. “And if you wanna kick him in the tool bag, go right ahead. I’ll never tell. By the way, Al, if they have to throw you in jail, don’t bother coming back to work again, you hear?” She backed out of the room and shut the double doors.

  “Bit—,” Al began, then clamped his mouth shut and looked at Ella. “You got under my skin and I lost my cool. Let’s start again.” He attempted a smooth smile, but it never made it to his eyes, which remained cold and angry.

  “You lose your cool with the PI, too?” Ella asked.

  “Yeah, and if he ever gets into my face again, I’m going to drop him like the sack of shit he is. Let him file charges. It’ll be his word against mine,” Shields said, doing the arms-across-the-powerful-chest move again. His eyes went back and forth between her and Justine, who still had the Taser out. “No need for the cattle prod, cutie. I’m cool now.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Ella snapped, forcing his attention back to her. “I just have one question—providing I get the right answer. Were you here at work all day Tuesday?”

  He looked at her curiously. “Yeah. Eight to five thirty, an hour off for lunch. I ate across the road at the family diner.”

  “Can anyone verify that?” Ella said.


  “Sue Ann, for one. I spent half a day cleaning and maintaining the carpet steamers that came back Monday and Tuesday mornings.”

  “What about during lunch?” Ella said.

  “Hector, the owner of the diner, and I sat together and talked. Check it with him.”

  “Count on it,” Ella said, then glanced at Justine. “Let’s go, partner.”

  Ella reached the double doors when Shields spoke again. “Hey, what was that all about, anyway?”

  “Read the papers or listen to the news. You’ll find out soon enough,” Ella said. Stepping into the front room, she glanced around, searching for Sue Ann, and found her with a customer.

  Ella caught her attention, then nodded and held up a hand, signaling that she’d wait until the customer had been served.

  As she sat on a concrete bench to wait, Al came out, ostensibly looking for his boss. Seeing them, he immediately went back into the workroom.

  “Think he was about to coach his alibi?” Justine whispered.

  “Or excuse his behavior. Abusers are usually great at coming up with reasons that’ll explain their outbursts,” Ella said quietly as Sue Ann came up.

  “I’m sorry Al gave you a hard time. He’s got anger issues, as you saw,” the woman said, her eyes on the workroom entrance.

  “We noticed,” Ella said. “Before we go, I’d like to verify Al’s work schedule this past week.”

  “He works from eight to five thirty Monday and Tuesday, is off Wednesday and Thursday, then comes back Friday and Saturday. We’re closed on Sundays. He gets an hour off at lunch beginning at twelve thirty. There’s no clock to punch, but he’s supposed to let me know when he arrives or leaves.”

  “Does he do any deliveries?” Ella asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Several per day, as a matter of fact. Would you like to see his schedule for last week?” Sue Ann asked, and saw Ella nod.

  “We keep a paper copy, just in case the electricity goes out,” Sue Ellen explained as she picked up a large ledger beside the computer terminal behind the counter. Placing it on the counter, she turned the pages back to Monday. “Which days do you want to look at?”

  “Monday to Wednesday, this week,” Ella said, refusing to give her specifics in case the woman decided to protect Shields.

  “Al had to deliver a wedding tent to Beclabito late Tuesday morning. He returned at around one thirty, took lunch, then came back to work around two thirty.”

  “Anyone go with him to make the delivery?” Justine asked.

  Sue Ann shook her head. “Not Tuesday morning. We have a teenager who helps part-time from four to six in the afternoons and all day on Saturdays. During school hours, Al makes the deliveries by himself.”

  “Okay,” Ella said, taking notes, including the Beclabito address and phone number.

  They had what they needed now. Though Ella had looked over toward the workroom a few times, there was no indication Al had been eavesdropping. “Is that the delivery van parked out there?” Ella asked Sue Ann, gesturing to the white van with a business logo on the side parked to the left of the entrance.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Al drives the black Mustang parked beside it, in case you’re interested,” Sue Ann added.

  “Thanks again for all your help, Sue Ann…,” Ella said, letting her words trail off as she waited for the woman’s last name.

  “Quigley,” Sue Ann answered. “Glad to help. Could you tell me what this was all about, Detective Clah?”

  “We’re looking for possible witnesses to a crime, and someone suggested that Mr. Shields might have seen something.”

  “I hope Al isn’t involved in some way. He’s actually a very hard worker, but from what I can tell, his personal life is a disaster.”

  “We’ll be in touch,” Ella said, handing the woman her card.

  They were back on the road within five minutes. “That guy has anger issues and ego issues, too. So what do you think? Is he a viable suspect?” Justine said as they headed north toward Highway 64.

  “He’s a bully and a coward and Harry bruised his ego. He also has no conclusive alibi to cover the time of death. It’s possible he drove down the highway, took the turn off at Rattlesnake, tracked Harry down, shot him, then came back to Kirtland for lunch,” Ella said, then paused before speaking again.

  “I just thought of something else. Turn around and go back to the rental store. I want to take a closer look at that van. It rained around the time of the shooting. Maybe we can find mud on the vehicle that matches what’s around the crime scene.”

  With a nod, Justine did a 180 and headed back down the road.

  SEVEN

  The van turned out to be a disappointment. The vehicle had been recently washed. There was even a local car wash receipt in full view on the dashboard.

  Halfway back to Shiprock, Ella started looking through her notes. “I’m thinking of crossing Albert off our list at least for now. We don’t have much on him, but somehow I doubt he’d know enough about Navajo witches to effectively mislead us.”

  “And how would he know where Harry was going to be unless Al set him up somehow? On the other hand, the guy has access to plenty of tools,” Justine said.

  Ella nodded, knowing she meant heavy cutting tools, like bolt cutters. “My gut’s still telling me he’s not our guy. Al’s personality suggests he’d be more likely to use his fists than a bullet. Let’s dig deeper into this county theft investigation instead.”

  “That’s going to be tricky,” Justine said. “It’s out of our jurisdiction, so you’re going to have to rely heavily on Dan. You’ll be seeing him tonight, right?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll need to make things official, so I’m going to ask Big Ed to call Sheriff Taylor and request Dan,” Ella said, weighing her strategy. “What makes this a risky proposition is that we don’t know who’s behind the thefts. Instinct tells me we should keep things as quiet as possible.”

  “What if Sheriff Taylor doesn’t know about the missing stuff? He’s a straight arrow, and I can’t see him not taking immediate action on something like that,” Justine said.

  “If he does know, he may purposely be keeping it low profile. He wouldn’t want to tip off the perp or perps. Then there’s also the political angle to consider. He’s an elected official, so he wouldn’t want news of this to get out, not until he can make an arrest,” Ella reminded.

  “Guess you’re right,” Justine said. “While you’re handling that, is there anything in particular you want me to be doing?”

  “Yeah, get a warrant to look at all of Harry’s phone calls. Maybe his ‘date’ has his number. We’ll also want to seize any mail that arrives at his apartment. We need a solid lead.”

  “What about the skinwalker angle? Have you been able to talk to Clifford about possible suspects?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll keep trying to reach him,” Ella said.

  * * *

  It was five thirty in the afternoon and still in the high eighties outside when Ella left work for the day and headed home. She drove at a leisurely pace, welcoming a little time to herself.

  She passed the scattered houses and businesses lining both sides of the long hill rising to the south. To the west, the volcanic cone of Ship Rock rose from its base in the dry sand. Off to her left, Cathedral Mesa stood alone, like an enormous bench rising in the desert.

  She soon reached the turnoff that led to her home and, beyond that, her brother Clifford’s place. After a five-minute drive down the dusty road, she pulled up by her large wooden frame house.

  As Ella stepped out of the vehicle, the wonderful aroma of freshly baked pinto beans, fry bread, and roasted green chile filled the air. Rose’s cooking was second to none.

  Rose appeared at the kitchen screen door a moment later. “Daughter, you’re just in time for dinner.”

  “Navajo tacos?” Ella said, suddenly very hungry.

  “How did you—? Oh, of course,” Rose replied with a wide smile, sniffing the air.

  “Mom, I wou
ldn’t be much of a detective if I couldn’t pick up the trail of freshly cooked pinto beans.” Ella held the screen open while her mother went inside. Dawn, still in her riding clothes, was already at the table eating. Her mouth full, she waved with a twittering of her fingers. Herman, seated at the end of the table, stood as they came in.

  “It’s good to have you home for dinner,” he said. “You’re planning to join us, right?”

  “Yes, but I have to work later tonight, so I won’t be able to stay for long.” She still had to talk to Clifford, then meet Dan at that Farmington bar so they could try to track down Harry’s mystery date. If they ended up having to go bar hopping in order to find her, she might not make it home until after the local bars closed.

  “Here, eat,” Herman said, offering her a serving. The large plate was filled with a saucer-sized piece of puffy fry bread, pinto beans, spicy salsa, shredded lettuce, green chile, and the whole thing was sprinkled with grated cheddar cheese.

  “Thanks,” she said, realizing suddenly how hungry she was. Ella took the plate.

  “So, where are you going tonight, Mom? Do you already have a suspect?” Dawn said, then seeing Rose’s stern look, cringed and stared at her plate.

  Ella, knowing her mother didn’t like that kind of talk at the table, lowered her voice and leaned closer to her daughter. “Let’s not discuss that right now, okay, beanstalk?” Dawn was growing by leaps and bounds, and was nearly five foot seven and a half now. In another year, she’d be wearing Ella’s jeans.

  Dawn laughed. “You managed to find a nickname even worse than ‘pumpkin.’”

  “You’re growing like a weed, but I thought you’d resent being called ‘tumbleweed,’” Ella said, grabbing her fork and digging in to her meal.

  Rose joined them at the table with her own plate and looked at Dawn. “I’m glad that you finally emptied the trash in your bathroom, but you haven’t cleaned in there yet. No more excuses, granddaughter. It gets done before you go to bed tonight.”

  “But tonight’s—,” Dawn began.