Earthcrack: A Lin Hanna Mystery

by Sharon Canipe

  “Well, we can use the excuse of bringing them a copy of the police report,” Lin added, “ That gives us an opening. We can always say we were not certain whether or not they had received one—which is true.”

  “That is true and we can let them take the lead in talking about their family member. We don’t want to pepper them with questions. If they are willing to talk at all, we should be able to get some answers.”

  Before leaving the trading post, Lin and Sue took some time to examine some of the merchandise in the gallery portions of the large store. It was almost like visiting a museum of native art. Both ladies enjoyed seeing the beautiful weavings, pottery and jewelry. Lin was tempted, but she didn’t purchase anything. There would be other opportunities and she didn’t want to break her budget so early in her stay.

  Soon they were back on the road. They had driven Sue’s car because she had a GPS. Lin programmed in the name of the street in Moenkopi, the only address she had. There was no house number but they felt sure that if they got to the street they could locate the family.

  When they arrived in Tuba City, Sue explained to Lin about the existence of the two communities that, although contiguous, had different time zones. The Hopi reservation was relatively small and entirely surrounded by the larger Navajo reservation. Moenkopi was a Hopi community while Tuba was Navajo. Although the state of Arizona did not observe daylight saving time, the Navajo did so. Since the Hopi followed the pattern of the state, the time in Hopi communities was an hour earlier during the spring and summer than that in neighboring Navajo areas. This could be confusing. The two groups often did not see eye to eye politically either and there had been land disputes that continued over the years. In spite of all these differences, there were marriages and friendships between the two groups. Amazing, Lin thought, hard to believe that life could be so complex in rural areas that would appear to have a simple lifestyle.

  It was mid-morning when Lin and Sue pulled up to a convenience store on the corner of the street where the Honeyestewa family lived. They went inside and purchased some snacks, mostly to be polite. When they had paid for their purchases Lin asked the clerk about the family.

  “Oh, yes, I know them well—nice folks,” he responded, “Probably not home right now though. I think they usually go to church—that little Presbyterian Church over on the next street. Services start at ten, I think, so they will not be over for about 45 minutes or an hour. It’s the third house up the street on the right side,” he indicated the direction with a wave of his hand.

  “We’ll wait then,” Sue said. “Anyplace around here to get a good cup of coffee?”

  “Our coffee is pretty good,” the clerk smiled, “but, if you want to sit and wait for a while, I would recommend you go over to the McDonald’s in Tuba.”

  “Thanks, we’ll try that,” Lin responded. Taking the snacks they had purchased, they left and returned to their car.

  They drove down the street to locate the Honeyestewa home. It did appear that there was no one there. A metal carport in the front yard was empty; although, there was a pick up truck parked in the back beside a shed. Possibly Cullen’s truck that had been returned to the family, Lin noted. They would have to come back later.

  Sue turned around at the end of the street and they drove back across the highway into Tuba City. The McDonalds was easy to spot so they went in and ordered coffees. There were only a few customers—two older Navajo men were having coffee in a rear booth and a family of tourists was enjoying a late breakfast at a table in front. Sue and Lin located a booth where they could chat without being easily overheard. While they sipped their coffee they reviewed the police report they had brought to give the family. Sue had not actually read it before.

  “I agree with you. This report doesn’t answer many questions. In fact, it seems to me to raise more than it answers.” Sue had finished reading and placed the report back in its folder.

  “ I hate to say this,” Lin replied, “ but I think Deputy Taylor went into this investigation with a preconceived notion of what had happened and he found what he was looking for.”

  “So it seems. Perhaps this was indeed an accident that happened just the way the report concludes, but there is certainly no substantial evidence that proves that—or anything else for that matter,” Sue responded, “ If this were about one of my family members I would be pushing hard for further investigation but….”

  “I guess these folks might feel put off by authorities, especially from communities outside the reservation. Lots of folks are afraid to question the police it seems,” Lin offered.

  Sue nodded, “That could well be the case but it doesn’t mean that someone shouldn’t ask questions. In my career I have seen a lot of cases reopened because a nosy reporter like me kept pushing for information and asking questions.”

  Lin smiled. She was glad to have Sue along. She was certain that she could think of things to ask that Lin might overlook. Besides, it was good to have a new friend who believed that questions should be asked and who shared Lin’s concerns about this particular case.

  The ladies finished their coffee and left the restaurant. It had been almost an hour since they left the convenience store and church should be ending by now. They drove back to Moenkopi.

  As they approached the Honeyestewa home, they saw an older model sedan pulling into the carport. They parked on the street in front of the home and observed the family getting out of their car—an older couple, probably Cullen’s parents, a younger woman and a rather tall, skinny teenaged boy.

  The family paused in the yard and the older man walked toward their car. Lin rolled down her window, “ Are you Mr. Honeyestewa?”

  The man nodded, “Yes, what can I do for you?”

  “ I am Lin Hanna and this is my friend Sue Gray. We are volunteers with the park service in Flagstaff and were hoping we could visit with you for a few moments. I was present when the remains of your son, Cullen, were first discovered.” Lin saw a shadow of sadness cross the man’s face, “I have a copy of the official police report for you—I was not sure whether or not you received one.”

  The man shook his head. He looked back toward his wife and other family members who were now standing beside the car. The older woman nodded and motioned for Lin and Sue to get out of the car.

  “Come in,” the older lady said, “We can talk inside.”

  Lin and Sue followed the family into their small living room.

  The older man offered his hand in greeting. “I am John Honeyestewa, this is my wife Myrna, our daughter Sophie, and her son Michael,” he indicated the other family members who were now seated—except for Michael who stood, shuffling his feet impatiently.

  John nodded toward Michael, “You can go on and meet your friend,” he said, “Just be back soon. We will be eating in about an hour. You can bring Teddy with you if you like.”

  Michael was off quickly, walking away from the house back toward the store on the corner.

  Lin removed the report from its folder and offered it to John Honeyestewa. The older man fingered the pages carefully, reading the opening paragraphs that presented the summary of the findings. After he had scanned the report he passed it over to his wife and turned to Lin.

  “So Cullen had an unfortunate accident, probably his own fault,” he sounded resigned but not accepting, “The deputy came out to see us last week, brought us Cullen’s personal effects, and that is what he told us. He didn’t share a copy of the report though—thank you for bringing that.”

  Lin started to respond but was interrupted by Sophie, “I do not believe Cullen had any such accident,” she snapped, “if he had run off the road with his truck, or someone had hit him—maybe—but not on foot walking. He was always careful and knew where he was going and what the land was like there. He wouldn’t have fallen into that crack—never!” She seemed angry.

  “ Now, Sophie. We can’t be so sure,” it was Myrna who spoke, trying to calm her daughter. “I know Cullen was always care
ful and knew where he was going; but, accidents can happen and….” She paused, as emotion seemed to overtake her. She wiped away tears.

  “We are so sorry for your loss,” Sue interjected, “Tell us about your son, if you don’t mind, I understand he was a collector of ceremonial things for your clan. You must have been very proud of him.”

  This time it was John who spoke, “ Cullen was a good man. He and Henry Piestewa were collectors of eaglets and eagle feathers for our clan ceremonies. Those jobs carry great responsibility and only responsible people are chosen for such duties. Cullen took his duties to his community and to this family very seriously. We all miss him very much.”

  Sophie had composed herself but she still seemed a bit angry, “That deputy told us that perhaps Cullen had had too much to drink and that caused him to be careless and led to his fall. That was shocking to me. So far as I know, Cullen never drank. He knew that alcoholism was a real problem for many in our community and he was always opposed to drinking. He even tried to get folks with drinking problems into the AA meetings at the church!”

  Myrna had composed herself and now spoke, “Cullen was always sober. I never saw him drinking either. I can’t believe he was drunk. There must be some other explanation for his fall but I’m not sure what that would be.”

  “ Can you think of a reason Cullen might have gone to the park last year—what he might have been doing there?” Lin had decided to press forward with her questions, as the family seemed willing to talk to them.

  John responded, “ Not really, it was too early for the ceremonies. He could have been collecting, but I doubt it. He would have waited a few weeks it seems to me.”

  Again it was Sophie who spoke up. “ I don’t know what he would have been doing there,” she offered, “ just before he disappeared, he told me that he was trying to do something to help Michael.” She breathed a deep sigh, “My son is a good boy but last year he fell in with a fast crowd. He was partying and skipping school—dropped out in fact. Cullen tried to get him to go back. Then Michael told us he owed money to Raymond Tso, that pawn shop fellow in Tuba. He had borrowed money and was gambling and partying and he lost it all and couldn’t pay it back. Tso was threatening him and he was scared so he told me and Cullen all about it.”

  Sophie continued her story. “Michael’s father left us when he was very young. We have lived here with my family since. Cullen felt responsible for Michael—he was his maternal uncle and, for us Hopi, that is the most important relationship for a male child,” she explained. “He had promised to do all he could to help Michael but he wanted him to change his ways and go back to school. Just before he disappeared last year, he had told Michael he had a plan to repay his debts to Mr. Tso. He said he had found a way to get the money. He expected Michael to straighten up and be responsible. He was going to teach him about his duties so that maybe one day Michael could be a collector too. Then he vanished and all that plan ended.”

  “ What happened when Cullen disappeared,” Sue asked.

  Sophie began to tear up as she responded, “Nothing good happened. Michael was attacked one day walking home from the store. He was beaten up pretty good—still has some scars. It was one of Tso’s men. He took him to Tso’s shop after he beat him up and Mr. Tso told him he was tired of waiting for his money. He was going to give Michael a job in his shop but all his pay would go toward his debt. Michael has been working at Tso’s shop every weekday since then; sometimes he sends him on errands around the Rez. He doesn’t give him any money though—says it’s all going to pay his debts. I think he should have paid by now, but Michael says he does not think he even writes anything down or keeps any kind of record. He feels like a slave—like he will have to work there forever.” She sobbed openly, “ I do not know how to help my boy. He needs to go back to school so he can get a real job.”

  Lin and Sue exchanged glances. This seemed to be a grave situation to them. What could be done to help this family?

  “Perhaps you should report this situation to the tribal authorities,” Lin ventured.

  John Honeyestewa spoke up, “ Would do no good—just bring on more bad things. Raymond Tso is a bad man but everyone around here is afraid to cross him. He has several of these young men working, just like Michael. No one can do anything to Mr. Tso.” He sounded resigned to this situation.

  Sue spoke next, “ We will hope that Michael’s situation will improve soon,” she did not feel that angle was worth pursuing, at that point, and Lin felt the same. There was probably nothing they could do about Michael’s situation at the moment anyway. Moving back to the topic of Cullen’s disappearance and death, Lin sought to get more information, since the family seemed ready to share with them.

  “ The report seems to show very little evidence of what actually happened,” she offered, “ I was there when Cullen’s remains were found and I know that they did not find anything at the site except a bloody rock—no pack, for example, no bottles—not liquor or even water. When you got Cullen’s truck back was there anything in it that might have given you a clue as to what he was doing?”

  Again, it was John who spoke, “No, nothing really—I think he had a few papers maybe—a bunch of junk really.”

  Myrna spoke up, “ I don’t know why, but I did keep some of the stuff that was there. Put it in a bag. It is in the desk drawer.” She got up to retrieve the items.

  She opened the plastic grocery bag and pulled out a handful of papers that appeared to be mostly gasoline receipts and other such items. She also pulled out a belt and Lin recognized the eagle belt buckle that had been found on the remains.

  Myrna sighed, “ I also have the belt he was wearing and his wallet. Those were the only things left in decent condition when his body was found. The deputy brought them to us.”

  She fingered the belt and slipped the large eagle buckle off, “ We buried Cullen just two days ago. I almost put this buckle in the casket with his remains but I changed my mind. I am going to give this to Michael. Cullen would want him to have it. Maybe it will remind him of all he has to be proud of and help him find his way.” She laughed gently as she fingered the beautiful piece, “He will have to buy a new belt though. This buckle is too big to fit on his belt and he is too skinny to wear Cullen’s. I will give it to him later today, when he returns, and I will give him some money to buy a new belt for it,” the thought seemed to comfort her.

  “Can I see some of the papers?” Lin ventured to ask. Myrna passed the bag to her.

  Lin pulled out a small handful of mostly receipts and a few cards—gasoline, snacks, no really major purchases. A card from a medical clinic with an appointment time and another from a car repair place, nothing seemed significant but…Lin paused as she came to the last card in the small stack. It was a card from the art gallery in Flagstaff where she had met Neal Smith. The owner’s name, John Sessions, was printed on the bottom. Lin drew in a deep breath—Was there a connection there? Would the gallery owner know Cullen and maybe know something about him that his family did not know? It seemed worth pursuing to Lin. She turned the card over, there was a phone number written on the back—not the gallery number and not otherwise identified. Lin wondered who that could be.

  “Could I please keep this card?” Lin turned to Myrna and John, “It probably is meaningless, but I do know this gallery and maybe someone there knew Cullen. They might have some information about some of his activities that could answer some of our questions. With your permission, I would like to ask.”

  “Sure, keep it,” John said. “We would probably throw it away anyway, so you don’t need to worry about returning it. The belt buckle and wallet are really the only items of value here.”

  “Thank you,” Lin responded, “I will certainly let you know if I learn anything more that might answer some of our questions about what Cullen was doing in the park and what might have actually happened there. Now we had better go, we are holding you up from your Sunday dinner.” Lin and Sue rose to leave.

&nbs
p; “Thank you for coming,” Myrna said. “We do have questions and it is kind of you to listen to us. Our son will be sorely missed but life will go on. Thank you for the copy of the report.”

  “Hopefully, we will see you again soon,” Lin smiled. “Thank you for being so hospitable.”

  Lin and Sue left the family and returned to their car. Lin could hardly wait until they drove away to share with Sue the information about the gallery contact. She had talked to Sue earlier regarding her questions about the case and her concerns that the accidental death ruling had been a hasty one but she hadn’t spoken about her visit to the gallery in Flagstaff. Now, as they drove back toward the park, she elaborated, telling Sue all about going to the gallery and about her lunch with Neal Smith. She also told Sue about the trip to Grand Canyon, telling her she found Smith good company and enjoyed being with him. “ There is something, though that I feel uneasy about,” Lin added.

  “It may be just a coincidence,” Lin said, “but it is at least interesting that Cullen had a business card from this gallery. Maybe the gallery owner remembers him and maybe he would know something more about him.”

  “I also find it interesting that Neal is obviously well acquainted with this gallery owner but he hasn’t mentioned knowing Cullen at all,” Lin confessed. “I’m not sure why, but I have a strange feeling that this entire incident is causing Neal Smith a lot of distress.” Lin explained—Neal’s reactions whenever she mentioned the discovery of the remains—his nervousness and his ready dismissal of her questions. “If I say anything, he cuts me off, just says it was an unfortunate accident and he has confidence the authorities have done their job.”

  “Don’t be too quick to jump to conclusions,” Sue cautioned, “after all, there are lots of reasons a person might have a card from a gallery—I have picked several up myself since I’ve been here. Neal’s reactions could simply reflect his distress at having his students involved in a frightening situation.”

  “I know,” Lin admitted, “I don’t want to make any assumptions, but I can’t help but feel there is something more here than has yet been discovered. I am more convinced than ever that there are questions to be asked and I intend to see what else I can learn.”