Earthcrack: A Lin Hanna Mystery

by Sharon Canipe

  “And I intend to help you,” Sue smiled.

  It was mid-afternoon when they arrived back at Wupatki. They had not stopped for lunch after leaving the family, instead eating the snacks they had picked up at the convenience store. Now they were beginning to be hungry.

  Sue pulled to the side of the visitor’s parking lot to let Lin out near her apartment. “I have an idea. I’m going to be ready for a good dinner in a couple of hours. Why don’t you rest up a bit and then drive into Flag and meet me for an early dinner somewhere. We can talk about what we learned and how to proceed from this point.”

  “Sounds like a great idea,” Lin responded. “ Where shall we meet?”

  Sue suggested a Mexican restaurant named Salsa Brava near the eastern part of town and they agreed to meet there at five-thirty.

  As she reentered her apartment, Lin glanced at the clock. It was only three—plenty of time before she would have to leave to meet Sue. Plenty of time to satisfy her curiosity about one more thing—the phone number on the back of the card from the gallery. Grabbing her keys, Lin hurried out to her car, making sure she still had the card in her pocket. She drove once more to the Doney Peak area, where the cell service was good, parked her car at one end of the almost deserted parking lot, and dialed the number written on the back. The phone rang—four rings, five—apparently no one was home to answer. Then voice mail kicked in. A familiar male voice said—“Sorry, we are not here to receive your call, please leave a mess…” Lin broke off the call—she was not going to leave a message for Dr. Neal Smith!

  Chapter 11

  Darren Steele drained the last of his beer and signaled the bartender for another. It was getting late—close to closing time.

  “That’s your limit, buddy,” the bartender put the beer in front of him, “almost closing anyway—thirty minutes.”

  “Okay, Okay, I know,” Darren quickly took a long drink from the frosty glass. What was he going to do now? Thus far he had failed to locate the pottery even though he felt certain he was close somehow. It had to be in that area just beyond the box canyon at Lomaki. That was where the original meeting had been set, that was the part of the park Cullen was familiar with. It was close to his collection site and…Darren suddenly had a thought. Cullen was not the only Hopi who collected feathers and eaglets in that area. There was someone else. Darren didn’t know the man but he felt sure he could find out who it was. He had to head back to the reservation and make some inquiries. He needed to get more information, he needed to find the pottery and make good on this deal somehow.

  Darren left the bar and headed next door to his motel room on foot. The Pine Forest Tourist Inn wasn’t fancy but it was the best he could afford and it was on the east side of town on the way to the park area where he had been searching. Darren was getting low on funds again. In fact, he planned to check out of the motel tomorrow, but until he thought about the other collector, he hadn’t known where he was going or what he was going to do. He was growing increasingly frustrated and scared. He was pretty sure he was being followed, probably by someone Chou had sent to keep an eye on him. He had spotted a truck with New Mexico plates on several occasions but hadn’t identified the driver.

  Arriving back at his room, Darren sprawled out on the bed. He felt sick and tired of this whole thing. He had to succeed; otherwise, he would have nowhere to go from here. He kicked off his boots and fell into a drunken slumber. Tomorrow—he would do something tomorrow.

  Awakening shortly after dawn, Darren hit the shower and dressed in the last clean shirt he had. He packed his duffle bag, checked out of the motel, and headed out on Hwy 89. This time he drove on past the park entrance and continued on to the Tuba City cut off. Tuba was the largest town in that part of the Rez—maybe someone there would know the man he was looking for.

  When Darren arrived in Tuba City he went to the local McDonalds and ordered a breakfast biscuit and large coffee. The coffee would hopefully help him get rid of his lingering headache. He sat down at a large u-shaped counter in the middle where there were other folks eating. He finished his breakfast and then got up to refill his coffee. Returning to his seat he spoke to the man sitting across from him.

  “Looks like a nice morning,” he said, “good day to be outside.”

  “Yes, it is,” the man responded, “I don’t believe I know you, you new around here.”

  “Well, sort of,” Darren wanted to avoid giving his name, “ I grew up east of here in the Chuskas. I’m here looking for some work maybe—you know anyone hiring?”

  “Not really, things are pretty slow around here these days. Not much work.”

  “Well, I was afraid of that,” Darren responded, “guess I’ll just look up this guy a friend of mine mentioned and see if he knows anything.”

  “Who’s that,” the man asked.

  Darren took on a sheepish look, “I’m embarrassed, I had his name on a piece of paper and then, this morning, I couldn’t find it. Guess I lost it. I know he is Hopi and I think he is some kind of clan bigwig—looks for eaglets and eagle feathers or some such. He probably doesn’t live around here.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” the man responded, “but folks over in Moenkopi, just across the highway, probably would know. You could ask there.”

  “Thanks,” Darren responded. He refilled his coffee cup and headed out to his truck.

  Driving the few blocks over to Moenkopi on the Hopi side of the highway, he spotted a convenience store. He needed some gas anyway so he pulled in to the pump. After he gassed up he went inside to pay.

  “Maybe you can help me,” he spoke to the clerk, “I’m looking for someone. I’ve lost his name but I know he is one of those who collect eagle feathers and eaglets for the tribe. Maybe you know who he is?”

  “Sure, that must be Henry Piestewa, he is the only collector I know around here.”

  The clerk briefly described where Henry lived and Darren was soon on his way. The small trailer was located at the end of a side street. The yard was neatly swept and there was an older model green SUV parked beside the trailer.

  Darren got out of his truck but waited beside it until an older man came to the door of the trailer.

  “Henry Piestewa?” Darren asked.

  “That’s right, how can I help you,” Henry responded.

  “ I am looking for some information about a friend of mine who disappeared about this time last year, Cullen Honeyestewa. Someone told me you knew him and might know something about his disappearance.”

  “ Who are you,” Henry spoke warily, “why do you want information about Cullen?”

  “I am Billy, Billy Begay,” Darren quickly made up a name that was probably pretty common on the reservation. He did not want this man to know who he was.

  “Cullen and I were doing some business together. After he disappeared the deal fell through. I’m trying to find out if anyone has any information about what happened to him and what he was doing at the time. I know he collected eagle feathers and such and I was supposed to meet him around that place somewhere but he disappeared and I couldn’t find him later,” Darren hoped this would cause Henry to open up and talk about Cullen, maybe about where the collection site was.

  “I knew this man Cullen,” Henry responded, “ we collected the sacred birds and feathers together from our clan’s designated site, but I know nothing about any other business he was doing. I am afraid I can’t help you,” Henry spoke warily, he was not sure about this fellow…

  “Perhaps you can help me,” Darren pressed on. “ I was supposed to meet Cullen somewhere near the collection site. I know it is a secret but he said it was safer near there and we could take care of our business without violating the sacred site. I think maybe he had hidden some items there for me. Then he disappeared and I have not been able to locate anyone who could help me find my property. I hoped you might help me,” Darren wanted this story to be believable.

  Henry was not buying this story. “I seriously doubt Cullen hid anything anyw
here,” he responded. “ You see, Cullen didn’t just disappear. He is dead. His body was found a couple of weeks ago over in the park. There was nothing found with him so I’m afraid you are out of luck. That is all I know.”

  Darren tried not to show his concern over this news. He was not aware that anyone knew what had happened to Cullen. “Could you at least help me find the place? I could look for myself, if I knew where he might have been going. I would not try to enter any sacred areas—I just need to know the general location,” Darren tried not to sound too desperate for the information.

  “I have nothing more to say to you,” Henry responded. “I do not know anything about what Cullen was doing business-wise and I am certainly not going to betray the trust of my tribe by discussing our collection locations. You will have to leave now. I cannot help you.”

  Henry turned and went back into the trailer closing the door behind him. Darren had no choice but to leave. He knew that Henry knew the location of the collection site and he still felt certain that somewhere near there he would find the pottery he was looking for. He simply had to find a way to locate it.

  He drove out from Moenkopi returning to Tuba City where he found a cheap room for that night. He registered as Billy Begay and decided to stay in the room and watch TV the rest of the day. He had already spent enough time wandering around the two towns and he didn’t want to risk being identified. After all, Raymond Tso, his cousin and would-be business partner, was a well-known businessman here. Above all, at this point, he did not want Raymond to know where he was. He hadn’t seen the truck with New Mexico plates since he left Flagstaff but he knew it would not be difficult to trace his steps up here to the Rez. That was another good reason to stay hidden as much as possible.

  ***

  The next morning, Darren went once more to the McDonalds to get some breakfast. This time he chose a seat alone near a window where he could observe who was coming into the parking lot. He wasn’t sure what his next move would be. He wanted to go back to the park and hunt for the pottery but he wasn’t sure how to proceed. If he went during the day, he would have to find a place to hide his truck and he might bump into visitors near the ruin. Maybe there was a back way in from a forest service road. That was the part of the park furthest away from the visitor center so maybe he could manage to avoid being observed. Anyway, he had to try something. Time was running out if he expected to make any sort of deal for these pots.

  Just as he was refilling his coffee cup, Darren saw Henry Piestewa’s SUV drive by. He hurried to get his coffee and get out to his truck. The SUV was stopped at the intersection by a red light. Darren managed to start his truck and pull out into the line of traffic several cars back.

  Where was Henry going this morning? He had his right turn signal on which meant he was not heading back home. Darren decided to take a chance and follow him. Maybe he was heading for the park to collect feathers or something. Maybe he had thought about what Darren had said the day before about a business deal. Maybe he was going to hunt for something also. Darren followed the green SUV out of town, taking care to remain some distance behind. It wasn’t difficult. Henry was not driving very fast.

  Darren was totally focused on the SUV ahead, making sure he could follow at a safe distance as the traffic thinned, leaving Tuba City and heading toward the highway. He was so focused on the vehicle ahead that he didn’t notice the old battered jeep that had pulled out into the line of traffic behind him in town. Now that they were on the open road, the driver of the jeep was careful to remain far enough back to avoid being obvious.

  As he reached Highway 89, Darren began watching for the truck with the New Mexico plates. He felt sure that man would try to pick him up on this main road to Flagstaff. The only vehicle he saw behind him was a battered old jeep moving pretty slowly. Probably it was someone going into Flagstaff for the day to shop. Lots of folks did that—nothing to be concerned about. He proceeded deliberately, staying just far enough behind Henry’s car to avoid being seen. He could only hope that maybe the guy from New Mexico had lost him when he left Flagstaff—or better still, he had given up and headed for home.

  Darren’s spirits lifted considerably when he saw Henry’s car enter the northern gateway to Wupatki. He was heading toward Lomaki, the first ruin reached from this side of the park. This was where the box canyon he had been searching fruitlessly was located and he felt sure the sacred site was nearby. He was equally certain that the pottery had to be hidden somewhere near here. Maybe Henry knew more than he was willing to talk about—otherwise, why was he heading for this area today? Darren drove on toward the park entrance with a new determination to track Henry down and make him tell what he really knew.

  Just as Darren was turning into the park, he did a double take. There, parked beside the information kiosk about a hundred yards in from the entrance, was the truck that had been following him in Flagstaff, the one with New Mexico plates. Darren had a moment of panic. This fellow was smart; he knew where he had been looking for the pottery previously. He had simply staked out the park, knowing that sooner or later Darren would show up again. He was sure he would be spotted quickly—how could he have been so careless! He should have entered from a back road somewhere. He had been too intent on following Henry, on making sure he knew where he was going.

  Darren had no choice but to drive past the turn out where the truck was parked. He could hope he wouldn’t be recognized but he felt sure he would be. Looking in his rear view mirror, he saw that the truck had not yet pulled out of the parking spot. Just ahead he saw the entrance to a forest service road. This might be his only chance to lose the man who was following him. He turned quickly onto the dirt track—well aware that he would stir up a cloud of dust that could be seen but hoping that he might be able to evade his pursuer somehow.

  Completing the turn onto the rutted track, he glanced back but he couldn’t yet see the truck. He fought the urge to go fast. The track was far too rough and going fast would kick up an even larger dust plume behind him, making his progress even more visible from a distance. If he could manage to put some space between him and his pursuer, he might be able to hide somewhere. As he drove he kept looking for possible places and glancing back to see if he could locate the truck. Finally, he saw it pulling onto the dirt track. Obviously, his dust plume had given his location away but there was still a bit of distance between the two vehicles.

  Spotting a curve ahead that seemed to lead past a large clump of junipers, Darren gunned his truck ahead taking the curve as fast as he dared. Then, using his own dust as cover, he pulled the truck off the road and drove into the juniper thicket. The vegetation cut down on the dust. He could hope his pursuer wouldn’t have seen him pull off the road. He pulled the truck in close behind some thick junipers and jumped out hastily. As he looked back toward the road he saw the pursuing truck move past the point where he had turned off. He had not seen him leave the track, apparently. That might buy him a few minutes. He knew that it wouldn’t take long for the driver of the truck to realize that he was not ahead of him kicking up dust but maybe that would give him time to leave the area on foot.

  Moving as rapidly as possible but making sure he stayed well hidden in clumps of juniper, Darren began walking back toward the park road. He would have to find somewhere to hide and then he could retrieve his truck later. As he approached the park road, he realized where he was—near the entrance to Lomaki ruin and the box canyon area he was seeking for his search. Seeing no traffic at that moment, he hastily crossed the park road and hid behind another clump of foliage. Looking back, he could see a dust plume in the area where he had been driving. It was probably his pursuer but he couldn’t tell exactly where he was. He didn’t see me cross the road, he reasoned, so he might not know exactly where I am. Maybe he will give up looking and head out. He might be mad because his shiny new truck was getting so dirty. Darren had his doubts about that but he could hope for the best anyway.

  Continuing under cover and on foot
toward Lomaki, Darren thought about what to do next. Maybe he could find out where Henry had gone. He hadn’t seen his vehicle since it entered the park. Shortly, Darren arrived at the entrance road to Lomaki ruin. Still keeping off the pavement and hiding behind junipers and rocks, he proceeded. From a vantage point near the box canyon entrance he could see the parking lot. There was a camper parked at one end nearest the path to the ruin—that was probably tourists looking at the pueblo—but there was only one other vehicle in the parking area—Henry’s green SUV.

  Darren felt a sudden surge of self-confidence. He was sure he was right about Henry. He did know something about the pottery or, if not, his presence did confirm that the tribal collecting site was indeed nearby. Darren felt certain that was where Henry would be heading and he determined to find him and make him talk. If Henry knew anything about the pottery, he would find out. At the very least he would make him talk about the location of the collecting site; he had a hunch that Cullen had hidden the pottery there or, at least, nearby. Soon he would have the knowledge he needed to improve his search and insure his success. Moving swiftly toward the entrance to the box canyon, he was soon hidden by the boulders near the entrance. He couldn’t see or be seen from the parking lot so he couldn’t know that the battered old jeep he had seen as he left Tuba City had pulled in and parked. A Navajo man got out and looked around. Strange, he had expected to see the truck of the man he had been following from Tuba but it was not here. He was pretty sure he had seen a fellow walking across the road a short while ago but he couldn’t be sure it was his man. Maybe it was Darren and he had parked his truck in some hidden location. Looking around, he decided to search the area on foot. Maybe he would spot the guy he thought he saw earlier. Maybe it was Darren after all. He hoped so. Otherwise, he would have to assume he had lost track of him—Raymond Tso would not like that and Raymond did not deal kindly with those who let him down. He headed toward the box canyon entrance.