by Aimée Thurlo
“Most of the family places are closed, but there are a few all-night places. Have you ever gone to the Terminal Café?”
“The wha-at?” She’d had enough of death to last a lifetime.
“Not ‘terminal’ as in fatal,” Emily said, laughing. “It caters to truckers and the food there is fabulous. The clientele is a bit rough around the edges, but they’re okay. The café has a large-screen TV and most of the guys are so engrossed in sports they don’t pay much attention to anything else.”
“Great,” she answered, laughing. All in all, it sounded just perfect.
Ella called home, told Rose that she was meeting a friend, then drove directly to the Terminal Café on Farmington’s east side. When she arrived forty minutes later Emily was already seated and waiting at one of the corner tables. She waved as Ella came in the door, though in her tan uniform she’d have been easy enough to spot.
Ella noted that Emily had chosen a table that would give them both a clear view of the entire room, including the entrance. That particular vantage point had been a cop’s logical choice. “Hey, I’m really glad you could come, Emily.”
She nodded. “Me, too. I don’t get to do things like this very often.”
Soon they were eating, and at ease with each other, their conversation flowed smoothly. “You know, hearing about what happened to you at those mines was a real eye-opener for me. Deep down we count on having lots of tomorrows to catch up on all the things we’ve sacrificed for our careers. But we may never get them before it’s our time to check out. Death doesn’t play fair.”
Ella nodded somberly. “Putting off something you really want to do just means that you may never get to do it at all.”
“Sobering thought.”
Ella nodded. “I’m not superwoman, but I really believed that I could always get myself out of a jam. Yet down there I was helpless. Now I want to stay in control. If I die, I want to be calling the shots all the way.”
“That’s one way to deal with it,” Emily said. Silence stretched out between them for some time before Emily spoke. “I was told by some of the other officers that Navajo beliefs about the dead are making your life a little rough at the moment.”
“Yeah, but in all honesty, the hardest thing I’ve had to deal with is that I just don’t know for sure what happened to me down there,” she admitted, needing to confide in someone. “If I really did die, then what I saw must have been part of what some people call a ‘near death experience.’ If I didn’t, then it must have been a hallucination from lack of oxygen.”
“What did you see?” Emily asked, leaning forward.
Ella told her, surprised by how good it felt to talk openly about this with someone. Carolyn, the tribe’s ME, was a dear friend of hers, but ever since Carolyn had gotten married, they seldom got together, especially after hours.
Emily sat there, listening closely but not saying a word.
“I just wish I knew if it was real,” Ella said, concluding.
“Why not just let go and accept it as an NDE?” Emily asked. “It obviously gave you comfort when you needed it most and you said it felt real, so why fight it?”
Ella shook her head. “It’s not in my nature to accept things that I can’t prove or quantify.”
“Sometimes logic has to take a backseat to other things, like love, intuition, and . . . well, faith.”
“Are you a religious person?” Ella asked.
“I am, I guess. I mean, you won’t find me pounding a Bible and yelling, ‘Repent!’ but I believe in God and I try to live by the Ten Commandments.”
“With your religious background and experiences, how would you explain what happened to me?”
Emily paused. “I’d say you were given a blessing. What you experienced calmed your fears and gave you comfort. That’s what a blessing is. All that’s left is for you to decide how—or if—it’s going to change your life.”
“The one thing I know for sure is that I’m meant to be a detective for the tribe. I live and breathe my work. It’s part of me, and I can’t stop being who I am,” Ella said. “But I intend to take more time from now on to actually have fun and relax. What my life lacks most is balance.”
“I work a lot, too, but I also have hobbies that help me unwind. Besides coaching the girls, I grow orchids in a greenhouse.”
“I thought those were expensive, fragile, and only grew in the tropics.”
“The plants I have grow in a small greenhouse that’s equipped with a humidifier. But some varieties don’t require much more than strong indirect light and some attention. What do you do when you’re not working?”
“Up to now? Sleep—and eat occasionally,” Ella added, laughing. “But it was great to do something impromptu like this. Let’s do it again,” she said, picking up the bill.
“You bet. I really enjoyed this, but next time it’ll be on me.”
As Ella drove home, she felt more relaxed than she had in days. Until now, she hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed time to decompress.
When Ella arrived home, she went directly to Dawn’s room and kissed her sleeping daughter lightly on the forehead, then tiptoed out. Rose was waiting for her in the hallway.
“Who’s this new friend of yours?”
Ella laughed. “Mom, did you stay up just to ask me that? If you did, you’re going to be disappointed. It was a woman deputy from Farmington. She patrols the area over by Waterflow and Fruitland.”
Rose smiled. “It looks like getting together with her did you a world of good. I’ve always said that women need women friends most of all. Our sitter’s grandmother,” she said, referring to Lena Clani, “has given me strength many times when I had none of my own. She’s helped keep me balanced. For a long time now I’ve wished you would find a friend like that.”
As Rose ambled off to bed, Ella thought about what her mother had said. It was true, of course, that she didn’t socialize much, but few people outside work could understand the demands of her career. Carolyn and she would remain close friends, but it was good to have met Emily. In a lot of ways they had even more in common.
The next morning, shortly after her alarm went off, the chief called on her cell and asked her to meet him in his office at seven-thirty. Ella ate a quick breakfast at Rose’s insistence, then walked through the station doors at seven-fifteen.
Big Ed was in the hall talking to a uniformed officer and, seeing her, waved. “Shorty, my office.”
Moments later, Big Ed closed his office door, then sat down behind his desk across from Ella. “Fill me in on what happened yesterday after the gas can incident. Any idea who took a shot at you?”
Ella gave him a list of suspects, then added, “Of course to that list we can also add a gazillion others who’d rather see me dead than alive.” She paused thoughtfully. “But whoever was responsible wanted to make it look accidental . . . and coupled with the timing . . .”
Big Ed nodded. “I heard about the message left on the hood of your department vehicle.”
“I suspect that we’re dealing with someone who thinks I pose a danger because of what happened to me at the mine.”
“Shorty, this department needs you. If you were unable to carry out your duties, that’s one thing. But there’s no way I’ll condone having a perfectly healthy officer on leave until he or she gets a Sing done.”
“I understand what you’re saying and agree with you. That’s why I’m here. But there are plenty of people around who don’t agree. Remember what I told you about Professor Garnenez, tailing me on the back roads way up by Four Corners, trying to keep an eye on me.”
“You haven’t encountered him again?”
“Not that I could verify. But I know he’s eccentric. And I’m nearly certain that seeing that big screw sticking out of my tire spooked him into thinking I have some kind of special power or magic.”
“Then maybe he’s the one who took a shot at you. The flat tire concept—one doesn’t harm you, but the next one does—might
have been his attempt to restore balance. You see all kinds of interpretations of the Way, especially among new traditionalists. Don’t be too quick to discount him just because he’s a professor. I’ve seen the strangest takes on religion and culture from so-called highly educated people, and the fact that he mistook obsidian for flint doesn’t mean he’s any less sincere. Go find out where he was last night and follow it up.”
“I intend to. But first I was going to track down Wilson Joe and see what he has to say about Professor Garnenez.”
“Good idea. And, Shorty, don’t rule out Benally and Lewis Hunt. If they had anything at all to do with the fire at Branch’s home, Hunt, in particular, will be out to derail the investigation. Lewis certainly knows it’s your case. If he could put you up in a hospital for a few months . . .”
“I haven’t ruled them out either, Big Ed. Thanks for the reminder.”
Ella left the chief’s office, then checked in with her partner, who was busy in the lab. “Justine? Anything on that bullet that was trapped inside the tire?”
“I’ve recovered it and verified that we were right about the caliber, but it suffered a lot of damage striking that steel-belted radial, then bouncing around inside. I don’t know if we’ll be able to connect it to a particular weapon or not.”
“If you learn anything more, call me. I’m going to the college.”
Justine nodded and Ella knew she’d understood that she’d be paying Wilson a visit. Justine and he had broken up months ago but Ella still avoided bringing up his name around her. Her partner wasn’t quite over him yet.
Ella set out moments later. This time, she kept her eyes open, searching the rises and the desert around the highway for any movement or unusual activity. She really didn’t expect another attack during broad daylight, but she wasn’t going to be caught off guard again. She’d just made the turnoff to the local community college when her cell phone rang.
Ella recognized her mother’s voice right away. “Is something wrong?”
“Daughter, I have some exciting news for you. A man from Hollywood called. He wants to buy the rights to your life story.”
“What?”
“That’s what he said. He left a number,” Rose read it off to Ella.
“Mom, I can’t deal with that right now. What if it’s just some con man who saw it on the news? I’ll tell you what. I’ll look into it when I get home.”
“It could just as easily be for real, Daughter. I only spoke to him for a short time, but he was very interested in talking to you about your experience in the mine, saving your nephew and all that. I remember reading in a magazine at the dentist’s office that those rescued miners back East sold their life stories for a hundred thousand dollars. Think of what they might pay you!”
“Mom, trust me. It’s not the same thing. The whole nation was waiting to see what happened to those men and if the rescue attempts would be successful. What happened to me made the Navajo Times and the Daily Times, then was TV for what, thirty seconds?” she teased.
“That was the network news, seen all over the country. You have to call him back, Daughter.”
Ella laughed. “Mom, those guys are slicker than lard on a doorknob. You agree to one thing, then later find out that it’s not what you thought at all. There’s a million stories about them.”
“So keep your eyes wide open. But it’s raining soup, Daughter. You have to get your bowl and run outside.”
Ella chuckled. “Okay, Mom. I’ll call the man back later. I promise.”
As Ella put the phone back on the seat she wondered how much her life story would be worth. The fact was, she could use some extra money. Who couldn’t, here on the Rez? She’d call when she returned to her office. Even if they offered a third of what they’d given the miners, or a fifth, it would be more money than she’d ever seen at once in her life. Maybe she’d finally be able to get a new roof for their home and buy that shed they’d wanted. Anything left after that could go into an account for Dawn. In theory, it sure sounded like a great opportunity, but experience had taught her that things were never as simple as they appeared to be at first glance.
ELEVEN
As Ella pulled into the parking lot beside the college’s Science building, she worked to focus her thoughts back to the case. First, she’d talk to Wilson, then she’d go see Professor Garnenez.
Ella’s thoughts shifted to Wilson as she made her way to his office. They’d remained close friends throughout the years, but though Rose had once had hopes they’d get together, their relationship had never gone past friendship.
She was about to turn the corner when she heard someone calling out her name. Glancing back, she saw Wilson coming in the side door. In his hands were two pastries on a paper towel and a cup of coffee.
“Hey, you’re just in time to share these crispies. They’re fried sweet rolls just loaded with pinñon nuts. It’s Mrs. Yazzie’s special recipe. She makes them to raise money for her kids’ college expenses and they’re sensational. You’ve got to try one.”
“No, thanks. I’m really not into sweets—unless they have chocolate,” Ella said, then followed him into his office.
As Wilson sat behind his desk Ella pulled up a chair. “I came hoping you could tell me something about Professor Garnenez,” she said.
“Then you’ve heard what he’s been saying about you?”
Ella reached over and tore off a piece of his crispie. “Just a bite,” she muttered, then answering his question, added, “I didn’t know the professor was talking about me at all, though it figures. Fill me in?”
Wilson motioned toward the coffeepot, silently offering her a cup. She shook her head, and he began. “Garny, that’s what some of his students call him behind his back, was actually reprimanded by the president of the college because he started discussing you in his classes. He said that until the hataalii did the proper Sing, you were a danger to the entire community. He claimed that the death of Bruce Smiley was a perfect example of what’s going to continue to happen. Smiley, according to him, wasn’t suicidal until you got near him.”
“But that’s not the way it went down,” she said, absently taking another piece of the crispie. “There were plenty of cops at the scene who can verify that.”
Wilson nodded. “And it’s not uncommon for criminals trapped by police to take their own lives. Anyone who reads the newspaper knows that. Either way, what amounts to gossip and character assassination of a Tribal Police officer isn’t an appropriate subject for an organic chemistry professor. Academic freedom isn’t even close to an issue there either. That’s why he was reprimanded, but personally I don’t think it’ll shut him up. He’ll just be more careful of who he says it to. I heard that he’s asked all his students to help you locate John Tso, unofficially, of course.”
As Ella took another piece of the crispie, Wilson slid it over to her. “Take it,” he said.
“No, thanks. I’m just not hungry.”
Wilson stared at her skeptically, but Ella continued, ignoring his reaction. “I can use help in tracking down John Tso, so maybe this is a blessing in disguise.” She took another small piece of the crispie.
Wilson looked down at what was left of the remaining sweet roll. “There’s just a tiny piece left. Why don’t you take it?”
Ella looked down at it. “Okay, I give in. A little bit won’t hurt.” She finished what was left of the crispie in one bite, then stood. “Listen, you really should cut back on these homemade sweets. I bet they’re loaded with cholesterol.”
Wilson scowled at her. “Recently I’ve been eating fewer of them.”
“I have to find Professor Garnenez. His office is in this building, right?”
“Yes, but first try the faculty lounge down the hall. He likes to grade papers there. He says that if he stays in his office he’s constantly interrupted by students with questions, even if it’s not during posted office hours.”
“Why doesn’t he just lock the door?”
“I
gather it breaks his concentration when people knock,” he answered, then shrugged. “Just between the two of us, the guy is a little strange.”
With a nod and a wave good-bye, Ella left his office and walked down the hall. The wonderful taste of the crispies still lingered in her mouth. She’d have to try to get some to take to the station one of these days.
Ella found the faculty room moments later and since the door was unlocked she walked inside. Professor Garnenez never glanced up until she pulled a chair out and sat across the table from him. The second he saw her, his expression changed from mild annoyance to horror and he scooted his chair back quickly.
“I’m sure you’d like me to leave as soon as possible, and I’ll be happy to oblige—after you answer a few questions for me.”
He moved his chair back another foot, then stood, reaching down to put his hand on the medicine pouch attached to his belt. “You’re not supposed to be in here. This room is for faculty only.”
“And here I was thinking you’d be thanking me for not knocking.”
“What do you want?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Where were you last night at around eight?”
“At home.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
He stared at her. “Why? Am I some kind of suspect?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I was alone,” he said, then shook his head. “No, wait, I did go to the Quick Stop for a while, I think.”
“Will the clerk remember seeing you there?”
“You’ll have to ask him,” he said coldly. “One Navajo doesn’t speak for another.”
Ella held his gaze, saying nothing but thinking to herself what a hypocrite he was, using Navajo customs just when they suited him. He’d been spreading gossip about her all over the place, including, probably, the insinuation that she was a skinwalker candidate.
“Look, I don’t know what this is about,” Garnenez said at long last. “All I can tell you is that I stayed here working late, then went by the store on my way home. It must have been about eight or so.”