Death Walker

by Aimée

As a breeze blew across the mesa, Ella gazed at the southeastern horizon. With luck, it wouldn’t rain for at least four more hours. But a breeze was coming up, and that meant evidence could be obscured or lost. “Work as fast as you can,” she told Justine as she approached the body.

  Ella crouched near the crudely sewn suede-cloth medicine pouch that lay near the victim’s right hand. Herbs of a type she didn’t readily recognize had been scattered about. She picked up a tiny piece of leaf and sniffed it. There was no scent she could make out.

  Justine handed her an evidence bag. “We better get those secure right away, or the wind will carry them everywhere.”

  Ella studied the medicine pouch, mentally comparing it to the one she remembered Haske carrying. “This isn’t his, or if it is, it’s a new one. The one I saw him with had an ear of corn done in beadwork in its center. It was leather, and much better made.”

  Justine pointed to the man’s waist. “Like that one?”

  Ella moved closer, saw the large deerskin pouch partially beneath Haske’s side, and nodded. “So what’s this other one doing here?” she mused, glancing back at it. “I think we better ask Vernon.”

  “There’s no gunshot or stab wound, but it looks like someone smashed part of his skull and neck,” Justine said. “His legs are at a strange angle, too. I’ll bet they’re broken. I’ll be interested in Carolyn’s findings,” she said, mostly to herself.

  “There’s no sign of a struggle, so either he didn’t put up a fight or the body was moved.”

  “It’s bad business,” Justine commented. “A hataalii maybe killed by another.” She gestured to the extra medicine pouch. “At least that’s what the killer wanted us to think.”

  Ella studied faint tracks and a trail of dark clumps on the ground that could be blood. She noted there were only two sets of footprints. One obviously had come from the victim. The other, she surmised, were probably Kelewood’s. She’d confirm that later.

  “Someone spread sand over these marks and drops of blood. And take a look at the back of his shirt. There are small paint chips clinging to it. My guess is he was struck by a car, and then dragged here.”

  Ella went to the road, searching for clues there. Someone had taken his time, because all tire tracks had been removed. Yet Haske’s truck was still parked there, and its tracks led back up the road a ways. They disappeared where they had been mixed up with the killer’s vehicle. A few scattered clumps of blood and sand were at the edge of the area where the tracks had been swept away.

  “I think he was struck by the killer’s vehicle right here. Then the body was dragged over to the shrine, and the extra pouch was placed by his hand. Then the killer wiped out his tracks as he went back to the road,” Ella told Justine.

  As Justine studied the evidence, Ella went directly to the car. She had to verify Peterson Yazzie’s whereabouts. A quick check confirmed that he was still at the psychiatric facility, locked in his room.

  Ella walked back to Justine. “You take care of things here. Officer Atcitty will help you out, and Tache and Ute should be arriving soon. I’ll take your vehicle and go talk to Vernon Kelewood. I also have to speak to the victim’s wife and family. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  Ella drove down the road to the house where Haske had been living. Recriminations pounded in her brain. She should have done more to protect him, despite Haske’s annoyance at the prospect. Her instincts had clearly warned her that he could be in danger.

  She thought of his family and the sorrow they now had to bear. Her heart went out to them. She knew what it was like to face such a loss. To make matters even worse, his daughter had just had a baby. That child would never know its grandfather. Anger began to build inside her, and she fought against it, wanting to keep her thinking clear and focused. For the second time in as many weeks, the life of a man who had so much to give to others had tragically ended. She wondered what the death would do to the tribe. Fear could spread like wildfire now. The balance between good and evil had suffered another blow.

  When Ella pulled up at the house, Vernon Kelewood came out. Ella parked the vehicle and got out as Vernon approached. Although he had been training to take Haske’s place someday, Ella could tell at a glance that he had little of the charisma his mentor had possessed. His head was bowed and his shoulders slumped as he walked, like a man defeated.

  “I knew you would come here. I waited.”

  “Tell me what you know, and what you saw today.”

  “I went up there to meet the hataalii. He told me yesterday to come at sunrise and plan on staying all day. I was to begin learning certain Songs of Blessing. He warned me that there was danger to everyone on the reservation. He told me that he’d warned you too.”

  She saw the accusation in his gaze and forced herself not to flinch. “What else did he say? Did he mention being afraid of anyone in particular?”

  “He was afraid for the People, not himself. The hataalii was aware of the danger we all are facing. He spent his life benefiting others, yet when he needed help no one was there. Now he’s gone, and we are without his protection.”

  Once again Ella heard an accusation in his tone. Refusing to allow herself to be distracted, she focused on the questions she needed to ask. “Tell me exactly what you saw when you arrived at the scene.”

  “I saw his pickup but not him, so I called out. He didn’t answer so I went looking for him.” He stared at the ground for a long moment. “I found him by the cairn of rocks. That’s his shrine.”

  “Who else knew you would be meeting him there?”

  “It was no secret. We’d both been at a Chapter House meeting last night, and I know we talked about it then. He mentioned to the others there how important it was to keep to the old ways in these troubled times. He complained that the younger ones didn’t respect things like their own family shrines. There was even graffiti spray-painted in places that were holy to the Dineh.”

  “Had your teacher ever mentioned taking on other apprentices?”

  Vernon considered it. “I know he felt that we needed more Singers, and he was willing to teach. As far as I know though, no one had approached him. Learning to be a Singer takes dedication and a lot of hard work. Just one of the Songs can take years to memorize. Rituals leave no room for mistakes. They’ve got to be done exactly right.”

  “Was your teacher satisfied with your progress?” She knew Navajos were always reluctant to speak on behalf of others, but she figured she had to ask.

  Vernon hesitated for several long moments. “I can’t say for sure, but I will tell you this: A few months ago Duncan James came to talk to him. You know that he’s always wanted to be a Singer, but with his family and all, he just never went after it.” Vernon paused, and looked at the empty hogan. “Duncan asked to become an apprentice. I heard my teacher tell him he was much too busy with me, that I had showed remarkable progress, and he didn’t want to divert his attention.”

  Ella considered what Kelewood had said. “Have you shown remarkable progress?”

  Vernon gave her a sheepish smile. “Yes, and no. He was satisfied with what I’d learned so far, but he never felt I was particularly bright or gifted. I think my teacher didn’t feel Duncan was suited to become a Singer, and used me as an excuse to refuse him.” Kelewood took a deep breath, then let it out again with an audible sigh. “But I really don’t know for sure. All I’m doing is guessing.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate the help you’ve given me.”

  As she turned to walk back to Justine’s car, she heard running footsteps. Ella turned around and saw a young woman rushing toward her.

  The woman stopped in front of Ella, facing her squarely. Her hair was tied back in a traditional bun at the nape of her neck, and her black eyes shone with tears. “You knew there was danger. My father even did a Song over you for protection. But you did nothing to stop this.” Her voice cracked but she continued. “He came here to see his grandchildren, and now he’s gone. His death is on your hands.�
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  “I did offer him protection, but he wouldn’t allow me to do anything that would interfere with his duties as hataalii.”

  “He was stubborn. You should have insisted! My father paid with his life for your incompetence.” Tears streamed down her face. “Your family only brings sorrow and misery. I wish you’d all just leave!” She turned and ran back to the house.

  Ella watched Haske’s daughter for a moment. She’d spoken out of grief, but the words were still hard to take. Ella was tired of having her family take the blame for every bad thing that happened. These murders had nothing to do with them! Yet she also knew the futility of trying to defend herself against an accusation like that.

  Frustrated, Ella went back to the car. She’d return to the crime scene and help out there. Then, after Haske’s family had had a bit more time to adjust, she’d return.

  Ella drove back to Haske’s shrine. She went around Officer Atcitty, who was studying vehicle tracks. Up ahead, she saw Carolyn was examining the body. Justine was helping Tache and Ute, making sure nothing was missed.

  Ella went directly to Carolyn. “Anything noteworthy that you can tell me right now?”

  “The killer left us his signature. Once again he’s marked the victim with a bone. This time I found it lodged inside the Singer’s mouth.”

  “Human?”

  “I doubt it. Probably cat again.”

  “Cause of death?”

  “A crushing blow to the skull. He was struck by a car, too, just prior to the lethal blow. From the level of impact on his body, I’m sure his assailant was driving a car rather than a truck. The main contact area was his spine, so I can tell you he wasn’t facing the vehicle when it made contact. Death wasn’t instantaneous. He was still alive when he was dragged over here. Blood flowed from the lacerated skin around the spine, and soaked the ground. Had he been dead, there would have been no blood flow.”

  “Thanks, Carolyn.” Ella left her and went up to Justine. “Have you got anything for me?”

  “Not yet,” Justine reported. “Any theories on what went down here?”

  Ella thought about it for a minute before answering. “The killer must have known the victim was coming here, or else followed him. Either way, it was premeditated. The victim undoubtedly heard the vehicle, and hadn’t been afraid of its approach because he stayed on the road. Possibly he recognized the driver or the car and didn’t feel threatened. Or maybe the car slowed down, as if to stop, then sped up at the last second. Either way, by the time the hataalii realized the driver’s intentions, it was too late.”

  “You think it was the same person who killed the historian?” Justine asked.

  “Probably. Carolyn found a bone in his mouth.”

  “But nothing else matches. There’s no ash painting here, just that medicine pouch in his hand,” Justine said. “You think it’s a copycat killer?”

  “No. I never mentioned the bone in the press release. It’s the same killer, I’m certain of it. What we must do now is trace everything the Singer did during the last twenty-four hours of his life.”

  “Yeah, the 24/24 rule. The two most important things in an investigation are the last twenty-four hours of a victim’s life, and whatever clues we find within twenty-four hours after the body’s discovered.” Justine’s tone was pensive.

  “The Singer’s wife has been dead for years, but I want you to talk to his daughter. You may get more from her than I could. And ask about the extra medicine pouch,” Ella added. “I’m going to put out an APB on the killer’s car. We know it must have sustained visible damage. Then I’m going to start calling every garage and body repair place in the county.”

  Ella radioed in, requesting that patrol officers check out any car with recent front-end damage, and blood or cloth fibers adhering to it. The message would also be passed along to every law enforcement agency in the area.

  Finished, she racked the mike. Ella glanced around, trying to decide what to do next, and saw Carolyn place the body in what had been dubbed the “croaker sack.” She then signaled Atcitty to help her carry it into the wagon. For a moment, Ella felt sorry for Carolyn and for herself. They were both doing jobs that needed to be done, but no one seemed particularly appreciative of it.

  “I’ll have results as soon as possible,” Carolyn said as she approached.

  “Thanks,” Ella replied.

  “Do you think this will be the end of the killings?”

  “Unfortunately, no. I wish I was making faster progress, but so far the most likely suspect is safely in custody. I’m going to pay him a visit next. If he knows something, I’ve got to squeeze it out of him one way or another.”

  Ella approached Justine as soon as Carolyn drove away. “Justine. I want you to take the evidence we have back to the lab and start looking it over. Try to identify the contents of that medicine pouch. If the herbs inside came from a certain area, that’ll give us a starting point. I’ll continue using your car. You can ride back in the crime-scene van.”

  “Okay, boss. I’ll get right on it.”

  “In the meantime, I’ve alerted patrol units, and I’m going to walk around the community below, where Haske was staying. Maybe I’ll get something useful from some of the residents,” Ella added.

  “That’s a tight-knit area of conservatives,” Justine warned. “I’ve heard my older sister talk about it. It’s not going to be easy to get them to open up to you.”

  “I’ve got to try.”

  Ella drove back down to the community, left Justine’s car parked near one of the mailboxes, then strolled around. Two women were hanging laundry. They’d been speaking in hushed tones, but as Ella approached, they suddenly lapsed into silence.

  Ella held up her gold shield. “Excuse me, ladies, but I’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “We don’t know anything,” the older one said.

  Ella studied the woman. She was in her late fifties, with more salt than pepper in her hair. There was something indomitable about her expression. It would have been easier to crack a piñon nut open with a straw than to get her to divulge anything.

  “You probably heard what happened to the hataalii this morning,” Ella continued. “I’m going to need help to track down the killer. Will you help me?” Ella had decided that the direct approach was her best chance here.

  “How can we tell you what we don’t know?” the younger one countered. Her hair was fastened tightly in the traditional way, and her belly was swollen in the last trimester of pregnancy. “I was hoping he would be around when my child was born. Now there is no one.”

  “There are other Singers,” Ella said gently.

  “Not like our friend. I’ve known him all my life, and no one is his equal,” she answered staunchly.

  The veiled reference to her brother was unmistakable, but Ella chose to let it pass. “Then you understand why I must find whoever did this. Did the Singer have any enemies?”

  “No, of course not,” the younger one said.

  The elder woman finished hanging up a pillowcase. “That’s not quite true. A Singer makes enemies; we all do. Sometimes patients don’t get well, sometimes he turns men aside who want to learn to become healers.” She shrugged. “There are many possibilities.”

  “Are you referring to anyone in particular?” Ella persisted.

  “You are the detective. Go find out,” the older woman said curtly, then turned and went inside her home.

  Ella decided to canvass the street. She walked up a well-worn path that doubled as a sidewalk and saw a Navajo woman in her mid-thirties working in a small vegetable garden.

  The woman saw her approach and stood up. “You’ve come to ask about my neighbor,” she said wearily. “You can ask while I work. I still have weeds to pull before the ground dries up again.”

  Ella walked across a section of desert grass that made up the front yard. “I need to know more about him—who visited him recently, anyone he argued with, anyone who visited him often, whom he visited.
Any information you can give me will be appreciated.”

  The woman nodded. “I’m Lois Mike. Do you remember me? I was a year behind you in school. My last name was Pioche then.”

  Ella wanted to say yes, but at the moment, the best she could do was associate the name with the family. “I remember your brother, Billy. He could really play basketball.”

  “Yeah, he graduated the same year you did.” She continued to weed the little patch filled with tomatoes, snap beans, and summer squash. “Things were simpler then, weren’t they?”

  “In a lot of ways,” Ella admitted. “Will you tell me about the Singer? How did others here see him?”

  “We wanted him to stay. He understood us so well. We figured that now that Rosemary had her son, the Singer would want to be around to see him grow up. We really had great hopes he’d move here.”

  “Where’s his home?”

  “Near the Wood Spring trading post.”

  Ella glanced at the empty streets. No one would come out until she left. “It’s a close-knit community, isn’t it?”

  “Very.”

  “But you’ve really set yourselves apart here,” Ella commented.

  “That’s what Rosemary’s father didn’t like about us at first. He thought there were too many divisions among the Dineh already.” Lois shrugged. “But we started winning him over. It’s true we prefer traditional ways, but we’re no different here than if we lived in the new housing areas in Shiprock.” She paused. “Eventually he started to see that too. I think he was seriously considering moving here.”

  “Did you happen to see him yesterday?”

  “Off and on. He spent most of the day in the hogan preparing herbs. He was getting ready to do a Sing for Betty Poyer. She hasn’t been feeling so good lately. Vernon was right there, too, helping him with the herbs and making prayer sticks.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might have done this to him?”

  Lois grew serious. “A Singer like my neighbor has many friends. His enemies are those who are also enemies of the tribe.”

  Ella understood the reference to skinwalkers. “Have you heard any gossip about anyone in particular, maybe someone who lives in this area?”