by Aimée
“Wainwright?”
“He’s the one. Interesting sidebar: His associate, Martin Miller, is representing the bank robbers Joey and Barbara Baker.”
TEN
As she entered the room, Gladys’s eyes met hers. There was no hatred there, just a look of satisfaction that sent a chill up Ella’s spine. Despite a big, colorful bruise on her cheek, Gladys looked like a cat who’d just eaten a six-pack of canaries. Working hard to keep her expression neutral, Ella sat down as Carolyn began to question and examine Gladys.
“She told me to turn around just as we reached the police car, and slapped me as hard as she could.” Gladys smiled at Ella. “But you didn’t get away with it, even though the other policeman wasn’t looking. My brother Leo saw you, and will testify to what you did, too. I bet you don’t have many people stand up to you this way.”
Ella said nothing, but held her gaze.
Carolyn examined the woman. “Was this bruise caused by a right- or left-handed person?” Carolyn asked matter-of-factly.
Gladys looked at Ella, then at her right waist where her weapon was holstered. “Right-handed,” she smiled confidently.
“You sure?” Carolyn shook her head, shrugged, then looked at the uninjured side of Gladys’ face.
“Maybe she backhanded me. It all happened so fast.” Gladys added hastily, then looked at Wainwright in confusion.
“Then your cheek swelled up right away, right?” Carolyn added. “I also notice two small, curved little cuts at the edge of the bruise. Did you get those at the same time?”
“Well,” Gladys reached up to feel her cheek. “I didn’t really notice any swelling because my eyes were tearing and it hurt so much my face was kind of numb. The cuts must have come from her nails.” She looked at Ella, who had just folded her arms over her chest, her hands tucked inside.
Carolyn nodded absently, recording her findings in the chart in front of her.
“I want a copy of that report,” Wainwright said.
“That was part of the agreement,” Tolino said. There was an impersonal quality to his tone, as if the matter had not been worth mentioning and in asking for it Wainwright had only betrayed his insecurity.
“Nobody’s getting anything, until I have a chance to turn my notes into something coherent,” Carolyn clipped, then glanced at both attorneys.
Tolino and Wainwright both nodded quickly, and Ella had to struggle not to laugh. Carolyn could be a powerhouse in her own right when she chose to be.
As Carolyn left the room, Ella followed her, Kevin close behind.
“Let’s not talk here, not yet,” Kevin warned, leading them outside the building. A bitter cold wind whipped against them in the parking lot.
Ella pulled at the collar of her jacket, drawing it against her to block out the icy wind that insinuated itself between her clothes.
“Did you notice how Gladys had to look at Ella’s holster before she decided she was right-handed?” Carolyn asked.
“That’s because Ella never hit her,” Kevin nodded. “But the mark was consistent with a right-handed attacker, wasn’t it? Yet you shook your head in disagreement. Why?”
“Because Carolyn is clever. Gladys didn’t catch on, and tried to cover with that backhand possibility. That was just further proof she made the whole thing up.” Ella smiled.
“Her lawyer really cringed at her explanation. Did you catch his expression?” Carolyn chuckled.
“Next time I question a witness, maybe you should coach me, Doctor.” Kevin replied. “But back to the real issue here. Just how do you think Gladys got her big bruise?”
“I’ll make a full report later, but I’m not going to stand out here any longer with you two, freezing my butt off.”
“Short and sweet then. Give us the encapsulated version,” Tolino said.
“It had to have happened later, and the only time she was alone was in her holding cell. It must have been self inflicted. If Gladys had been hit hard enough to cause those marks, they would have shown up during booking. We may be able to check with the mug shots taken then and establish there were no marks on her well after she and Ella parted company. There’s another thing I notice Ella caught on to. Ella, show the counselor your hands.” Carolyn ordered.
Ella did. Her nails were trimmed short, like a man’s. “I hid my hands when I saw that coming. Gladys was the only one of us with long, polished nails. Our jobs require a little less classical femininity, I guess.”
“It’s a win for our side,” Tolino said. “We’ll check with records and have the mug shots of Gladys blown up. I’m willing to bet, like Dr. Roanhorse here, that there won’t be a mark on her.”
“Gladys wasn’t too confident she’d be able to pull this frame off.” Ella said. “I bet that’s why she dropped the criminal charge of excessive force for a civil suit. She could always hope for a settlement, and meanwhile, it took some of the pressure off her brother.”
As Kevin drove off, Ella walked with Carolyn to her car. “Did you get a chance to look in on my mom?” Ella had to ask.
“Yes, but she was reading a magazine, and I didn’t stay long. She seemed down in the dumps, and had skipped a physical therapy session. I talked to one of the physical therapists, who said Rose has had some trouble learning how to use the crutches, and is getting frustrated. Your mom needs to put weight on those legs if she’s going to get strong enough to stand. Otherwise, it’ll be the wheelchair whether she likes it or not.”
“I’ll have a talk with her, and try to boost her spirits again. She’s probably having a bit of a letdown. I thought seeing Two would have had a longer positive effect. Thanks, Carolyn, for everything.” They both walked to their cars, and Ella noticed it was even colder than before. March winds could be cruel.
* * *
Ten minutes later, on route to Shiprock, Ella called Justine on the cellular. “Is my Jeep ready?”
“Yes, and they found nothing at all wrong with it. Are you coming in now?”
“Yeah, I am. I’ll be there in fifteen or so.”
She was passing through Fruitland, a small farming community along the way, when Ella noticed the power plant in the distance. Recalling her brother’s reminder concerning the danger posed by The Brotherhood, she decided to go by there before returning to the station. After all, most of those suspected to be connected with The Brotherhood were employed at that facility.
Letting Justine know where she was going, and ignoring her assistant’s reminder that Big Ed’s orders required Ella to have a witness present whenever she dealt with the public, she continued on to her destination.
After all, she wasn’t planning to interview a suspect, and she had the tape recorder hidden in a pocket. Taking her assistant along on this type of meeting would only interfere with what she was trying to do. The fewer people present, the more of a chance she’d have of getting straight answers.
Fifteen minutes later, she was at the enormous facility. The power plant itself was large enough, but not nearly as impressive as the open-pit coal mine which fed its fires. It was hard for Ella to imagine what the desert around there had looked like before the plant had been constructed. At least the air pollution wasn’t nearly so bad nowadays, with the scrubbers on the smokestacks.
Ella wanted to see Randy Watson, one of the supervisors. He had helped them before, and if The Brotherhood was resurfacing out at the plant and becoming active again, he’d know.
The office manager, a Navajo man in his late fifties, didn’t hesitate when Ella made her request. He checked for Randy Watson’s whereabouts, then escorted her to the lunchroom. “He’s on break, so you came at a good time.”
As he opened the door Randy stood up. He was a tall, lanky Anglo in his late forties, and looked more like a cowboy than an administrator in his western-cut shirt, bolo tie, and jeans. “It’s been a while since I last saw you, Investigator Clah,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”
Ella sat down across the table from him, glad to see that the r
oom was empty and they’d have some privacy. Wanting to keep it informal so Watson would be more likely to talk freely, she didn’t take out her tape recorder.
“I need to know how active The Brotherhood has been lately, and, since you’re close to everything that happens here, I knew you’d be the one I should speak to.”
“I haven’t seen any sign of tension involving that particular group, not since they butted heads with you last year. They’ve been lying real low. The ones who are active now are the Fierce Ones. They’ve been putting some serious pressure on the Navajo workers here who have teenage kids, especially those who might be in a gang.”
“What kind of pressure?”
“Everything from tossing stuff out of their lockers to intimidation.”
“What kind of intimidation?”
“I’m not really sure, though it hasn’t involved anything physical—yet. I think it’s taken the form of passing comments, innuendo, and so forth. The stories that have reached me are second- and thirdhand accounts, and not that specific. Remember, the Fierce Ones don’t exactly have a high-profile image, particularly among the Anglos here.”
“Generally, would you say that tensions are still high between the Anglo and Navajo workers?”
He shook his head. “No, not really. Lately everyone pretty much minds their own business. If I were to describe the atmosphere here, the word I’d use is ‘guarded.’ That pretty much sums it up. But if you really want to find out more about what the Fierce Ones are doing, I suggest you talk to Billy Pete. Whether he belongs or not, he would never say. I think he’s one of their leaders. He always seems to have accurate information.”
Ella remembered her old friend. She suspected that he was part of the traditionalist’s group, too, but she’d never been able to prove it, or catch him doing anything illegal. “Is his shift working right now?”
“Yeah. Shall I ask if he’s willing to come in to talk to you?”
She considered it for a moment, then nodded. Maybe putting things on an official footing would be best, at least for now.
Watson left, and Billy Pete entered about five minutes later, wearing his trademark faded Chiefs cap. His hard hat was in his hand. He looked around, saw the snack room was empty except for them, then focused on her. He appeared totally calm, but she saw a line of muscle tighten across his cheek. “Sit down, Billy. This won’t take long.”
He did as she asked. “Why so businesslike? I thought you and I were still friends.”
“We are. It was just easier to get you here to talk to me now by saying it was official. I didn’t figure it would create a problem.”
He shrugged. “That depends. What do you need?”
“Information. I hear the Fierce Ones are coming down hard on the parents of the kids they think are in the gangs.”
He shrugged again. “What does that have to do with me?”
“I believe they’re just trying to help, but this could end up alienating the very people whose support we need most. The parents are probably the best hope of controlling the kids.”
“But the problem is, they aren’t doing it. That’s why the Fierce Ones are getting involved. They’re letting the parents know that if they don’t control their kids, neither the kids nor the parents will be welcome anywhere, even in their own neighborhoods. The whole family will be treated as outcasts.”
Ella knew that the Fierce Ones could pull that off. There was no other organization in this part of the Rez with more support at the moment, and on this issue, The People wouldn’t hesitate to back them. “Deliver a message for me. Tell the Fierce Ones to be very careful. I don’t want to be put in the position where I have to arrest any of them. If any of the parents decide to press charges—”
“No way that’s going to happen,” Billy said, standing up. “Is that all?”
“Sit down.” Her voice cracked like a whip in the empty room.
The man shrugged, and sat back down, reluctantly. “I have to get back to work.”
“I’m aware of that. This letting the parents know. How much of this is talking, and how much is intimidation?”
Billy Pete looked at the clock on the wall. “The Fierce Ones reason with them,” he said with a tiny smile. “If you go through the murdered woman’s neighborhood now, you’ll notice adults painting over the graffiti. That’s restitution for the damage. There is one family, the Bileen’s, whom I believe you’ve dealt with personally. As you know, they cannot control their son, and now he’s out of jail despite the charges he’s facing. The Fierce Ones will be paying them a visit soon.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Ella said, quickly getting to her feet.
“Don’t mention it. And I mean that.” Billy stood. “The Fierce Ones have a better chance of controlling the violence and the gangs than the police. You know that as well as I do. If I were you, I wouldn’t interfere with them. It’s not to your advantage nor to the community’s.”
Ella left the power plant and drove directly to Lisa’s neighborhood. She wasn’t worried. Her instincts weren’t warning her of danger, but she knew that she had to get there right away, if she was to have any hope of identifying members of the Fierce Ones before they took action.
Ella passed by two groups of parents painting over the graffiti on the walls. As she turned the corner, she saw the Bileen home ahead. Clothing, furniture, and bedding were scattered all over the driveway and front yard. It looked like everything they owned was outside.
As Ella pulled up, she saw Vera Bileen carrying a handful of clothing back inside. Ella surveyed the scene, disappointed that she’d been too late. Vera’s son was nowhere in sight, so hopefully he was back in school.
Mrs. Bileen glanced over as Ella approached, saw who she was, then went inside with the bundle.
Ella waited until Mrs. Bileen reappeared outside. “What’s going on? What happened here?”
“Nothing,” the woman muttered, the anger she’d been expressing a day ago now replaced with resignation. “Please go. I haven’t broken any laws.”
“It looks like everything you own has been taken out of the house.”
“I’m cleaning,” she said brusquely.
“Where’s your son, in school?” Ella pressed. “I know he’s been released into your custody. Perhaps he can help you when he gets home.”
Mrs. Bileen gave her a cold glare. “My son is my business. I will do my best to keep him under control. I wouldn’t want you cops to lock him up again in that cage, like an animal.”
Ella ignored the comment. “I’m trying to help you. No one has a right to come into your house and throw your property onto the ground.”
“But it’s okay for you to threaten our children with guns, and arrest them for hanging around with their friends?” Mrs. Bileen stopped and faced her. “Go away. You’re of no use at all. At least the others have my respect.”
Ella went back to her vehicle. As she pulled away, she saw Mrs. Bileen crying over a shattered piece of pottery. Her possessions were in disarray, some damaged beyond repair, yet she had more regard for the Fierce Ones than she did for the police.
That thought saddened Ella. The people she’d sworn to protect did not want her, and those dearest to her had been hurt because her protection hadn’t been there when it was needed most. When she’d first started in law enforcement, she’d thought that enthusiasm and competence could overcome, or at least reduce, the world of crime. But that just wasn’t happening, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
The course ahead seemed filled with uncertainty, not answers, and that made her feel desolate, as if she were driving down an empty path, utterly alone.
For now, however, she was a cop, and that work required her attention and her continued dedication. Ella drove back to the station, checking off a mental list of things that needed to be done. Reports, the bane of her existence, had to be finished and filed. She also had to get an update from Justine. Seeing her Jeep in its usual spot, she returned the sedan to the motor pool, and
went inside the station.
Justine was leaving a file on her desk when Ella walked in. “What have you got there?” Ella asked.
“The paperwork on my cousin. Despite all the physical evidence we have on him, I still couldn’t get a thing from him before he was released. He and my aunt insist they won’t speak to cops without his lawyer. The tribe appointed one for him. At least it’s not Bekis or your lawyer, Kevin Tolino.” Justine managed a weak smile.
“So how are things with you and that side of your family now? Or should I ask?”
“My aunt is still being a real—”
“Excuse me, ladies. We’ve got trouble,” Sergeant Neskahi interrupted, appearing at the door. “I was doing some research into the gangs, trying to tie them into the murder, when I heard a call over the radio. The Many Devils and the North Siders are about to square off in the high school parking lot. That’s Many Devils turf. Everyone available is being called there now, Code One.”
Ella mentally acknowledged the request for a silent approach, then said, “Let’s go,” and started, grabbing her riot gear from the locker. “I just hope they didn’t bring any guns.” Seconds later, they set out, Ella driving.
“I hate this,” Justine grumbled. “I went to school with the brothers and sisters of these kids.”
“Do you suppose your cousin will be there? He’s supposed to be staying out of trouble.” Ella told her about what had happened with Vera Bileen and the Fierce Ones.
Justine shook her head. “I hope not. That boy is out of control. I’m worried he’ll really hurt someone, or get killed trying.”
“They’re at the point where it may be too late, unless they can turn themselves around,” Ella said, trying to focus on the present as she switched lanes, passing a slow-moving pickup on the bridge. “But, you know, the ones who don’t break the law need our support to stand up against the ones who do. We’re the equalizing force. Otherwise the kids with their heads on straight, those getting pushed around by the gangs, will be suffering too. They and their families,” she said, reminding herself as well as Justine.