Spider Woman's Daughter

by Anne Hillerman

“Okeydokey, then,” she said. “Let’s go. This time, I sit in the front seat.”

  Chee drove her past Bashas’, past the sprawling Navajo Nation fairgrounds, down a dirt road to her place. Mrs. Benally gave Chee directions, more than he needed.

  “Do you know who shot the policeman?” she asked.

  “We’re working on it. We’ll use the evidence from your car to help with that.”

  “Probably a white man,” Mrs. Benally said.

  “How would a white man get your car?”

  “Same as an Indian.”

  “Why do you think a bilagaana would steal your car?”

  “He didn’t steal it.” She gave Chee a disgusted look. “He borrowed it.”

  Chee said, “We don’t know if the person driving was a man or a woman, a Navajo or not. Bernie—the policewoman you met—she could only verify that whoever did it was short, wearing dark clothes.”

  “Like one of those ninjas in the movies. Okay, then,” Mrs. Benally said. “A little blue-eyed ninja. Or Japanese. Not my Jackson.”

  “Where does Jackson go when he doesn’t come home?” Chee asked.

  “He comes home,” she said.

  “What about yesterday?”

  Mrs. Benally stared straight ahead. Finally she said, “Jackson has a good heart. We don’t worry.”

  Chee pulled up in front of the house and parked, noticing that Mrs. Benally’s front door stood open. When they reached the front porch, Chee saw a slender young man in jeans and a white muscle shirt. An unzipped pack was next to him with some thick, serious-looking books spread out on the table. A video game beeped and flashed from the TV monitor.

  “Mom!” he said. “Holy catfish! What happened to you? Where’s the car?”

  “Officer Chee gave me a ride home because the police have taken our car,” Mrs. Benally said.

  “Whoa! What did you do?”

  Jackson stood close to six-foot-two in his cowboy boots, Chee figured. “Whatever trouble Mom is in, she wouldn’t ever do anybody harm,” Jackson said. “She might lose it once in a while, get carried away, but I never thought she’d be arrested.”

  “I’m not arrested, because I’m not the evil ninja.”

  Jackson looked confused.

  Chee said, “Are you Jackson Benally?”

  “Right.”

  “You have to come back to the police station with me.”

  “What? No way. You’re kidding me.”

  Mrs. Benally said, “Son, this is because of that man with the funny name, the elderly who got hurt yesterday. Some Japanese person borrowed our car to shoot him. They made my fingerprints, and now they need yours. Like on TV. I’ll go with you to make sure they treat you good. ”

  “Crazy,” Jackson said. “No joke? A ninja dude used our car in a shooting? You’re kidding me.”

  Chee looked at Jackson. “The case is under investigation. I can’t talk about it. How old are you?”

  “Almost twenty.”

  Chee looked at Mrs. Benally. “You’ll have to stay here while I take Jackson in. He’s legally an adult. Besides the fingerprints, we need to ask him some questions.”

  “Me? Why me? I had nothing to do with this,” he said. “I was in class yesterday.” Jackson held up his hands, palms forward. Chee noticed a flash of gold on his wrist. A watchband.

  Chee said, “You were the last person we know of to drive the car. Let’s go.”

  Jackson blanched. Chee noticed that he avoided looking at his mother.

  Mrs. Benally put her hand on Jackson’s arm. “You tell the policeman everything about yesterday so we get the car back. I’ll see if I can find the ninja.” Then she looked at Chee. “I’ll call you when I have the clues. Bring Jackson back soon. And then tell that other policeman I need my Fudgsicles.”

  Chee put Jackson in the backseat of the patrol car and radioed Largo. For good measure, he told Jackson his rights. If anyone screwed up in this case, it wouldn’t be him.

  At the station, Largo explained that the interview would be taped, that Jackson was entitled to a lawyer if he wanted one.

  “I don’t need a lawyer,” Jackson said. “I’ve got nothing to say about the ninja.”

  Largo looked at Chee. Raised an eyebrow.

  “Long story,” Chee said.

  The interview room was furnished with a table and two straight-backed metal chairs. Jackson sat facing the one-way mirror where Largo would be observing. Chee, his back to the mirror, began to ask questions, starting with name, age, and address for the record. The boy was nervous, but no more agitated than Chee would expect for an average young man being interrogated in a police station.

  “Jackson, where were you yesterday morning?”

  “I was at school, University of New Mexico, Gallup campus. I, I don’t know the exact address.”

  Chee smiled at Jackson. “If you tell me the truth here, it will help us solve the crime. Help us get the car back to your mom.”

  “You got it.”

  “So let’s start over.” Chee looked at his notes, letting the silence spread over the room. “So, where were you yesterday at ten a.m.? Where were you really?”

  “In class. I’ve got my schedule in my computer at home if you wanna see it.”

  “The Gallup Police checked with the registrar, found your class schedule. They talked to the instructor for that class. He said you hadn’t shown up.”

  Jackson shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t remember.”

  “The Gallup Police looked for you all over campus.” Chee sighed. “You could be facing some serious charges. If you don’t tell me the truth, you’ll end up in jail. I don’t intend to warn you again.”

  Jackson stared at his fingernails. Chee noticed that the top of his right sneaker moved up and down. Twitching toes, a poor liar getting nervous.

  “Do you know a man named Lieutenant Joe Leaphorn?”

  Jackson looked up. The twitching stopped. “No, sir. Never heard of him. I swear.”

  Chee decided he was telling the truth.

  “Did you shoot a man in the parking lot of the Navajo Inn?”

  Jackson sat straighter, seemed to come to life. “No way, dude. I don’t even have a gun.”

  “Can you tell me why your car was identified by a police officer as the vehicle the person who shot Lieutenant Leaphorn was driving?”

  “No. I’m clueless.” Jackson shook his head. “It’s Mom’s car. She just lets me drive it. Last time I saw it was when I left it for her at Bashas’, like I always do when my friend takes me to school. Are you sure it was our car?”

  “I’m asking the questions,” Chee said. “What time did you leave the car at Bashas’?”

  “It was eight in the morning. Around then, more or less.”

  “What’s your friend’s name?”

  “Leonard Nez.”

  “How can I reach him?” Chee said.

  Jackson looked at his nails again. “I’m not sure.”

  “Think about that question again. See if you can remember his phone number, where he lives.”

  “He lives with his grandma,” Jackson said. “Somewhere around here. I’ve never been to his house. We just meet at Bashas’.”

  “So if you didn’t shoot anybody, how about this. You meet Nez and you drive your mom’s car. He shoots the officer. You two go back to Bashas’. Leave the car for your mom, drive off in his vehicle.”

  “Lizard wouldn’t shoot anybody,” Jackson said. “He doesn’t even like to go hunting with us.”

  “Lizard?”

  “I mean Leonard. We all call him Lizard.”

  “What does he look like?”

  Jackson pondered. “Average. Black hair. Black eyes. Strong. Kinda short. Quick. Looks like one of those collard lizards a little. Not really, though.”

  “I’m
still wondering where you were when the officer was shot,” Chee said. “I know you’re lying about being in school. We checked on Nez. He wasn’t there either. You’re lying about that, so you’re probably lying about everything, about the gun, about the shooting. You are in deep, deep trouble.”

  Chee didn’t say anything else. The room grew still.

  After a while Jackson said, “Lizard and I weren’t actually in class. We took his truck out toward Zuni because we were working on a, um, special project. For our geology class.”

  “Are you sure that’s right? First you told me you were in class. Now it’s a different story.”

  “I just forgot.” Jackson worked at his nails.

  Chee got up, stretched, glanced at Jackson. Sat down again. “Some people think that the shooting might have been part of a gang initiation. You know something about that?”

  Jackson looked up. “There’s some gangbangers near where we live. You can see graffiti on big rocks where our road meets the highway. I don’t have anything to do with those guys. I swear.”

  “So where were you really when the policeman got shot?”

  “I told you. Doing that geology stuff out near Zuni.”

  “A class project?” Chee waited for Jackson to elaborate. Liars got themselves in trouble by adding too many details.

  Jackson paused. “Yeah. Well, sort of. An extra-credit deal. Professor Coburn, he’s the teacher, he likes for us to take pictures of formations, bring back rock samples, stuff like that. For extra credit.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Dude, I’m sure we were out by Zuni.”

  “Did anyone see you there besides Leonard Nez?”

  Jackson shook his head. Reexamined his fingernails.

  “You like that class?”

  “It’s cool, dude,” Jackson said. “Because it’s summer session, Coburn does field trips. Gets us out to see the real thing. We have a chance to learn stuff that’s not from books.”

  “Too bad you’ll have to drop out when you’re in jail.” Chee studied his notes, took his time. He wanted Jackson to realize this was serious.

  “We haven’t told your mother yet about the marijuana.”

  “Marijuana?”

  “The crime scene investigators, you know, the team that’s extracting the fingerprints, looking for fibers, hairs, other things that can lead us to the shooter. They found evidence that someone had had pot in the car,” Chee said. “I wanted to talk to you first about this other crime, to see if you could help us, before I asked her about it. If you’re sure this Nez guy wouldn’t have tried to kill Lieutenant Leaphorn, who else? And why did Nez disappear? We know that whoever shot the lieutenant was in your car. You say it wasn’t you. Your mom has a real alibi, not a string of lies.”

  Jackson gnawed at his lip.

  “While you’re thinking, think about how we can talk to Nez to verify your story.”

  Jackson pulled out his cell phone. “I remembered that I have his number here.”

  “Call him,” Chee said. “Tell him I need to talk to him. Put the phone on speaker.”

  Jackson did so. They head the phone ring, then a mechanical voice instructing them to leave a name and number.

  “Shall I leave a message?”

  “No,” Chee said. “He’ll see that you called. Just give me the number.”

  Largo met Chee in the hall. “Marijuana?”

  “Just a guess,” Chee said. “Paid off.”

  “We’ve got a message in for that geology teacher for you,” Largo said. “And we can trace Nez’s mobile number.”

  Chee didn’t make it to the vending machines before the receptionist called him back.

  Over the phone, Professor Coburn described Jackson as a nice kid. But there was no special project that involved missing class to head out to the Zuni Mountains. He did encourage students to do extra-credit work, but Jackson Benally had never done any. He didn’t need to, Coburn said. He was in the top tier of the class already.

  “Leonard Nez? Lizard? He’s a different story. I don’t know why he’s even in college. He has rarely come to class this summer. Good thing the session is almost over. I can’t say much more about him. A phantom wasting his time and money here.”

  Chee put the phone down and thought about it. Why would Jackson lie about where he and Nez were, and about how to find Nez, if Nez didn’t shoot Leaphorn? Time to talk to Jackson again. But first, Chee decided, he’d have a cup of coffee, check his e-mail. Give Jackson time to worry.

  The interview room smelled slightly of sweat now. Jackson looked almost relieved to see him.

  “I was on my way to lunch,” Chee said. “I thought I’d stop just in case you had anything else to tell me.”

  “Did you talk to Lizard yet?”

  Chee said, “Remember? I ask the questions.”

  Jackson shifted in the hard chair. Uneasy. More fidgety than during the first interview.

  “We didn’t actually go to Zuni,” Jackson said. “We didn’t go that far. We stayed on the highway for about twenty miles and then we drove out toward the cliffs on a road Lizard knew. His uncle has a ranch out that way.”

  “Hmm,” Chee said.

  “We went to the ranch. Lizard had something to do out there, and I, well, it was a nice day and I only had a couple classes and they’re easy . . .” Jackson’s voice trailed off. Embarrassed.

  “Did his uncle see you?”

  “No. Nobody saw us. No, sir.” Chee noticed the change from “dude.”

  “What did you do out there?”

  “Just a bunch of stuff. We didn’t shoot anybody.”

  Chee looked at the young man. Watched Jackson fidget.

  “If you didn’t do it, and you say you know Nez didn’t do it, who could have driven your mom’s car? How did some evil stranger get in there? It puzzles me. Can you explain it?”

  “It’s like I told you. Lizard and I take turns driving to UNM,” Jackson said. “On the days when he drives, I leave Mom’s car there at Bashas’. Twice a week, I drive us to school. Tuesday and Thursdays. I’ve got class all day, all day until after five. The car would just be sitting there in the lot all day. So I loan it out to people.”

  Chee listened.

  “They give me a little money. I didn’t want to rat them out.”

  “Who do you loan it to?” Chee remembered his days at UNM in Albuquerque, the hassle of negotiating the city on foot or figuring out the bus routes. A buddy who would loan him a car would have been handy.

  “Some of the guys are friends. Some are sort of like, um, acquaintances. People I know from the gym. None of them would shoot anybody.”

  Chee must have looked skeptical.

  “Pickup basketball,” Jackson explained. “I use the money for books. Mom is proud of me being in college, but she doesn’t realize how much stuff costs. She can’t help any more than she already does.”

  Chee said, “If you get out of here, you should stop letting other people drive your mom’s car. If they wreck, you’ll be in big trouble.”

  “I am in big trouble already,” Jackson said. “Are you kidding? You met my mother.”

  Chee tore out an empty piece of paper from the notebook and pushed it and the pen across the tabletop. “Pull out your phone again. I need the names. Phone numbers. If you have an address, e-mail, give me that, too. I’ve got some other things to attend to. I’ll be back for the list in a few minutes.”

  When Chee returned, Jackson had scribbled down fifteen names with contact information. The young man showed promise as a budding tycoon. “Is this everybody?”

  Jackson said, “Mom gives rides to people sometimes, too. Mostly old ladies. I don’t know all of their names.”

  Chee said, “I’m still confused about two things. First, where were you when Leaphorn was attacked?”


  “I told you I was with Lizard over by Zuni—”

  Chee shook his head, and Jackson stopped.

  “Think about this, Jackson. Is whatever you’re lying about worth it? Worth remaining a suspect in a serious crime, a police shooting, attempted murder?

  “The second thing I’m wondering about is Nez, how he’s involved in all this. You’re covering up for him.”

  Jackson looked at the tabletop.

  “It would really help your case if we could find Nez to back up your story,” Chee said. “As it stands now, you are our main suspect in the shooting.”

  Jackson looked pale. “Check out those names I gave you, sir. Maybe one of them made a copy of the key. Used our car to pin the crime on me. I was with Lizard, I swear. Hours away from Window Rock.”

  Chee said, “Think about it some more. I’ll be back to talk to you again.”

  As Chee headed to the parking lot, anticipating the drive back to Shiprock, an officer hailed him with the universal sign for a phone call. Mrs. Benally, wondering when Jackson would be home. Yelling at him for saying Jackson would spend the night in jail.

  “Other than you, Leonard Nez seems to be the only one who can say for sure that it wasn’t your boy,” Chee said.

  “Well, then, I’ll bring Lizard to talk to you. Along with the ninja,” Mrs. Benally said. “Officer Chee, I am on the case.”

  “And that was my day.” Chee finished the story.

  “Oh, and one more thing. When I got home, there was a message from Louisa. She said she had something important to tell us.”

  “And?”

  “And when I called her cell, it went straight to voice mail again, and she hasn’t called back.”

  “You know, Louisa is starting to look like a viable suspect after all,” Bernie said. “Odd that the feds can’t find her. That she wasn’t on a flight to Houston like she told us.”

  Chee said, “Louisa as a would-be murderer? You’re not serious, right?”

  “I can’t imagine her doing it, but I can’t imagine anybody . . .” She shook her head. “Too bad we weren’t here when she called. I don’t like all this phone tag.”

  The phone rang. She looked at the display. “For you.”

  “Chee,” he said. He listened. “Finally. Thanks. Let Largo know I’ll be in early.”