by Mark Reps
Eskadi rested his hand on her shoulder. He looked toward the shadowed western slope of the mountain as he called her by the Apache name he had given her.
“Son--ee--ah--Ray?”
The questioning and uncertainty in his voice sounded strange. His face carried a confused, pained expression.
“Have you given your heart to another man?”
Was Eskadi, the strong and brave tribal chairman of the San Carlos, jealous? The woman in her was more than a little curious as to why he was acting so strangely.
“What makes you ask?”
“You have been distant lately in a way you never have been before. It made me feel like something is wrong between us.”
“I’m afraid it’s just your imagination. I’m not seeing anyone but you,” said Kate running a hand across his face.
While her words were essentially true, she had been having random thoughts of Josh Diamond. Those thoughts were fleeting, however, and certainly not etched into any sort of purpose or intent.
A beaming smile returned to Eskadi’s face.
“Sorry, I’m running late. I have a lot of work to do yet today. Let’s talk about it when we have more time.”
“Then should I call you later about the White man who pulled the gun on one of my people when he was stealing those license plates?” asked Eskadi.
Kate did not appreciate Eskadi’s little cat and mouse game. This was exactly the sort of thing that could make her think of the easy going, yet professional ways of Josh Diamond.
“Do you have something already?”
“I made a quick call before I came over here. I thought you would appreciate it if I did you a favor.”
“Did you find anything out?”
“The White guy was not only big, he was ugly too,” laughed Eskadi.
“Let’s leave personal opinions out of this,” replied Kate.
“No, I mean he really was big and ugly. He was wearing a cap but the witness thought it looked like he had pretty short hair, like military guys wear. His head might even have been shaved. She couldn’t tell for certain.”
“That narrows the list down to about fifty million people,” said Kate.
“No need to get sarcastic,” said Eskadi derisively. “He was also missing some fingers on his left hand.”
“Missing fingers? How many?”
“Two, maybe three. She couldn’t be sure because she was scared and ran away when he flashed his gun.”
“Did she recognize what kind of gun it was?”
“A hand gun with a short barrel. That’s all she saw.”
“Do you think she would talk to me?” asked Kate.
“Not a chance. She is too scared to talk to the White police.”
“Where did this happen?” asked Kate.
“Up here between the Ruidoso Ruins and Diamond Butte. She was up there gathering herbs when it happened. She said it was either last Wednesday or Thursday, just about the time when the sun was going down. He was in a great big truck, the kind of truck that sits way up high off the ground. She said after he saw her he got in the truck. Another man was driving. She thought the driver was a younger Mexican or Native, maybe even mixed blood. In either case he took off driving down the road like a crazy man.”
Kate jotted down a few notes and looked over toward the mother and daughter before saying goodbye to Eskadi.
On the return trip to Safford she could only think of Felipe Madrigal. No matter how she put the pieces together, it added up to exactly nothing. The stolen cars, stolen plates and the dead body of the young girl in Lorenzo García’s truck didn’t seem to have a direct link. But her intuition told her otherwise. She felt trapped between the facts and what she wanted to believe.
Dusk and the hissing of the streetlights turning on overhead greeted her at the city limits of Safford.
“Deputy Steele. Step into my office would you?”
“Yes, Sheriff Hanks.”
“Did you get any more information from anyone who might have seen the car thieves?”
“No…” replied Deputy Steele.
“You’re hesitating,” said Sheriff Hanks. “Why?”
“Nobody else had anything specific to say. I mean no one else had seen the Vega or the little guy….”
But?” said Sheriff Hanks.
She knew Zeb carried a certain amount of ill will toward Eskadi, and, as shorthanded as they were, he might not care for the fact that she had run out to the reservation to follow a lead that turned out to be nothing. On the other hand, she had garnered some information that might be of value.
“I had a lead on a missing girl who I thought might have been the dead girl in Lorenzo García’s pickup. It turned out she wasn’t really missing. But I did find out some other things that might be important. One in particular seems to be.”
“Go on.”
“Eskadi…”
Zeb rolled his eyes.
“…gave me some information. I don’t know if it means anything but it might.”
“I know you and Eskadi are close, but he and I have history between us.”
“I know that and I get it.”
“So don’t be taken aback if I take anything he says with a grain of salt,” said the sheriff.
“I understand completely.”
“Okay, what do you have?”
“An old Indian woman was gathering herbs between the Ruidoso Ruins and Diamond Butte.”
“I know that place,” said Zeb.
“She saw an oversized pickup with a big White man and a younger Mexican or Native American, or maybe even mixed blood. They were stealing license plates. She got close enough to see that the big White man was missing some fingers. He pulled a gun on her when he spotted her.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Eskadi told me she is scared. She won’t talk to anyone but him. He doubts she will tell him anything more than she already has. She thinks the big White man with the missing fingers is the devil himself.”
“That could be very important. See if you can follow up on it. You have a better chance of getting Eskadi to do something than I do.”
“Got it,” said Kate. “I take it you have talked with our prisoner some more?”
“Yes, I did have a nice conversation with Madrigal. I believe he is a good man in his heart. But something is dreadfully wrong. I don’t know exactly what, but I do think he will tell us eventually.”
“What did you find out?”
“You might say he’s more than a little down on his luck on account of his wife and daughter. They both died of cancer. First, his wife died. That was about two years ago. His poor wife died very slowly and suffered a lot. Her suffering almost killed him from the sounds of it.”
“How did he express that to you?”
“It isn’t as much how he said it, as what he said. Sadness, I guess. Her death broke his heart. Then just when he was starting to get over his wife’s death his daughter was diagnosed with cancer too. Ovarian cancer took both of them from him. He is obviously depressed. I guess he’s been that way for quite a while. He started crying when he was talking about it. To be honest, I had to do my best to keep from crying myself.”
The sheriff’s openness was a bit surprising. He had not really opened up in that fashion to her, ever. This new, compassionate side of her boss was as welcome as it was unnerving.
“Mr. Madrigal prayed the rosary every day for two years. He kept asking God for a miracle. He lit candles to the Blessed Virgin Mary. He even made a holy shrine. I guess he is what you would call a devout Catholic. On the other hand his faith was tested by the death of his wife and he became angry with God. When his daughter got snatched away so soon after the death of his wife, Mr. Madrigal told me that he shook his fist toward heaven and cursed God until he was so hoarse he couldn’t even talk. He thinks that his actions are the root of his problems and for that he takes complete responsibility,” explained Zeb.
“What exactly does that mean?” asked Kat
e.
“He believes his actions toward the Almighty came back on him as a personal curse.”
“You mean him making the phone calls about the bombs and his being in jail?”
“No,” replied the sheriff. “Not like that. It seemed like something else.”
“What? What do you think he meant?”
“He feels horrible about Delbert. I am certain he is willing to go to jail for that, even if somehow he wasn’t directly involved.”
“If nothing else, we are absolutely certain he made the phone call.”
Kate’s reminder was indeed a solid fact. Felipe Madrigal had been involved with Delbert’s death. Yet something felt wrong. That little man inside the sheriff, his conscience, his intuition, his gut feeling, told him something else was definitely at play. Zeb was working on a theory that someone had forced Felipe Madrigal into making those phone calls. But who? And why?
“I am becoming quite sure he didn’t place the bomb in the school.”
Deputy Steele reiterated that there was no doubt Felipe Madrigal had made the phone calls. “No matter how you look at it, he was complicit.”
“Sometimes you learn about a man in other ways,” said Zeb. “Mr. Madrigal had such a hang dog look on his face that I could almost feel sorry for him, for his situation.”
Kate’s return gaze spoke to the issue of becoming too compassionate with those you have under arrest. Zeb caught the look as well as its meaning.
“I wanted to get to know him better. I thought I could figure out what makes him tick. He started talking about his work. He was very proud of that. He was a truck driver for a lot of years for the company that owned the mines. Felipe had been a short haul driver for the copper mines in Morenci. He had hauled mostly for the big mine in Morenci, but he also spent five years working at the Indian Flats mine on the southern end of the San Carlos Reservation. The limp came from a leg injury when a piece of equipment fell off a truck. After the accident he couldn’t handle a clutch anymore. The union got him a job as a security guard at the credit union in Morenci. It was a desk job. He carried a gun and wore a badge, but mostly he signed people in and out of the safe deposit boxes at the credit union.”
“Did he say why he called in the bomb threat?”
“We never went near that subject,” replied the sheriff. “I don’t think he wanted to talk about that.”
“What else did he talk about?”
“Everyday things. We compared notes about different county roads we both knew. He’s the only guy I ever met who has been out on those roads more than I have or more than Delbert did. He knows every landmark in the county. But most of all, I would say when he wasn’t talking about truck driving he was pretty down in the dumps.”
“You seem to have gotten to know him.”
“Yes, I feel like I do, at least a little bit.”
“Why do you think he called in the bomb threats?”
Zeb looked out the window. Deputy Steele could practically see the wheels spinning inside the sheriff’s head.
“I don’t want to call Felipe Madrigal a liar. But if he hadn’t confessed to calling those threats in, I would swear he didn’t do it. It’s almost like he’s making it up or covering for somebody. I listened to those tapes again. That is him on those tapes. There is no doubt about it.”
“Maybe deep inside he wants to tell someone why he did what he did. Maybe that person is you, Sheriff.”
“I hope so. I am going to bring him a radio so he can listen to the game tonight. He’s a big baseball fan. He knows his stuff. His favorite players, back in the day, were Orlando Cepeda and the Alou brothers. What are their names again? I remember one is Felipe.”
Without skipping a beat Kate replied. “Matty and Jesús are the other brothers. They’re all from Domingo in the Dominican Republic. They had a fourth brother that never played ball, Boog.”
“Boog Alou? Never heard…” Suddenly the sheriff caught the inside baseball joke. “Good one, you got me.”
“Just keeping you on your toes, Sheriff. Actually I stole the joke from my grandma, who stole it from Gramps.”
“Keeping on the subject of baseball, Felipe listens to the games on that Spanish speaking station. I also told him I would bring him some car and truck magazines. He likes them. He uses them to help practice reading English. Speaking of baseball, are you going to visit your grandmother over at the nursing home and watch the World Series game?”
“That’s where I’m headed right now,” said Kate. “Who do you like?”
“Yankees, of course,” replied Zeb. “I like Jeter and Jorge Posada. You a Yankee fan.”
“Actually, I do like the Yanks,” said Deputy Steele a bit sheepishly. “I’m a big Derek Jeter fan too.”
“How about your grandmother?”
“Grams, she loves the Yanks. She says Soriano reminds her of the way Grandpa used to play second base.”
In the years since her move to Safford, Kate had made it an annual event to watch as many playoff and World Series games as possible with her grandmother. Tonight the rest of the world would be put on hold for a few hours while she carried on the tradition.
“Kate, enjoy yourself. Say hi to Grams.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“I’m glad you’re in a little early today, Kate. Did you catch the game?”
“Man, oh man, Jeter was out of his mind. I thought the Yanks had it when Giambi smacked that homer. The nursing home gals went crazy. They even brought out a bottle of fake champagne to share--but in the end it went to Florida. It’s do or die for the Yanks at this point.”
“Sounds like you and Grams and the gals had fun,” said Zeb. “Even if the Yankees took it on the chin.”
“We had a great time. Did you and Doreen watch the game?”
“You bet we did. But after I fell asleep, Detective Muñoz called me at home. I was so tired I didn’t even hear the phone ring. He and Doreen talked for half an hour. He wanted me to call him about the autopsy findings on the dead woman in Lorenzo García’s truck. I’m going to call him right now. I’ll put him on the speakerphone. I want you to listen in.”
The switchboard at the Tucson Police Department was expecting the call.
“Detective Muñoz. How may I help you?”
“You can start by covering my behind next time a brick comes flying my way. That is what you can do.”
“What the? Zeb? Zeb Hanks? Is that you?”
“It sure as hell is, pardner.”
“You should be glad it wasn’t a bullet you were trying to duck. That little buttercup of a gal of yours said last night you could have been hurt bad. Sorry to hear about your deputy. That has to be tough.”
“It was. It is. But life goes on.”
“Amen,” replied Detective Muñoz.
Kate listened as the two men tossed feigned barbs and old stories back and forth before getting down to business.
“Max, I’ve got one of my deputies sitting here with me. Her name is Kate Steele. She lived for a while in the neighborhood where the truck and the body were found. I’m putting you on the speaker phone.”
The lawmen exchanged greetings. Kate explained to Detective Muñoz that the body had been found three blocks from the house she once lived in.
“Give us what you’ve found out, Max,” said Zeb.
“Let me begin with something Doreen brought up last night. That gal of yours is quite a talker.”
“You can say that again.”
“We’ve had some luck in identifying the dead girl. Her name is Juanita Melindez. She’s a twenty year-old Mexican-American. She had no permanent address. We know about a month ago she was staying with a girlfriend in Tucson. The roommate moved back to Mexico. We have tried contacting her. No luck yet. According to the roommate’s landlord, Juanita was a quiet girl. She had no social life that he knew of. He heard her mention a boyfriend but never saw one, though she did receive regular letters postmarked from the prison in Florence Junction. That could be a pen pa
l relationship, a brother or relative, or even a boyfriend, we don’t know. Ms. Melindez worked as a waitress at a Chinese restaurant in the Village. The owners were pretty mum about her. At first I thought it was a bit of a language barrier, but it didn’t take long to figure out they were paying her off the books.”
“I bet I know how you got them to talk.” said Zeb.
The two men began to laugh like boys in a private world.
“Do you two care to share your little secret with a fellow officer?” asked Deputy Steele.
“You tell her, Zeb,” said Detective Muñoz.
“The one thing a restaurant owner hates is surprise inspections. The easiest way to get information is to send one city health inspector to the restaurant during breakfast, another one during lunch and another during supper. You get the idea. Normally we can get all the information we need, and then some, in less than twenty-four hours. In the big city it’s called inter-agency cooperation,” explained Zeb. “Here in Safford elections are won and lost over little things like that.”
“I’ll remember that,” replied Kate.
“Go ahead, Max.”
“It turns out the guy was paying her cash under the table,” said Detective Muñoz. “I could care less. That’s business for the revenue boys, not the police department. When he decided we weren’t the enemy, he gave us some interesting facts.”
“Such as?” asked Zeb.
“Such as the last anyone saw of Juanita Melindez was the night she disappeared. She was seen getting into a blue Chevy LUV pickup with a white male described by the Chinese man as big as an ox, uglier than a pig and wearing a military buzz cut. The truck matches the description of the one we found her in. It matches the truck belonging to Lorenzo García. When I talked with Doreen last night, she seemed to know all about Lorenzo García. When I mentioned the truck had a stolen plate on it from the San Carlos Reservation, the name of Eskadi Black Robes came up. Doreen suggested I talk with Deputy Kate Steele about that one.”
Sheriff Hanks turned to Deputy Steele and pointed to the receiver.
“I know Eskadi Black Robes quite well. What do you need to know?” asked Deputy Steele.