by Paula Paul
“He wouldn’t have had to try to manipulate Danny if he’d known you were going to get Juanita arrested for the crime,” Irene said.
“Yeah, I guess I’m guilty as charged on that count,” P.J. said, regret showing on his face. “But Hutch didn’t know about that when he was with Danny. Fact is, Danny believed him because he was so stoned he didn’t remember anything. At least not at first. Not until Jimmy Holland spoke up for him.”
“Thank God for Jimmy,” Irene said.
“Hutch wasn’t finished with his games, though,” P.J. said. “I think he might have been the ghost Juanita saw on the mesa. You gave me that clue, Irene, when you mentioned the cut on the chin. Hutch wanted to convince Juanita her son was the killer because he wanted to cover all his bets. I might add, the police already have Hutch as well as Macy in custody, and it’s all thanks to Adelle.”
“I don’t understand,” Irene said.
“I took them a bullet, my dear, and it matched the one that killed Armaud,” said Adelle.
Irene’s eyes widened. “You took the police a…How on earth did you get your hands on a bullet?”
“Why, I picked it up from his shop,” Adelle said. “He didn’t know it, of course, but, as I told you, I’d seen that story in the newspaper that you left lying on the floor. You never learned to put things where they belong, so it’s left up to me now that I can no longer afford a maid, and I might add that I—”
“You stole it from his shop and took it to the police!” Irene said. “Whatever made you think of that?”
Adelle sniffed. “I had seen that story in the paper, and when I saw the bullet I put two and two together. I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”
“No,” Irene said, almost too stunned to speak. “No, you’re not.”
“When did you take it to the police?” P.J. asked.
“Soon after I found it.”
“My God, Adelle, you should have told us,” Irene said.
“I couldn’t do that,” Adelle said with an indignant snort. “I shouldn’t have to tell you, of all people, that when a matter is under investigation, those of us who are involved don’t divulge matters to the public.”
“I see,” Irene said, too stunned to say more.
“There’s more,” Adelle said. “They suspect Hutch is the one who kidnapped and beat Juanita. They’ve already started those DNA tests to confirm it. They got samples from Juanita’s clothes at the hospital.”
“How do you know this?” Irene asked.
“Why, the police told me, of course,” Adelle said, sounding smug. “They also told me that the man who was holding Juanita at the Green Corn Dance has been arrested. He was just someone Hutch and Leon hired to help them. He didn’t know anything about the artifacts or about the murders.”
“You astound me, Adelle,” Irene said. “Do you by any chance know anything about the stolen necklace?”
Adelle waved her hand with a show of self-satisfied confidence. “Danny had it, just as you suspected. It’s in the custody of the police now, and they told me it would be returned to the pueblo soon.”
Irene looked at her mother, feeling relief mixed with astonishment. “I hope Juanita knows all of this,” she said.
“She no doubt knows by now,” P.J. said. “Adelle insisted that the police take Danny to the hospital so he could tell his mother everything before they question him further.”
“And they listened to her?” Irene asked.
“You’re not surprised, are you?” P.J. asked. “It is Adelle we’re talking about.”
Irene looked at her mother with a surprised expression. “How thoughtful of you,” she said.
Adelle smiled. “Noblese oblige.”
Epilogue
Six weeks later, the corn had been harvested and was stored at the pueblo. Days were shorter now, and the mornings too cool to venture out without a jacket. The mournful sound of a flute drifted in the early half-light, serenading the rising sun. Danny Calabaza made the flute sing the song of his lost soul. Beside him on the rock atop the mesa was his medicine bag. Tony Tonorio had told him the flute and the medicine bag would help him find his soul again, would help him make amends for stealing the sacred necklace to buy money for drugs. They could help him find his way back. Help him unite with his spirit and the spirit of his people again.
Danny didn’t know if Tony was right. He hadn’t found his way back well enough to know, but he would keep traveling the path Tony had helped him find again. He would travel his spirit path while the flute sang the song of his soul.
For Dean
Acknowledgments
Thanks to the Kewa Pueblo people and to Betty Fussell for her article “A Timeless Pueblo Ritual” (New York Times, July 22, 1984).
BY PAULA PAUL
Accessories to Die For
Irene’s Closet
For Dead Men Only
Medium Dead
PHOTO: LAUREN ASHLEY CREATIVE GROUP, INC.
Award-winning novelist PAULA PAUL was born on her grandparents’ cotton farm near Shallowater, Texas, and graduated from a country high school near Maple, Texas. She earned a B.A. in journalism and has worked as a reporter for newspapers in both Texas and New Mexico. She’s been the recipient of state and national awards for her work as a journalist as well as a novelist. She lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
Paulapaul.net
Twitter: @paulapaul4
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