by Aimée Thurlo
Jo inhaled sharply. She knew precisely what that meant. If word spread that Rudy had killed a patient in order to gain the dark powers of a skinwalker—a Navajo witch—Rudy’s reputation would never recover. He’d also face retaliation from skinwalkers because he’d drawn unwanted attention to their practices. That would explain the foul medicine bag hung on the doorknob, and maybe even the paint.
“My guess is that he carried out those threats almost immediately, a preemptive strike, so to speak. He was smart enough to make it look like your patient’s boyfriend was responsible for your problems,” Jo said.
Rudy nodded. “That makes sense. That young man is in the tribal official’s clan. I bet he was at that wedding, and that’s when he was told about his fiancé’s blessing. The official knew the young man had a hot temper and would probably seek me out.”
“It wasn’t a perfect plan. The official didn’t know the fiancé would end up in jail when he did, or doesn’t think we’d find out,” Jo replied, nodding her head. “Who is this man? I need to know where the danger is coming from.”
“Remember that I have no way of proving any of this,” he warned, then seeing her nod, continued. “The tribal official is Lewis Sorrelhorse. At the wedding, I’d tried to convince him I wouldn’t bring up the subject again, but he obviously wasn’t convinced. I’ve been so focused on the young man, I’d forgotten about Sorrelhorse ’til last night.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know if you saw the news, but Sorrelhorse is at the center of a new controversy about travel vouchers and double billing the tribe. Yesterday Sorrelhorse sent his assistant over to threaten me, a man named Benally,” Rudy explained. “He accused me of giving Sorrelhorse’s name to the press since my wife’s brother’s nephew works for the TV station. I assured him I hadn’t said anything, but I don’t think he believed me. After Benally made threats I grabbed my rifle and threw him out of my home. Sorrelhorse is trying to quiet us, one way or the other.”
There was a loud bang outside and they both jumped at the noise.
“Fire!” someone yelled from the front of the store.
Jo leaped out of her chair and grabbed the closest fire extinguisher off the wall. “Call the fire department,” she told Rudy, and rushed out of her office.
“What’s going on?” Sam asked, coming out of the storeroom.
“Mr. Brownhat’s pickup caught fire,” Leigh Ann said, running toward a second extinguisher.
Jo rushed outside and saw the billowing smoke coming from the wheel well of Rudy’s pickup. She raced over, quickly pulling the safety pin on the extinguisher. She could only see a trace of flames in the tire well, but that was clearly the source.
Jo got down on her knees and began spraying the driver’s side front tire and the area inside the fender, trying to find the most effective angle to extinguish the fire. The scent of gasoline was strong and the stringy black smoke from the burning tire was so pungent she started to gag. She rose to a crouching position, wondering if she might need to back off if the fire got more intense.
Detective McGraw came up behind her, holding another extinguisher. “Don’t get any closer,” he warned, adding spray from his tank to her efforts.
“No, no, no! I have ceremonial items in my truck, things I can’t replace! I have to get them out of there,” Rudy yelled, running down the porch steps.
“Stay back, sir,” Detective McGraw ordered, glancing back. “If the fuel system catches fire, there could be an explosion.”
Leigh Ann stepped up and held out an extinguisher twice the size of the one McGraw had been holding. “Detective, here. This CO2 one might do the trick.”
The detective sat his tank down on the gravel, took the one she offered, and began spraying a fog of carbon dioxide up into the gap between the engine and the melting tire.
Jo continued to spray the tire, which had collapsed down onto the rim in a mass of bubbling goo. There was a whoosh and a sheet of flames shot out from behind the metal wheel. Jo jumped back, and the detective moved in, spraying the new spot with a cloud of white mist. “Brake fluid. Smell it?”
“Careful,” Leigh Ann warned as the detective continued spraying underneath around the front brakes.
Jo nodded and inched around the front of the vehicle, ending up beside Leigh Ann as they both searched for any new source of flames.
Rudy, who’d been standing back, suddenly leaped into action. He raced around the tailgate of his pickup and grabbed the passenger side door handle.
“No!” Leigh Ann yelled, but Mr. Brownhat had already opened the door and was reaching inside. She raced over. “Get back! If the gas tank catches fire…”
“I’ve got to save the ceremonial items in these two boxes,” he said, handing her a cardboard box, then reaching for the second. “What’s in them can’t be replaced!”
She took the box and hurried with him to the porch, where they placed both boxes on the floor against the wall.
“Got all the important stuff,” he said, nodding. “Thanks.” He joined Jo down in the parking lot and together they watched as the flames finally went out and the smoke disappeared. All that remained was the acrid scent of melted rubber. Detective McGraw stepped back. In the distance a siren was wailing.
“Not a total loss,” Jo said, coming up to the porch to join Leigh Ann. “Good thing we keep a fire extinguisher in every room.”
“You saved what’s important,” Rudy said, shaking McGraw’s hand, then Jo and Leigh Ann’s next.
“Unfortunately, you’re not driving home in that truck, uncle,” Jo observed.
“How’d the fire start?” Sam asked from the edge of the porch. The smoke had dwindled to a trickle, but there was a big puddle of nasty black tire residue on the gravel.
Detective McGraw, still holding the CO2 extinguisher, squatted down to look underneath the engine. “This was no accident. Somebody splashed gasoline onto the tire and threw a match.” He pointed toward the remains of a wooden match resting in the puddle of gooey rubber.
“Just our luck that you drive an unmarked car, Detective. A patrol cruiser might have deterred the attack,” Jo said, glancing around as the fire truck approached.
“Yeah, I hear you,” McGraw said, then turned around. “Do any of you have any idea who’s behind this?”
Rudy looked down at the ground, then after a long beat, looked back up. “I might.”
“I could add a name or two to the list,” Leigh Ann muttered, “particularly if this was meant as a warning.”
“As soon as the fire department is done here, we’ll put up a sign stating we won’t be opening until ten, lock the doors, and meet in the break room,” Jo said.
* * *
Thirty minutes later they were all gathered in the break room. Leigh Ann noticed that Regina’s hands were shaking as she poured coffee for everyone from the staff pot, which was located on a small filing cabinet.
Detective McGraw, seated at the head of the table, glanced around the room. “I’ve read the incident reports about what’s been happening to you in the last few weeks. Now I want to hear any details or ideas you might have, anything that you didn’t bother telling the police. Who wants to start?”
“All we have are guesses,” Leigh Ann said. “Like the fire, for instance. None of us saw whoever did that to Rudy’s truck, but we have our suspicions.”
“Some of you have made dangerous enemies recently. Let’s focus on that,” McGraw said.
Jo nodded and looked at Rudy. It wasn’t her place to tell her teacher’s story.
Rudy took a deep breath. “This is difficult for me,” he said at last. “As a hataalii, people confide in me, and breaking that trust in any way has consequences.”
“If you have knowledge of a crime, and you don’t come forward, you become an accessory,” the detective warned.
Rudy spoke slowly, choosing his words. “A patient came to me with great concerns about his job and the possibility of corruption within our tribal govern
ment. I began looking into the matter on my own. I wanted to restore balance to my patient and our tribe. Eventually, I met the director of Range and Livestock Management at a wedding, but when I spoke to him, the man instantly went on the offensive. He even threatened me. I had no proof of anything, so I kept quiet, but recently he sent his assistant to remind me again.”
“Uh-oh,” Leigh Ann said softly.
The detective looked at her. “Is there a problem?”
Leigh Ann bit her bottom lip, aware of what she was doing. “I think I’m seeing a connection between Rudy’s and Jo’s problems, and mine.”
“What’s your connection to tribal politics?” McGraw asked.
“Personally, none, but my late husband Kurt was involved with a tribal official named Lewis Sorrelhorse, the same person Rudy spoke about. I don’t know what their association was, but Sorrelhorse’s name appeared in my husband’s notebook, the one I found and turned in to your department.”
“Do any of you have proof that Sorrelhorse is behind what’s been happening?” McGraw asked.
Leigh Ann told him what Melvin had heard and how he’d identified Sorrelhorse’s voice on TV.
“Was he one hundred percent certain of that ID?” the detective asked her.
“Yeah, and Melvin’s hearing is nothing short of remarkable. If he says that’s who he heard, you can count on it.”
“I’ll examine the notebook you turned in a little closer,” McGraw said, then looked from face to face. “So you all agree that there’s a commonality—well, a possible commonality—to all that’s happened?”
“In my mind, the link is there—Sorrelhorse, the owners of Total Supply, the death of my husband, and the troubles Jo, Rudy, Melvin, and I have had,” Leigh Ann said. “Those are way too many connections to believe this is all just coincidence.”
Jo nodded. “I agree completely. So what now?” she asked the detective.
“This new information is a great lead, but it’s not evidence. I’ll have to do some more digging and get some help from the Navajo police, too.” He looked around the table. “In the meantime, I strongly suggest that you all watch each other’s backs. Don’t get caught off guard or go out alone. Since we don’t know for certain who’s behind all this, trust no one outside this room and keep quiet about your suspicions.”
Leigh Ann accompanied McGraw to the building’s front door so she could let him out and lock up again once he left. When she came back to the break room, she found the others sitting in silence.
“The real question,” she said, “is what should we do next?”
“I have to return to my medicine hogan. I have other patients coming,” Rudy said, standing.
“Uncle,” Jo said, “your truck’s out of commission, and you’ll need to have it towed to a garage. Take my pickup for the time being.” She held out her keys.
“Thanks, but that’s not necessary. All I need is a ride home. My wife’s cousin has a second car. I’ll borrow hers until my truck’s fixed,” he said. “If I can use your phone, I’ll call my mechanic in Shiprock and have him come to get my pickup.”
“All right,” Jo said. “Leigh Ann, could you take care of things here until I get back? I’ll have my cell phone, so if the army contacts me—email, phone call, or whatever—let me know.”
“Jo, why don’t you stay here and let me give Mr. Brownhat a ride?” Leigh Ann asked. Jo seemed to be a bundle of nervous energy waiting for word on Ben. She’d be better off here in case news did come.
“Is that all right with you, uncle?” Jo asked Rudy. He nodded.
While Rudy spoke to his mechanic, Leigh Ann loaded his boxes into her Jeep. When she came back for her purse, Jo intercepted her in the hall. “Don’t travel out there alone, not after all that’s been happening. Take Sam with you.”
Sam, who’d been standing a few feet away, cleared her throat. “I was hoping to set up the Wi-Fi today,” she said.
“Then I’ll go with Leigh Ann,” Regina said.
“Guys, I have a better idea,” Leigh Ann said. “Regina will be needed here to help Esther get the fabric display set up. So how about this—I’ll take Rudy home and before I head back, I’ll stop and pick up Melvin, if that’ll work for him. I promised I’d give him a ride later anyway so he could run some errands,” she said. “I’ll ask if he minds staying here until I get off work. There are some things I’d like to talk to him about.”
Leigh Ann hoped to get the opportunity to talk to Melvin about her latest discovery. Last night, she’d stayed up late searching the Internet and found a report of the accident in the online edition of the Farmington newspaper. There was an image of Melvin, already a known photographer, but no photo of the drunk driver, who was listed as “Ronald Jonas.”
She’d remembered hearing about the incident at the time, but that was years before she’d met Melvin, so she hadn’t read any details or thought any more about it at the time. Now she’d been able to identify the man’s parents—his next of kin—and had found a listing that had included their address, hopefully still current.
“Okay,” Jo said. “We can open up now. During the times when we’re not busy with customers, we can start moving things around here to make room for the coffee bar and to relocate some of the merchandise. If we’re lucky, we can rearrange things without needing to close.”
— SEVENTEEN —
Leigh Ann had just arrived at Melvin’s home when her cell phone rang. Seeing it was Jo, she answered quickly, hoping there’d been news about Ben, but the second Leigh Ann heard Jo’s expressionless tone, that hope faded.
“Where are you right now?” Jo asked.
“At Melvin’s,” she said. “I’ll be back at the trading post in thirty or forty minutes.”
“No, don’t bother. That’s why I’m calling. I just got a call and the coffee bar and tables are going to be delivered within the next few hours. Once the stuff arrives, we’re closing for the day, assuming the plumber can get here. I’m also checking to see who, if anyone beyond a certified plumber, needs to approve the hookup. It’s new to me; Tom always handled that stuff. To complicate things even more, Sam had a problem with the router that’ll provide the Wi-Fi. She’s going to be putting in long hours today.”
“How long will the trading post be closed?”
“Hopefully, just for the rest of today,” Jo said.
After they exchanged good-byes and disconnected, Leigh Ann saw that Melvin had come to the door. She got out of the Jeep quickly and followed him inside.
“I’m curious,” he said as they walked through the house. “Does it seem rude to you that I go ahead of you whenever possible?”
“No, I never even thought about it. I just figured you knew where you were going. That is, until you bump into something,” she teased.
“Very funny. At least I do that less in my own home. You know, it’s always been second nature to me to go first. Anglo culture has the man step back politely so the woman can go ahead of him. Navajos do the opposite, and I’ve got to say, it makes a lot more sense to me. If there’s trouble, the man would face it first.”
She smiled. “An alternate take on chivalry and manners. I’ve got to say, I like the Navajo way better.”
“The temperature is always coolest in this room,” he said, once they reached the den. “That’s why I work in here.”
The sculpture was on the table, covered with a black plastic bag. “I guess you don’t need me to sit for you anymore?” she asked, disappointed.
“Actually, I do, but only to capture the mood, your spirit if that explains it better. When you’re happy, or sad, or worried, all that comes out in your voice, and that helps me add defining touches to the figure. It’s almost finished.”
“Can I take just a quick little peek?” she asked. “I’m dying here!”
He laughed. “No, not yet. Soon, I promise.” He locked the turntable in place to keep it from moving, then put away the sculpture. “I’ve been working on this for hours, so I’m read
y for a break. You came just at the right time. Would you like something cold to drink?” he asked, heading to the kitchen.
“Yeah, I’d love it. It’s already hot out there today,” she said.
“So tell me, what brings you over this early?” he asked, pouring iced tea into two glasses.
She told him what had happened at the trading post and about the likely connection between Sorrelhorse, Total Supply, and Kurt’s shooting.
“What you know, or at least suspect, could end up putting all three men in prison. If they’re guilty, you’ve just given them even more reason to get you out of the way for good. Do you realize that?”
“Yes, but I’m through being scared,” she said. “Fear’s a strange thing. It can’t sustain itself. After a while, it loosens its hold on you because you’re too tired to give it the energy it demands.”
“I hear you, but you’ll still have to stay alert, Leigh Ann.”
“I will,” she said, then after taking a sip of her iced tea, continued. “Now it’s my turn to help you, but first, there’s something I need to know. Are you prepared to look into what happened the night of your accident? I mean, really ready—no matter what answers you find?”
“Yeah, I am. I’m tired of second-guessing myself, and wondering if I could have done something more.”
“Okay then,” she said, telling him what she’d managed to find on the Internet about Ronald Jonas and his family.
“What do you think we could learn from his parents?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s a place to start.”
“All right. Let’s go,” he said, finishing his drink. “You asked me if I was ready to face things squarely, and I am, but what about you? While looking into this you may learn things about me you wished you’d never known. You’ve been curious but cautious lately, and I suspect that my uncle John has mentioned I’ve been moody and have had trouble sleeping.”
“Maybe, but do you think I’ll suddenly hate you and walk away because you’re going through some issues? That’s not going to happen,” she answered. “I’m on your side, Melvin, just as you’re on mine in dealing with Kurt’s murder and the backlash from that.”