The Collector

by R. Allen Chappell

  “Archie….”

  It was Carla. “You’re not at work, I would guess?” She wouldn’t be calling from her office.

  “No…still at the hotel. They haven’t even started clearing the parking lot yet, looks like I’m going to be stuck here the better part of the morning…possibly longer than that.

  Archie leaned back against the pillows. “Same here. Weather guy says it’s not going to quit for a while either.” He was sure the woman had a better reason to call than the weather, and waited. She seemed reluctant…uncertain how to begin.

  “You’ve heard something… Right?” Archie had a pretty good idea what this was about. He’d been expecting it.

  “Yes, I have,” She finally admitted, hesitating a moment before going on. “And it’s not good…”

  Archie waited.

  “Agent Smith called this morning, first saying I shouldn’t worry about coming in until the roads are cleared.” She paused again but this time for only a second. “What he really wanted me to know was that the rental truck involved in the storage unit heist turned up—involved in an accident down in Albuquerque. A convenience store owner called it in to local police, saying the driver appeared to be hurt. But as the investigating patrol unit arrived, the driver jumped out and limped off on foot. The cops ran him down and reported the man seemed delusional, possibly strung out—anxious to talk his way out of jail time—or so they thought. It didn’t take much for the man to give permission to search the vehicle…and guess what? It was full of trading post loot taken from the Johnson’s storage unit. We had a statewide bulletin out right after the robbery, of course, but hadn’t expected it to be this easy. Professionals seldom drop the ball like this.”

  “So, you don’t think the driver was involved in the actual killing?”

  “Right now, we don’t think so. This particular driver was a low ranking member of the Ortiz family; it’s still not clear if Raul Ortiz had set himself up to broker the shipment or just supplied a hired hand to bring the stuff down to their warehouse for safekeeping.” Carla sounded even more convinced when she said. “I’m sure any operative involved in the Johnson murder would be too smart to get caught out like this.”

  Archie suppressed a curse. “It’s pretty obvious now that Raul was playing us off against these people from the start.”

  Carla agreed, “It would seem so, I have the feeling the trader’s murderer is still hanging around up here, and that means he’s not finished.” She paused. “The Begays could be in more danger than they know, especially since it’s gotten around that Lucy Tallwoman’s name was somehow linked to the trader’s death. Someone might have reason to think she knows something she shouldn’t. Of course, Senior Agent Smith still suspects there’s a leak somewhere.”

  “That could explain where the operative is getting his information.”

  “There’s no one on the Bureau’s radar in this case that we can put a finger on at the moment, but that doesn’t mean someone’s not lurking around to tie up loose ends.”

  “Percy has known about these people for some time now, Carla, I suppose he has been waiting to see how far they would push us. That said, the last thing he wants to own is the notoriety of an all-out war. Personally I think it may be too late to avoid one. ”

  Carla yawned. “Well, he should be more in line with our thinking by now.”

  Archie couldn’t let it go. “Percy has, from the beginning, maintained we should look out for Lucy Tallwoman—he’s been protective of the Begays all along, for some reason.”

  Carla shifted the phone to the other ear and purposely changed the direction of the conversation. “Archie, I spoke with Lucy Tallwoman this morning. She called me, mentioned their phone went down last night but is back on this morning. The Begays are sure someone’s been watching their camp—someone besides you, I mean. She says they’re certain two different people have been up there on the ridge, spying on them. Thomas Begay and her father apparently intend doing something about it. I told her that might be a mistake and did she want the Bureau to send someone out when the weather cleared? She said no, they would handle it.”

  “I mentioned the tracks I ran across on the trail above the Begay camp. I had a feeling then I was being watched. Whoever else was up there may have an agenda that’s very different from ours.”

  Carla waited for Archie to weigh in further, hoping he would have some specific insight in regard to the Begays, something she could work off of, but either he didn’t or, if he did, he intended keeping it to himself.

  A heavy sigh from Archie’s end gave the impression he wasn’t overly concerned. “Nothing’s going to happen today, Carla—all the outlying areas are snowed in, and will be for awhile I imagine.” He knew she was waiting to hear what should be done, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to share…not just yet.

  After he hung up the phone, Archie again went to the window and watched the snow flutter down from a grey and increasingly dreary sky. He finally admitted to himself it was smart of Percy, not to bank on just one person. Maybe Carla Meyor was being groomed to take his place…maybe that’s why Percy mentioned his retirement recently. There was no doubt having an ear in the Bureau would prove a huge advantage going forward. Still, Percy should know that depending on an inexperienced person could be something they would come to regret.

  Archie got down by the bed on one knee and pulled out the long box with his tools. He could wait for the storm to pass and the roads to be cleared before taking up a position above the Begay camp, let the man come to him. The problem with that strategy being, it could take time. And there was the risk the operative might somehow get by him, or even intercept him. After considering all the logistics of the thing it became clear the more rational way to proceed might be to find the person now and take the fight to him. Archie was pretty much convinced that only one operative had been sent. It wasn’t likely such a person would be camped out somewhere. No, he would be right there in town, just as he, himself, was. There were not that many places…it could even be there at his motel…or Carla’s maybe. He wondered if the woman had thought of that.

  For Archie, there was the nagging premonition the operative had already spotted him, followed him back from the Begays’ camp perhaps. That was something to consider. Unpleasant as the prospect was, it might indeed be better to force the person’s hand right here and now and possibly on more advantageous terms.

  Archie had been at this business a very long time and there was one thing he knew for a fact; the direct approach was often the best approach. It might not work for everyone, but it had often worked for him. He had long ago learned the element of surprise could be a deciding factor in almost any critical maneuver. From the beginning, he’d felt this operative seemed prone to rush things. No matter how good the man might otherwise be, patience was apparently not his long suit, and that in the final analysis, could prove his undoing.

  ~~~~~~

  Carla watched the hourly weather reports with a growing sense of resignation. She was, it seemed, stuck in limbo and with plenty of time to think. Archie Blumker might well be the expert when it comes to a street-smart evaluation of the players in this game. She was finally forced to give him that much but, still, she thought, there are things he doesn’t know. Blumker still needs me more than I need him. It’s true he’s clever, possibly even more than Percy let on, but he doesn’t have access to the resources of the Bureau…I do.

  Despite all this internal posturing Carla remained unsure, mentally debating whether or not she should have been more forthcoming with Archie. She had purposely left him unaware of her growing intuition that Senior Agent Fred Smith might have reservations about her. This was a wild card and one not to be taken lightly; if she was right, Archie and she both could be compromised.

  Carla’s thoughts eventually spiraled into a vortex of self-doubt… What about Lucy Tallwoman? There was now more than just the growing bond of friendship between them—there were long forgotten ties few were aware of. Old
Paul T’Sosi had immediately shown some sense of it when first he’d laid eyes on her, some familiar something about her, her appearance maybe, or some inherited resemblance. Something had obviously triggered a long forgotten bitterness in the old man. His impaired state of mind apparently made it impossible for him to recall exactly what it was just then, but he might eventually…and then what? Neither Lucy nor Paul has any idea who my birth father was, but should they eventually put two and two together, it could very well be a game-changer.

  Carla had been just a baby when Lucy Tallwoman had fallen under the spell of the white music teacher in that last year at boarding school. Even Carla’s Bureau file didn’t have that information, only that her father ended his own life when she was still in high school. Few are left now who know the backstory—that Lucy’s deceased daughter, Alice, was my half-sister. Alice had long been a hidden part of both their lives. Thomas and Charlie Yazzie knew bits and pieces, of course, but she doubted it was enough for either of them to put the story together. These were painful things Carla hadn’t thought of in years and now they were back to haunt her. Should she go to Lucy with this now…or just let it lie and hope for the best? There was the slim hope the information might strengthen their bond…but more likely it would forever destroy whatever ties she had managed to forge. Percy Vermeer knew the story and, she suspected, somehow felt guilty for the actions of his relative. That may well have been the reason he was protective of both her and Lucy Tallwoman.

  23

  The Enigma

  After examining her deposition for a third time, The Legal Services Investigator remained mystified at Frances Benally’s report. It still seemed odd to Charlie that Clifford Johnson’s wife was present in those early morning hours preceding the trader’s death. Not that he didn’t believe Frances…he did…the FBI had already suggested Louise might be involved in the crime. They’d learned the trader went in to work in the wee morning hours the last day of every month—to catch up on his bookkeeping, but more likely, they thought, to adjust hidden accounts unfettered by prying eyes—including those of his wife.

  Charlie had a hard time believing Louise Johnson had a part in her husband’s death; the two had been together a long time and according to neighbors seemed to get along well enough. On the other hand, Louise was considerably younger than Cliff, and an intelligent, handsome woman in the bargain. It was not inconceivable she might have tired of Cliff’s penny-pinching and secretive management of their resources.

  Only the day before, Billy Red Clay had mentioned questioning a number of long-time customers of the Johnsons’ trading post and found more than a few thought the couple’s relationship had soured of late.

  Charlie was still thinking of Billy Red Clay’s report when his private line rang and the officer was on the phone. Only a few people had this number and Charlie intended to keep it that way.

  “Hey, Charlie, hope I’m not interrupting something? I was wondering if I might drop by later—talk to you in private if you can find a minute?”

  “Sure… What’s up, Billy?”

  “Uh… I’d rather not say until I get there…paranoid maybe? The grader went by a few minutes ago so the roads should be clear to your office by now…when’s a good time?”

  Checking the clock the investigator decided, “Let’s say in about thirty minutes if that works for you; I should be leaving about then anyway…I’ll meet you downstairs in the parking lot.”

  It was obvious: whatever was on Billy Red Clay’s mind, he preferred it to be just between the two of them. Charlie had barely hung up when the receptionist buzzed his intercom. “The Bureau is on line two, Sir, Fred Smith I believe.”

  Charlie raised an eyebrow and thought, what the hell? then threw a questioning glance at the blinking red light before picking up.

  “Yazzie, here…is that you Fred?”

  “Yep, I tried your private line…busy…I just wanted to run something by you if you have a moment?”

  “What’s up?”

  “It’s Carla Meyor, I understand she came to see you the other afternoon?”

  “Well, since you know that, I can only assume she told you…or you’re keeping track of her…which is it?”

  The agent hesitated. “Well…she didn’t tell me.”

  “I see… So how can I help you Fred? I’m sure you have good reason for asking about Carla but I have to tell you straight out, there wasn’t much of any importance discussed—mainly just small talk, school days and such.”

  “Charlie, did Carla happen to mention the Vermeer Foundation in any context at all…in relation to school, or…?”

  “Fred, I’d have to think about it…she might have. It may have come up in conversation. What exactly is the Vermeer Foundation?”

  “I wish I knew, Charlie. I have people working on that as we speak. All I know at the moment is that it’s a ‘non-profit’ headed by a man named Percy Vermeer of New York state; he’s a well-known collector of Native art and antiquities. I should know more by this afternoon. I just thought she might have said something.”

  “Fred, is Carla under investigation…?”

  “Not really Charlie, not at this point anyway. I’m just curious about a few things, I guess—call it an overactive imagination if you like.” Fred chuckled, but Charlie had the impression he was more serious than the attempt at humor indicated. He definitely seemed concerned about Carla …or maybe something in her past.

  “Fred, you did know, of course, that Meyor was not her name…she was adopted, somewhat late in life from what she told me.” Charlie heard papers rustle and knew Fred Smith was leafing through a file.

  “Yes, Foldier was her birth father’s name…and yes, the Bureau did know that. I see here the man later took his own life…well that’s a shame.”

  “Maybe not so much a shame as you think. He wasn’t a very nice guy according to Carla. I got the feeling there was more to the story than that but didn’t press her for details. As to your question about the Vermeer Foundation; I recall her saying both her father and stepfather were distant or shirttail relations of the Vermeer’s…second or third cousins apparently. But as unlike as cousins could possibly be from what she said.” Charlie supposed he may have overstepped the bounds of personal confidentiality, but this was the FBI he was talking to. He wasn’t Carla’s lawyer or legally bound in any way. That, however, didn’t prevent a twinge of guilt.

  “Okay, that I didn’t know, but I should have more info on that later this afternoon. The Albuquerque office has taken a special interest in Carla Meyor, Charlie. I suspect they are pulling out all the stops on this one. The Vermeer Foundation has managed to stay under our radar for some time. Their organization has only recently come under scrutiny, following some tax problems which wouldn’t go away.” Fred Smith was clearly a little agitated and growing more so as he continued. “By the way… there is the off chance someone here in our office is the source of that leak, the one we’d previously thought was coming out of Tribal. All this is still just supposition at this point. But make no mistake we intend to get to the bottom of it, and pretty damn quick, too. Needless to say, Charlie, all this is strictly confidential. I wouldn’t mention any of it to the Begays as yet, not until we are on firmer ground…but I’m sure you understand that.”

  After the FBI man hung up Charlie sat back in his chair and raising his eyes to the ceiling rethought the entire conversation. He’d never seen Fred this riled up. He became more and more certain the Agent had already uncovered more of Carla ’s agenda than he let on.

  Carla had been a question mark in the back of his mind from the beginning, just not in this particular context. The woman was an enigma; there was no doubt about that. Looking up at the clock Charlie went for his coat. Downstairs he watched through the glassed front entry for Billy—all the while wondering how deeply embedded Carla might be with the Vermeer Foundation.

  ~~~~~~

  The snow had temporarily eased off, leaving only a skiff of new powder to cover the
freshly plowed roadway. Billy Red Clay’s long hours running wintery highway patrols left him certain there was an icy glaze below the inch or so of white powder. He adjusted his speed accordingly but despite the cautionary tactic was surprised when the unit went sideways as he turned into the parking lot. The young officer was wearing an embarrassed grin as he pulled up to the nearly deserted building and waved through the windshield.

  Charlie moved around to the passenger side and waited as Billy tossed his coat in the back and hit the unlock button. The car was warm inside…too warm, Charlie thought, as he unzipped his jacket.

  Billy was first to speak, “So, have you heard anymore from Uncle Thomas and that bunch up country?”

  “No, I have not. Sue called and said their phone has been ‘in and out’ all day. I figured to give him a call later on this evening if I can get through.”

  The two sat there a moment as Billy turned off the windshield wipers and adjusted the heater before getting into what he’d come for.

  “You may already know some of this, but in case you haven’t seen the latest report…that rental-truck load of trade goods from the Johnsons’ trading post turned up in Albuquerque. That should have been on your FBI update this morning?” Billy smiled as he gave Charlie a knowing glance. “San Juan County’s finest, Sheriff Dudd Schott and his department, are handling the theft up here. They were supposed to keep the FBI…and us, in the loop. But as you know, county law doesn’t always ‘remember’ to give Tribal a shout… rarely, in fact. Luckily, I called the Undersheriff this morning on other business. I’ve known him a while now, a nice enough guy actually… We had quite a little chat. He knows the Booking Officer in Albuquerque who was a friend of the truck’s driver—back when they were young I guess—almost like a brother from what the Undersheriff says. Anyhow…the Booking Officer says his friend got roped into that deal without knowing what was involved.”