Bad Medicine (13 page)

When she arrived, several sedans and at least four new pickups were parked around the house, a large stucco building with a pitched roof. The residence was surrounded by a very un-Navajo-like block wall and an expensively manicured lawn. Ella waited in her car. Though she knew the senator
wasn’t a traditionalist, the gesture would show respect and might help set him at ease.

After a few minutes, Ella saw the senator’s wife come to the porch and wave an invitation. Ella walked through the gate and greeted the tall, slender Navajo woman who was dressed in a black business suit. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry except for a large diamond wedding ring, and Ella noticed that the skillfully
applied makeup failed to hide the strain on her middle-aged face. Ella expressed her condolences for the loss of their daughter.

The senator stood up as they entered the formal living room. His eyes were as wary as an animal who knew it was being hunted.

“How can I help you, Investigator?” He gestured for Ella to take a seat in a high-backed wooden chair, then Yellowhair sat down across from
her on a leather sofa.

Abigail Yellowhair chose an uncomfortable-looking armchair near the passageway into a formal dining room where, from the sounds of low conversation, Ella assumed guests of the family were gathered.

Ella noticed that the senator and his wife avoided looking at each other. Despite the senator’s statement, it was clear that tension between the couple remained high. Their
body language alone told her the senator’s wife had not forgiven him, despite the public statement Yellowhair had made. If she had to venture a guess, she would have said that they were in agreement only about one thing—the way they regarded her visit. Their eyes were stone cold as they rested on her. Ella tried to soften her tone so she would sound less like a cop interviewing a witness.

“I
need your help in my investigation of your daughter’s death. Can you tell me more about Angelina? In your opinion, had she been moody or irritable recently?”

“My Angelina was not like that,” Abigail Yellowhair said in a curious monotone. “She was always busy, doing things, seeing people. She loved her life at the college, and her friends there. To her, nothing was impossible. Her world was one
filled with possibilities and dreams. She wasn’t the kind to mope about worrying about things that didn’t go right. She’d just move on to something else.”

Senator Yellowhair held his body rigid and sat very still, his arms crossed over his chest. His face remained as expressive as one carved of stone. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ll explain, Sir, if you’ll just answer a few more questions first. Could
you tell me where she and her friends hung out?” Ella sensed the wariness in his voice, yet tried to remain sympathetic in her own speech.

Mrs. Yellowhair gave her a perplexed look. “I suppose the college, but she was always rushing from one place to another. I couldn’t have possibly kept up with her, and Angelina was no little girl who needed constant supervision.”

“Did you know of any medical
reason why your daughter might have become disoriented enough to cause her to drive erratically?” Ella’s voice softened, knowing this was a tough question.

Mrs. Yellowhair’s eyes grew wide and she gave her husband a sharp look.

Senator Yellowhair didn’t move at all. His gaze was fixed on Ella. “Neither of us have any idea what may have caused the accident. Perhaps there was an animal in the
road and she swerved to avoid running over it. Do you intend to tell us why you’re asking these questions or should I end the interview right now and return to our guests?”

Ella bristled, but kept her voice and temper in check. “Senator, your daughter had been taking peyote, but that’s not what killed her. We have reason to believe that shortly before she died, your daughter took peyote laced
with a fatal dose of jimsonweed. Her death was no accident.”

James Yellowhair bolted to his feet so quickly the sofa rocked. “Are you saying that my daughter was involved with drugs? That’s not only preposterous, it’s libel. If you continue with this investigation and those false claims become public, I’ll sue you and your department. Count on it.”

“The evidence of poisoning is clear, however
there are many explanations possible. If she was a member of the Native American Church, or the new splinter group known as the Navajo Justice Church, peyote rituals are part of the religious practices. Jimsonweed, however, is not. It is my belief that your daughter was poisoned by whoever gave her the peyote.”

Mrs. Yellowhair looked ashen. She was gripping the sides of the leather-and-wood chair
with such force that her knuckles were white under the strain.

Senator Yellowhair returned to the sofa, sat down slowly, and regarded Ella as if she were a peculiarly disgusting insect. “What I believe is that your so called evidence is a result of bungled tests and a faulty investigation.”

“I could show you the M.E.’s report, Senator. I assure you, the test results confirm my statement.”

“Test results can be manipulated, or created. You know that as well as I do.”

Ella wasn’t sure what he was insinuating, but she clamped her mouth shut and tried to squelch the obvious retort: that data was often manipulated or created in politics, but not everyone was quite that willing to bend the truth. “The facts stand, Senator, and they’re corroborated by independent witnesses.”

“Explain,”
he clipped.

“The department found your daughter after we received a call from a citizen notifying us that someone was driving erratically near the eastern edge of the Rez. I was the first to arrive, and saw your daughter weaving in and out of the oncoming traffic lane. She appeared to be quite ill and incapable of driving safely. That’s why I was trying to pull her over.”

“If you had succeeded
in doing your job, she might still be alive,” the senator snapped.

“No, Senator. Later tests reveal she had already received a fatal dose of poison. It was already too late when I found her. But this is why it’s very important that I find out who she was with that day. Where did Angelina go the morning she died?” Ella looked at Mrs. Yellowhair, directing the question to her.

“She didn’t have
classes that day so she was most likely coming back from Farmington after shopping, headed for the library. She often went there when she had studying to do.”

Frustration corkscrewed through Ella, making her muscles tense up so tightly they hurt. It was clear that Angelina didn’t confide much in her parents. All she had done by coming here was to rile up a potentially dangerous adversary.

“My
daughter did not use drugs. She had an accident,” the senator said, his voice too controlled to pass as natural. “Stop trying to make this into something it isn’t. It’s ridiculous to think anyone would have murdered her. I understand how a big case might boost your career, but I want you to know that I will not allow you to turn this into a media circus just so you can get your name in the headlines.”

“I’m afraid you have confused police officers with politicians.” The words slipped out before she could catch them. Ella mentally blasted herself for allowing him to get to her.

Instead of meeting her response with anger, he smiled slowly. His reaction made her skin crawl. It was clear to her that in his mind, he’d won that round. Unfortunately, she had to admit that he had.

“Senator, if your
daughter was given these drugs, there is danger here to the rest of the tribe. We need to track down the person or people who supplied her. Other children could be in danger from whoever is passing off this poison. For the sake of the others, will you answer at least one more question? Your constituents would expect you to cooperate with us, if only on the slim chance that it could save another
young person’s life.”

Mrs. Yellowhair now stared at her husband, urging him silently to answer. She could see the hesitation in the senator’s eyes, but she also knew that she’d pushed the right buttons. She’d backed him into a corner and although he wouldn’t forget it, he would have to help her out now.

“I don’t know who she was with earlier that day, but I do know the girls in her circle of
friends. None of those kids use drugs of any kind. They may have a few beers off the Navajo Nation in Farmington every once in a while, but that’s the extent of their involvement with anything like that.”

“Has she made any new friends lately?” Ella asked, pushing for more information. If Angelina had only recently become involved with drugs, her supplier was probably not someone in her usual
circle of friends.

“My daughter was friendly and outgoing. She made friends all the time,” the senator answered, rising from the sofa and urging Ella toward the door as he spoke. “But she also had a good head on her shoulders. We raised her right and knew we could trust her.” He opened the front door and held it open. “Make no mistake, Investigator Clah, if you try to ruin our family’s reputation,
I will fight you with everything I’ve got, and that’s a considerable arsenal. I will not allow my enemies to use our daughter’s death against us.”

Ella turned around to walk out and practically ran into Justine, almost upending the covered dish she had in her hands. “What’s going on?”

“I was driving by and I wanted to drop off this casserole my mom made.” Justine handed it to Abigail Yellowhair.
“Is there anything you need?” she asked the woman.

James Yellowhair glared at Ella. “Your subordinate knows more about showing respect for a family in mourning than you do. You should take a few lessons from her.”

Ella strode off to the Jeep without looking back. She had tried to remain civil, but the senator was difficult to fake out. As she placed the vehicle in reverse, Justine jogged up.
“Sorry about that. I hope I didn’t mess things up.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I need to talk to you a little more privately. Can you meet me at the end of the road, away from the house after I pay my respects?” Justine asked.

Ella nodded. “I’ll wait for you on the shoulder of the road next to the highway.”

Several minutes later Justine came up, parked behind her on the incline that bordered
the road, and left her vehicle. Ella walked out to meet her.

“I’ve been looking into how our people found the senator to notify him of Angelina’s death, and it’s impossible to track. We got an anonymous tip. Even the voice was disguised. We can’t tell from the tape of incoming calls at the station if it’s male or female. I understand that’s how his wife found him, too. My mom spoke to their cousins
and then told me.”

“Interesting. That means the anonymous caller knew about Angelina’s death. But, then again, the emergency techs knew, so did the hospital staff, and anyone within gossip range. It doesn’t narrow the field much. Anything else?”

“I found out that Ruby Atso’s father works at the mine. I met her out there this morning. She’d dropped by to bring him lunch. I struck up a conversation
with her and learned that Angelina had no respect for her father. She was always hostile whenever she spoke about him, but since she never told her friends why she hated him, everyone attributed it to different reasons.”

Out of habit, Ella led Justine farther away from the road to a more protected area down the incline. “I wonder if she knew her father played around on her mother,” Ella said.

“Or it could have been just the normal conflict between parent and child. Angelina was spoiled rotten. She may have resented the senator’s busy schedule, since it left less time for him to share with her.”

“That’s possible, too.”

“From the conversations I’ve had with the other girls, however, I can tell you this much: There’s no way that Angelina ingested peyote to gain enlightenment or to make
herself part of the NAC, or the splinter church. That kid couldn’t commit to anything for long. Her most serious goal was trying to find ways to annoy her father.”

“There’s another possibility. She might have been looking into the skinwalker ways.”

Justine shrugged. “It’s possible. She may have thought that was a surefire way to drive her parents crazy.”

“You know, we’re making progress,” Ella
commented, thoughtfully. “But we’re making powerful enemies along the way.”

Justine nodded. “The miners really resent our involvement in this case. It’s hard to get them to answer even the simplest of questions.”

They had just reached the road when a van coming slowly up the highway suddenly left its lane and veered toward them.

“Jump!” Ella yelled.

Justine hesitated at the edge of the incline.
In a heartbeat, Ella knocked her assistant’s knees out from under her and shoved Justine over the edge of the steep hill. With one last glance at the oncoming vehicle, she slid down behind her.

EIGHT

Ella sat up slowly, rubbing her back. She felt as if every rock embedded in the sand and dirt of the incline had left a permanent imprint on her. “Cousin, are you okay?” she asked quickly, looking around for Justine.

Ella heard a yelp of pain and looked toward the sound. Justine had landed on a thicket of tumbleweeds. Ella winced, still remembering how her own skin had itched and swelled
just the other day.

“I’m okay, but my ankle…” Justine crawled free of the thicket, pulling tumbleweed spikes from her hands. “I think I sprained it. But I shouldn’t complain. I could have been spread flatter than a tortilla on that highway.”

“I wish I’d managed to get a better look at the vehicle before I jumped clear.” Ella glanced at the incline they’d have to climb, then back at Justine.
“You stay here. I’m going to call the paramedics.”

“Oh please, don’t. A sprained ankle sounds like the type of injury a wimpy heroine gets in a bad movie so the hero can bail her out. The guys at the station would never let me hear the end of it. Give me a break, okay?”

“You may already have one,” she said, glancing down at Justine’s ankle. Unfortunately, she also knew exactly how the guys in
the department could be. Seeing the pleading look in Justine’s eyes, she relented. “Okay, come on. They’ll still know, you won’t be able to hide this, but at least you’ll be able to say you took care of it yourself.” Ella picked up a sturdy cottonwood branch and handed it to Justine to use as a cane.