Coyote's Wife (23 page)

“Kids could have easily done this, but why would they? The
timing makes me think there’s more to it,” Ella said. “And look at the tracks. There are two sets of shoe prints, both adult-sized.”

Before she could continue, three reporters, who’d obviously tailed Blalock, joined them and began taking photos of the launching system.

“Don’t touch anything, please,” Officer Cloud warned the reporters. “And stay back at least twenty feet.”

Blalock took another
look around, then motioned her to one side. “Those bottle rockets are readily available during the summer, and particularly around the Fourth of July. Pueblo fireworks stands don’t always follow state or local ordinances, which might explain the illegal firecrackers. The fireworks themselves won’t be much of a lead, unless the idiot left his fingerprints on the rocket that failed to launch.”

“Or on the tape, or the launch tubes. We might get lucky,” Ella answered. “It could also be that someone inside the garage saw whoever launched the rockets. Let’s see if we can find any witnesses.”

Leaving Phillip to protect the evidence, Blalock and Ella
spread out to talk to the various people, beginning with the two men working inside the auto shop. The men refused to say anything on the record,
claiming that they’d been inside working and hadn’t even heard the bangs of bottle rockets.

Out of possible witnesses for the moment, Ella found a camera crew willing to let them view the footage they’d shot—even burning them a DVD on the spot. She had a feeling she’d find her next lead there.

“You’re looking for something specific, aren’t you? What are you after?” Blalock asked her as soon
as they were alone again.

“Nobody took shots of the wall itself, so we won’t find photos of whoever was peering over the top. But the setup suggests that up to three people were involved. I think the one watching over the wall got a signal from someone in the crowd, then he relayed the go-ahead to the one lighting the fuses. It was undoubtedly something subtle, but I’m going to see if I can spot
it on video.”

They questioned as many people as they could, but got nowhere. At long last, with the press conference over, Ella and Blalock traveled back to the police station with the DVD.

As they walked in, Big Ed was in the hall, waiting. “I heard about the incident. Is it possible the Fierce Ones were responsible?”

“Using firecrackers attached to bottle rockets?” Ella shook her head. “Doubtful.
That’s much too amateurish for them. They use obvious force and intimidation, not noise-makers.”

Taking the DVD the local reporter had given them into Big Ed’s office, they studied each shot, including the incident itself and the aftermath. When they finally finished viewing the footage, Ella didn’t know whether to laugh or groan, so she kept silent.

“The press will have a field day with this,”
Big Ed said at last. “Ervin looked as if he’d had too much to drink. His reaction was almost funny in view of what really happened.”

“Not everyone blew their cool. Mrs. Yellowhair came across as one formidable lady,” Blalock said.

“That she did,” Ella agreed with a nod.

By the time the evening news aired, Blalock had left, but Ella was still at the station. She stepped out into the bullpen
where the sergeants and shift commanders worked, and watched the broadcast. Somehow, the feed made the national news. Instead of the satellite phone system focusing positive attention on the tribe, the StarTalk incident had come across as the joke of the day.

Less than ten minutes later, Big Ed called Ella into his office. Several Navajo politicians had phoned right after the news, complaining
about the lack of security the department was giving StarTalk.

“Their main concern was that the tribe had been publically embarrassed by the newscast,” Big Ed continued. “And they have a point. We’ve got to get to the bottom of this quickly. This wasn’t just a juvenile prank. It was too well timed and executed.”

“I agree,” Ella replied, but before she could say anything more, Abigail Yellowhair
burst into the room.

“What happened today was a disgrace. This department promised to provide ample security for the press conference. What could have been a historical occasion for our tribe has been reduced to a contender for one of those funniest video programs. How could you have let this happen?” she demanded, glaring at Big Ed.

Seeing Big Ed wave Abigail to a chair, Ella stood, waiting
to be excused. Suddenly Abigail turned her fury on her. “And
you
should be ashamed of yourself. My poor son-in-law has had to hire a full-time bodyguard because you’ve
done nothing to help him. At first someone kept following him. Then he started getting threatening phone calls at all hours of the night. They won’t let him sleep. Little wonder he’s falling apart! He’s even started drinking again.”

“This is the first we’ve heard about these new incidents,” Big Ed said. “My officers need your
complete
cooperation, Mrs. Yellowhair, and that means not withholding information.”

“We told you he was being harassed,” Abigail said curtly. “But we can’t allow his phone to be tapped. Some of the business calls coming in are highly confidential. What you can do is catch whoever’s been doing this to
Ervin. For a while, every time my poor son-in-law turned around he’d see someone following him, always in a different color and model pickup. But when he’d try to chase them down, the truck would disappear. It was making him crazy. Ervin’s a businessman, not a detective, and the constant harassment is wearing him down. Officer Clah and that patrolman—one of the Cloud brothers—saw for themselves
at the press conference. Ervin’s nothing short of a nervous wreck, and he wouldn’t be that way if you people started doing your jobs!”

Big Ed stood up slowly. The gesture, coming from such a large man carried an implied threat. Abigail suddenly stopped talking, her gaze focused solely on him.

“No one waltzes in here and tells me or my people how to conduct their jobs. We work for the tribe,
not
StarTalk. Am I clear?” His voice was scarcely above a whisper, yet it reverberated with authority.

Abigail didn’t answer for several seconds. When she finally did, her voice was somewhat muted. “Big Ed, this is my
family
I’m talking about, not another political cause. They deserve more from this department than they’ve received so far.”

“We’re understaffed, so we prioritize. We have a possible
homicide to solve right now and several attempts have been made on our officers. We
will
address all our cases, but this department has zero tolerance for a member of the public who tries to tell us how to do our jobs. Am I making myself clear?” Big Ed said. His voice was deceptively calm, but there was an undercurrent of steel woven through his words.

Abigail stared at the top of Big Ed’s desk,
lost in thought, then finally looked up and met his gaze. “I hear you, Chief Atcitty. Now hear me. It would be a big mistake to underestimate what a woman—any woman—is prepared to do for her family.” The power of those words reverberated in the silence of the room as she turned and left.

As Big Ed took a seat, saying nothing, Abigail’s words replayed themselves in Ella’s mind. As a woman and a mother, she understood exactly where Abigail was coming from on this. There was nothing Ella wouldn’t have done to protect her own family.

“Abigail can get in our way and make a great deal of trouble for this department,” Big Ed said at last. “Follow
up on what’s going on with Ervin. Even if he hasn’t requested protection, we have ample reason to question him and learn more about the threats he’s received.”

Ella nodded. “I’ll handle it.”

Big Ed stood, checked the hall, and closed the door. “What’s next on your agenda?” he asked, returning to his desk.

“Besides interviewing Ervin Benally, I’ll continue to follow up on what happened to his
Dodge pickup, the one that George Charley used to gather firewood. We don’t know if that was intended to harm George, Ervin, or both of them. I also need to check on Marilyn Charley’s condition.” Ella deliberately kept from discussing details as Big Ed had
instructed her. Until they knew where the leak was, she’d be careful.

Big Ed nodded, then added, “Keep me updated.”

Ella walked back to her
office. Her first call was to the hospital. She soon learned Marilyn Charley had regained consciousness and had refused any more painkillers. Ella placed the phone down and was reaching for her jacket when Justine walked in.

“I found no prints on the fireworks launchers, not even on the tape holding it all together. The wooden stakes were too rough and textured for prints, but we did manage to
get a partial from the dud rocket,” she said. “It didn’t match anything on file.”

“Anything else?”

“Footprints, a size eight, right around the launcher. Size nine and a half around the car seat. We got partial shoe patterns but they weren’t from a Nike, like the ones we found at the scene of the George Charley case. I’ve also ruled out any Nikes at StarTalk, or at least an admission that anyone
owns a pair. Several of the staff wear athletic shoes in the office, but none of that particular brand.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you think it was kids with those rockets, Ella? A high school prank maybe?”

“I think that’s highly unlikely. What kid in today’s world wouldn’t want better phone service?” Ella countered. “In my opinion, this was done to rattle Ervin even more.”

“So maybe the Fierce Ones hired
kids to do the job,” Justine said. “That way they could keep their hands clean and still create trouble.”

“Not their style. They depend on everyone knowing exactly who was responsible. That’s the way all vigilantes work. And why would the Fierce Ones be interested in StarTalk? I
can see them going after Marilyn Charley, but who’s their target at StarTalk and why?”

“We know they want fewer Anglo
influences on the Navajo Nation. Maybe they see StarTalk as just another Anglo foothold,” Justine countered. “The satellite phones are being manufactured elsewhere, and the satellites themselves aren’t Navajo in origin either.”

“All good points.” Ella considered it, then shook her head. “But I still can’t see it. The Fierce Ones always target Navajo people who’ve committed crimes, then dispense
their version of justice. If Ervin’s in their sights, it’s because of something he did, not because of StarTalk. But maybe we’re still missing something. Keep thinking about it and I will, too. Let’s see if we can come up with a connection that feels more on target.”

“Were you getting ready to go someplace?” Justine asked.

“Yeah, and if you’re not working in the lab, I’d like you to come with
me.”

“Ready when you are.”

“First, I want to get a copy of Arthur Brownhat’s booking photo. I’ll also want photos of any others we either know or suspect of being in the Fierce Ones.”

“All right. I can get those for you.”

After stopping by Justine’s office and getting what Ella had asked for, they headed out. “We’ll be paying Marilyn Charley a visit. She’s conscious.”

They arrived at the
hospital a short time later. Ella was eager to talk to Marilyn. Her gut told her that the woman would be able to fill in some of the gaps, like maybe the identity of at least one of the men who’d beaten her. Their faces had been covered, but it was possible she’d recognized a voice or had received another kind of warning in the past. The Fierce
Ones—at least those she’d dealt with before—often
put people on the line with a not-so-subtle warning before actually getting physical. Of course that had been back in the days when the group had worked more on fear and control than actual physical brutality.

After getting directions to Marilyn’s room, they went down a long hallway that smelled of floor wax and antiseptic, and took the elevator upstairs. Marilyn’s room was just a few doors away
from the nurses’ station. Ella went on ahead while Justine remained behind to question the staff.

As Ella entered the semiprivate room, she found Marilyn alone, sitting up, her head bandaged and her eyes nearly swollen shut. Seeing the mirror beside the bed, Ella knew that Marilyn was very aware of her appearance.

Ella identified herself, showing Marilyn her badge. Despite the bandages, Ella
saw the fear on Marilyn’s face just before she turned away.

“I’ve got nothing to say to the police,” Marilyn said in a thick voice.

“We want to catch the men who did this to you,” Ella said quietly. “But we need your help.”

“I can’t tell you anything,” she answered, still looking away.

“Can’t or won’t?” Ella insisted gently.

“They said they’d come back—do worse,” Marilyn answered in a barely
audible whisper.

“We can protect you if you help us.” Ella brought out several photos and tried to show them to Marilyn, but the woman refused to look. “You’re not helping yourself, Marilyn. If we put these men in jail, they won’t be able to hurt you again.”

“There’ll be others.”

Ella remained quiet for a long time then spoke. “I know you’re afraid of the Fierce Ones, and it’s understandable.
But you only really have two choices—fight back, or continue to be a victim.”