Death Walker (42 page)

Ella suddenly remembered Naomi Zah telling her about the man’s peculiar smell. A definite odor of oil and solvents clung to his clothing. “Can anyone
support your story?”

“I have no idea. You’ll have to ask around. There’s nothing around here except the college, but it’s possible some student driving by saw me. Or maybe not. Who knows? Either way, it’s your job to find out, not mine.”

“Before I’m through, I’ll know what you had for breakfast that day. Count on it.” Ella stared at him until he looked away. Wordlessly she turned and walked
back out to her car.

As she drove on to the college, she had the dispatcher put her through to Big Ed. She gave him a thorough verbal report, then waited for his reaction. For several moments all she heard was static.

“You’ve got a good candidate there,” Big Ed said at last. “If he works alone, he could take off at any time and not be missed. You want to bring him in for questioning? We can
let him sweat it here for a while. You never know what you’ll get.”

“Not yet. Let me do a little more digging first.”

“We’re having a problem with Naomi Zah. Have you heard?”

“I thought she’d left to stay with relatives.”

“She came back. One of my men found out, and we sent someone to keep an eye on her. But she’s furious. She doesn’t want anyone around, thinks it may scare off people who
come to her for help.”

“I’ll try to stop by there soon. Maybe I can explain things and help her see the necessity.”

“She’s a stubborn old woman, but give it a try. Either way, Neskahi and Duran will alternate shifts and stay close by.”

“Have the stepped-up patrols turned up anything?”

“Not a thing, and between the heat and the tension everyone is feeling nowadays, our officers are starting
to get extremely restless.”

“Something will break soon on the case. I’m sure of it.”

“I sure as hell hope so. Casualties are getting way too high. Keep me posted.” Big Ed signed off.

Ella headed down toward the main highway. So much was changing on the Rez. She saw areas filling with new houses and businesses, while others went downhill, time and neglect taking their toll. Changes were continually
woven into the pattern of life. Despite the opposition change received, nothing ever remained the same, not even here on the reservation, where the old ways still commanded respect if not acceptance, from all.

Ella used her radio to contact Justine. They agreed to meet at the Totah Café.

Twenty minutes later, Ella and Justine were waiting to be served. Ella stirred her iced tea absently, not
taking a sip.

Justine finally spoke. “That constant
chinkachink
is driving me crazy, boss. What’s bothering you?”

“The case, what else? We need to make progress, but for every answer we uncover, we end up with ten more questions.”

“Does this have to do with John Begay?”

Ella briefed her assistant on what she’d learned from her interview with the mechanic. “He seems to meet some of our criteria,
and he was defensive, very much so.”

“Maybe if we keep probing, the answer will come,” Justine suggested.

Ella started to reply when she noticed someone outside reaching into Justine’s open car window. “Trouble.” Ella stood, just as the man started pouring something from a plastic bucket onto Justine’s windshield.

“My car!” Justine leaped up, but Ella was already at the door.

Running outside,
Ella saw a man dart around the rear of Justine’s car and tackle the man with the bucket. As she drew closer, Ella recognized them instantly. It was Furman Brownhat, and the man with the bucket he had knocked to the ground was Anton Lewis.

The two men rolled back and forth on the pavement, wrestling, each trying to end up on top.

“Enough!” Ella yelled, grabbing Lewis’s wrist in a hold designed
to produce enough pain to immobilize him. Lewis let out one long yell, then curled up into a ball, Ella still retaining her grip on his hand.

Justine grabbed Furman by the arm. “Furman, it’s me, Justine. Let him go and get up. Ella has him under control.”

Furman finally noticed Justine was there and with dark anger in his eyes relented and stood up.

Ella glanced at Justine’s car. “What the
hell is that stuff?”

“It’s blood, you bitch,” Lewis managed, trying to remain defiant despite the fact that Ella held him immobile, his nose pressed against the asphalt.

“Why would you do that, you sick jerk?” Justine demanded, moving over to cuff Lewis.

“I was walking over for a bite to eat when I saw this sicko pouring that gunk onto your car, Justine. I ran over, but I couldn’t stop him
in time,” Furman put in, his words coming rapidly as he tried to even his breathing.

Justine nodded, then took a look inside her open window. “Damn. That pervert put a dead dog on my car seat too.” Opening the door, Justine reached in and grabbed the carcass carefully, lifting it out and onto the pavement. The animal had obviously been run over several hours ago. Flies covered it liberally.

“Call it in, Justine,” Ella ordered. “Let’s get this ‘monk’ a cell of his own to meditate in. This time, Lewis, you have somebody who
will
be pressing charges.”

“I wish I’d poured the blood inside the car instead. And in yours too!” Lewis growled, turning his head toward Ella. “You’re both bitches. You all deserve to die.”

“Watch your mouth, asshole!” Furman stepped up close, but Justine had
returned from making the call and put a hand on his arm, pulling him away gently.

“He’s not worth it, Furman. But thanks for stepping in before he did anything else to the car.” Justine smiled at the young man, then looked back at her vehicle. The windshield and front were dripping blood heavily, and some was running down inside the engine compartment from around the wipers.

“You can take that
to Allison’s Car Wash, Justine.” Ella noted a police car approaching from up the road. “Meanwhile, start the paperwork on this idiot. I want him out of here, ASAP. Then, afterwards, maybe we can have an early dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan. Want to join us, Furman?” Justine suggested.

“Okay. I sure worked up an appetite in a hurry.”

Ella noted that Furman’s eyes lighted up as they came to rest
on Justine.

Later, as they had their meal, Ella watched Furman. Justine didn’t pay much attention to it, but Furman was genuinely interested in her. Although it was obvious that Justine considered him just a source, Furman appeared to interpret her interest much differently.

After they finished their meal and walked out to the parking area, Ella waited until Furman was out of earshot. “You may
have a problem,” she warned Justine.

“I know he likes me, boss. I like him, but it’s nothing. Really. See you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early.” As Ella walked to her own car, she glanced back at Justine, unable to shake her uneasiness. She trusted her assistant, but the budding friendship—and that’s what it was even if Justine didn’t admit it—worried her.

TWENTY-THREE

The following morning Ella arrived at her office early. As she sat down, she patted her pocket one more time to confirm that her badger fetish was with her. It was getting to be a habit. Things at home were going as well as could be expected, although the constant tension was beginning to take its toll. Her mother worried about everyone, from Clifford and Loretta to the cops outside.
Loretta’s moods, now that she was in her last trimester, were also beginning to take their toll on everyone, including Clifford. Her heart went out to her brother, who never seemed to know what to do when Loretta would burst into tears without the slightest provocation.

Ella had just finished a report for Big Ed, including the episode with Anton Lewis, when Justine walked into her office.

“I’m
going over to check with my contact in administration at the college. I’m trying to find out who was last assigned the car we’ve connected to the murders. So far all I’m getting is the run around, and I’m getting tired of playing phone tag.”

“If you can cut through the red tape, so much the better. We need a name, and then we have to find out what that person was doing when Haske and Dodge were
killed.”

“I’ve also been trying to find out which stores, if any, in this area carry Kevin Jordan designer jeans, the brand indicated by the thread we found in the vehicle we impounded. So far I’ve got zip,” Justine said. “But I haven’t gone down the entire list of outlets that carry jeans yet. I should be able to finish that in another ten minutes, then I’m going to see Ritamae over at the college.
I’ll let you know as soon as I come up with anything useful.” Justine left the office, her stride filled with purpose.

Ella sat behind the computer, searching the records for the name of Anton Lewis’s mother. If she was Navajo, then Ella would be able to find her, with or without an address. There were few people her brother didn’t know, and he was only one phone call away.

It took her another
hour, but with Clifford’s help, she found Therma Lewis. The woman lived a few miles from the high school. She worked as part of the janitorial staff there.

It took Ella less than twenty minutes to drive there, and the relatively quick trip was a welcome change. Ella walked up to the trailer home that had been placed next to a ditch bank. The place looked small and well worn by time, but the bright
sunflowers by the entrance attested to someone who cared about details yet was perpetually short of money.

Ella waited near the car, staying in the shade of a tall pine. Finally she saw an elderly woman come to the door, give her a quizzical look, then wave for her to come in. By the time Ella walked through the door, the woman had pulled out a chair for her to sit in.

“I think I recognize you.
You’re that woman detective, right?”

Ella nodded, and flashed her badge. “I came to talk to you about your son.”

Mrs. Lewis nodded slowly. “I heard what he’s been up to, and about last night. It doesn’t surprise me, you know. He was always in trouble, even as a boy. I couldn’t handle him. He lived with his father, but then those two didn’t get along either. He eventually came back, but I couldn’t
let him stay here. Not after that night when—” She stopped abruptly and shook her head.

“I need to know everything about him. He may be in a great deal more trouble than you realize.”

“And you want me to help you keep him in jail?” She shook her head. “No matter what else, he’s still my son.”

“Anton needs help. He’s very troubled. Letting him go on his own isn’t the answer.”

Mrs. Lewis hesitated.
“You’re not trying to help him,” she said at last. “You just want to see him behind bars. He’s not guilty of anything, except maybe trying to get attention.”

“Why attention?”

“My son wants to be accepted. He wants others to notice him so he’ll finally get some respect. He says he’s a skinwalker, but he isn’t. He doesn’t know the first thing about our ways. What he’s doing is trying to be a leader
of other people. He needs them to need him. Do you understand?”

“Anton’s very troubled, Mrs. Lewis. It’s possible he may hurt others as well as himself if he continues this way.”

“No, you’re wrong about him. He may not like animals—” She stopped short, then turned away. “Please leave, I’ve already said too much.”

Ella stood up slowly. “You can help Anton by talking to me,” she said, and placed
her card on the table. “You can reach me anytime, day or night, if you change your mind.”

Ella was just pulling back out onto the road when an elderly woman who lived in an old but well-maintained house about fifty yards away came out and stood watching.

Ella saw her in the rearview mirror and, reversing direction, drove up to the house. “Is something wrong?” Ella asked, stepping out of her
vehicle.

The woman looked at her for a moment as if trying to make up her mind. She made little plucking motions at her long skirts. “I saw you there at my neighbor’s. Were you asking about her son?”

Ella nodded. “Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

The woman gestured for Ella to follow her inside. “You don’t remember me, do you?” she observed.

Ella looked at the woman. Her bright turquoise
blouse made her light gray hair look even paler by contrast. A network of lines framed her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”

The woman’s gentle smile seemed to be filled with memories she alone held. “You’re Ella. I taught you back in junior high school many, many years ago. I taught your brother Clifford too. I’m Mrs. Keyonnie.”

Remembering the name, Ella smiled. “I remember you! English, right?”

The woman chuckled. “I know, I’ve changed. A few more pounds, more years.”

“Well, the same can be said about me, but you remembered,” Ella answered.

“I read about Anton in the papers. That boy was always in trouble. Most of our kids here were friendly and liked the dances and get-togethers. Not Anton. He always went out of his way to make it unpleasant for everyone.”

“What happened that made
his mother kick him out of the house?”

Mrs. Keyonnie took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “He liked killing little animals he found, like birds, lizards, and such. He said he was going to be a skinwalker. His mother argued that he didn’t know what he was talking about, that killing animals would accomplish nothing. But then one night, he was trying to do some kind of strange ritual. I have
no idea what he thought he was doing. I was returning with his mother from a fundraiser at the school, when she found him outside. The animals”—she shuddered—“a kitten and a puppy. They’d been killed, and skinned. It was awful.”

“Did you know him well?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I never taught him, but I know others who did. He had the IQ of a genius, but he was always unstable. He would
fly off the handle for no reason and no one could ever predict what he was going to do. Something else—I remember that the one subject he excelled at in high school was drama. He was really good at playing a role, and wearing disguises and all. That’s the only class he ever got A’s in.”

“Where does Anton work?”