Death Walker (43 page)

“He doesn’t; that’s one of the things his mother and I have talked about. She doesn’t
send him any money, and neither does his father. I have no idea how he makes ends meet. Of course, he’s always trying to get followers. Maybe he gets donations from them.”

“Do you know the names of any of his followers?”

She shook her head. “They’re young kids, most just out of high school, I know that. But they come and go, particularly during the summer. They’re from outside the reservation.
Nobody takes him seriously here.” She paused, then added, “Though maybe they should.”

After thanking her, Ella returned to her vehicle, lost in thought. John Begay was a possible suspect, but Anton Lewis was also fitting the profile. Fortunately he was still in jail, having refused to post bail after being charged with vandalism of a tribal vehicle.

As she headed back to the office, the dispatcher
put through a call from Justine. “I’ve found a store that carries the jeans we’re trying to track down. It’s not on the Rez, but just outside it, at that big factory outlet shopping center between Kirtland and Farmington. I’ve checked with Big Ed and called the county sheriff. There’s no problem if we go in and ask a few questions.”

Ella felt her heart begin to race as it always did when the
trail was getting warm. “Good job! Tell me exactly where it is. I’ve never been there—who has time for shopping?” Ella wrote down the directions. “You’re at the office now?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way out. I can meet you there, if you want.”

“I do, but I’m going to need you to locate a photo of John Begay, and get a copy of the photo taken when we booked Anton Lewis. Then find five other photos of
guys who fit the same general description. Let’s see if the salesclerk can pick out either of our suspects.”

“I’ll see you there,” Justine answered.

After leaving the reservation, Ella made her way to Kirtland, a growing community between Shiprock and Farmington. Kirtland had many Navajo residents, and there had been a great rivalry between the Kirtland Broncos and the Shiprock Chieftains for
years.

As Ella was getting out of her Jeep beside the store Justine had mentioned, Ella saw Justine’s car turn off the highway and into the lot. She waited as Justine pulled into the parking space next to hers.

Justine left the vehicle quickly. “I’ve got the photos. The college had a recent one of Begay, and I had them fax me a copy. I’ve made fax copies of every photo, so we won’t influence
witnesses with different quality images. Except the sketch, of course. You ready?”

Ella nodded once. “Let’s get to work.”

Ella led the way inside the large factory outlet. From what she could tell, the store specialized in casual clothes, but carried only exclusive name brands. She picked up the tag from a denim jacket and expelled her breath in a rush.
Expensive
name brands. Even at outlet
prices, if the Packrat had bought his jeans here, he’d left a great deal poorer.

Ella walked up to the counter, identified herself, and asked to see the manager. A young man who appeared to be in his early twenties came out of a back room and gave her the slightly patronizing smile of a salesman.

“I need your help,” Ella said, deciding the direct approach would save them all time and effort.
“Do you normally sell a lot of Kevin Jordan jeans?”

The manager shrugged. “Not many. That’s the most exclusive line of men’s wear in the Southwest. Most Kevin Jordan jeans are purchased by out-of-state tourists with their charge cards. I’d say we sell a pair or two a week. Most of the local trade buy those less expensive cotton and polyester boot-cut brands.”

“Could you ask your staff if they
remember selling a pair recently to a Navajo man, young, medium height, and perhaps of slender build?”

A young woman clerk who had been straightening the jeans approached hesitantly. “I did, about three weeks ago. I remember, because it was one of the few times I’ve seen any local people willing to shell out the cash for something like that instead of using a charge card.”

Ella gestured for
Justine to produce the photos, and Justine laid them out on the glass counter. She’d selected half a dozen shots, including the sketch Victor had made.

The young woman looked at all of them carefully, then finally shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know he was Navajo, but that’s all I can tell you for sure. I have a problem remembering faces. Some of the men customers, if you look them in the eye,
think you’re flirting with them. You know what I mean?” She looked at Justine for verification, which Ella found slightly annoying. Justine nodded solemnly.

The clerk smiled hopefully. “But if he walked back in here, I think I could recognize him. It works that way for me.”

“If he does, will you call me?” Ella asked, producing her card.

“Sure. No problem. All these faces look about right though,
except that drawing. This guy was clean-shaven and his hair was short. I think in one of those shaved styles high school boys are wearing nowadays. He was young looking. I remember thinking that he looked too young to be making that kind of money, unless he saved a lot.”

After a few more fruitless questions, Ella walked back to the parking lot with Justine. “This is very aggravating,” she commented.

“I saw your reaction when the clerk mentioned guys flirting, then looked at me instead of you for approval. Is that what aggravated you?” Justine teased.

“Do you like your job in the department?” Ella grumbled. Then she grinned, unable to keep a straight face.

Justine chuckled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted your chain of thought. I do know what you mean. People don’t
look
at people
anymore. Half of them don’t care, and the other half are afraid to.”

“Only cops are perpetually nosy,” Ella answered.

“So now what?” Justine asked.

“Something’s bugging me about this whole thing. What do you say we walk to that coffee shop across the parking lot, have something quick to eat, and talk it over? I’d like to bounce some ideas around.”

“Sure.” Justine fell into step beside Ella
as they crossed the shopping center parking area. When they entered the coffee shop, she waited as Ella picked out a rear table that faced the room.

After ordering two iced teas, Ella stared pensively at the shopping center traffic just outside the large window. “It’s the motives that just don’t add up. I can believe that Lewis might be crazy enough to kill the old ones so he could proclaim himself
an authority. He threatened our lives last night, which is consistent with the notion he’s unbalanced. Yet, that blood and dead dog was more malicious than deadly.

“Begay is a whole different can of worms.” She told Justine about her meeting. “He’s the most likely suspect based on circumstantial evidence, at least with the
hataalii
who was his teacher, but I can’t see him caring about Navajo
culture one way or the other.” She paused, then added, “Unless, of course, the murders stem from a personal grudge. He
is
supposed to have flunked out, and now I get the impression that he feels overworked and underpaid.”

Justine shook her head, unconvinced. “No, that doesn’t sound right. I spoke to Furman about Begay earlier this morning. He says that the only trouble with him was he just didn’t
care about anything. He flunked out because he never did any work. Furman could never figure out why he’d taken any classes at all. Maybe he went just to please his parents or something.”

Ella toyed with her spoon. “I can’t figure out how either of these men fit in with Peterson either. Lewis is too unpredictable; I don’t think even Peterson could ever really control him. Begay, on the other
hand, doesn’t seem the idealistic type. He works hard to make a living, and his concerns are down to earth. The garage, in fact, seems to be the focal point of his life.”

“Or that’s the impression he wants you to have of him.”

“True enough. He does have opportunity, and just because we haven’t figured out a motive doesn’t mean there isn’t one,” Ella conceded.

“Oh, one interesting fact. I checked
with members of the church choir about the money missing from the victim’s purse. Mrs. Jim said that Sadie mentioned she’d be going to the flea markets the next day. She always carried plenty of cash for those. She loved shopping for bargains.”

“Neither of the other two murders had a robbery linked with it,” Ella reminded her.

“There was a lot of blood at Sadie’s murder site. Maybe the killer
got some on his clothes and felt that the victim should ‘buy’ him new ones,” Justine suggested.

“That money would have bought him a new pair of designer jeans,” Ella theorized. “Barely.”

“There are so many questions. We never seem to run out of them,” Justine mused.

“We better get back to the office. I need to work on a report, and you have your leads to follow up.”

*   *   *

Two hours later,
back at the police station, Ella stared at the form she’d been filling out. Paperwork had to be the worst part of a cop’s job. Hearing footsteps and eager for a diversion, she glanced up.

Justine knocked on her open door, then walked inside, Furman Brownhat half a step behind her. “I think there’s something you should hear for yourself.” Justine gave Furman a nod.

Furman shifted nervously, as
if about to give a speech before a big audience. “I don’t know if this makes any difference,” he said hesitantly, “but I heard some more gossip about Anton Lewis. I thought you might want to know that he’s spent several mornings recently on campus passing out leaflets. Whenever anyone questioned him about his so-called religion, he came completely unglued and started arguing as loudly as possible.
It’s as if he wanted to make sure everyone could hear him.” He handed Ella a leaflet. “Here. I brought you one I found tacked to a bulletin board. Figured you’d want to see it.”

Ella looked at the sheet proclaiming power for any who followed him and extolling the values of merging Navajo gods with the Anglo world’s devils. “This doesn’t make any sense,” she said at last. “Skinwalkers aren’t devil
worshipers. The two are incompatible.”

“Well, apparently someone else brought that up, and Lewis tried to punch him out. It took six guys to pull the two of them apart. Lewis was finally kicked off the campus by security.”

Ella glanced at Furman, looking him over carefully for the first time and wondering why she hadn’t paid that much attention to him before. His hair was cut short, in a current
off-reservation trend where the lower half was almost shaven. He was wearing baggy tan slacks and a colorful Hawaiian print shirt. On his feet were Nike cross-trainers that were about the right size. “Thanks for bringing this to us, Furman. We’ll check it out.”

“I just wanted to help,” he affirmed. “If there’s anything else I can do, just ask, okay? I don’t like how these murders are changing
people.”

“How do you mean?”

“Nobody trusts anybody else. It feels like there’s a war brewing.” He shrugged. “But you two are cops. You know what I mean.”

Ella nodded. “Thanks again,” she said.

Justine walked out with Furman and returned several moments later. “I saw you looking at his cross-trainers. I had seen them before, but I’ve also noticed he usually wears brown loafers. He’s also within
our size profile. But he’s not our man.”

“How do you know?”

“I know him. He’s a hard worker, trying to make something out of his life and himself. He’s a good student, and he’s valued at his job. He works part-time, but he’s been offered a full-time position.”

“Is this what he’s told you?”

Justine’s eyes flashed with anger. “Yes, but I also checked it all out. I have a friend who works at
that bank. I called in a favor.”

Ella nodded. Something was still bothering her about Furman. He had been conveniently on hand last night. It was possible he’d been following Justine. Ella did know he was interested romantically in her, but there could be more to him than that. His coming to the station, and his apprehension, sparked a memory of something she’d heard at the bureau. Serial killers
liked to play games with the police to prove they were smarter. They were always pushing to test themselves, and their courage. Furman’s attitude had reminded her of that. On the other hand, it was also true that many people who came to the station felt intimidated by the armed police officers. Furman was still searching for identity, and this could have been the case with him.

“Well, I better
get back to the lab. I’m still going through the suspect’s vehicle, and waiting to hear from Ritamae. She promised to get me the name of the person who was assigned that car one way or another. We also need to find out if he, or she, wears Kevin Jordan jeans. If the person does, that will corroborate the other evidence we’ve already gathered. I’m hoping to have something before the end of today.”

“Getting the name of the staff member who uses that vehicle shouldn’t be this complicated. What’s the hold-up?”

“The list is in the office of the administrative supervisor, but no one’s been able to find it. The guy’s been out of town, and not scheduled back until today.”

“Get what we need, but make sure you don’t give out any more information than you absolutely have to. We don’t want to alert
the Packrat that we’re tightening the net.”

“Already done, boss. I’ve passed the story around that the fleet car we towed had been tracked to a batch stolen from a dealer in Albuquerque. But that’ll buy us a few days at most. You know how it is around here.”

Ella watched Justine leave. It was clear to her that Justine was far more involved with Furman than she was admitting. She’d definitely
risen to his defense. Still, Ella wasn’t sure if it was a matter of pride with her because Furman was a contact she’d found on her own, or an indication that her involvement with him transcended business.

Ella sat back for a moment, considering the problem. Finally she stood up and walked to Big Ed’s office. It was time she checked out Furman for herself. Although she wanted to keep her plan
under wraps, Big Ed would have to know, just in case of trouble.