Coyote's Wife (14 page)

“And the man who came in with her?” Ella asked.

“Mr. Curtis is in better shape. He’s in the center room being treated by the nurse. He asked to speak to the police as soon as you all got here, but let me look in and
see if the nurse says he’s ready.” The tech led Ella and Justine down the hall, then motioned for them to wait outside the room. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

A short time later, the tech emerged. “Go on in.”

Ella stepped around her and saw Wallace Curtis sitting up on the examining table. Ella brought out her ID as she entered the room.

Wallace’s boyish face was badly bruised, one eye nearly
swollen shut. As he stood up, he favored his right side. Ella noticed that beneath his opened and torn shirt his ribs had been taped. His skinned and bloodied knuckles told her that he’d put up a fight.

Ella introduced herself. “I understand that you’re ready to make a statement.”

He nodded. “I’m Wallace Curtis. I live about a mile away from Marilyn Charley’s house. Marilyn and I are … friends.
For the past day or so we both had the feeling that we were being watched. We’d assumed it was one of George’s relatives… .” He lapsed into a long silence and stared at the tile floor.

“Did you go over and confront them?” Ella pressed at last. In most cases she wouldn’t have interrupted, but it was clear Wallace wasn’t a traditionalist and she needed answers as quickly as possible.

“No. Truth
is, I felt sorry for them. George’s death left us all in shock. Marilyn had been planning to ask George for a divorce, but after his sudden death, we put all our plans on hold. George’s family deserved our respect.”

“Were you two having an affair?”

He nodded. “We didn’t plan it. It just happened after we met at the bank where I work.” He took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “It’s complicated.”

“Tell me what you think led to this beating,” Ella pressed.

“I don’t know for sure, but I think George’s relatives blamed Marilyn for his death. Maybe it was because they knew about me being in the picture. I don’t know. When we realized we were being watched, I started to worry that they might do something to her. I talked her into moving in with me for a while so we could watch each other’s
backs.”

Minutes ticked by but Wallace said nothing else. He simply stared at his hands. Ella cleared her throat and he slowly continued.

“We were right in the middle of packing up her stuff when four men drove up to the house. They arrived in two pickups, one with a wooden stock rack. At first we thought it was George’s relatives, or maybe some of his friends from work. But when I saw that they
were wearing hoods, I locked the front door and tried to call for help. Before I finished the call, they kicked their way in.”

Realizing that the pickups were probably the same ones that had run Justine and her off the road a short while ago, Ella pressed him for more of a description. She managed to get the make and color of each, but he’d never seen the license plates.

“These men, were they
wearing gloves?” Ella asked him.

He thought about it. “Three did. The one who landed a punch to my jaw was wearing leather gloves. The other two had some cheap cloth work gloves. The man who came in last and did nothing but watch wasn’t wearing any gloves.”

“Any idea who any of them were? Did you recognize any voices?”

“They told us they were with the Fierce Ones and that
they knew George’s
death hadn’t been an accident. They tried to get Marilyn to confess to having killed him so she could be with me. They knew George had been drinking beer that day, too, and kept trying to get her to admit that we’d attacked him with the chain saw, knowing he would have had a hard time defending himself. At one point they even accused her of having drugged him so he’d be an even easier target.”

The theory was remarkably similar to the one she’d discussed with Big Ed. What surprised her was that the Fierce Ones had picked up on it, and that they’d also found out about the beer. “When they accused her of murder, what did she say to defend herself?”

“She denied it, but the more she did that, the angrier they got. That’s when they really turned on her. I managed to take down one of the guys,
but before I could help Marilyn, the other two jumped me. I don’t remember much after that. When I came to, the house was empty, and Marilyn was bleeding and unconscious. They’d stomped on my phone and I couldn’t call for help, so I carefully moved her to my truck and came here.”

“Think back. Did you notice anything that might give us a lead—a tattoo, a limp, or anything like that?”

He considered
it for several long moments, then shook his head. “I don’t remember anything like that, but I was too busy trying to stay alive and help Marilyn.”

“What made them think that Marilyn had killed George, and how did they know George had taken liquor with him? Did they ever say how they got their information?”

“No, but I figured most of it had probably come from George’s relatives. They knew about
his drinking and that he and Marilyn had been having problems.”

“And about your affair?”

He nodded. “At first they didn’t see that as a big deal. George had been seeing a woman from Farmington, so
when Marilyn and I hooked up, George’s traditionalist family saw it as one way to restore the balance between them. But when George stopped seeing his friend and Marilyn kept seeing me, that changed
things. Everyone sided with George. Marilyn’s own relatives live very far away, so there was no one to support her but me.”

Ella nodded, understanding what he was saying. But it still didn’t explain how the Fierce Ones had known George had been drinking beer.

“You said that they kicked down the door?” Ella continued.

“Yeah. Go see for yourself. And if you catch them, I want to know who they
are. I don’t care how anyone spins it, hoods are for cowards.”

“If we catch them, you’ll see them in court,” Ella said.

“No one’s been taking the Fierce Ones seriously lately,” Wallace said, gingerly touching the edge of his swollen lips. “I think they’re trying hard to change that.”

He’d echoed her thoughts, but Ella said nothing that would confirm or deny it. “You’re pretty sure that
you
weren’t their primary target?”

“Absolutely. They were focused on Marilyn.”

“Are you planning to go home tonight?”

He shook his head. “The doctor advised me to spend the night. Tomorrow, I’m going to my brother’s and staying with him until I heal.”

“We’ll want to go by your home and check it out. They might have left a message there for you.”

“Beating the crap out of me wasn’t enough?” Wallace
shot back. “There’s a key taped inside the cowbell by the front door.”

After she left the room, Ella spotted Justine over by the counter, talking to the tech and the nurse. Not wanting to interrupt her, Ella went to the exit doors and waited there.

Justine joined her a few minutes later. “Marilyn regained consciousness briefly while her vital signs were being checked. She told the nurse that
she thought her husband’s uncle was behind what happened to her. Marilyn thinks he’s got ties to the Fierce Ones.”

“We’ll have to check that out tomorrow.” Ella then told Justine about the pickups they’d encountered.

“If only we’d known the bad guys were right in our faces, we could have rounded them up then.”

“There’s something else,” Ella said, telling Justine how the Fierce Ones had known
about the alcohol George had consumed. “And the Fierce Ones were also spouting off the
same
theory I had at the beginning—that Marilyn had found a way to increase the chances of an accident by drugging George, then taking the chain saw to him.”

Justine stared at her. “Are you telling me that we have a leak in the department? But who?”

“That’s a
very
good question. Big Ed will need to know about
this as soon as possible. I’ll call him tonight. Our next stop is securing the crime scene itself. We’ll do a preliminary tonight then return in the morning. Call Neskahi and Tache and have them meet us at Marilyn Charley’s house.”

“What about the removal of most of the brake fluid in the truck? Only you and I know about that—and Del at the station,” Justine said. “When Barbara Benally came to
look at the vehicle, none of us knew about that problem.”

“Obviously the Fierce Ones didn’t know about that either because it didn’t come up. So let’s keep that info to ourselves for a while and see if it surfaces outside the PD.”

They got underway after checking on Marilyn. Though badly injured and heavily sedated to help her with the pain, she was expected to make it.

Once in the cruiser,
Ella took a few more aspirins, and glanced at Justine. “We need to find out which Fierce Ones
were involved in what happened,” Ella said. “What gets me is that they undoubtedly don’t realize what a stupid move this was. By taking matters into their hands, all they’ve done is divert us from what we should be doing.”

“It looks like they’re out to recapture power on the Rez again.”

“I think so,
too, but no matter how they define themselves, they’re nothing more than vigilantes. They need to be behind bars,” Ella said.

Though it was close to eleven by now, Ella called Big Ed next. Though he was used to getting calls all hours of the night, she apologized for maybe waking up Claire, his wife.

Ella filled him in on everything, including their possible mole, and tonight’s incident at the
impound yard, including the brakes issue. The chief listened intently. When Ella, at long last, stopped speaking, Big Ed didn’t respond right away. Ella had known Big Ed for a long time and knew that wasn’t a good sign.

“No details were released publicly other than the fact that Mr. Charley died in what appeared to be an accident,” he said at last, stifling a yawn at the end. “Do you recall seeing
anyone, civilian or staff, nearby when we spoke in my office about George Charley’s death?”

“No, but I was focused on my report,” Ella answered honestly.

“What about your team? Could any of them have passed the story on?”

“I trust my team with my life,” Ella said firmly. “There’s
no way
they were involved. There must be another answer.”

“The Fierce Ones have contacts everywhere. Even your
brother was a member at one time, I recall. I trust you and him completely, so don’t take that the wrong way, but do
not
overlook your own team as you search for answers,” he said flatly. “One more thing. Your idea of keeping the truck brake
problems under wraps is a good one. I’ll talk to Del at the garage myself and remind him to keep it quiet. We might be able to use this somehow to ferret
out the snitch. Too bad the weasel who clobbered you with the can of brake fluid got away. He might have led us to the others.”

Ella hung up and took a deep breath as the chief’s comment about Clifford replayed itself in her mind. Years ago, her brother had tried to be a voice of reason for the Fierce Ones, working among them to rein in their methods. But when his efforts had proved futile, he’d
left.

“Do you know anyone currently in the Fierce Ones?” Ella asked Justine.

“No, but they don’t exactly advertise their affiliation. I can nose around if you want.”

“Do it,” Ella said, her tone somber.

“There’s more you haven’t told me, isn’t there?” Justine asked, reading Ella’s expression.

“The chief thinks that someone in our team may have been responsible for the leak that resulted in
this beating.”

“No
way
.”

“My sentiments exactly, but we better find answers fast. Big Ed won’t be satisfied with assurances—and neither will I.”

Ella and Justine arrived at the scene just as Tache set up the floodlights. It was just after midnight, but there was still a lot of work to be done before they could call it a night. Neskahi and Tache were busy taking more photographs and sifting through the mess.

Putting her gloves on, Ella went inside, noting the ruined lock on the front door. There was
a footprint on the shattered door, something she knew Ralph would have already photographed.

The interior of the living room/kitchen was in shambles and looked worse with the bright moonlight filtering through the window. From what she could see the fight had been as deadly as Wallace had described. Furniture had been overturned and broken, and glass from picture frames and vases lay scattered
over the floor and the oval area rug. She could also see blood splatters and an indentation in the Sheetrock wall where someone’s head had been bashed in, if experience was any indication.

“I’m getting measurements from that boot print just below the front door lock,” Justine said. “I’ll be able to construct the shoe size soon from that.”

“Good, and see if any other shoe impressions match up
with those Nikes from the Charley scene. I also want you to let me know if you find any traces of blood that don’t belong to either of our victims. The same goes for hair samples, tire tracks, boot tracks—the works. Pay particular attention to any prints you find, particularly on objects that might have been handled by the assailants. According to Curtis, one of the participants wasn’t wearing gloves.”