Turquoise Girl (11 page)

“If this is about Valerie’s murder, I don’t know anything about it. When I left for the day, she was locking up. Then yesterday when I drove to the café, I saw the yellow crime scene tape and found out we were going to be closed for the day. That’s all I know, except for what I hear on the radio.”

“We still need to talk to
you,” Ella insisted, then pointed to the bruise. “That looks painful.”

“Bruises always look worse after they quit hurting.”

“How did it happen?”

She shrugged.

“Brewster? Did he do that to you?”

Lynn’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been talking to that little whore, Lea, haven’t you?” she spat out. “She hates Stan, so she twists things around. You might as well know it right now. Lea’s a liar.”

“Then why don’t
you
tell us about Stanley Brewster?” Ella said.

“Is that what you’re after? You’ve all decided he had something to do with Valerie’s murder?” She sat down and tucked her legs beneath her.

“We’re just looking into all the possibilities. But if you think we shouldn’t waste our time with him, convince us,” Ella said.

“He’s a good man, but his wife just doesn’t understand him. He
has certain…needs,” she said, then in a more resolute tone, added, “It’s good you came to me, ’cause I can set you straight.”

Ella nodded, resisting the urge to groan in disgust.

“I
love
Stan, and I have from the first time we hooked up. He’s a very virile man with a great fantasy life and very unique tastes in women. He likes games but he needs to be in control. The thing you have to remember
is that he never forces a woman to do anything,” she said firmly, then added, “On the other hand, he appreciates a woman who’s willing to do what it takes to please him.”

“Did pleasing him involve that bruise you’ve got?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I bruise easily. Besides, we both like to play a little rough. It’s consensual.”

Ella noted that she’d glanced away, perhaps embarrassed or
because she’d lied. “Does he normally leave bruises like that on his women?”

“I’m the only one who really understands him, which is why we’re so free with each other. Stan and I can play rough, but Valerie wasn’t into that. If what you’re thinking is that they were playing games and it got out of hand, you’re wrong. Valerie didn’t go for stuff like that, and Stan does
not
force anyone.”

“Are
you so sure about that?” Ella pressed.

“Yeah, I am. You’re really going off in the wrong direction. Stan and Valerie were never on the same wavelength, even before she went all holy on him. That’s why he dumped her. Then we hooked up. He never talks about her now. She’s old news.”

“All right,” Ella said. Lynn believed what she’d told them, Ella was sure of that. But it didn’t necessarily mean
it was the truth. If Stan cheated on his wife, he probably cheated on Lynn, too. “If he ever gets too rough with you, call me—if you’re still conscious and able to pick up a phone,” Ella said, handing her card to Lynn.

“Won’t happen,” Lynn said. But she still took the card.

Ella noticed how slowly Lynn rose from the couch, as if there were other injuries she wasn’t talking about.

“You’re playing
with your life. Watch out for yourself around an animal like Brewster,” Ella said.

Lynn showed them to the door. “Stan isn’t a killer. We both get turned on when we play around like that.”

“Hurting women for pleasure can slide into something more deadly,” Blalock said. “In this case, it may already have happened, and you don’t know it yet.”

She shook her head. “He tells me how he wants things
done, and disciplines me when I get it wrong. He likes ordering his woman around but it’s just a game.”

“And you’re okay, knowing there’ve been others just like you in his life before?” Blalock asked.

“No one can please him like I can. And pretty soon he’s going to leave his wife. He just has to figure out a way to get his share of their investments. She’s the one who really owns the café, you
know.”

Once they were outside, Justine glanced at Ella then at Blalock. “I may throw up. How can that woman be so stupid?” she said, getting into the car. “The man’s a cheat and a sadist. He may or may not be a murderer, but there’s no way she enjoys getting slapped around like that.”

“Some men and women get off on abuse,” Blalock said quietly. “I’ve never understood that, mind you, but there
are probably a million or so of them out there.”

“Personally, the whole thing just makes me want to puke,” Ella said flatly. “But they
are
consenting adults, so there’s nothing we can do about it unless one of them lodges a complaint, or ends up in the hospital.”

“Let’s call it a night,” Blalock said, swerving to avoid a big rock in the road.

“Yeah. I think we all need to turn in,” Ella said.
“First thing tomorrow, I’ll get the names of all Navajo men who began long-term jail sentences right after that murder in L.A., particularly any cons who’ve been released and may be in our area. I’ll concentrate on anyone with a connection to the Four Corners, then and/or now. Perhaps our killer was jailed for another crime, and is now finally free to drift back into old habits.”

“I’ll see what
LAPD was able to dig up on the old murder, then search the databases for you and let you know what I turn up,” Blalock said. “And tomorrow I’ll see if I can drop by the hospital and question Marco Pete. If he’s able to talk, that is.”

Blalock returned them to the parking lot outside his office, where they changed vehicles and said their good-byes to the federal agent.

“Do you think our problems
with the Fierce Ones are really over for now, like Jimmy Levaldo said?” Justine asked as she slipped behind the wheel and fastened her seat belt.

Ella shook her head slowly. “What they want most is power, and to get it, they need to make their mark. I think our problems with them are just beginning.”

Ella woke up shortly after daybreak. She could hear one of her roommates in the kitchen already, and the other one was in the shower. As she got dressed, her thoughts drifted to Dawn and Rose. She dearly missed the morning mayhem at home. Brushing aside the now familiar ache inside her, she focused on the day ahead.

Ella walked into the kitchen moments later. “What’s cooking?” she asked, sniffing the air.

“Well, I
was
making oatmeal for you guys, but when I went to add a dash of cinnamon, I opened the spoon side instead of the one with the sprinkle holes and dumped about a tablespoon into the stuff,” Emily said. “Did you know too much cinnamon makes your lips pucker? Anyway, I decided to make breakfast burritos
instead.”

“Those burritos smell…interesting. Must be the spices you’re using in the sausage,” Ella said, noting the peculiar expression on Justine’s face as she stepped into the kitchen and peered into the frying pan.

Emily worked quickly, then brought several large, steaming hot burritos to the table. Ella was the first to take a bite. The dry texture and odd taste made her reach for a glass
of water. “I think the sausage went bad, Em. Or maybe the tortilla picked up some mold,” she added, looking at the burrito critically.

“This tortilla has a green pattern to it,” Justine said.

“That’s because it’s made out of organic blue corn and humus. The filling is poy, not sausage. Vegan.”

“Poh?” Ella asked, confused. “Vegan what?”

“Poy. It’s pork-flavored soy. All pure vegetarian. Very
healthy.”

Justine gave Ella a horrified look. “I gave up healthy last week. This stuff is disgusting—no offense.”

“Guys, upgrade your diet. This is
good
for you,” Emily said, taking a large mouthful, “and you can really keep off the weight.”

“Probably because you can’t eat it,” Justine mumbled.

Ella tried valiantly to swallow another bite, and managed to get the sawdust-flavored mix down her
throat with a swig of coffee. Finally she put the burrito back onto her plate. “Sorry, Em, I’m allergic to health food. My body doesn’t know what to do without meat and cholesterol.”

“It’s okay. I guess it’s an acquired taste. I made these for a friend once and he never came back.”

Ella burst out laughing. “Okay, ladies, time to get to work.” Just then her phone rang. Ella identified herself
and heard Blalock’s voice.

“I got a reply on the Los Angeles murder of that Navajo woman. According to the files, the investigating officers reached a dead end a week after you and Anderson were taken off the case, and their people couldn’t come up with a suspect. So they were forced to drop it and move on.”

Blalock continued. “Basically, we got zip, as far as any more info is concerned, so
I was thinking we should pay Brewster a visit this morning—all of us. After what we found out last night, I’d really like a chance to put him in the hot seat.”

“You’re on. How about we meet at the Morning Stop Café in twenty? He should be there.”

“See you then.”

Ella filled Justine in on the bad news from LAPD, then told her of Blalock’s plans. “Any idea where I can get some cutting-edge stuff
on Brewster? The seedier, the better.”

“My sister Jayne, naturally. She feeds on gossip, and she knows everyone. It’ll just be rumor, mind you, but it’ll probably be on target,” Justine said, dialing as she spoke.

Ella and Justine arrived at the Morning Stop right on time, parking around the side of the building, closer to the apartment than the café. Business appeared to be good, considering
the recent murder.

Ella had driven because Justine was still on the phone, and they were just stepping out of their vehicle when Blalock pulled in to their left, on the driver’s side.

“I ran a background,” he said, coming around to meet Ella at the tailgate of the SUV. “No charges for battery or spousal abuse. Nothing except one DWI. He’s been married for thirty years to one Donna Largo, a Navajo
woman from Waterflow, originally. Donna took over this café from her parents when they died in a car accident about ten years ago. Mrs. Brewster has no record whatsoever. That’s all I’ve got.”

Justine hung up as she walked around the vehicle and joined Ella and Blalock. “From what my sister Jayne said, Brewster’s wife has no taste for kinky sex. She knows he messes around, but she’s okay with
it as long as he’s discreet and leaves her alone. The thing is, he doesn’t—leave her alone, I mean. Word is, he’s a mean drunk, particularly with her.”

“Cowardly bastard,” Blalock said.

“We know who we’re dealing with. Let’s go,” Ella said, her tone firm, her jaw set.

They went inside the small café. Every seat at the counter was filled as were the six booths lining the wall. The scent of well-cooked
real breakfast fare made Ella’s mouth water, and she looked at the diners stuffing their faces. Few looked up, but those who did watched for a second, realizing that the three newcomers were all armed law enforcement officers.

Brewster, wearing a white uniform shirt and jeans, had his side to them, talking to a customer at the register. “I’m telling you,” he was saying, “I’m really shorthanded
now. I can take care of the books, but unless I find a new cook and waitress, I’m going to go nuts.” Glancing over at them, he smiled. “Unless you’ve come for takeout, it’ll be a few moments before I can seat you. Sorry.”

“We didn’t come for breakfast, Mr. Brewster. Is there a place where we can speak in private?” Ella asked.

Half the patrons looked up from their plates, Ella noticed, and it
suddenly got very quiet. Brewster smiled innocently around the room. “Sure. Give me a moment, officers.” He turned and looked into the kitchen, just beyond the half-height café doors. “Lynn, can you cover the front for a few minutes?”

Lynn came over, glared at them, then gave Stan a big smile. “Sure thing, boss. We’re caught up at the moment anyway.” She came out and walked to the coffee brewer,
picking up a carafe.

Brewster led them through the café doors, across the kitchen, and into a back room. As he closed the door behind them, Ella took in the small storeroom/office at a glance. This was where Valerie had worked, apparently. On the desk was a small photo of Boots, obviously taken at one of the tribal fairs, based on the display booths in the background. It was a recent picture,
and the reminder made Ella’s stomach clench.

“Sit down, please,” Brewster invited. There was only one chair and a step stool, and nobody took the offer.

“Seems you withheld quite a few details when we spoke with you the other night,” Ella said. “It’s time to tell us everything about your relationship with Valerie Tso.”

“I answered all of your questions,” Brewster said, all friendliness gone
from his voice. “I don’t know what else there is to tell.”

“Yeah, you do. Word is that you get off on slapping women around,” Blalock challenged, stepping within punching distance of the man, who had two inches on FB-Eyes. “Valerie was a lot smaller and lighter than Lynn, wasn’t she, and she just couldn’t take punches like the big girls. You got carried away, hit her too hard, and she fell into
the mirror. She was all cut up, bleeding everywhere, and maybe she even lost consciousness. You could have called for help, Stanley, but you froze up and let her die. Tell us the truth, man. It was an accident, right? And you tried to cover it up by making it look like a robbery gone south. Isn’t that how it went down?”

Brewster looked at Blalock with complete disgust, clenching his fists for
a second, then relaxing. “You’re delusional. I didn’t hit her, and I didn’t kill her. How could I? I wasn’t even here,” he spat out. “I liked Valerie. She was a valued employee and we had a good working relationship—balanced, as they say around here.”

“There’s nothing balanced about your relationship with women,” Ella said. “Or are you too warped to realize that any more?”

“I don’t take advantage
of anyone,” he said flatly. “And I don’t have sex with my employees. Just ask them.”

“I’m going to be asking all the women you’ve been with, starting with your wife,” Ella said, getting in his face.

Brewster snorted in disgust. “My wife already knows I’m into harmless little role-playing games with the ladies.”

“More than a little, and certainly not harmless. Give me a reason why I shouldn’t
haul you into jail for the murder of Valerie Tso,” Blalock demanded.

“Because you need evidence to make charges stick, that’s why. And you won’t find any against me, because I didn’t kill her.” He took a deep breath, then continued slowly. “Valerie did my books. I’ll admit that there was more to our relationship when she first started working for me, but it didn’t go on very long. She got hooked
on church, religion, the whole nine yards, and I’m not out to corrupt anyone.”

“You lost me,” Ella said.

“I respect God-fearing women,” he said simply.

Justine groaned, shaking her head. “A man of character.”

Ella studied Brewster’s face, wondering if he was joking. To her amazement, he seemed to be completely and utterly serious.

“Sure, I like to mess around,” Brewster continued. “Big deal,
most men like a little strange stuff now and then. I have my fun, and my ladies make some extra bucks when they keep me happy. It all works out. But there are some lines I won’t cross,” he added sharply. “If the woman doesn’t want to, or if she’s got religion, she’s off-limits.”

“How about giving us a DNA sample?” Ella asked.

“Let us rule you out, clear you of suspicion,” Justine added.

“No
way, officers. Evidence can be manipulated and planted anywhere. You’re out of suspects and looking for a scapegoat to pin this on so you won’t get jack from me without a warrant.”

“You said you weren’t here when she died, so where were you between six and ten two nights ago?” Ella asked.

“I was having a drink with a friend, and watching a game at the Double Play on their big-screen TV. After
that, I went to my cabin up near Navajo Lake. That’s where I was when one of your people called me.”

“What’s your friend’s name?” Ella asked. “The one you were with at the bar.”

“Jerry Montoya. He owns the Big Wheel Tire Company in Farmington. Now is there anything else? Lynn’s going to need help fixing breakfast for our paying customers.”

“I have another question. If you didn’t kill Valerie,
do you have any idea who did?” Blalock asked.

“No, but the moron obviously didn’t plan it very well. Valerie goes to the bank every afternoon. Had the killer broken into her place around three
P.M
., he could have scored the day’s receipts instead of whatever chump change he picked up from Valerie’s purse. She
was
robbed, wasn’t she?”

“Don’t leave the area, Brewster. You’ll be seeing us again,”
Blalock said. The three officers walked back through the kitchen, and Brewster followed at a distance, stopping behind the grill to take over for Lynn.

As Blalock and Ella headed for the door, Justine slowed down and went to talk to a woman sitting at one of the booths. A few minutes later, she joined Ella and Blalock outside by the cars. “I just spoke to Vera Aspass. Jayne had mentioned earlier
that Vera was a friend of Donna Brewster. Vera said that Donna doesn’t come around this place anymore, even though she’s the real owner. According to Vera, Donna’s got an arrangement with Stan. He operates the café and makes sure it stays in the black, and she keeps her distance from the operation. Lately, Donna’s kept herself busy taking trips to visit her sisters, but she’s home now. The Brewsters
live just west of Farmington, north of the highway in one of those newer neighborhoods.”

“Got an address?”

Justine handed Ella a slip of paper. “And Joe Neskahi telephoned as I left Vera’s booth. He’d spoken to Andrew Pettigrew, one of Valerie’s ex-husbands. This is the guy who lives near Gallup. Pettigrew says he was working on his car with his brother all afternoon and evening, and his brother
corroborated his alibi. Joe’s back in town now, helping Tache interview the people at the shoe game and, so far, they’ve got nothing. But they’ve still got names to run.”

“Why don’t you give them a hand and Blalock and I will go talk to Donna?” Ella turned to get Blalock’s reaction. He nodded.

“My guess is that Brewster has already warned his wife to keep her mouth shut,” Blalock said as he
and Ella walked to his car. “She puts up with all the crap Brewster dishes out, so he’s obviously got her under his thumb.”

“Could be. Let’s see how it plays out,” Ella said. “While we’re in Farmington, we can also track down Jerry Montoya and see what he has to say.”

“Brewster used to go to church, so the verse from the Bible isn’t necessarily a stretch,” Blalock said, thinking out loud. “And
it could have gone down the way I handed it to him at the café. But if he’s not a churchgoer these days, why come up with a quote from Scripture? It doesn’t fit the guy he appears to be.”

“I know,” Ella answered as soon as they were underway. “And that verse at the crime scene also matches the one left by the killer in L.A. If it’s a coincidence, it certainly is a big one. Do we know if Brewster
was there at the time? That would help us narrow things down, maybe.”

“Two big coincidences would be one too many. We need to find out,” Blalock said.

Ella raised Justine on the radio. “It’s important to find out where Brewster was living fourteen years ago when the first murder with this MO was committed. And if he was living on the Rez, can we find out where he might have traveled?”

“Like
Los Angeles? I’ll get back to you,” Justine said.

“Let’s stop by Montoya’s place first. We’ll be able to catch him there before he takes his lunch,” Blalock said.

Ten minutes later, Blalock pulled into a parking space by the tire shop out on west Main Street. They walked inside and found Jerry Montoya behind the counter, processing a customer who’d come in to pick up his car. A name tag pinned
to his uniform shirt also identified Jerry as Owner and Manager.

As soon as the customer left the office-showroom, keys and bill in hand, Blalock flashed his badge. “We need to ask you a few questions.”