Never-ending-snake (34 page)

Ella glanced around for Justine and saw her crawling into a low ditch that ran along the row of trees on the right side of the road. “You okay?” she called out.

“Yeah,” came the answer.

Ella studied the house, looking over the sights of her service pistol. The barrel of the rifle was no longer visible at the window. “Mr. Lee, this is Ella Clah of the Tribal
Police. Put your weapon down and come out with your hands up.”

“Huh?”

Ella repeated herself, this time even louder.

“Okay, hold on.” Emerson came out seconds later, squinting and holding his hand over his eyes to shield them from the setting sun.

Ella and Justine came out from behind cover, holding their weapons by their sides, but ready for anything.

“Hey, I remember you two ladies. You
can put away your guns. I left the rifle on the table inside. It’s empty now. I’m out of bullets,” he said.

Once in the shade of the tree-lined path, he stopped and waited as they drew near. “I can’t hit anything, you know—I’m old and have the shakes,” he said in an apologetic tone.

“
Why
did you shoot at us?” Ella demanded, motioning for Justine to check out the
casita
.

“I thought you were
that squatter, Billy Garnenez, and his coyote pal, Alfred Begaye. If I’d known it was you, the medicine man’s sister, I wouldn’t have fired. I wouldn’t want to make the
hataalii
angry. He’s helped me and my family a lot.”

“I’m arresting you for assaulting a police officer,” Ella said, reaching for her cuffs as she informed him of his rights. “You’re not allowed to shoot at people whenever you
please.” Ella led him, cuffed, to their vehicle, and placed him in the backseat.

Justine, who’d returned from the guest house, took her aside and showed her Emerson’s rifle, which she was carrying in her gloved hand. “It’s empty now, like he said. He only had one round in it.” She held out the empty thirty-thirty shell casing.

“We’re still taking him in for assault on an officer,” Ella said.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Justine asked, dropping her voice to a barely audible whisper. “That’s bound to stir things up even more. His supporters will say that the police are siding with the Modernists on the land issue.”

“Too bad. We can’t allow Emerson to take potshots at whomever he pleases,” Ella said. “While we’re at it, let’s also check on his whereabouts when Abigail was attacked.”

They returned to the station, and while Justine booked Emerson, Ella returned to her office. Before she’d even taken a seat, Joe Neskahi walked in.

“I’ve got some news you’ll want to hear. Several tribal businessmen here on the Rez have banded together on behalf of the Prickly Weed Project. They’re organizing a big push, urging the tribe to take whatever unused land is needed from Emerson Lee
and his daughter. They want the project in gear by next year’s growing season,” Joe said. “Lee and his clan
are getting ready to meet them head-on at the next East Fruitland Chapter House meeting.”

She knew the location of that particular chapter house—less than ten miles from the Lee-Morgan residences. “When’s that taking place?”

“Tonight,” he said, giving her the time.

“Are you sure they’re
meeting that soon?”

“Both sides wanted the matter brought up as quickly as possible. From what I’ve heard here and there, there’s going to be an all-out war.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, Joe. I’m going to let Emerson cool his heels for a bit then see what I can learn from him.”

“You got him here?” he asked, surprised.

Ella told him about the incident and Joe whistled low. “He comes across as
a crazy old coot, Ella, but just so you know, I’ve heard he can make a lot of sense when he wants to.”

“Then it’s all an act?”

“So I’ve heard,” Joe answered. “Just think about that shot he took at you. With the right spin he can get a lot of mileage out of that. Norm Hattery’s already outside, ready to pounce on you and Justine, and pushing to interview Lee.”

“How did Hattery find out about
it so quickly?” Ella asked. “Nobody except Lee, Justine, and I were there.”

“Emerson called him—that was his one call. Sounds like you and Justine were set up.”

She’d been played, but the game wasn’t over. “Thanks, Joe.”

Ella walked down to the interview rooms and met Justine by the closed door. They could see Emerson inside, sitting alone in front of the bolted-down table. He was killing time
cleaning his fingernails.

Stepping away from the interview room door, Ella updated Justine, adding, “Did you check Emerson’s whereabouts when the incident at Abigail’s went down?”

“Yeah, and his alibi is rock solid. Emerson went with his son-in-law and daughter to a prayer meeting at The Good Shepherd.”

“Ford’s church?” She stared at her partner for a second. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Chester’s
a member, and he takes his wife and father-in-law with him to church from time to time.”

Before Ella could process it, someone entering the hall called out her name.

“Special Investigator Clah!”

She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. “Shoot me now,” Ella muttered, closing her eyes for a moment, then opening them again.

Norm Hattery caught up to them a second later. “I hear that
you’ve arrested Emerson Lee. What are the charges?”

“Assaulting an officer,” Ella said. “And you’re not allowed in this part of the station without an escort, Mr. Hattery.”

“I’m with you right now. Getting back to my question, I’ve heard that he was trying to run off a coyote and you just happened to be in the area,” he countered.

“You’ve been lied to, and you should be careful about reporting
a false statement as factual,” Ella snapped, walking away from the interview rooms, knowing he’d follow.

“Where do you stand on the Prickly Weed Project issue?” he asked, undeterred. “And do you think what happened today is connected to the shooting that cost Adam Lonewolf his life?”

“At this point, I can’t say one way or the other,” Ella answered through her teeth. “And you need to leave this
area
now
. Otherwise, I’m going to have you escorted out of the station.”

“About Adam Lonewolf—”

Ella held up one hand. “I have work to do. Excuse me.” Without giving him the chance to say another word, she
held a side door open for Hattery, then urged him out. Once he was gone, Justine and she went back down the restricted corridor to the interview rooms.

As they stepped into the mirrored room,
Emerson grinned widely. “Good seeing you again, ladies.”

Ella sat across the table from him, and seeing the look on his face, realized she’d been played all the way back to the episode at the parking lot involving Begaye’s sedan. “You made a big mistake taking that shot at us,” she said, her unwavering gaze on him.

“It
was
a mistake. I’d never shoot at people. I was trying to chase away a coyote.”

Ella glared at him. “That’s not what you said before.”

“You obviously misunderstood me,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “When do I get my attorney?” he added. “That’s in all the police shows on TV, and when you told me about my rights, you said I could have one if I wanted. So I’m asking. I’d like a lawyer.”

“I can take you to a telephone, or have a clerk make the call for you. Who’s your
attorney?” Ella asked him in an ice cold voice.

“I don’t have one yet. I haven’t got any money, just my Social Security check, so the tribe will have to pay for the lawyer. But he better be a good one. I have a lot of relatives and they’ll be watching over me.”

“The tribe will provide you with an attorney,” Ella said, and as she stood to leave, Emerson continued.

“I’m not your enemy, you know.
I’m trying to protect all of us. Every time Anglo industries come here, the land—and us—pay the price in contaminated soil, water, or air. Think about it. How many years did the
bilagáanas
spend among us before we discovered that their uranium tailings were killing The People?”

“The Prickly Weed Project isn’t like that,” Justine said.

“You’re not thinking far enough ahead. Just wait until
they
decide that the weed doesn’t grow fast enough, or doesn’t have enough of whatever they want it to have. Then they’ll start adding things to the water, or the soil, or maybe use sprays on it. That’ll continue until they get tired of what they’re doing here. Once that happens, they’ll take off, and we’ll be the ones who have to cope with the mess they leave behind. If we don’t learn from the past,
we’ll keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again.”

There was no trace of the crazy old man they’d met before. Ella regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment. “You took a shot at me and my partner,” she repeated. “Why?”

“No, it’s like I told you, I was trying to run off some coyotes,” he replied with a grin. “And you weren’t hurt.”

Ella swallowed her anger and in a calm voice continued.
“How do you feel about the war hero, particularly since he was fighting for the Prickly Weed Project?”

Emerson took a deep breath. “He risked his life for our tribe and our country, and that’s worthy of respect. But somewhere along the way he forgot he’s not a
bilagáana
.”

“So you considered him your enemy?” Justine pressed.

Emerson didn’t answer right away. “An enemy is someone who purposely
tries to hurt you knowing the consequences of his actions. That wasn’t the case with the hero. He just didn’t realize the real cost of what he was trying to sell.”

“The cost to himself, you mean?” Ella asked leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table.

“I didn’t know that someone was going to shoot him, if that’s what you’re really asking me. But he was involved in something that affects,
or will affect, a lot of people. Actions like his always have consequences.”

“Who do you think may have wanted him dead?” Ella asked.

“No one in my clan,” he answered firmly. “Ours isn’t that kind of fight. What happened to him . . . it had to do with something else. That’s what I think.”

Ella stood up and signaled Justine to follow. They were passing through the lobby moments later when Norm
Hattery rose from one of the chairs and joined them.

Ella felt her muscles tense. “What can we do for you now?”

He shook his head. “It’s what I can do for you,” he countered smoothly. “Just so you know I’m not working against the police, I’m going to pass along a tip. The Salt People Clan pulled a lot of strings and managed to get Judge Goodluck for the arraignment this afternoon. Court will
convene in an hour. And you better hang on to your hat, because Lee’s clan, the Salt People, are coming out in full force. There’s a rumor that they’ve even managed to get Reverend Tome to speak on behalf of the defendant.”

“When did all this happen?” Ella asked him.

“Almost as soon as you arrested him. And here’s another heads-up. You questioned Lee before an attorney was present, and that’s
going to cost you.”

“I read him his rights, and he waived representation at that time. Where are you getting your information?” Ella demanded.

“My sources are confidential, but I’ll be happy to pass on information you might find useful if you agree to reciprocate. You could start by telling me what you think happened to Adam Lonewolf. Who wanted him dead?”

“I won’t comment on an ongoing investigation,”
Ella growled, nodding to the duty officer and motioning toward the door.

While Hattery was being escorted from the building, Ella and Justine walked down to Ella’s office. “I underestimated Emerson badly. He’s one crafty old man,” Ella said, shutting the door behind them. “I need to start carrying a recorder again for times like this.”

“I still do, so we can prove you read him his rights, and
he waived counsel, if it comes to that,” Justine said, pointing to the small device in her shirt pocket.

“Good. Now, what do you think we’ll be facing at this arraignment?”

“Grandpa G’s a New Traditionalist who believes our land is a living entity with rights, and that The People are its caretakers. When he hears that the Salt People Clan are trying to protect our Earth Mother, there’s no telling
how he’ll rule.”

“This arraignment isn’t about the land, or a cause. It’s about someone taking a shot at two law enforcement officers.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but there are other factors—”

Hearing a knock at her door, Ella went to open it. Her boss, Big Ed, was standing there.

“We have a crowd of about sixty outside,” he said. “They’re holding up signs that read things like ‘Save the Land’ and
‘Begaye=Betray.’ There are even a few with the ever-popular ‘Police Brutality,’ ” he added sarcastically. “Hattery’s out there, too, getting quotes from anyone with a pulse. Camera crews are rumored to be on the way.”

“Wonderful,” Ella muttered.

“Reverend Tome arrived about five minutes ago. He’s trying to keep people calm,” Big Ed added.

“Is it working?” Justine asked.

“Not from what I can
see. The demonstrators are trying to provoke a confrontation with the police so they can use it to publicize their cause.”

Hearing another knock at her door, Ella looked up and was surprised to see Ford standing there.

“Things are getting really tense out in the parking lot, and the situation is going to get out of hand real soon unless someone in authority goes to speak to the crowd,” he said
as he entered the room. “Trina Morgan made an impassioned
speech saying that this is a classic example of big government taking away the rights—and property—of the working class. She’s got her people fired up.”

“What could we possibly say to them that would diffuse this now?” Ella asked, running an exasperated hand through her hair.

“Insist that Emerson’s arrest has nothing to do with the land
issue. Emerson fired on two police officers, that’s against the law, and he needs to answer for that in court,” Ford said.

“Do you think that’ll calm them?” Big Ed asked, his doubts reflected clearly in his voice.

“It’ll help settle people down some,” Ford said. “But I’ve got a feeling that crowd’s going to stay right where it is until Emerson’s released on bail.”