Текст книги "Dance of the Bones"

When Lani’s eyes opened, she was in a hospital room staring into Micah’s unblinking blue eyes. She looked around. Dan and Angie hovered in the background.

“Who found me?” she asked.

“Daddy and Grandpa,” Micah said. “Grandma was really mad about that. She said Grandpa should have known better.”

Lani laughed. “I’ll bet she said a lot more than that.”

Dan nodded in agreement. “And in not very grandmotherly terms,” he added.

Micah held up his hand. “Where did you get this?”

“Get what?” Lani asked.

He dropped something into her hand. It took a moment for her to realize that it was a tiny olla. She knew from touching the object that this was something ancient and probably very valuable, but maybe dangerous as well. Holding it up to the light to examine it, she spotted the faint images of both a turtle and an owl etched into the clay.

“Where did this come from?”

“You were holding it in your hand when the EMTs carried you out of Ava’s garage,” Dan answered.

“Who’s Ava? That crazy lady?”

Her husband sighed. “It’s a long story. Henry Rojas and Max and Carlos José got caught up with a woman named Ava Richland, who was smuggling blood diamonds through Mexico and into the United States. When everything went south, Ava tasked Henry with getting rid of the younger José brothers while at the same time putting out a hit on the older one.”

“Which was successful?”

Dan nodded.

“Tim’s the only one left?”

Dan nodded again.

“Poor Lorraine.”

“What about Henry Rojas?”

“He’s dead, too. Ava shot Henry and then loaded you in the trunk of your car. We’re pretty sure she was leaving you there to die of an overdose while she drove off into the sunset. The FBI was going after a warrant to track your phone. They probably would have found you before you corked off, but your dad figured out a way to locate you sooner than that—soon enough that Ava didn’t have a chance to sneak out of Dodge.”

“What’s going to happen to Ava?”

“She’s in jail on suspicion of five counts of homicide and three counts of attempted homicide, to say nothing of several counts of conspiracy and smuggling. The only case where we know for sure she pulled the trigger is Henry’s, but since the others died in the course of the commission of a felony, she’s just as responsible as the shooter.”

“Did you say five?” Lani asked.

Dan ticked them off on his fingers. “Max, Carlos, Paul, a state prison employee named Jason Swanson, and Henry. The attempteds are you, Gabe, and Tim. She’s also a person of interest in two cold cases—the murder of a guy named Amos Warren back in the seventies and a guy named Kenneth Myers who was murdered in the Seattle area in the early eighties. John Lassiter went to prison for Amos Warren’s murder. He was attacked in prison at the same time Max José was, only Lassiter didn’t die. The detectives are working on the theory that Ava was most likely involved in that hit as well.”

“Can I keep the pot?” Micah asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Lani thought about that for a moment. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Let me keep it for right now, okay?”

“Okay,” Micah said. “But why’s there an owl and a turtle on it?”

“Have I ever told you the story of Little White Feather?”

Micah frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“I think the woman who made that pot knew about that story—about how Turtle and Owl helped a girl named Shining Falls. When I get home, maybe I can tell it to you.”

“Can’t you come home now?”

“I need to talk to my doctor and ask him.”

“But you are a doctor. Can’t you just tell him?”

Lani laughed and kissed the top of his head. “When you’re the patient, it doesn’t quite work that way.”

AS FAR AS DIANA LADD and Brandon Walker were concerned, the Tucson Festival of Books took a big hit on Sunday. After their Saturday from hell, Diana was an understandable no-show at her Sunday panels and signings. And if anyone wondered why, all they had to do was take a look at the front page of the Arizona Daily Sun.

Besides, putting on a smiling face with her husband would have been a challenge, since Diana was barely speaking to the man. Yes, she was overjoyed that Brandon and Dan had found Lani and engineered her rescue, but she was not pleased that they had put themselves in danger. The only member of the team who wasn’t in the doghouse happened to be the dog. Bozo’s timely heroics left him entirely free of blame.

Amanda Wasser called Brandon late in the afternoon. “My father is out of the ICU,” she said. “His condition has been upgraded from guarded to serious.”

“Have you seen him?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“His first words were ‘You look just like your mother.’ But that’s not why I called. I just got off the phone with Mr. Glassman. Ava Richland confessed.”

Brandon was astonished. “She did what?”

“The prosecutor agreed to take the death penalty off the table if she confessed to everything, and she did—to Henry Rojas’s death, of course, but also to the murder of Amos Warren. She killed him so she could lay hands on his stuff, and she murdered Kenneth Mangum/Myers because he was trying to blackmail her. And then there’s the case of Clarence Hanover . . .”

“Wait, are you telling me that Ava murdered her first husband?”

“Yes, and she got away with that one, too. She pushed him into Pantano Wash during a flash flood. I guess she admitted to his homicide because her attorney convinced her that if anything else surfaced later on, her death penalty plea agreement would go away. In addition to that, she admitted to ordering the deaths of the José brothers and masterminding the prison riot scheme designed to cover the attacks on Max José and my father.”

“Does your father know about any of this?” Brandon asked.

“Not yet,” she answered. “I called you first.”

“Even with Ava taking responsibility, Big Bad John isn’t going to want to be released from prison,” Brandon warned her. “He’s worried about being a burden to you.”

“Mr. Glassman says that if all this works out, there should be some wrongful conviction funds to help with my father’s continuing care.”

“Back to Ava; you say Kenneth tried to blackmail her?”

“He may have pretended to be my father’s best pal, but it turns out he was also an accessory after the fact in Amos Warren’s homicide. Ava confessed that he helped her retrieve Amos’s vehicle from the crime scene. He also helped her remove Amos’s goods and transport them from his home as well as from the storage unit. I’m not sure why he bothered testifying on my father’s behalf at the first trial, since every word out of his mouth was a lie. Maybe his conscience was bothering him.”

Just then something else occurred to Brandon. “When I got to Ava Richland’s house yesterday afternoon, an ambulance was just taking her current husband, Harold, to the hospital. Did she try to do him in, too?”

“Probably not. It turns out she was far better off with him alive than dead. Harold’s son has created a complicated marital trust that would have left him running Ava’s show once Harold passes on. That’s most likely why she was leaving town. She’d put together a collection of smuggled diamonds that would have kept her in the manner to which she’d become accustomed. She was planning on going elsewhere and living under an assumed name—several assumed names. It almost worked. If it hadn’t been for TLC and you, it might very well have worked.”

“It wasn’t just me,” Brandon objected. “A guy named J. P. Beaumont up in Seattle and his pal Todd Hatcher helped out, too.”

“How are the two boys doing?” Amanda asked.

“Gabe was released from the hospital early this morning. Tim is still there, but my daughter tells me he’ll be fine.”

“And your daughter?”

“She’s fine, too.”

“I’m so glad,” Amanda breathed. “I couldn’t have stood being responsible for anyone else coming to grief. I’ve done quite enough harm as it is.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Brandon counseled. “None of this is your fault. Do the doctors say how long John will be hospitalized?”

“Most likely the better part of a week.”

“Let him know that I’ll be dropping by,” Brandon Walker said. “I hate to think of you sitting around in the hospital all by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself,” Amanda said. “A man from the prison is here with me. His name is Aubrey Bayless. He says he’s my father’s friend, and he’s going to hang around to make sure nothing else happens.”

I WAS AT THE AIRPORT waiting in the cell-phone lot for Mel’s plane when Brandon Walker called to give me an overview of what had happened. I knew some of it already because Todd Hatcher had kept me apprised as to how things had played out the night before.

Ava’s confession to multiple murders, however, came as a complete surprise. There was a certain righteousness in the fact that Amanda Wasser, the daughter of the man Ava had framed for one of her own murders, was the one who ultimately brought her down. I liked that. It may have been justice delayed by decades, but it was far better than no justice at all.

“And Myers died because he tried to blackmail her?”

As I asked the question, I couldn’t help thinking about Calliope Horn-Grover. She may have had her suspicions, but she still clung to the hope that the Kenneth Myers she had known was a good guy. She still wore the pendant he had given her. That left me in a dilemma. Would I tell her about the blackmail scheme or wouldn’t I? Would I reveal that, more than just knowing about something, he had been an active accomplice? Right at that moment, I couldn’t say for sure one way or the other. Sometimes we’re better off living with our illusions wavering but relatively intact than we are knowing the whole truth.

“That’s the story,” Brandon continued. “Last night, when they booked Ava into the Pima County Jail, they ran her prints through AFIS. The name Ava Hanover popped up in relation to an arrest on a reckless driving charge near Sacramento, California, on the second of May 1983. The police report there indicates she was trying to drive straight through from Seattle to Arizona and fell asleep at the wheel.”

“That gave her both motive and opportunity to kill Kenneth Myers,” I said.

“And now we have a confession,” Brandon added.

Call waiting sounded. I saw on the screen it was Mel. That meant her plane was on the ground.

“Hey, Brandon,” I said. “I’ve gotta go, but good on you. Sounds like you nailed her.”

“We all did, Mr. Beaumont. Thanks for your help.”

“Beau,” I told him. “Call me Beau.”

“Okay,” Brandon said. “Next time, I will.”

Mel had traveled with one carry-on, so there was no need for her to wait around at the luggage carousel. On the drive back to Belltown Terrace, I repeated everything Brandon Walker had told me.

“Sounds like you and Todd Hatcher have been a pair of busy little bees while I’ve been gone,” she observed.

“Busy, yes,” I agreed, “and I’ll be the first to admit it’s been fun.”

“So on your first at-bat with TLC, you obviously hit it out of the park,” Mel observed. “You saved a young woman’s life and took down someone who’s clearly a criminal mastermind.”

“Todd Hatcher is the one who hit it out of the park. All I did was put him in touch with Brandon Walker.”

“I just gave you a compliment,” Mel said. “You’re supposed to say thank you.”

So I did.

There was a long silence in the car. Traffic was heavy. It was raining like crazy.

“So what do you think?” Mel asked at last.

“About what?”

“About TLC? Are you going to work with them again?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I just might,” I said. “I didn’t do much, but what I did felt damned good.”

CHAPTER 29

THEY SAY IT HAPPENED LONG ago that I’itoi, Elder Brother, came down from Baboquivari. He went to the villages of the Desert People, sat with them around campfires, and told them stories. He told them about how he created the water and the earth. He told them where Wind Man and Rain Man came from. He told them about the Man in the Maze and how the Desert People had emerged from the center of the earth.

The people loved Elder Brother’s stories so much that after I’itoi returned to his mountain, that was all the people wanted to do—sit around and listen to the stories over and over. No one wanted to feed and water the cattle. No one wanted to plant the corn and melons. The men stopped going hunting and the women stopped cooking and minding the fires. Soon there was no food. Everyone was hungry, and the Desert People started fighting among themselves.

Up on Baboquivari, I’itoi heard all the quarreling and wondered what all the fuss was about. When he learned what had happened, he was very sad, for you see, nawoj, my friend, although telling stories is good, you must do other things as well.

And that is why, even to this day, among the Tohono O’odham, the time for telling stories is only from the middle of November—Kehg S-hehpijig Mashath, the Fair Cold Month—to the middle of March—Chehthagi Mashath, the Green Month. Those are the cold months, the time when the snakes and lizards go to live underground. That’s why the stories of the Desert People are winter-telling tales. If a snake or lizard overhears a story, they can swallow the storyteller’s luck and bring him harm.

IT WAS FRIDAY AGAIN, A whole week later. Once again Leo Ortiz drove Lani and Gabe past Rattlesnake Skull charco at the base of Ioligam. Lani had been both surprised and gratified when a chastened Gabe had shown up in her office earlier in the week, asking if it would be possible for a do-over of their campout. Hopeful that the events of the previous weekend might have somehow penetrated some of the boy’s defenses, Lani had agreed on the spot. With both Dan and her slated to work that weekend, it had taken some serious scheduling readjustments to make it work.

So now Lani, Gabe, and a very grumpy Leo were once again lugging their goods up the side of the mountain. “After everything that happened, I don’t understand why you have to come here again,” he grumbled as he dropped his bundle of firewood. “Couldn’t you camp somewhere else?”

“Stories have to end where they begin,” Lani said quietly.

Leo simply sighed and shook his head.

The changes in Gabe were remarkable. This time there was no surliness on his part. He hadn’t played video games on his phone during the drive from Sells, and he handed it over without a murmur of complaint to his father as Leo left. He set about building the fire pit without being told and waited quietly while Lani heated their simple supper.

It was after sunset when they settled down beside the fire. Gabe had been quiet during most of the evening and Lani didn’t want to push him. She knew he had things he wanted to say, and she didn’t want him to rush.

“I guess it’s too late to tell I’itoi stories,” he said. “I saw the snake.”

A rattler, still lethargic from hibernation, had crossed the path ahead of them on their hike up the mountain. Lani nodded. “I saw him, too.”

“Why did you let him go?”

“Why do you think?”

“Because the Tohono O’odham only kill to defend themselves or to eat.”

Lani smiled. “That’s right. The snake wasn’t bothering us, and I had no intention of eating him.”

“I was going to kill Henry Rojas,” Gabe admitted at last. “I had Tim’s knife. If Henry Rojas had opened the box, I would have.”

“I know,” Lani said, “and if you had, you would have been stuck out here for sixteen days. Your parents would have been fit to be tied. So would Mrs. Travers. She wouldn’t like you to miss that much school.”

“Is Mrs. Travers sick?” Gabe asked.

Lani gave him an appraising look before she answered. “She’s my patient, Gabe. I can’t talk about that.”

“If she goes to the Indian hospital, does that mean she’s an Indian?”

“I can’t talk about it.”

Until that moment, Gabe had always believed Mrs. Travers was an Anglo. Gabe nodded. “Okay,” he said.

After that, he was quiet for a time while the wind whispered softly through the manzanita.

“Mrs. José came to see me in the hospital,” Gabe said. “She’s your patient, too. I knew it already, but she told me herself that she’s dying.”

Lani didn’t respond one way or the other.

“My parents said that if that happens, Tim might come live with us. What would you think of that?”

“It might be good for both of you,” Lani said. “Just because Tim’s brothers did bad things doesn’t mean he’s bad. Maybe you could help him.”

“Maybe,” Gabe said. “I hope so.”

He tossed another log on the fire, but the boy still seemed troubled, and Lani suspected there was more to come.

“Henry Rojas was a bad man,” Gabe said at last. “Do you think Mrs. Rojas will stay in Sells? I heard that she’s thinking about moving back to the Navajo.”

Lani nodded. “That’s what I heard, too. After everything that happened, I don’t blame her. I don’t believe Lucy had any idea about what Henry was doing behind her back. And the evil Anglo woman he was working with—the woman who had the José brothers smuggling diamonds for her—reminds me of the Evil Giantess in the story of Little White Feather. Do you remember that one?”

“I remember some of it,” Gabe said. “I think you told it to me a long time ago.”

Lani smiled. “I’ll tell it to you again someday—next winter maybe.”

“I had a dream last night,” Gabe continued after another pause. “It was a weird one. I think it was about the people that evil woman killed—not just Carlos and Paul and Henry, but the other people, too.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I was walking through a cemetery—a Milgahn cemetery somewhere in town, not here on the reservation. The graves opened up and skeletons started coming out of them. They made a circle around me, and even though they were only bones, I could tell them apart and knew all their names. They were holding hands and dancing. I should have been afraid, but somehow I wasn’t. That’s what was so weird. I wasn’t frightened.”

“That’s one of the things a medicine man or a medicine woman can do,” Lani said. “They can look at a dream and see what it means. The bones were dancing because after all this time the person who murdered them is finally facing justice. They were happy. You weren’t frightened of them because they weren’t scary.”

“Do you think I’ll ever be a real medicine man like my grandfather was?” Gabe asked.

“I think you can become one,” Lani replied. “You’ll have to study hard and learn a lot. Your father told me you said that I gave you some divining crystals.”

Gabe lowered his head. “That was a lie,” he said. Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Gabe pulled out four tiny stones and held them out to her in the palm of his hand, where they sparkled in the firelight.

“You didn’t give them to me. I found them in the jar of peanut butter Tim left for me. I took out a spoonful of the peanut butter, and when I washed everything else away, these were what was left. I’ll give them back if you tell me I should, but they worked,” he added. “That night when I was in the hospital, I used them. When I held them in my hand and sang to them, they told me you would be all right. That you would be safe.”

Another long silence followed. “I don’t think you need to give them back,” Lani said at last, taking Gabe’s outstretched hand and closing his fingers around the glittering diamonds. “I think you should keep them. Put them back in your pocket and keep them safe. You know how the Ohb would take scalps when they defeated their enemies?”

Gabe nodded.

“They took them as trophies. And that’s what these diamonds are—they represent a piece of the evil Milgahn woman. You have a trophy, and so do I.”

“You do?” Gabe asked, putting the diamonds back in his pocket.

“Yes,” Lani said. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her medicine basket, the one she had woven during her sixteen days of exile. Removing the tightly fitting cover, she extracted the tiny pot and passed it to Gabe. “Can you see the design?”

Gabe held it close to the fire and peered at it closely. “An owl and a turtle?” he asked finally.

“Yes, those are from the story of Little White Feather as well. Owl and Turtle were the first to help Shining Falls when she came under the spell of the Evil Giantess. I believe this is an ancient pot, Gabe, maybe even as old as the ones that belonged to Betraying Woman, the ones I found in the cave. It was made by someone who knew and loved the story of Little White Feather. The evil Milgahn woman had this pot with her on the night she shot Henry Rojas. It must have fallen out of her pocket, maybe when she was putting the duct tape on my face. And now I’m giving it to you.”

“For me?” Gabe asked in surprise. “To keep?”

“No,” Lani said, “I’m giving it to you to break.” She brought out one of Dan’s white hankies and laid it across a rock. “I want you to break it on this. Don’t smash it. I want you to crack it open very gently like you would if you were breaking an egg. Once you do, I want you to wrap the pieces up in the hankie, take them home, and glue them back together. By breaking the pot, you’ll be setting free the spirit of the woman who made it. And once you glue it back together, you’ll have a place to keep your divining crystals.”

Frowning in concentration, Gabe did as he was told. When he tapped the clay pot gently on the hankie-covered rock, it split apart into four distinct pieces.

“See there?” Lani grinned. “All of nature goes in four. And once you’ve tied the hankie shut, you can put it in this.”

Once again she reached into her backpack. This time she pulled out the second medicine basket, one she had woven with love in hopes of one day giving it to Gabe.

His jaw dropped in disbelief. “A medicine basket?” he asked. “A medicine basket of my very own?”

“Heu’u,” Lani said softly. “Yes, your grandfather, Fat Crack, and an old blind medicine man named Looks at Nothing would be very proud.”