She looked up, and he spoke. “Is something bothering you, sweetheart?”
“Why?”
“You’re scowling.”
She closed the notebook. “I can’t get the sight of that body out of my mind.”
“Dealing with the dead is part of the job, but it’s not something I ever get used to either. And it’s good that we don’t. It keeps us human.”
“I have more questions than answers.”
“I know you. They are good questions.”
As soon as he said it, she remembered Johnson’s compliment and mentioned it to Chee. “I think she was just making nice with me.”
“My philosophy is that when someone gives me a pat on the back, I accept it. It balances those times someone said something mean.”
She smiled. “I better wrap up these notes.” As she wrote the final observations, she felt the tension drain away, as though putting what she’d seen on paper allowed her to leave it behind. At least for tonight.
They finished dinner, and because Chee had cooked, Bernie was cleaning up before she served what she could salvage from the charred pie. Baking and crime solving clearly didn’t mix.
Chee enjoyed the evening’s quiet. The rosy afterglow of sunset and the shift in temperature from hot to pleasantly warm added to his sense of well-being. He listened as crickets chirped their songs of longing, and then he heard something out of tune, a car turning onto his road. Officer Bigman, wearing khakis and a plaid short-sleeved shirt, climbed out of the white SUV. He hugged a round green watermelon to his chest. Chee respected Bigman as a fellow officer and liked him, too, but it was unusual for Bernie’s clan brother to come for a visit.
Chee called to him. “Hey there. You taking your watermelon out for a ride?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, bring it on over.”
Bigman walked up the steps to the deck and placed the melon at the center of the table. It rolled to position itself onto a flat spot with a quiet thud.
Chee used a knuckle to thump it. “Sounds ripe. Early for watermelon, too.”
Bigman chuckled. “And as I see it, it’s never too early for chʼééhjiyáán. I can eat watermelon at six a.m. or at midnight. Breakfast, lunch, and suppertime.”
“Speaking of supper, we’ve got some salad and a pork chop if you’re hungry.”
“I ate at home with the mother-to-be. She can’t have much at one sitting anymore, so she’s snacking all the time. So am I.” He patted his belly.
Bernie joined them. “At least have dessert with us. I made a pie.”
“Is there coffee to go with that invitation?”
“Sure.” But she hesitated a moment too long.
Bigman shook his head. “Don’t go to any trouble.”
Chee chimed in. “But I’d have some, too, if you make it.”
“Sure, but try not to say anything exciting until I get back.” Bernie went inside.
Chee motioned Bigman to a seat. “I haven’t seen your wife for a while. I didn’t realize you were about to become a dad.”
Bigman focused on the watermelon. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a father. Melody tells me not to worry, but I mean, it’s scary, bro. Scarier than facing a drunk with a broken bottle and a bad attitude. What do I know about being a dad?”
“Man, you’ll do just fine. You know how to solve problems. Think of it that way.”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t been around many babies. They’re little and vulnerable. How can you figure out what they want?”
“Well, if you get stuck, you can always ask Bernie’s mom. She has advice on everything. Or watch a video on the internet. That always works, right?”
Bigman laughed. “You ever think about having a kid?”
“I do. Being a dad would be great. You have a chance to help a new person learn all about the world.” Chee thumped the melon again. “Relax. It will all work out.”
Bigman stretched his legs under the table. “I guess you heard what happened when Bernie went for a jog. It was an exciting Saturday for the Shiprock substation.”
“She told me you were the backup.”
“Yeah, until the Feds came.”
One of the things Chee liked about his Navajo friends was that they knew how to be quiet. They listened to Bernie run the water and to some birds along the river. A few moments later, the familiar aroma of coffee drifted through the kitchen window. Chee heard the click of the cabinet opening and pictured Bernie moving the cups to the counter.
She rejoined them with napkins, sugar, and the three cups of coffee on a tray. She set that all on the table. “I’ll get the pie.”
“Sit with us first. I want your ideas on something, Sister.” Bigman helped himself to coffee. “I was telling him about our adventures along the trail. Did you hear what happened after you left?”
“Did the dog confess?”
“Not yet. I know you think it was up to something.”
“Usually they are, even Chihuahuas. So what happened?”
Bigman grew serious. “Well, Agent Johnson walked up there to take a look at what you found, all confident and everything. I told her the scene was as secure as possible and motioned toward the red shoes. She went to the body through the weeds. I noticed that she took the same path you did. She squatted down by the guy’s face, and I heard her swearing. Then she straightened up all of a sudden and put her hands on her chest. She said, ‘Michael, Michael. You stupid jerk. I told you to be careful.’ Then she started swearing again and walked away from the body, toward the river.”
Bernie moved a cup of coffee toward Chee. “Wow. What else did she say?”
“Nothing. When she came back, I said, ‘So you recognize him?’ and she just turned toward the trail for a while and then asked me questions about what I’d seen. I wonder if the man was a former agent or a guy she investigated, or maybe an informant or something.”
“Maybe even an old boyfriend.” Bernie took a cup of coffee for herself. “I’ll see what she’ll tell me when we do our interview.”
Chee noticed Bigman fidgeting. Talking about the dead, even obliquely, wasn’t recommended for fathers-to-be. Time to change the subject. He gave the melon another final thump. “Sounds about perfect. Since you brought this lovely thing, I believe we should enjoy it.”
“Absolutely. This is your house. You do the honors.”
Bernie heard her cell phone buzz from where it was charging in the kitchen. She remembered that she had not called Mama.
“I’ve got to catch my phone, so I’ll bring plates and a knife. I’ll be right back.”
The call was Agent Johnson. She went right to business. “I’ve got some questions about the people you encountered on the trail. Can you meet me at the office tomorrow?”
“You’re working late.”
“Yeah. I don’t like the way that dead guy showed up here. Nine a.m. OK for you?”
“Yes.” As if I have a choice here, Bernie thought. “I have some questions for you, too.”
“I’ll tell Largo about the meeting.” Johnson ended the call.