“Did the police find the guy who was trying to sell it?”
“We’re working on it. What do you know about the gentleman’s granddaughter?”
“Let’s see.” Adakai picked up a pencil from the desktop and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. “Ryana grew up here, but her family originally was from the Toadlena area. Her mom and dad both worked for the tribe. She went to Phoenix after she graduated from high school.” He stopped. “You wanna hear stuff like that?”
“Whatever you’ve got. Her aunt lives near my wife’s mother’s place. I’m curious about her.”
“So, when her parents retired, they bought an RV. They’re traveling, seeing the country for a year or two. Cool, huh? Ryana came back to take care of their house and to be with her grandfather.
“Evidently Ryana hit a rough spot in Phoenix. Drugs, booze, whatever.” Adakai paused. “I’m just telling you what I’ve heard, OK?”
“Sure thing.”
“When she came back, she looked up some of her old friends here and someone helped her get that job at the senior center. That must have been about twelve months ago.” Adakai tapped the pencil’s eraser against the desk. “Have you met her?”
“Yes. I talked to her this morning when I went out to interview her grandfather about the robbery. She’s certainly a beautiful woman. What did she do in Phoenix?”
Adakai hesitated. “She claims that she did some movie work.”
“She’s pretty enough to be an actress. Are you two friends?”
“Acquaintances. When she got back here, I asked her out a couple of times, but she decided I wasn’t her type.”
Chee waited, but Adakai didn’t offer any stories.
“Ryana says her grandfather’s burglary never happened and claims he’s getting forgetful. But the old man seemed sharp to my wife, and she’s familiar with old folks. And then Ryana blamed a man who is in prison for shooting him. I’m having a hard time figuring out what’s up with her. What do you think? Is she telling tales?”
Adakai rolled the pencil down to his palm and then back to his fingertips.
Chee said, “This is just between us.”
“Well, even in high school, Ryana went for the bad boys, left us nice guys in the dust. Right after graduation, she got serious with an older dude who moved here from Nevada. His wife showed up, kicked Ryana out, and made a big stink. Everyone in town knew about it. Mr. Nevada went home, and that’s when Ryana moved to Phoenix.
“When she came back, like I said, I tried to befriend her, ask her out to dinner, but she had that attitude. I hear she’s with some weird white dude now. They say he got busted in Fresno, but there was some problem with the evidence. All this is just rumor anyway.” A phone rang in the other room and Adakai looked toward the noise. “That’s about it. I gotta catch that call.”
“What’s the boyfriend’s name?”
“Something like Micky, Nicky, Ricky.”
“Thanks. And thanks for bringing those cookies.”
Chee filed the information away and turned back to the computer. He wasn’t optimistic. From his training, he knew that burglars hit more than 2.5 million homes each year in the United States, and police solved fewer than 15 percent of the cases. He opened an electronic report. A handful of the Chinle victims had included copies of the receipts for their televisions or computers, paperwork that would make it easier for police to return the items if they were ever found. Some of the reports had pictures of the stolen jewelry, usually with someone wearing it. The most recent burglary had occurred six days ago. Chee studied the picture of an elderly woman wearing a squash blossom necklace, an outstanding combination of silver, turquoise, and good design, easy to identify if it turned up at a flea market or online. He glanced at some of the scans of victims’ handwritten descriptions of the items, most of them in Navajo in the wobbly penmanship that sometimes comes with age. It saddened him that a person would steal these irreplaceable family treasures, most likely to feed an addiction.
When he thought he had a grasp on what had been stolen, he called Largo and updated him on the way a case about a bolo tie had morphed into attempted murder. He expected to find Largo annoyed with the way Black had poached him from his Shiprock duties; the information was a peace offering.
“Yeah, I know. Black filled me in when he asked if you could work with him to follow up.” He heard Largo sigh. “Why is it that whenever you go out on a simple case, it turns complicated?”
“I don’t know, sir.” Chee hoped it was a rhetorical question. “Lieutenant Leaphorn used to ask me the same thing.”
“Speaking of Leaphorn, the rookie can breathe through his nose again and see with both eyes. I told him about Leaphorn coming to meet with him this afternoon, and he thinks it’s a reward or something.”
Chee understood the rookie’s assumption. Personal attention from the legendary Lieutenant came with bragging rights.
Later that afternoon, Chee called the hospital and learned that Mr. Natachi had survived the operation and was in the surgical recovery area. He left some notes, thanked Adakai for his help, and drove back to the hospital, hoping to catch Ryana.
Mr. Natachi had been moved to a regular patient room. He seemed to be sleeping. Ryana sat in a chair by her grandfather’s side, holding his hand. She looked up when Chee entered.
“I got your calls, but I couldn’t talk. I had to get things settled at work and find a substitute so I could be with him.” She gave Mr. Natachi’s hand a squeeze and released it.
“How is he?”
“They say the bullet shattered some ribs. He’s stable for now and not in pain. But who knows what might happen.”
“Have you spoken with him?”
She nodded. “A little. He opened his eyes a few times, but he hasn’t talked back.”
Chee walked to the bed and leaned in toward Mr. Natachi. “Hello, sir. Can you hear me?”
The old man nodded, his chin barely moving. Chee noticed that the oxygen tube had pulled free of one nostril and gently replaced it.
“I’m a policeman.” He switched to Navajo and introduced himself formally, adding that he was the son-in-law of Bernie’s mama. “I want to find out why this bad thing happened to you.”
The old man opened his eyes and motioned to Ryana to come closer. He spoke softly in Navajo. “This is nothing. Promise you will keep that one safe.” He moved his lips to indicate his granddaughter.
“Yes, I promise. Sir, who hurt you?”
Instead of an answer, Mr. Natachi closed his eyes.
Chee turned to Ryana. “Did you understand what we said?”
She nodded and wiped her nose with a tissue.
“I promised to protect you. The only way I can is if you give me the truth about what happened.”
She looked at the floor. “I told you all I could.”
“Your grandfather would have died if the man in the car had aimed better and if we hadn’t brought him here. Don’t you care?”
A silent tear escaped and made a glistening line down her cheek.
“Ryana, you know who shot him. This happened because of something you did or didn’t do, or something you saw. I will try to protect you, but I need your help.”