“The pornography.”
“What? What is Darleen up to now?”
“No, not Darleen. Ryana,” Bernie explained. “Darleen sent you the link. I’m heading back to the office. Agent Johnson wants another interview about the body, but we’re doing it here. Speaking of interviews, I tracked down the guy who tried to sell Mr. Natachi his own bolo.”
“You solved the case, and now you tell me?”
“I wish, but no. The guy who had the bolo at the flea told me the same man-at-Walmart story he told Mr. Natachi.”
“Did the guy who sold the bolo look like a handsome six-foot, forty-something white guy with gold earrings?”
“Nope. A shortish, younger, kinda chubby Navajo in a new shirt. I’ll send you the full description in case you run into him out there.” She laughed when she said it.
When Bernie got back to the substation, Sandra was full of news.
“Bigman says the missus is cleaning everything in the house. When my sister started her cleaning binge, the baby came two days later.” Sandra looked at her manicured nails. “And the rookie is back on duty tomorrow. His eye still looks terrible, swollen, black and blue. I told him he should wear a patch like a pirate. I’m glad he’s better. It makes things easier for the rest of you guys.”
“Did he say anything about the meeting with the Lieutenant?” Bernie knew that Sandra knew everything that happened at the substation.
“He said, ‘Some old guy came up from Window Rock to tell me how to be a policeman.’ As if he didn’t know who the Lieutenant was. He should have been honored, but he just doesn’t get it. I cleaned up the interview room for them so you and Agent Johnson should use it.”
“Have you met her?”
Sandra nodded. “When she first got the position, she stopped by to introduce herself to the captain, and I happened to be here. We said hello. That’s about it. After she left, the rookie made some snarky comment and Largo shot him a look to shut him down.”
Bernie found her notes from the running trail and gave them a quick review before Sandra buzzed to let her know that Johnson had arrived. Right on time, too.
Bernie led the way to the interview room. “Would you like coffee, a soda, some water?”
“A soda would be good. Something with sugar and caffeine.”
Bernie smiled. That was always her choice, too. “We’ve got Coke and Mountain Dew.”
“Mountain Dew.”
When she returned with the canned sodas, Agent Johnson had taken a seat and placed a folder on the desk. Bernie sat across from her and handed Johnson her drink.
Johnson lifted the pull tab and took a long sip. “Thank you for meeting with me today. I needed to follow up on a few of your observations based on what the crime scene investigators found. I am especially interested in the people you encountered when you first entered the trail, before you saw the body.”
Bernie opened her notebook and found the information. “I saw a woman with a blond ponytail and a small dog climbing into a car, a jeep or something. Then there was a sweaty, heavyset Navajo man, close to six feet tall. Maybe fifty-five, around there anyway. He wore jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt, white. He was standing slightly hunched with his hands on his knees at the trailhead. His index finger on his right hand was missing. I saw a man I later interviewed, Ed Summersly.”
“Back up to the sweaty guy. Did you notice that man’s shoes?”
Bernie thought about it. “They were dirty, covered with dust as though he had been walking on a sand road.” She paused. “Or had climbed up the sandy bank to the trail from the river.”
“Did you see where he went after you left?”
“He was still standing there when I started on my run. I assumed the man had been catching his breath or vomiting.”
Johnson had been making notes, and she looked up. “Did you check on him?”
“No.” Bernie read an implication in the question. “Are you a runner, Agent Johnson?”
“No.”
“On a hot day, if a person has done some serious exertion, it’s not unusual to get nauseated. I figured that’s what happened. Is this man important?”
“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”
“Yes.” She smiled at Johnson. “I’ve been looking for him, but so far no luck. If I keep answering your questions, will you answer mine?”
Johnson smiled back. “We think the man you saw may be tied to the body, may have brought it up from the river. That might be why he was sweaty and vomiting.”
And, Bernie deduced, he also may have been the murderer or the killer’s accomplice.
“Did you see anyone else with sandy shoes?”
Bernie considered the scene again. “No.” The purpose of abandoning the dog with the body grew clearer. “So the dog was extra insurance so someone would eventually find the dead guy.”
Bernie remembered Bigman’s comment. “I heard that the victim might have a personal link to you.”
“You brought this up before. Why?”
“I understand that you called the victim by name. That seems to point to dumping the body in a place that would command the attention of the agent in charge.”
Johnson pressed her lips together to form a pale, bloodless line. Bernie could see her thinking. “When you first found the body, did you do any investigation down toward the river?”
Bernie had already spoken to this. “No.”
“Did you hear any boats or see any boaters?”
“I didn’t. What happened to the dog?”
“It’s in custody. Officer Bigman took charge of it, took it home the first night, and it’s now in detention in Fort Defiance.”
Bernie pictured Mrs. Bigman’s reaction. A visiting dog is probably not what you dream of with a baby arriving around the next corner. Maybe Bigman smoothed it over by offering her some watermelon.
Johnson said, “I talked him into it. It was late, we all were tired, and I needed to make sure the animal was safe until we determined why it was there.”
“Did the dog have a microchip?”
“It was chipless.”
“So, who was the dead guy?”
“You ask a lot of questions, officer.”
“I want to know about the crime, the victim, and why he was killed. He’s the first dead person I ever found on a jogging trail.” She hadn’t meant it to be funny, but Johnson chuckled.
“You’ve given me another reason to stick to swimming.” Johnson looked at the Mountain Dew can. “The agency will release the victim’s name tomorrow. But he wasn’t Navajo and he didn’t live close by. You found a guy from Kansas who got involved with some bad juju on the West Coast. The Bureau persuaded him to give up his gang associates in exchange for a new start. Michael could have stayed in our protection program, but he missed his old life.” Johnson sipped the soda. “Let’s wrap this up.”
They went over Bernie’s answers, and she recalled that the suspicious man had some sort of tattoo, or maybe it was a thin band, on his wrist. Other than that, she couldn’t think of more to add.
Johnson thanked her. “I want to mention something else. Sergeant Chee asked me to meet with him about an officer named Wilson Sam. Is he the man who worked with us when that young girl was taken hostage, or pretended to be a hostage?”