“This is the first time I’ve been asked to speak on behalf of our department.” She looked up from her notes. “I thought I would start by explaining that if you want to be on patrol with the Navajo Nation police, you have to enjoy driving. Each officer who works on our force is responsible for about seventy square miles of reservation land. That’s about twice the area of Grand Rapids, Michigan. Or think of it this way: the whole country of Liechtenstein is only sixty-two square miles.”
People in the audience smiled. She relaxed a little, looked at her notes for the next point she wanted to make, and kept talking. “In the rest of rural America, there are about three officers for a thousand civilians. Out here, when our department is fully staffed, there might be two of us for that same population. But I’m not complaining. I love my job, and I like to stay busy.”
Most of her nervousness had evaporated, amazingly. She moved on to the next point and the next. It was over before she knew it.
By the time she sat down again, the rest of her table had finished eating. The waiter brought her a large white plate filled with noodles shaped like ridged tubes covered with a mysterious sauce. She recognized mushrooms, green peas, and circles of sausage. If Chee were there, he’d probably figure out how to make it and experiment on her.
She finished the salad, eating the strawberries and pecans separately, and followed it with her bread and butter. The noodles scared her.
Then the waiter brought something delightful to the table. Chocolate cake beneath white frosting dotted with pastel sugar sprinkles sitting next to a big serving of whipped cream. He came back with hot coffee, filling cups carefully, and offering decaf to those who declined. Being a speaker wasn’t as bad as she’d imagined, especially when it included cake. She’d have to thank Largo for the assignment.
At the podium, Sanchez asked for any final business, reminded the group of the speaker for the next meeting, and then, with a bang of the gavel, adjourned the meeting until next month.
Oster stood to tell her goodbye.
“I ran into Mrs. Benally at Teec Nos Pos,” Bernie said. “She told me the two of you had done some business.”
“Lovely woman,” Oster said. “I wish everyone out here were as easy to deal with.”
Bernie went back to the office to get her assignments for the rest of the day and to tell Largo about the talk. Sandra got her attention.
“Hey, your sister has been trying to reach you. She wants you to call her.”
She wondered if Darleen had an emergency, the rationale for calling her at work instead of at home or on her cell. Bernie called Mama’s phone. Busy. She called Darleen’s cell and left a message.
Then she logged into the database to do a quick search on Aaron Torino and, while she was at it, tossed in the name of the mysterious Michael Miller. The system chugged, and then her monitor locked up. She tried every trick she knew with no luck, finally finding Sandra, the closest thing they had to tech services.
She’d go outside to call Darleen again while the computers were down, she decided. She took a deep breath, looked at her phone for a moment, and then pushed in Mama’s number. Sometimes she wished she’d had a big brother instead of a little sister.
Darleen sounded happy. “I wanted to talk to you about going to Santa Fe tomorrow. Remember? Mama wanted to check out the school? I called you at work because I thought you might need to get the day off or something. Hope I didn’t freak you out.”
“I was just in Farmington, and a sheriff’s deputy told me you’re being considered for the alcohol and drug diversion program.”
“That’s cool.”
Bernie had expected Darleen to be embarrassed, or at least surprised. “Cool? So you got arrested for drunken driving? Not just drinking a beer and mouthing off, like you told Mama and me?”
“Well, not really. It’s a long—”
“You lied to us.”
“I didn’t exactly lie. I just—”
“Grow up. I can’t deal with this.”
“You don’t have to deal with anything.” Darleen sounded angry now. “You never listen. You always know what I should do. I didn’t tell you every little thing that happened because I didn’t want another lecture. I felt bad enough without you nagging on me. I made a mistake. Who hasn’t?”
She stopped talking, and Bernie let the silence sit.
When Darleen spoke again, she’d stopped shouting. “Come over to Mama’s tonight so we can talk. It’s not as bad as you think. Seriously.”
Bigman appeared at the station door, waving to Bernie to come in.
“I’ve got to go.”
“When do you think you’ll be here?”
“I don’t know. Before dark. I have to take something to the old man who lives near that burned car.”
“This isn’t as bad as you think,” Darleen said again.
“Yeah, right.” Bernie hung up, furious. She walked inside the building to find Largo looking for her.
“Manuelito, what have you done to the computers?” He sounded more annoyed than usual.
“I was doing a search, seeing what I could find out about Tso’s grandson.”
“Sandra’s having trouble getting things back to working again. We may have to talk to Window Rock.”
Largo seemed to be waiting for her to say something.
“Sir, lunch went well. People seemed to like the talk.”
“Good. I owe you for that.”
It seemed like a good time to ask for the next day off, explaining that she had an unexpected situation to deal with concerning her mother. Largo gave it to her without asking questions, and she spent an uneventful afternoon placing unreturned calls to Aaron and catching up on paperwork. The highlight was a residential burglary report. The thieves had absconded with the victim’s jewelry, cash, and meat from the freezer. The woman held her brother’s drinking buddies responsible.
After work, Bernie went home to change clothes, then stopped at City Market to buy Mr. Tso a can of coffee and some plums, which she rinsed at the store. When someone hauled water, every drop was precious. She put everything in her backpack, then added Mr. Tso’s thrift-store belt. His house wasn’t that out of the way to the turnoff for Mama’s place. Maybe his view of Ship Rock would offer some inspiration.