The woman nodded and introduced herself with her clans. Bernie did the same. On this part of the reservation she frequently encountered clan sisters, but Gloria wasn’t related. Bernie followed the woman inside. The dogs stayed out but on the alert.
The house was neat. A well-worn Two Grey Hills blanket covered the couch. A glass case in the corner held shiny brown Navajo pots and painted Pueblo bowls. Bernie saw a well-made wedding basket, sports trophies, and family photos.
“Bruce told me he was going to stop at the police station in case someone was interested in what I saw. Thanks for coming all the way out here.” Gloria gave her the hint of a smile. “I remember you from the game, giving orders. I thought you were taller.”
Bernie said, “I would have called, but Mr. Chino said you don’t have a phone.”
Gloria shook her head. “I keep thinking I’ll find it. Probably will as soon as I get another one. I can’t call it ’cause the battery is dead.” Gloria pushed a strand of stray hair out of her face. “Can I get you a glass of water or something?”
“That would be great.”
Gloria took a red plastic cup from the shelf and filled it with water from the kitchen faucet. She cleared a pile of mail from the dining table to reveal orange placemats. “Have a seat.”
Bernie complied and pulled a notebook from her backpack. Gloria settled across from her. “Shall I start talking now?”
“Yes. Please go ahead.”
“Well, we went to the game because my husband, Wilbert, used to play basketball at Crownpoint, and so he remembered playing against some of those guys who won the championship. He knew them a little. Anyway, we had to stop for gas, so we got to the gym kind of late, and Wilbert had to park in the back.
“At halftime I went outside for a cigarette. I’m trying to stop, so I left them in the truck. So I sat there, cracked the window, and listened to the radio while I smoked. It was cold, but warmer than standing outside, you know? On my way back to the gym I saw the inside lights on in a car in the front row. I thought, that person’s battery will be dead before the game is over. I used to have a car and the glove box didn’t stay closed, so the light came on and then the battery went dead. I went over to check it out, and a guy was sitting in the car. I can’t swear that it was the car that went boom, but I know it was in the same row.”
Gloria pushed her hair out of her eyes again.
Bernie leaned forward. “May I ask you some questions?”
“OK.”
“Could you tell what the man was doing?”
“Not doing much that I could see except sitting there. Like he was thinking or something.”
“What did he look like?”
Gloria laughed. “Short black hair, a brown jacket zipped up. No glasses, though, I remember that.”
“A brown jacket. Are you sure?”
She nodded. “The seats in that car were brown, too. Looked like leather.”
“Was he tall? Short?”
“He was sitting down, so short.”
“About how old?”
Gloria pushed her hands together and pressed the upturned fingers against her chin. “Maybe eighteen, twenty, twenty-two. Something like that. He looked too young for such fancy wheels.”
Bernie made a note. “Had you seen him before?”
“I don’t think so.”
Bernie heard the hesitation. “But you might have?”
Gloria waited to answer, studying her fingernails. “Well, just between us, I go to AA meetings. I’m not supposed to talk about who else is there, but I might have seen him. But maybe not. Like I said, it was dark.”
The dogs started barking, and Gloria stopped talking until they fell silent. Then she said, “Do you think that man put the bomb in the car?”
“I don’t know. Can you give me his name?”
“It’s against the AA rules.”
Bernie said, “I think the man you saw died in the explosion. His name will help me find his family, let them know what happened to him.”
Gloria pressed her lips together. “I only know the first name. Rick. I hope it wasn’t him.”
“Ahéhee. Thank you for telling me that, and what you saw. Anything else?”
Gloria said, “When I was walking toward the car, it looked like he was bending down. Like he dropped something on the floor maybe, and was getting it.”
Bernie finished her water. “If you think of anything else, anything at all, let me know.”
Gloria nodded. “I’ll walk out with you because of the dogs.”
The pack, clustered outside the door, followed them to the Navajo Police SUV. None barked or growled. Bernie figured they didn’t object when visitors left.
It was dark now, and colder. The heater in Bernie’s unit sounded like a motorcycle revving up, but it worked quickly. The SUV had almost warmed to comfortable when she reached the station.
She added notes from the interview to the rest of the day’s results and sent a message about the man Gloria identified as Rick to the captain with a cc to Cordova. She mentioned the AA connection, and the fact that this meeting lead, if it was verifiable, tied him to the Shiprock area. She told Largo she’d check in at the AA meeting, out of uniform, tomorrow.
She ordered the pizza and left the station, happier than she’d been all day. A lead. A small one, but it could mean that the man who died—she’d call him Rick—would be more than another lost soul. Someone would have to tell his relatives. She snuggled into her warm Navajo Police jacket and climbed into the frigid Toyota. Despite the miles she’d put on it, the car kept going and she appreciated it. It had been in her life longer than Chee. She turned off the heater to spare herself the blast of cold air until the engine had a chance to warm. The Tercel started right up.
She encountered the normal handful of vehicles on US 491. Everyone seemed to be behaving. She searched the folds of her brain for a glimpse of a man in a blue jacket, or maybe a blue sweatshirt with a hood, among those she’d encountered in the gym, the person Julie Pahe thought could be suspicious. Were two men involved in the explosion, or was blue hoodie just a guy who enjoyed standing outside in the cold?
She thought about Leaphorn, and how skillfully he called attention to the details she overlooked. She needed to brainstorm with him.
Curious to see the site of the explosion again, she turned onto US 64. The parking lot stood empty, cleaner than it had been before the incident, the crime scene investigators done with their jobs. It was rare to find it vacant in November; the school events on the schedule must have been canceled. All that marked the death of a man in a brown jacket was the scar on the pavement made by the blast.
She wondered what the dead man’s family thought about his absence. Did he have a girlfriend, a brother who worried about him the same way she had worried about her sister last summer when Darleen hadn’t come home or answered her phone?