Chapter 40

 

 

The body was brought back to camp because of the pandemic. But there shouldn’t have been any fear of the virus; this was a murder—one shot to the back of the head while Oscar was stopped at a stoplight at the edge of town. Shiprock. Not a place known for gang-type murders. Witnesses said the shooter was in the passenger-side seat of a pickup—something old, used to be white—and the driver wore a cowboy hat. No one seemed to have gotten a clear view of the shooter because the bed of the pickup was full of garbage cans, fifty-gallon rubber containers. The truck had been reported stolen from the city’s maintenance yard just thirty minutes before it became a get-away vehicle after a murder. And it was discovered across town abandoned another thirty minutes after that—wiped clean, not a set of prints to be had. Were the driver and shooter both Navajo? Maybe just one was a Native? No one knew. Drivers and passengers in the two cars closest to the pickup had been too busy diving for cover or pulling away.

‘Oscar’s murder is tied into what happened last night.’ It repeated itself in his head like a mantra, but the chief knew it was the truth. But proof? That was another thing. Had someone threatened Oscar’s life if he didn’t shine a hologram through the window? Offered him a fortune to do it? Threatened to ‘off’ his mother if he refused? What in God’s name could have prompted Oscar to do something so truly out of character?

The text from Deputy Ashkii caught his attention—could they meet at his pickup? He had something that the chief would be interested in.

“This will give things a name and a timeframe.” The deputy handed Chief Billie a receipt from BestBuy, Albuquerque, NM. “It was folded up and slipped inside the case of the projector. Looks like the thing was purchased via credit card the first of August. I sort of inflated my title and got a store manager to give me the name on the card. Does Curtis Henry mean anything to you?”

“Dr. Henry. Yes, if it’s the same individual, we have a doctor by that name here.” Another surprise … no, maybe shock. And this made absolutely no sense. Again, the chief thanked Deputy Ashkii. Impressive. He needed to hire him full time. But now he needed to visit Dr. Curtis Henry.

 

* * *

 

“I purchased that for what was going to be a terrific Halloween party at the school. I go into Albuquerque every once in a while and Miss Otter requested that I pick it up for her. She wanted me to make sure the projector came with a USB connector to send images from her iPhone or laptop. Seems she’d been working on some pretty scary stuff. Oscar took it out to the school and I haven’t seen it since. Of course, the pandemic put a stop to any party planning. I have no idea what happened to the projector. In fact, I don’t remember Miss Otter even letting me know she’d gotten it.”

Dr. Henry was more than courteous and offered his condolences to Oscar Begay’s family. An unfortunate turn of events. An understatement, Chief Billie thought. But he really couldn’t think of any pertinent further questioning. The doctor’s explanation made sense. What was he missing? Every avenue of questioning seemed to be either a dead end or had perfectly good logic behind it. He thanked the doctor and left but knew he couldn’t let it go. He needed a sounding board—someone involved but outside looking in. He called Ben and asked him to bring Julie and meet him at the Two Sisters for dinner.

Over a beer and some far better than average guacamole, the chief shared what he knew with Ben and Julie.

“Doc Henry made sense. I can’t think of any reason he would have to lie. And now we won’t be able to question Oscar. But something just isn’t adding up. What am I missing? I thought maybe you guys could help fill in some spaces.”

“It’s plausible that the projector was meant for Halloween. It would have been a big hit with the kids. Did you run it by Miss Otter?” Julie asked.

“Tried to, but she’s in the ICU at the Shiprock hospital. And it doesn’t look good.”

“I’m having trouble trying to tie Dr. Henry into any of this,” Ben said.

“Oh no, I think I can help there, and I may have really goofed up.” Julie put down her fork. “Things have been so crazy that I forgot to tell you I finally heard back from AMSA.”

“AMSA?” The chief looked puzzled. “Should I know what that is?”

“I’d forgotten that I’d asked Julie to chase down the particulars to the corporation that calls itself the American Medical Suppliers Association. They act as a warehouse storage and clearing house for foreign medical supplies—anything entering this country—and then they disperse across the US. The government has procured them for the gargantuan effort of dispersing PPE statewide. As you can imagine they are doing a bang-up business thanks to the pandemic. When we were having trouble getting the correct shipments in a timely fashion—they were being stolen or we were getting the wrong articles—it seemed the most problematic deliveries were directly linked to AMSA. So, what did you find out?” Ben asked.

“In brief, the founder and most recent CEO—and I might add, biggest investor—is our very own Dr. Curtis Henry.”

“Money. Why do I feel that things might be falling into place?” Chief Billie paused. “Of course, proving wrongdoing and making it stick to the doctor will be difficult. But who would stand to gain more? We know we’ve had leaked inside knowledge as to schedules, even monies on hand—don’t forget Trini’s safe was originally in his lab. He knew where she kept it in all likelihood.”

“You know, before the three of us prosecute the guy, I’d like to run what we have by Dr. Black. He was Dr. Henry’s boss during the Hantavirus epidemic. I know we have circumstantial suspicions—I can’t really call it evidence—and that adds up to almost nothing at all. Anybody have any problem bringing Dr. Black in?” Ben asked.

“Not if you think he can help.” The chief paused. “Are we looking for a character reference for Dr. Henry? I’m not sure I see how that can make a difference.”

“I guess I want to know if he’s capable of something nefarious. Are we trying to implicate a squeaky-clean person in everything from robbery to murder? Maybe someone or some group is impersonating him—just using his name and position. We’re dependent on federal money during this pandemic, character assassination of someone the Feds have placed with us in a strategic position wouldn’t go over well. We might very easily lose a key player in our recovery from the virus,” Ben said.

“That’s a good point. Just because he’s the major stock holder in a company the government is doing business with, doesn’t mean he’s corrupt,” Julie added. “But why try to scare, or even harm me?”

“I think Ben was the intended victim here. You were set up. I think the belief was that if you wanted out of here, Ben wouldn’t let you go alone and both of you would leave. Ben has been too good in safe-guarding shipments of PPE. He certainly made it more difficult, if not impossible, to sidetrack this last multi-million-dollar delivery. And that must have cost someone a bundle.” The chief turned to Julie, “You’ll excuse me but if that ‘bear’ had wanted to kill you, you’d be dead, Mrs. Pecos.”

Julie didn’t want to admit it, but she knew the chief was speaking the truth. It had nothing to do with her having taken deadly aim with a ten-ounce water bottle. The incident was only meant to frighten her.

“There’s Dr. Black now. Should we invite him to join us?” Ben asked. At the two nods, he waved his old boss over.

“Dinner? I can recommend the company,” Ben offered.

“Believe it or not, I’m on a coffee break. This has turned into a late night. Let me grab a latte. I’ll be right back.” In five minutes he was pulling up a chair. “This is a serious looking group. Problems?”

The chief went first, listing their concerns, as well as the facts as they knew them. Ben concluded by leaving their questioning open-ended. Did Dr. Black know anything that would lend credence to what he’d just heard?

“Give me a minute.” Dr. Black took a sip of his latte before pushing his chair back. “I need to know that what I say will stay in this group. Do I have your promises on that?” He looked from one to the other. Everyone nodded.

“Okay, then, I’ll fill you in on Curtis Henry. Ten years ago he was at the top of his game—a leading epidemiologist, published, awarded in his field, department head at a major university and then he got caught misappropriating funds. Oh, not putting money in his own pocket—at least not directly—but the monies were redirected to his projects, feathering his own nest, as it were, but in more general terms. In two instances funding dried up at the peril of closing down a very viable, much touted pet project of a Congressman. And there was no fighting city hall. Dr. Henry was worse than fired; he was demoted, stripped of any access to positions of leadership. A sort of excommunication at the university level. No one would touch him. He had taken advantage of colleagues, ruining a person’s life’s work by doing so. Unforgivable. There were no job offers coming in until this one. The government often can’t be choosy. They needed Dr. Henry to fill a slot setting up a field hospital on an Indian reservation. Not a cushy position at a John Hopkins R&D establishment, but here—out in nowhere. I think to say the man is angry would be an understatement. Even if it was of his own making, getting caught and then chastised has been difficult for him to accept.”

“So, you’re saying we’re not off base by what we suspect?” The chief leaned forward.

“I’m sorry to say this, but, no, not at all. Especially since Dr. Henry turned in his resignation this afternoon and took off.”