When she came out, she felt better. She listened to the rustle of dry leaves that still clung to the cottonwood trees along the San Juan River behind their little house, and the quiet song of the water, music that had swayed her heart and convinced her Chee’s trailer could be her home. She heard the whistle of the teakettle.
Chee sat at the kitchen table. He had made fried bologna sandwiches to go with the hot chocolate.
She smiled at him. “Thanks. How did you know I was starving?”
“Because I’m a genius, in case you hadn’t noticed. But mostly because you’re always starving.”
She could have argued the point, but instead she sipped the hot chocolate. “I would have loved some of this earlier tonight. I half froze out there in the parking lot.”
“I bet.”
She watched him take a bite. Chee could eat voraciously, any time of the day or night, and never gain an ounce.
She savored her sandwich, happy to be safe with the man she loved.
Chee took the plates to the sink.
“You want more hot chocolate? I can make some with my magic recipe. No trouble.”
“Does your magic recipe involve a packet and hot water?”
“The secret’s in the wrist.” He demonstrated a stirring motion. “Kind of like basketball.”
“Right.”
“So, who won the game?”
“I don’t know. I got kind of busy after the bomb went off.”
“Did many of the championship guys show up?”
“Yes, enough for a bunch of substitutes. I’d love more hot chocolate. I’m still cold from the parking lot.”
Chee took her cup and turned back to the counter. “I can feel you watching me. Are you trying to steal my recipe?”
“Never. Then I’d have to make my own hot chocolate.”
He poured the water, stirred, came back to the table, and put the cup in front of her. She noticed tiny white specks on the light brown froth.
“What are these?”
“Miniature marshmallows, of course.”
“Of course. Did you make them, too?”
“I’m not telling.” He slid into the chair next to her. “Do you know whose car blew up? Or was it a truck?”
“It belonged to one of the all-stars. Aza Palmer. He said it was a BMW, his baby.”
Chee said, “And there were no more bombs, no sniper attacks, nothing like that?”
“No, thank goodness.” She stirred the hot chocolate, watching the marshmallows dissolve. “There are other reasons for cars to explode, but I’m betting, with a new car like that, it was a bomb.”
“I think so, too. If you want to kill someone, there are simpler ways. But if you want to make a statement . . .” He left the thought hanging. “Car bombs are a terrorist weapon, designed to spread panic. Usually the organization behind the bombing brags about it. Maybe they’ve called in something to the FBI, you know, taking the credit?”
“Whoever did this didn’t make a very clear statement tonight. An incinerated BMW, a couple rows of damaged vehicles, a whole bunch of annoyed basketball fans and scared kids and parents. I thought it was interesting that Palmer seemed so cool about the incident. He felt bad about his car, but he didn’t seem worried that someone probably wanted to kill him. He said it went with the business.”
“The business?”
“He’s a lawyer. I guess he deals with criminal cases. He must have good insurance.” She sipped her chocolate. “How was your shift?”
“Nothing like yours. The bootlegger vanished before I got there. I arrested a drunk for speeding. Lots of time to think about the meaning of life.” Chee put his cup in the sink. “Let’s get to bed, honey. We’re leaving early for your mama’s place tomorrow, remember? I promised to move the loom so she can use it. You wanted to get that done before your shift.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” She tapped her cup. “As soon as I’m done with this.”
“There was a message from your mother on the phone when I got home. She said she’d have Kneel Down Bread for us tomorrow.”
Bernie laughed. “Great. I love that ntsidigo’i’, especially in November.”
“Yeah, it’s good that your mother froze some of what you two made last summer. I think it will taste even better now.”
Bernie finished her chocolate. She took the phone out of her backpack, plugged it into the charger, and noticed a missed call from Mama’s house. It was too late to call now. Darleen would still be up, but she didn’t want to deal with her little sister—she’d had enough drama for one night.
She switched on the ringer, as they both did each night, in case there was an emergency with Mama or at the station. By the time she got to bed, Chee was snoring lightly.
She thought about the loom. He had made it for her with his own hands in the traditional way as a wedding gift. She had planned to use it but never seemed to find the time. She’d call herself an advanced beginner when it came to weaving. She’d enjoyed it, but other things crowded her calendar. Mama had a student now, Officer Bigman’s wife, and a loom at the house would make it easier for them to work together. Mama enjoyed teaching Mrs. Bigman and talked about her all the time. She enjoyed seeing Mama happy, but felt like a bystander in this new relationship.
Bernie had just turned off her reading light and snuggled next to Chee when the phone rang. Had something happened to Mama? Then she breathed a sigh of relief. It was Chee’s phone.
In Jim Chee’s world, a phone call after ten p.m. never brought good news unless a friend or relative was expecting a baby. None of his relatives were pregnant.
He rose and made his way to the bathroom, where his phone lay charging. The screen read “Largo.” Chee seldom cursed but he thought about it.
The captain got to the point. “I need you to come in to the station now. You know about the explosion at the high school? Bernie fill you in?”
“Yes, sir.”
Largo said, “Do you know who Aza Palmer is?”
“The guy whose car blew up.”
Largo said, “He’s also the man running the mediation in Tuba City, Tó Naneesdizí. You know about that?”
“No, sir.”
He heard Largo exhale. “Where have you been, man? There’s a big meeting about a new proposal for a resort on Navajo land near the Grand Canyon. Our tribal officials, bigwigs from the Hopi, the Havasupai, Hualapai, environmentalists, developers, federal government agency types, Arizona state officials, academics, bureaucrats, you name it. Maybe even some Paiutes. They’ll all be there, and Palmer is the ringmaster.”
“Ringmaster?”
“The person in charge of keeping things moving.”
Chee took the phone into the bedroom and found his clothes. He wished Largo would get to the point.
“This guy Palmer is the mediator, the one who runs the meeting. The attack at the school may have had something to do with that. The issue is a big controversy.”
He felt the questions pile up, but he knew Largo had more to tell him.
“Sergeant, this comes from the chief. Pack an overnight bag, get yourself down here, and plan to be gone for a few days. I’ll tell you the rest when you get to the station.”
“Now? You’re in the office, sir?”