Kiss of the Bees

whatever it was free of the dirt, he saw at once that it was a bone. A leg bone of some kind, he thought. Maybe from a weakened cow that had once become trapped in the muddy charco and drowned. He dug some more and was rewarded with another long bone and what looked like a rib of some kind. Up until he found the rib, he kept thinking the bones belonged to an animal. The rib, however, had a very human look to it. Then his hands closed around something round and smooth and hard. The hair rose on the back of his neck. Letting go of the skull, he didn’t even bother to finish pulling it free of its earthen prison.

Instead, he climbed out of the hole, walked back to his Blazer, and called in. Fortunately, the dispatcher on duty earlier had gone home for the day. “Where’ve you been, Fellows? I was about to send someone out looking for you.”

“Great,” Brian said. “If you’re sending somebody, how about a homicide detective? Have him come equipped with shovels and some water—especially the water. I’m about to die of thirst.”

“A homicide detective. Why? What have you got? The last I heard you were working on an assault. Did the guy die?”

“Not as far as I know,” Brian Fellows said. “That guy was still alive when they loaded him into the helicopter. But somebody else out here is dead as a doornail.”

“Dead?” the dispatcher returned. “Who is it?”

“How should I know?” Brian answered. “That’s why I need a homicide detective.”

“I’ll get right on it,” the dispatcher said. This time Deputy Fellows was relatively sure the man meant what he said.

It was about time.

11

So I’itoi gave orders to chase the evil ones to the ocean. When they reached the shore of what is now the Gulf of California, Great Spirit sang a song. As I’itoi sang, the waters were divided and the Bad People rushed in to go to the other side. Then Elder Brother called the waters together again, and many of the PaDaj O’othham—the Bad People—were drowned, but some reached the other side.

Great Spirit again tried to have his good warriors kill those evil ones that had escaped the waters, but the warriors would not. And I’itoi—Spirit of Goodness—felt so ashamed that he made himself small and came back from the other side through the ground, under the water.

Many of his people returned with I’itoi, but some could not, and these were very unhappy, for the PaDaj O’othham who had not been destroyed were increasing.

Then I’itoi’s daughter said she would save these good Indians who were not happy. She took all the children to the seashore, where they sat down and sang together. This is the song that I’itoi’s daughter and A’ali—the Children— sang:

O white birds who cross the water,

O white birds who cross the water,

Help us now to cross the water.

We want to go with you across the water.

Kohkod—the Seagulls—heard the song. They came down and studied I’itoi’s daughter and the children. Then Kohkod flew up and circled around, singing:

Take these feathers that we give you

Take these white feathers that we give you—

Take the feathers floating round you

And do not fear to cross the water.

So the Indians took the white feathers that the seagulls gave them. They bound the feathers round their heads and crossed the water safely. That is why, nawoj, my friend, the Tohono O’othham keep those white feathers— the stoha a’an—very carefully, even to this day.

Candace and David had a beautiful dinner together in the hotel dining room. The champagne Candace ordered was Dom Perignon. “It’s okay,” she said, sending a radiant smile in Davy’s direction over the top of the wine list. “Daddy said we could have whatever we want. It’s on him.”

“Exactly how much did Bridget and Larry’s wedding set your folks back?” David asked once the sommelier left the table. Bridget was Candace’s next older sister. Her wedding had taken place two months before Davy and Candace met.

Candace shivered. “You don’t even want to know,” she said. “It was a complete circus. She had nine attendants.”

David gulped. “Nine?”

“The reception was a sit-down dinner for three hundred at the club. It was awful. ‘Ghastly’ is the word Daddy used. He was a little drunk before it was all over that night. I remember him taking me aside and telling me that night that no matter what, he wasn’t going to go through that again.”

The waiter returned carrying a champagne bucket. Candace winked at Davy. “All Daddy’s doing is making good on that promise.”

The wine was served with all due ceremony. “I finished reading your mother’s book last night,” Candace Waverly said over the top of her glass a few moments later. “You hardly ever talk about that, you know. I remember your saying once that your mother was a writer, but until she won that big prize last month, and until Mom saw her on ‘The Today Show,’ I didn’t know she was an important writer. My dad only reads boring stuff like The Wall Street Journal and Barron’s, but still he’s dying to meet her. So’s Mother.”

“She’ll probably be in Chicago on tour sometime,” David said without enthusiasm. “Maybe she can meet your folks then.”

“What do you think of it?”

“What do I think of what?” David Ladd asked. “Of her going on tour? Of her meeting your parents?”

Candace glared at him in mock exasperation. “No, silly. Of her book.”

In fact, like his stepfather, David Ladd had avoided reading Shadow of Death like the plague, and for many of the same reasons. For the first seven years of his life, Davy had been an only child, the son of a woman obsessed by her dream of becoming a writer. In the beginning, maybe Davy hadn’t had to contend with sibling rivalry as such, but there had always been competition for Diana Ladd Walker’s attention. All his life David