Kiss of the Bees

the Da’a O’othham—the Flying People—and never let them go hungry or thirsty. And very soon the Indians gathered and drove the Bad People back into the ground. But the bean fields were trampled, and the corn was badly damaged.

It was almost dark before the relief deputy showed up. Detective Leggett parked him in the middle of the road about twenty yards from the charco. “You stay right here,” he said. “I don’t want anyone coming up and down this road until we can get a crime scene team in here tomorrow morning. You got that?”

“Got it,” the deputy said.

By the time Dan Leggett and Brian Fellows grabbed a bite of dinner and then turned up at TMC, Manuel Chavez had already been wheeled off to surgery. The clerk on the surgery wing was happy to glean that one bit of information, that John Doe now had a name. She called the information back down to Admitting.

“That John Doe who just went into surgery is from Sells,” she told someone over the phone. “That means he’s Indian instead of Hispanic, so you might want to update your records.” The clerk covered the mouthpiece with her hand and turned a questioning look on Dan Leggett.

“Has anyone notified the family?”

Dan shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Are you going to?”

“We’re trying,” Detective Leggett told her, then he looked at Brian. “I’m going outside to have a smoke,” he said. “Since you’re the guy who told me you speak Tohono O’othham, you can do the honors.”

Obligingly Brian Fellows stood up and went in search of the nearest pay phone. He placed a call to the Tohono O’othham tribal police and spoke to an officer named Larry Garcia who spoke English just fine.

“Sure, we know Manny Chavez,” Larry told Brian Fellows. “What’s he done now?”

“Somebody beat him up pretty badly,” Brian replied. “He’s in surgery at TMC right now. Can you guys handle next-of-kin notification?”

“We’ll try,” Larry said. “He’s got both a daughter and a son. We should be able to find one of them. What’s your name again?”

“Brian Fellows. I’m a deputy with Pima County. I’ll be here at the hospital for a while longer. Let me know if you locate someone, would you?”

“Sure thing,” Larry said. “No problem. Give me your number.”

Brian gave him the surgical clerk’s extension, then went outside and found Detective Leggett stationed beside an overflowing breezeway ashtray, smoking one of his smelly cigars.

“What’s the scoop?” he asked. “Any luck?”

“The tribal police are working on it,” Brian replied. “They’ll let us know.”

“I’ve been standing out here thinking,” Dan Leggett said. “When you first contacted me, we thought the guy was digging up some kind of artifact. Maybe poor Manny Chavez made the same mistake. For the time being, let’s assume, instead, that the first guy was burying something, specifically that pile of bones. Why would somebody go to all the trouble of doing that?”

“Because he had something to hide,” Brian offered.

“And what might that be? Maybe our grave digger had something to do with the first guy’s crushed skull. Think about it. We’re talking the same MO as with Manny Chavez. Whack ’em upside the head until they fall over dead.”

Brian nodded. “That makes sense,” he said.

“So we’ve for sure got assault with intent on this grave-digging guy and maybe even an unknown and consequently unsolved homicide thrown in for good measure. That being the case, I’m not going to let this thing sit until morning. I’m going to go back out to the department and raise a little hell. I asked for a crime scene investigation team for tonight, but all I got was a deputy to secure the scene and the old ‘too much overtime’ song and dance. I want faster action than that. If I play my cards right, I’ll be able to get it. In the meantime, you hang around here and wait for the next of kin. Once they show up, get whatever information you can, but if the doc says we can talk to Manny himself, you call me on the double.”

“Will do,” Brian replied.

He went back into the waiting room and settled down on one of the molded-plastic chairs. While he sat there and waited for one or the other of Manny Chavez’s kids to show up, Brian finished filling out his paper. As he worked his way down the various forms, Brian was once again grateful that Dan Leggett had taken the call. The deputy was glad not only for his own sake, but also for the sake of Manny Chavez’s unnotified relatives, whoever they might be. There were plenty of detectives in Bill Forsythe’s sheriff’s department who wouldn’t have given a damn about somebody going around beating up Indians—plenty who wouldn’t have lifted a finger about it.

Fortunately for all concerned, Dan Leggett wasn’t one of those. He was treating the assault on Manny Chavez as the serious crime it was—a Class 1 felony. Not only that, Brian thought with a smile, the investigation Dan was bent on doing would no doubt necessitate interviewing everyone involved. Including a good-looking Border Patrol agent named Kath Kelly.

Time passed. Brian lost track of how long. He was sitting there almost dozing when the clerk woke him up, saying there was a phone call for him.

“Deputy Fellows?” Larry Garcia asked.

“That’s right.”

“I just had a call from one of my officers. He’s on his way to Little Tucson. There’s a dance out there tonight. We’re pretty sure Delia Cachora, Manny’s daughter, will be there. Once they find her, it’ll take an hour or more for them to get her into town. Will you still be there, at the hospital?”

Detective Leggett had given Deputy Fellows his marching orders. “Most likely,” Brian told him. “Have her ask for me.”