Song of the Lion Read online

  After Robert left, Aza Palmer pushed his plate away. “Now you know my family secret. Successful lawyer becomes failed husband, miserable father, and creates hostile son.”

  Bernie put the burger, the fries, and the little packets of mustard and ketchup in the to-go container. “Before you came in here, did you contact Chee?”

  “I told him where we were and that you’d gone inside with my son, who had been following us. He wants you to call him.”

  “You were gone a long time.” She knew Chee wasn’t much of a talker.

  “Was I?”

  She heard him hesitate and wondered if he’d tell the truth.

  “Well, I had to check my blood sugar and give myself an injection.”

  Bernie paid the bill, declining Palmer’s offer to chip in for his sandwich. She noticed the five-dollar bill he left on the table in addition to her tip.

  The western sky had a soft apricot glow, the beginnings of sunset, when they stepped outside and got in the car. She drove past the tour buses and over the bridge that spanned the Little Colorado. “It would be dark before we got to the canyon, so I’m heading back to the hotel.”

  “I figured.” Palmer stretched his legs. “I remembered where else I’ve seen Robert’s car. He was the one who was waiting for Katie and me after the explosion. I didn’t recognize him in the dark.” Palmer told Bernie the story.

  They continued in silence, Bernie appreciating the light traffic. Then she said. “Can you explain what the mediation is really about? Maybe it will help me understand why someone seems to want you dead.”

  “Do you mind if I condense it and give you the CliffsNotes version. Do they still have CliffsNotes?”

  “Mediation for Dummies will work. But before that, tell me the real reason you didn’t come right in from the parking lot.”

  Palmer shifted in his seat. “I recognized Robert as soon as I saw him and I didn’t want another argument. I didn’t want to talk to him, period. I’d had enough conflict for the day. Satisfied?”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  His tone changed. “OK, here’s Grand Canyon Mediation 101. So, the first thing to know is the background of the dispute, and to talk about that, we have to talk a little about the canyon’s history.”

  A traditional storyteller would have started with the forces that created the ancient Vishnu Schist and Zoroaster Granite. Palmer began with the early mining expeditions, the creation of the national park, and the Fred Harvey Company’s expansion of tourism. He mentioned the controversy over sightseeing helicopter flights and the idea of building a tramway from the canyon rim to the river. He summarized the Hualapai’s Skywalk and its financial problems and pending plans for growth in Page and Tusayan. He explained Canyonmark’s proposal to work with the Navajo Nation to develop a resort at the eastern edge of the canyon on tribal land near the confluence of the Colorado and the Little Colorado. He condensed the findings of the environmental impact studies and talked on.

  Bernie knew about the shifting viewpoints and differences of opinion about Grand Canyon development among Navajo tribal councilors, presidents, and those families closest to where a resort might be constructed. But she adjusted the heater vents and let Palmer speak.

  “So, why the mediation now?”

  “Canyonmark’s offer got the tribe’s attention. Jobs earmarked for the Diné, a percentage of revenue besides money from the land lease, and other benefits. Everyone knows the issue is deep and complicated—like the canyon itself. The Navajo want to hear from all sides before making even a preliminary decision. They want the full picture before deciding how to proceed or if they should. I think that’s smart.”

  “What do you do as mediator?”

  Palmer glanced at her. “That’s right, you missed the intro at the session when I explained that. I’m like a referee. My job is to make sure that everyone at the table has a chance to be heard and that disagreements remain respectful and opinions don’t get presented as fact. I try to keep the discussion on track.”

  Bernie passed a minivan. Palmer kept talking.

  “I expect the sessions will ignite some long-standing animosity between some of these groups, including Natives and the different environmental factions. The federal departments and state of Arizona agencies involved in regulations at the Grand Canyon all have their own priorities. And the private enterprises that make a living from the canyon’s visitors—raft trip and scenic flight operators, hotels and restaurants, gift shops—they have varied reactions to any new development. Everyone involved is asked to see into the future. That’s tough.”

  He fell silent and she thought about what he’d said. If all these folks had agreed to discuss the Grand Canyon’s future, why would one of them want to kill the mediator? But what about those who had been excluded?

  “What does this have to do with your nephew’s death?”

  “Nothing I can think of.”

  The landscape looked totally different in the fading light, approached from the opposite direction. She savored its raw beauty all the more because of the humans she encountered behaving badly.

  “Amazing country, isn’t it?”

  Palmer said, “What? Sorry, I was checking my phone messages.”

  She turned into the motel parking lot.

  “It’s none of my business, but I think Robert would like to make peace with you.”

  “You’re right. It’s none of your business.” Palmer opened the car door.

  “Wait a minute. I’ll walk in with you.” Bernie reached behind the seat for her backpack and the box with the burger.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere except to my room.”

  Bernie grabbed her belongings and locked the car. By the time she reached the lobby, Palmer had disappeared.

  She found the room that Chee had been assigned with no trouble, but Chee wasn’t there. She washed her hands, turned up the thermostat, slipped off her shoes. She noticed a text from Darleen: CS & me coming to GC maybe? Stay w u? She texted back: Call me.

  She checked for a message from Leaphorn and found nothing.

  Disappointed, she stretched out on the bed with the book she always kept in her backpack. But her attention kept drifting back to Palmer and Robert.

  What had happened to make that young man so angry? In some divorces, one parent’s bitterness toward the former partner infected the children. But Lona seemed to like Palmer. Robert had complained about being neglected, but most children, even if their parents aren’t divorced, would like more time with their moms and dads. As she started to read, she noticed her body melting into the bed, the softness folding around her like a cocoon of warmth and peace. She put the book down and closed her eyes.

  15

  After Bernie left with Palmer, Chee helped Silversmith deal with the chaos in the parking lot. He knew the federal agents were in the mix somewhere, making videos and keeping an eye on things. Meanwhile, the consultants and experts explored the guts of the Justice Center, helping the electrician determine what had created the power outage.

  The protesters calmed down after the last delegates came through the gauntlet, packed up, and headed off. No doubt, Chee thought, to prepare for tomorrow’s demonstrations. Before he left, Captain Ward informed them that vandalism caused the blackout. Foul play, but not a bomb.

  He climbed into his unit and, when he reached for his seat belt, felt the envelope Mrs. Nez had given him. Palmer had explained that all the delegates had rooms at the Hotel Hopi. Chee figured he’d drop it off, then head back to his own room and, he hoped, get there around the time Bernie and Palmer arrived.

  But, as often happened in Jim Chee’s life, things didn’t go exactly as planned.

  The Hotel Hopi was beautiful, no doubt about it. From the outside, it looked something like a pueblo village. Light from the interior filtered out to the street through the glass doors at the entrance and the huge circular window on the second story.

  In the lobby, three or four times the size of the trail
er where he and Bernie lived, his attention focused on the fire blazing in a fireplace built from stone, careful work that reminded him of the artisans at Chaco Canyon. The flames cast a glow onto the plush couches arranged in a semicircle. Chee noticed the pottery bowls, the elegantly carved katsinas, and the selection of oil and watercolor paintings in the classic Hopi style. He walked past the gift shop and a large room with tables, probably for breakfast.

  At the registration area, a Hopi man about Chee’s age stood behind a graceful swooping counter. He glanced up as Chee approached.

  Chee rested his forearms on the desktop. “Hello there. I need to see one of your guests, a Mr. Blankenship. Can you tell me how to find his room?”

  “Do you have his room number?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I can’t release that information. Hotel policy.” The clerk turned back to whatever he was doing, or pretending to be doing, on his computer.

  “Would you call and tell him I’m here?”

  “You can tell him.”

  The man sauntered to the end of the counter, picked up a phone, pushed in four digits, and handed it to Chee.

  As he listened to the rings, Chee wondered if the clerk’s attitude was because he was Navajo and the clerk was Hopi, or because the man had a grudge against the police. Or maybe because he hated life in general.

  After six rings, a mechanical voice informed him that the guest he was trying to reach was unavailable. Chee left a brief message with his phone number. He rethought his idea of leaving the envelope for Blankenship at the front desk. He knew the room number from watching the clerk dial and could call it directly next time, or just knock on the door.

  Back at the motel, he was pleased to see Bernie’s car in the lot and happier still to see her in their room. But Palmer was there, too, sitting in the chair at the desk. He could tell that something was off.

  “Hey,” Chee said. “So this is why you threatened to fire me. So Bernie could be your bodyguard.”

  Palmer laughed, an embarrassed chuckle. “I lost my head back there. I didn’t mean to snap at you. You were just doing your job. I appreciate your work even though I think I’d be fine without you.” He cleared his throat. “It’s been a strange day. Bernie can tell you about my stalker.”

  “The incident you called about, right?”

  Bernie nodded. “The man turned out to be his son. I bought them dinner and they had a little talk.”

  “My kid is a jerk but harmless. But when I got back to my hotel room, the light on the house phone was blinking, you know, indicating that there was a message. Nobody uses those phones, but I picked up the receiver to check and heard something odd.” Palmer swallowed. “The caller said my name, waited, and then hung up.”

  Chee said, “Yeah. Odd. Maybe he was going to leave a message and changed his mind. Or forgot what he was going to say.”

  “That’s what Bernie thinks. But no one except you knows what room I’m in. That’s why I registered as Harris.”

  “Did you recognize the voice?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Who do you think it could be?”

  Palmer shook his head. “It’s a voice I’ve heard before, but I can’t place it. Low, gravely, like an announcer at some sports events. I saved the message.”

  “Did he sound threatening?”

  “Not exactly, but letting me know he knows how to find me seems scary. Or maybe I’m overreacting.”

  Bernie stood. “I suggested that we switch rooms. He takes this one, and you and I move to his.”

  Chee said, “So tell me again about the phone call. What else?”

  Palmer stood. “Wait a minute. Everyone knows about the mediation and a lot of people know what I look like. There are only two hotels here. If I’m not in one, well?”

  “But what about checking in as Harris?”

  “That’s why it spooked me, I guess. I’m sorry to have imposed on you.”

  Chee said, “It’s my job to make sure you can do your job, but that call doesn’t give me much to go on. And just to be clear, you can’t fire me because I don’t work for you. I work for the Navajo Police.”

  “Understood.” Chee walked with him to watch as Palmer safely entered his own room. “All clear in there?”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  Bernie opened the door to their room before he could slide his card in the slot. Chee sat on the bed and started to take off his boots. She sat next to him. “It sounds like you and Palmer got into it.”

  “I hate being a bodyguard. He ditched me during a break at the mediation, and when I mentioned that he couldn’t do that, he said he’d like to fire me. Tell me about Palmer’s son.”

  “He’d never survive as a stalker, too obvious. At Cameron, they were rude to each other and angry. Robert told Palmer some of the delegates have ulterior motives. Palmer knew that already, of course. I think Robert wanted his dad to reach out to him, apologize for things that happened a long time ago. Palmer didn’t buy it.”

  Chee said, “Speaking of relatives, your sister called after you drove out of the Justice Center parking lot.”

  “Really?”

  “She said she and a friend plan to come to Tuba City to check out the session and then go to the Grand Canyon. They might be here tomorrow.”

  “Unless she changes her mind.”

  “Right. That’s happened.”

  “Did she say which friend? She left me a phone message, but . . .”

  “A guy with a strange name. CSI? Wait. It was CS without the I. CS? Country Sizzler? ”

  “What did she say about him? Are you going to give me any more information on the dude?”

  “Oh, so you haven’t met him yet.” Chee sat a little straighter. “Well, I might tell you what I know. Or maybe not. It depends on how well you can bribe me.”

  He reached for her, and she felt good in his arms, warm, strong, and soft in the places where soft matters. He loved the texture and the smell of her long silky hair, the way her kiss made him forget everything except wanting to kiss her again.

  Then, at a most inconvenient time, he heard a chime. Not his phone. Not Bernie’s. The interruption was coming from the desk, electronic music based on a Native flute melody. Reluctantly, he left his lovely wife and picked up Palmer’s forgotten phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Who’s this?” The voice on the phone sounded young, male, and irate.

  “You called this number. Who am I talking to?”

  “Robert. Is Mr. Palmer there?”

  “No, but I can give him a message.”

  “Why do you have his phone?”

  Chee repeated himself. “Can I give Mr. Palmer a message for you?”

  “Is he paranoid or something?” Robert didn’t wait for an answer. “Tell him to call me. He’s got the number.”

  “Will he know which Robert?”

  “His son. Tell him it’s urgent.” The phone went silent.

  Chee walked back to the bed. “Robert said it was urgent for Palmer to call. You met the guy. Do you think urgent could wait?”

  She sighed. “Call Palmer on the room phone and let him know Robert called and that his cell is here.”

  He punched Palmer’s extension into the old telephone console on the desk. It rang a few times and then went to a generic message. He hung up. “Did I tell Palmer to ignore the phone?”

  “Not at all. You told him not to be paranoid, but in a nice way.”

  Chee looked at her and picked up Palmer’s cell phone. “Remember where we were. I’ll be right back.”

  He went across the hall and knocked on Palmer’s door. No answer.

  He knocked again. “It’s Chee.”

  Then he came back to Bernie.

  “That was quick.”

  “ He didn’t answer. I have a key to his room.”

  She got up out of bed. “Give me a minute. I’m coming with you.”

  “What if he’s in the shower or something?”

&
nbsp; “I’ll wait in the hall. This doesn’t seem right.”

  This time, she did the knocking. “Palmer. Palmer? It’s Bernie. You in there?”

  Chee slid the plastic key card into the slot. A small green light flashed, and he pushed the door open.

  16

  The room resembled the one she’d just left except that the photo over the bed showed a different view of the Grand Canyon. The door to the bathroom hung open, and even with the light off they could see that it was empty. Palmer’s black bag sat on the bed, the laptop on the desk.

  “Did I tell you what happened at the mediation?”

  “Sort of. I noticed that you looked grumpy in there.”

  “When Palmer gave me the slip, I reminded him that whoever had blown up his car was still on the loose. He accused me of overreacting and whined about how he deserved his privacy.” Chee clenched his jaw. “But I still have to babysit the man. To make it worse, I have to guard him even after the session, at a reception tomorrow. You know how I hate that kind of thing.”

  “I know.”

  “You can come. There’s a buffet involved. Keep me company.”

  “I’m the one person who dreads that social stuff even more than you do.”

  “Please?”

  “Let me think about it.” Then she noticed the blinking light on the room phone perched on Palmer’s nightstand. She picked up the receiver and followed the recorded instructions for message retrieval. One new, one saved. She put the phone on speaker and played the fresh one.

  A male voice: “Aza Palmer. Now that I have your attention, are you ready to do the right thing? Time is running out. You know how to reach me.”

  Chee said, “Did that sound like a threat to you?”

  “Yes.”

  She pushed the button again. The saved message had the same voice saying only “Aza Palmer.”

  “I guess he was lying about not knowing the man who made that phone call.”

  “I have to find him.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Bernie said. “Something about that voice sounds familiar.”

  Chee raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s interesting.”