Matilda shifted in her seat, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Her floppy hat and sunglasses gave her something to fiddle with on her lap. It had taken a day’s worth of courage to enter the FBI office on Coal Avenue. Gallup’s shopping street was quiet this morning, the sidewalk full of shadows. But after an almost sleepless night, she’d decided to take the advice she’d been given.
The man seated at the desk opposite her was somewhat reassuring. He was a solid figure in a neat dark suit. He was Navajo with hair cut in Anglo fashion, maybe a couple inches too long which signified only that he was careless about such things. His calm opaque brown eyes surveyed her genially. The nameplate on his desk proclaimed him to be Emory Enditto.
“I’ve known Juanita Hawkes since she was a little tadpole of a high school girl babbling about working in law enforcement. She went to UNM up the hill, got more interested in the legal side.” He clasped his hands, his smooth expression signaling it was Matilda’s turn to speak.
She spilled out her story, tumbled it more likely, annoyed that she couldn’t frame a logical narrative. The part about Roy Climmer embarrassed her the most. This professional would label her speculation as being hysterical. But, darn it, her instincts often proved right. She needed to know if she’d been set up; what she’d done already could potentially get her fired.
“That business about Tom Vaughn sure makes me wonder,” Enditto said. “The timing between Climmer giving you the tip and Tom being out of town doesn’t ring right.”
She nodded her head eagerly, glad he’d seen the circumstances as she did. He said he knew Vaughn, but not Climmer. Enditto took up the brown pouch on his desk and pulled back the strings to open the bag and stare inside.
“Well, if Calvin Bitsue told you it came from a grave, I’m inclined to say he’s right. His family comes from a long line of silversmiths. His great uncle was one of Adair’s informants.” For a moment, his eyes twinkled as his statement made Matilda’s head snap back. “Oh yeah, Ms Townshend, you can’t work in Gallup and not know a bit about the jewelry trade. “Indian Jewelry Capital of the World” and all that jazz. Jewelry means big money and that leads to fraud.” He paused for a moment, “How much did he ask you for?”
“Two thousand in fifty dollar bills.”
Enditto whistled. “Well, this bracelet is worth much more than that but he didn’t have any overhead if he stole it. And if it likely came from a grave, we got the means to put him away for a nice long time.”
“I can understand why you’d want to do so,” Matilda said. “I’m just sorry I even got mixed up in all this.”
“Well, I do think you’re way out of your league Ms Townshend, but I appreciate your determination to do the right thing.”
Matilda felt a small wave of panic. Maybe she’d been childish, but she had wanted simply to run to this guy, give him the bracelet, and make tracks on I-40 back to Albuquerque. Helping the FBI was out of her ken indeed.
The door behind them was thrown open abruptly and a tall slender man erupted into the room. “I say, Emory, did you get that file—” He stopped short upon seeing Matilda and his mouth hung open.
To Matilda, the newcomer was more than a welcome interruption, he was a sight unexpected. She felt her mouth drop open to match his gape. “Jim? Jim Mulligan?”
