Key to the Kiva

By Laura Mechem

Funeral director Annie Proudfoot falls in love with freelance writer Lisa Cannon, but Annie's Navajo grandfather Joe has trouble coming to terms with the fact that his granddaughter is a lesbian. When Joe's friend Eldon Farney goes missing near Taos, New Mexico, the two women find themselves investigating a string of murders stretching back more than thirty years, and it's not at all clear whether the answers they seek are found in the physical realm or the spirit world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257548590

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Key to the Kiva

Laura Mechem

© 2009 Laura Mechem. All rights reserved.

9781257548590

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

With thanks to my dear friend and editor Joan Rypkema.

Your help and encouragement were invaluable.

Joe stirred a generous tablespoon of sugar into his cup and sat down on the stool behind the counter. Tell him it’s true, Annie, he said, winking at her only slightly as she came into the store. Annie smiled at the handful of regulars who had gathered for their usual morning coffee and conversation at Joe’s Route 66 Gas Station.

Annie could see the telltale glint in her grandfather’s eye that told her she should go along with whatever practical joke he happened to be playing. What’s that, Grandpa Joe? Annie asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Tell him why you have to delay the public viewing of a Navajo man until the stiffness leaves the body, Joe said confidently.

Annie knew this one, and immediately shifted into character. Well, she began, unlike other men, the Native American man’s blood congeals in a particular place in his body during rigor mortis, preventing public viewing until this particular ‘condition’ subsides.

Joe slapped his thigh and laughed. You see, Farney, I told you so. We Navajos can pitch the teepee even when we’re dead! And she works for an undertaker, too, so she knows what she’s talkin’ about! Isn’t that right, Annie? Joe said. By now, the other old men standing around inside the little gas station were chuckling and patting each other on the back.

Yes, Grandpa, Annie said winking at Mr. Farney to leave some doubt in the old man’s mind as to whether she was being serious.

I gotta go, Grandpa. I won’t be home until late tonight. I have a viewing from seven to nine. Annie kissed him on the cheek.

Okay, Annie, Joe said, disappointed she had to leave so soon. He was hoping she might serve as his straight man for a few more of their familiar routines before she had to leave for work. Annie was glad her Grandpa Joe could finally joke with her about her chosen occupation. Joe had grown up on the Navajo reservation and still observed many of his tribe’s traditional ways. He didn’t always understand Annie, but he was happy to have her in his life.

Annie smiled and walked out the door. Dust was blowing across the road in front of the old gas station. Annie took a drink of her coffee, slipped into the leather seat of her convertible and with the top down, she sped down the road toward the funeral home, her cropped black hair shining in the bright sunlight as it blew in the wind.

Back inside the gas station, the morning council of old men was breaking up. Eldon Farney stepped to the counter to settle his account. One cup of coffee. Thirty-five cents, old man, Joe said. You gonna make the poker game tonight?

You know I never miss a chance to take your money, Joe Proudfoot, Eldon replied with a smile.

Joe closed the drawer on the cash register and followed Eldon out the door. So what are you up to today?

Well, I’m feelin’ kinda tired, so I think I’ll go back to the trailer and take a nap this afternoon. That way I’ll be sharp for the card game, Eldon said as he climbed into his old pickup truck.

We’ll see you then, old man. Joe said. Eldon drifted onto the road and started slowly toward home. Joe sat down on the bench in front of the station and stared at the old rusted gasoline pumps that hadn’t been in use for years. These days he sold only milk and bread, beer and soda. As he did every day, he thought again about closing the place. He certainly wasn’t making any money. Truth be told, he was taking a loss just keeping the doors open. Still, he enjoyed the company of the local people who came to pick up the last minute items they needed for dinner, not to mention his morning chats with the fellows. Besides, he told himself, it gave him something to do.

When evening came, Joe turned out the lights and locked the door to his little gas station that no longer sold gas. He started up his rattletrap Ford truck and headed home. His head had been aching for most of the day, so he retrieved the bottle of aspirin from the dashboard and popped a couple of pills into his mouth, chasing them with a drink from the bottle of water he always kept in the cup holder. If I could just get this infernal humming sound out of my head, I might be able to play cards tonight.

Joe’s card game got underway at the usual eight o’clock. Bob Whelan, Harold Fortune and Casper Silva arrived by 7:45 and were passing around a galvanized bucket filled with ice and bottles of beer. They played a few hands while they waited for Eldon Farney, but by 8:30, Eldon had not arrived.

Wonder what’s keepin’ Farney? Bob said as he dealt the cards.

He said he was feelin’ tired this mornin’, Joe said. Said he was goin’ home to take a nap. He probably just decided to beg off this evening. I wish that ol’ fart would break down and get a phone. Never can check on him. What if he had a heart attack or somethin’ out there at his camp? He’s like the rest of us—he ain’t gettin’ no younger."

Their friend Eldon Farney was a loner. They had known him only a few years, but they had eagerly welcomed him into their circle of friends. Eldon had retired from his job on the railroad and had moved to New Mexico from West Virginia. He lived just outside Santa Rosa along the Pecos River in a little travel trailer he had bought secondhand from a local dealer who had taken it on trade. He didn’t have any family in New Mexico, but had moved there in the hope that the warm climate and low humidity might ease his rheumatoid arthritis. He kept to himself mostly, but enjoyed having morning coffee with the guys and the regular Tuesday night card game at Joe’s.

We’ll have to get on him again about gettin’ a phone when he comes in for coffee in the morning, Harold said, Now deal the cards.

At 9:30 p.m. Annie Proudfoot locked the door to the funeral home. She walked across the street and onto the porch of a green two-story house. She checked her reflection in a window as she walked toward the front door. Satisfied with her appearance, she stopped and rang the bell. After a few moments, a young woman of about twenty-five answered the door. She was dressed in a long white silk robe, and her shoulder-length dark brown hair looked sleek under the porch light. Without a word, she lifted her soft manicured hand and pausing, she let the back of her hand brush softly against Annie’s face. Then taking Annie’s hand in her own, she pulled her gently to herself, closing the door behind them.

The next morning Annie was up with the sun and was in the kitchen whistling and fixing breakfast by the time Joe ambled down the stairs. You’re certainly in a good mood this morning, young lady, he said as he finished braiding his long silver hair and threw it back over his shoulder.

Looks like it’s goin’ to be a beautiful day out there! I’m thinking about driving up to Taos to see Mom, Annie said.

I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you. Been a while since you’ve been there, hasn’t it?

Almost two months now.

You really should try to get up there more often, child. Joe chided.

I know, Grandpa. I guess I’ve been putting it off for some reason. Mom just gets some crazy ideas in her head. I swear, I think there must be something in the air up there in Taos that’s affecting her sensibilities.

What do you mean? Joe asked.

Well, the last time I was there she was going on and on about that crazy humming sound they’re all talking about. She says she hears it, too. It’s the current bandwagon that the artistic nuts in Taos are all jumping on. Seems they’re always worked up about something or other. Of course, Mom fits right in with them, Annie said.

Now, now, Joe said. Don’t be so hard on your mother. She loves you and she means well. Do you think she’s crazy because she hears the hum?

I don’t know. It just sounds kind of crazy to me, Annie said as she set a glass of orange juice on the table in front of Joe.

Annie, I hear it, too, Joe said quietly.

You do? Annie blurted.

Yes, I’ve heard it for about a month now.

Well, what do you think it is? Annie asked. Ashamed of herself for having rushed to judgment, she now seemed interested in knowing more.

I don’t know what to think. But I’m asking the Great Spirit to reveal the truth to me.

The latest theory in Taos, Annie continued, is that aliens are conspiring with the military to dig tunnels through the earth’s crust. Now, assuming aliens even exist, which is doubtful at best and lunacy at worst, why in the world would they want to dig a network of connecting subterranean tunnels?

Man’s knowledge of the Earth is still very small, Little Bear. Do not be so quick to judge what you do not yet understand. Remember, we see now only in part, as through a veil, he paused for effect, but then, face to face. Annie knew that when Joe assumed this tone of voice, and particularly when he called her Little Bear, his temporary metamorphosis into Navajo shaman was complete. She was always amazed that he could weave his Navajo beliefs with his Catholic upbringing into some kind of Native American Christian folk wisdom.

Okay, Grandpa, Annie said as she kissed him on the forehead. I’ll see what I can learn in Taos about the hum.

Listen to the Earth, Annie. And be careful.

I’ll keep an open mind. I promise.

When breakfast was finished, Joe offered to do the dishes so that Annie could get a head start on her trip to see her mother.

At 8:30 a.m., once the usual coffee crowd had come and gone, Joe locked the door to the gas station and headed out to Eldon Farney’s place. He had hoped Eldon would make it to the gas station for coffee, but he hadn’t shown and Joe was getting a little worried about him. Eldon was probably just feeling a little rough, but he thought he’d better check on him just in case.

Joe pulled up outside the travel trailer and saw Eldon’s pickup truck parked in its usual place. The embers of what appeared to be last night’s campfire were still smoldering in front of the trailer. Eldon! he called. Eldon, where are ya? There was no answer. Joe walked to the trailer door and knocked hard. Still no answer. He turned the knob and found that the door was unlocked. He peeked inside and saw no one. He yelled again, Eldon! Nothing. So he stepped in to have a look around. Joe now suspected that something was wrong. He had never visited the trailer when Eldon wasn’t there, but he knew that Eldon Farney was a sedentary man who normally didn’t take hikes or walks, so Joe thought it unlikely that he had walked anywhere. Joe began to worry about what fate might have befallen his friend.

Joe noticed that Eldon’s unfinished dinner was on the table. A roast beef sandwich lay half-eaten on a plate. He lifted the lid of a small saucepan on the stove to discover an untouched serving of green beans and potatoes. It seemed that in the middle of his dinner, Eldon Farney had simply vanished. Joe continued his look around the place hoping to find some clue as to where Eldon might have gone. He lifted a large stack of mail from the kitchen counter, sat down in Eldon’s LazyBoy recliner and began to sort through it. He found the usual: an electric bill, grocery store flyers, magazine subscription notices, bank statements. Then he saw an opened envelope postmarked Taos. He removed the letter inside and began to read:

Dear Mr. Farney,

Thank you for your recent request for more information concerning the Taos Hum. As you are aware, we are a group of concerned citizens committed to discovering and revealing to the general public the source of this disturbing phenomenon. We invite you to attend our meetings held on the first Sunday evening of each month at the Taos Community Center. We normally convene at 7:00; however, doors open at 6:00 so that we can meet and greet our new members. Cofee and refreshments are provided.

We look forward to meeting you.

Sincerely,

Ryan Malcomb, President

Concerned Citizens of Taos, Inc.

Well, Joe said, looks like I’m not the only one in Santa Rosa who hears this maddening noise.

Annie pulled into the driveway of her mother Sandra Locke’s home. Sandra greeted her daughter at the front door with a hug and a kiss. Come in. Come in, Sandra said enthusiastically. I’ve missed you so much, Annie. Next to Sandra sat her golden retriever Pixie wagging her tail and frantically panting to get Annie’s attention.

I’ve missed you, too, Mom, Annie replied, certain she would go to hell for lying. Annie bent down and took Pixie’s head in her hands, I’ve missed you, too, puppy. The truth was that Annie did love her mother but found it difficult to deal with her eccentricities.

Here, Annie said as she reached into her bag and pulled out a pink foil box. I brought you some chocolates from that little shop on Main. I know how much you like their candy.

Oh, it’s so sweet of you to think of me, Annie. But you know, I’m still having trouble with my teeth. A troubling look came over Sandra’s face, one Annie knew all too well.

Well, here we go, Annie thought. Feeling obliged to address her mother’s complaints, Annie first braced herself and then spoke carefully, What’s the matter with your teeth, Mom?

I know you think I’m crazy, Annie, but I’m not.

I don’t think you’re crazy Mom! I have never said that! Annie shot back defensively.

"You don’t have to say it, dear. I hear it in your tone of voice, the look on your face, the way you react when I try to tell you about these things. And if you think your mother has gone off her rocker, well there’s really nothing I can do to change that."

I’m sorry, Mom. I’m really sorry. Can we start over? Annie tried to soothe the hurt she knew she had caused her mother.

Tears began to form in Sandra’s eyes. Annie, I don’t think I can take living like this much longer. She paused to consider whether she should continue. Finally she said, Annie, they’re drilling my teeth at night.

Who’s drilling your teeth? Annie asked, doing her best to take her mother seriously.

I don’t know who ‘they’ are. I just know they are here. I don’t know how they get into the house, but I know they do. Sometimes they come in when I’m not here during the day. I always know when they’ve been here because Pixie is jumpy and nervous when I get home and things in the house are not the way I left them. My toothbrush that I left in the bathroom is suddenly on my kitchen counter. Or a piece of jewelry that I keep in the jewelry box in the bedroom, something I haven’t worn in ages, mysteriously turns up on the coffee table. It’s maddening. It’s as if they want me to know they’ve been here. I don’t know how they get in at night, but when I wake up in the morning, my teeth and gums are so sore. That’s how I know they have been drilling on my teeth at night.

Mom, Annie continued, "assuming ‘they’ somehow get into the house at night, why on earth would anyone want to drill your