The Pumpkin Seed Massacre

by Susan Slater Narrated by James C. Jones

Overview

Tony Hillerman called it a gripping novel. Booklist says this is a series to watch. Start reading award-winning author Susan Slater's original series right here, from the beginning.

Native American psychologist Ben Pecos has returned to the New Mexico pueblo of his birth as an intern with the Indian Health Service. Still struggling with the demons of his past, he is plunged into the nightmare rampage of a mysterious illness that is killing the residents of the pueblo, including his own grandmother.

One of the victims, the powerful tribal governor, had made powerful enemies, and Ben suspects his murder was premeditated-but that doesn't explain the insidious killer now stalking the innocent. Undaunted, Ben digs deep into the motives of power and greed to root out a killer whose deadly agenda is spiraling out of control.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly

Slater's debut, set on the Tewa Pueblo in New Mexico, combines Native American culture with some of the elements of a twisty medical thriller. Protagonist Benson (Ben) Pecos, who was born on the pueblo but grew up in Utah, accepts an internship in counseling from Dr. Sanford Black at the Albuquerque Service Unit of the Indian Health Service. Black is concerned because four people with similar, flu-like symptoms have died in the course of four days. As the number of cases mounts, words like "epidemic" and "plague" begin to be bandied about. Ben, whose mother was Tewa and whose father was Anglo, soon finds himself in the midst of the investigation into these mysterious deaths. Television news reporter Julie Conlin is assigned to cover the story, and, though their first meeting starts inauspiciously, she and Ben are attracted to one another. As they delve into the increasing number of deaths, the governor of the pueblo dies of the mysterious plague, an event that vaults Johnson Yepa, who wants to develop a casino on tribal land, to the top post. Meanwhile, a tribal elder is found to be in possession of a packet of pumpkin seeds that Black and his team figure out contain a deadly, manmade virus. That the virus and the casino are connected won't come as a surprise to readers. Nor will the identity of the man behind all the mayhem, since Slater identifies him very early. With most of the suspense dulled, Slater has to rely on the appeal of Ben to sustain a reader's interest. But neither Ben nor anyone else really comes alive in a narrative that is inelegantly fractured into different points of view. (Oct.) Copyright 1999 Cahners Business Information.

Library Journal

Newcomer Slater successfully taps into the complex issues facing Native American communities in this dynamic mystery set primarily in one of New Mexico's Tewa Pueblos. Handsome Ben Pecos has straddled Anglo and Native cultures since the death of his mother, an alcoholic Tewa artist, spending summers with his grandmother at the pueblo and winters with adoptive parents in Utah. While considering graduate school, Ben accepts an internship at the Tewa Pueblo's medical clinic and is immediately drawn into a major medical disaster. A plague-like epidemic has begun spreading among New Mexico's residents and tourists, sending the nation into a fevered panic. As Ben is drawn into the orbit of the strange illness (presumably caused by tainted pumpkin seeds), he begins to fall for Julie Conlin, a local TV reporter. This is a wonderful book with loveable heroes. Recommended for public and academic libraries where interest in the Southwest is high.--Susan A. Zappia, Maricopa Cty. Lib. Dist., Phoenix Copyright 1999 Cahners Business Information.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940175494038
Publisher:	Secret Staircase Books, an imprint of Columbine Publishing Group, LLC
Publication date:	04/15/2022
Series:	Ben Pecos Mysteries , #1
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1

The owl winged noiselessly across the moon's path and settled on a pine bough above his head. He didn't look up. He knew the owl was there and knew its meaning. Death. His sweat evaporated in the dry, high-altitude crispness of the New Mexico night. Atop the mesa a fire kept him from chilling. He stared at the bright flames and didn't try to keep his mind from straying to what was wrong.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. He couldn't sleep and, like tonight, would take long walks calling upon the spirits to give him guidance. But they had deserted him. No longer did he feel their presence, their support. Yet, the answer was clear. He knew what he had to do. Much rested on his shoulders--responsibility, duty--but weren't they the same? Wasn't the future of the Tewa village in his hands? Someone who could assure all of a better life?

He put another cedar log on the fire; the orange warmth made his skin glow bronze. Then he untied the laces of his new Adidas, and pushed off first one shoe and then the other and rubbed his aching arches. Stripped to the waist, he wore designer jeans pleated below his black leather belt studded with buffalo nickels. But tonight he couldn't take pleasure in his clothes.

He sat back against a granite outcropping and let the fire warm the soles of his feet. He was beat. From his vantage point he looked out over the Indian Pueblo. Wisps of wood smoke stood straight up in barely waving columns above the roofs. On this windless night they acted as sentinels guarding each dwelling--the adobe houses huddled in an extended web of families and values dating back hundreds of years. He felt a surge of pride. These were his people. His to lead. His to protect. His to make rich.

He could make out the plaza ringed by houses flanked on the right by the Squash kiva and at the opposite end by the Turquoise kiva. The underground ceremonial chambers were privy to the secrets of centuries. Shadowy dancers floated over the hardpacked clay, putting one foot and then the other down in half-steps to a drum beat. The long line of imaginary men and women shook pine boughs and turned in rhythm to the chanting of a circle of old men.

He would soon dance in celebration of summer. He couldn't remember ever missing a feast day. But he felt empty. He took little pleasure in performing the rituals of his ancestors.

Barking dogs brought his attention back to the houses below. Lights blinked on to his right. A group of young men had organized a hunt. A black bear had been seen in the foothills foraging for berries along the river, a male cub old enough to be abandoned by its mother. A black bear was powerful medicine. Would the taking of a yearling cub bring prosperity? Was this the sign he needed?

Someone hurried along the road leading to the Mission Church. As he watched, the door to the rectory was thrown open and he could just make out the long robes of Father Emerson before both figures were lost in the shadows of the path that led back to the center of the village. Attending those in need--a worthy profession--just not something he could do.

He couldn't check an involuntary shudder. He had to take action. Why hadn't he called? Told them for sure that he'd do it? He had been summoned to Santa Fe. Tomorrow he would meet with the investors. He had been dreading their accusations. They would think he was weak. But he wasn't.

A breeze suddenly tickled his nose. He sneezed. Startled, the owl rose mime-like and climbed high in the moon-bright sky. He watched death soar above him, blackly outlined, until the bird disappeared into the inky ceiling.

He felt a flutter of relief. It was the sign--death's visiting him this evening. He must act. He knew that now. No one could interfere with the way things were supposed to happen. Tomorrow, he would accept the packet of tainted seeds--lethal, untraceable, meant to kill the one man who stood in the way of progress. He pulled on the now-warm running shoes. Leaving the laces loose, he stood and jubiliantly breathed in the cool night air.

He felt light-headed, calmed, but strangely excited. He would walk home along the river and take pleasure in how the giant cottonwoods shimmered silver above the water. The song of the rapids breaking gently over low rocks would keep him company. He bent down and scooped handfuls of dirt to smother the fire.

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