Hillerman, Tony - [Leaphorn & Chee 13] (9 page)

"An interesting man," Leaphorn said, stacking saucers on plates,
and cutlery atop that, and heading for the kitchen.

"Have a seat," Louisa said. "I can take care of the
cleanup."

"Widowers get awfully good at this. I want to demonstrate my
skills." Which he did, until he noticed Louisa rearranging the plates he'd
put into the washer.

"Wrong way?" he asked.

"Well," she said, "if you put them in with the food side
facing inward, then the hot water spray hits that. It gets 'em cleaner."

So Leaphorn sat and wondered if Perez had actually been jealous of him and
what that might imply, and tried to think of a way to bring up the subject. He
drew a blank. A few moments later the clattering in the kitchen stopped. Louisa
emerged and sat on the sofa across from him.

"Wonderful dinner," Leaphorn said. "Thank you."

She nodded. "Michael really is an interesting man," she said.
"He was way too talky tonight, but that was because I told him you were
interested in what Professor Woody was doing." She shrugged. "He was
just trying to be helpful."

"I sort of got the feeling he didn't care too much for me."

"That was jealousy. He was showing off a little bit. The male
territorial imperative at work."

Leaphorn had not the slightest idea how to react to that. He opened his
mouth, took a breath, said "Aah," and closed it.

"We go way back. Old friends."

"Aah," Leaphorn said again. "Friends." He had left the
question off the sound of that, but it didn't fool Louisa.

"He wanted to marry me once, long ago," Louisa said. "I told
him I'd tried getting married once when I was young and I hadn't cared much for
it."

Leaphorn considered this. Now was one of those times when you wished you
hadn't quit smoking. Lighting up a cigarette gave you time for thought.
"You never told me you'd been married," he said.

"There really wasn't any reason to," she said. "I guess
not," he said. "But I'm interested." She laughed. "I really
ought to tell you it's none of your business. But I think I'll put on a pot of
coffee and decide what I'm going to say."

When she came back with two steaming cups, she handed one to Leaphorn with a
broad smile.

"I decided I'm glad you asked," she said, sat down, and told him
about it. They had both been graduate students, and he was big, handsome, and
sort of out of it and always needed help with his classes. She'd thought that was
charming at the time, and the charm had lasted about a year.

"It took me that long to understand that he'd been looking for a second
mother. You know, somebody to take care of him."

"Lots of men like that," Leaphorn said, and since he couldn't
think of anything to add to that, he switched the subject over to Catherine
Pollard and his meeting with Mrs. Vanders. "I wondered why you decided to
take that on," she said. "It sounds hopeless to me."

"It probably is," Leaphorn said. "I'm going to give it a
couple more days and if it still looks hopeless, I'll call the lady and tell
her I failed." He finished his coffee and stood. "It's eighty miles
back to Tuba City—actually eighty-two to my motel—and I've got to get
going."

"You're too tired to make that drive," she said. "Stay here.
Get some sleep. Drive it in the morning."

"Um," Leaphorn said. "Well, I wanted to try to find this
Woody and see if he can tell me anything."

"He'll keep," Louisa said. "It won't take any longer to drive
it in the morning."

"Stay here?"

"Why not? Use the guest bedroom. I have a nine-thirty lecture. But if
you want a real early start there's an alarm clock on the desk in there."

"Well," Leaphorn said, digesting this, and recognizing how tired
he was, and the nature of friendship. "Yes. Well, thank you."

"There's some sleeping stuff in the chest. Nightgowns and so forth in
the top drawer and pajamas in the bottom one."

"Men's?"

"Men's, women's, what have you. Guests can't be too Particular about
borrowed pajamas."

Louisa, taking their empty cups into the kitchen, stopped in the doorway.

"I'm still wondering why you took the job," she said. "It
surprises me."

"Me, too," Leaphorn said. "But I'd been thinking about that Navajo
policeman killed up near Yells Back Butte, and it turns out Catherine Pollard
disappeared the same day, and she was supposed to be going to check on rodent
burrows about the same place."

"Ah," Louisa said, smiling. "And if I remember what you've
told me, Joe Leaphorn never could believe in coincidence."

She stood holding the cups, studying him. "You know, Joe, if I didn't
have to work tomorrow I'd invite myself along. I'd like to meet this Woody
fellow."

"You'd be welcome," Leaphorn said.

And more than welcome. He'd been dreading tomorrow, doing his duty, keeping
a promise he'd made for no particular reason to an old woman he didn't even
know without any real hope of learning anything useful.

Louisa still hadn't moved from the doorway.

"Would I be?"

"It would make my day," Leaphorn said.

A HIGH-PITCHED METHODICAL whimpering sound intruded into Joe Leaphorn's
dream and jerked him abruptly awake. It came from a strange-looking white alarm
clock on a desk beside his bed, which was also strange—soft and warm and
smelling of soap and sunshine. His eyes finally focused and he saw a ceiling as
white as his own, but lacking the pattern of plaster cracks he had memorized
through untold hours of insomnia.

Leaphorn pushed himself into a sitting position, fully awake, with his
short-term memories flooding back. He .was in Louisa Bourebonette's guest
bedroom. He fumbled with the alarm clock, hoping to shut off the whimpering
before it awakened her. But obviously it was too late for that. He smelled
coffee brewing and bacon frying—the almost forgotten aromas of contentment. He stretched,
yawned, settled back against the pillow. The crisp, fresh sheets reminded him
of Emma. Everything did. The morning breeze ruffled the curtains beside his
head. Emma, too, always left their windows open to the outside air until Window
Rock's bitter winter made it impractical. The curtains, too. He had teased her
about that. "I didn't see window curtains in your mother's hogan,
Emma," he'd said. And she rewarded him with her tolerant smile and
reminded him he'd moved her out of the hogan, and Navajos must remain in
harmony with houses that needed curtains. That was one of the things he loved
about her. One of the many. As numerous as the stars of a high country
midnight.

He'd persuaded Emma that she should marry him two days before he was to take
the Graduate General Examination for his degree at Arizona State. The degree
was in anthropology, but the dreaded GGE covered the spectrum of the humanities
and he'd been brushing up on his weak points—which had led him into a quick
scan of Shakespeare's "most likely to be asked about on GGE" plays
and hence to Othello's discourse about Desdemona. He still remembered the
passage, although he wasn't sure he had it quite right: "She loved me for
the dangers I had passed, and I loved her that she did pity them."

"Leaphorn, are you up? If you're not, your eggs are going to be overhard."

"I'm up," Leaphorn said, and got up, grabbed his clothes and hurried
into the bathroom. The point Othello was trying to make, he thought, was that
he loved Desdemona because she loved him. Which sounded simple enough, but
actually was a very complicated concept.

Louisa's guest bathroom was equipped with a guest toothbrush, and Leaphorn,
being blessed with the Indian's sparse and slow-growing beard, didn't miss a
razor. ("No whiskers is proof," his grandfather had told him,
"that Navajos are evolved further from the apes than those hairy white
men.")

Despite the threat, Louisa had actually delayed cracking the breakfast eggs
until he appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"I hope you meant it when you said you'd be happy to have me along
today," she said as they started breakfast. "If you did, I can
come."

Leaphorn was buttering his toast. He'd already noticed that Professor
Bourebonette was not wearing the formal skirt and blouse that were her teaching
attire. She was clad in jeans and a long-sleeved denim shirt.

"I meant it," he said. "But it'll be boring, like about
ninety-nine percent of this kind of work. I was just going to see if I could
find this Woody, find out if he'd seen Catherine Pollard and if he could tell
me anything helpful. Then I was going to drive back to Window Rock and call
Mrs. Vanders, report no progress and—"

"Sounds all right," she said.

Leaphorn put down his fork. "How about your class?" THE FIRST
EAGLE

It wasn't really the question he wanted to ask. He wanted to know what her
plans were when the day's duties were done. Did she expect him to bring her
back to Flagstaff? Did she intend to stay in Tuba City? Or accompany him home
to Window Rock? And if so, what then?

"All I have today is one meeting of my ethnology course," Louisa
said. "I'd already scheduled David Esoni to do his lecture on Zuni
teaching stories. I think you met him."

"He's the professor from Zuni? I thought he taught chemistry."

Louisa nodded. "He does. And every year I get him to talk to my
entry-level class about Zuni mythology. And culture in general. I called him
this morning. The class expects him and he said he could introduce
himself."

Leaphorn nodded. Cleared his throat, trying to phrase the question. He
didn't need to.

"I'll drop off when we get to Tuba. I want to see Jim Peshlakai—he
teaches the traditional cultural stuff at Grey Hills High School there. He's
going to set up interviews for me with a bunch of his students from other
tribes. Then he's coming down to Flag tonight for some work in the library.
I'll ride back with him."

"Oh," Leaphorn said. "Good." *

Louisa smiled. "I thought you'd say that," she said. "I'll
fix a thermos of coffee. And a little snack, just in case." •

So nothing remained but to check his telephone answering service. He dialed
the number and the code.

Two calls. The first was from Mrs. Vanders. She still had heard nothing from
Catherine. Did he have anything tot ell her?

The second was from Cowboy Dashee. Would Mr. Leaphorn please call him as
soon as possible. He left his number.

Leaphorn hung up and listened to the noises Louisa was causing in the
kitchen while he stared at the telephone, getting Cowboy Dashee properly
placed. He was a cop. He was a Hopi. A friend of Jim Chee. A Coconino County
deputy sheriff now, Leaphorn remembered. What would Dashee want to talk about?
Why try to guess? Leaphorn dialed the number.

"Cameron Police Department," a woman's voice said. "How may I
be of service?"

"This is Joe Leaphorn. I just had a call from Deputy Sheriff Dashee. He
left this number."

"Oh, yes," the woman said. "Just a moment. I'll see if he's
still here."

Clicking. Silence. Then: "Lieutenant Leaphorn?"

"Yes," Leaphorn said. "But it's mister now. I got your
message. What's up?"

Dashee cleared his throat. "Well," he said. "It's just that I
need some advice." Another pause.

"Sure," Leaphorn said. "It's free and you know what they say
about free advice being worth what it costs you."

"Well," Dashee said. "I have a problem I don't know how to
handle."

"You want to tell me about it?"

Another clearing of throat. "Could I meet you some place where we could
talk? It's kind of touchy. And complicated."

"I'm calling from Flag and just getting ready to drive up to Tuba City.
I'll be coming through Cameron in maybe an hour."

"Fine," Dashee said, and suggested a coffee shop beside Highway
89.

"I'll have an NAU professor with me," Leaphorn said. "Will
that be a problem?"

A long pause. "No, sir," Dashee said. "I don't think
so." But by the time they'd reached Cameron and pulled up beside the
patrol car with the Navajo County Sheriff's

Department markings, Louisa had decided she should wait in the car.

"Don't be silly," she said. "Of course he'd say it would be
no problem to have me listening in. What else could he say when he's asking you
for a favor." She opened her purse and extracted a paperback and showed it
to Leaphorn. "
Execution Eve
," she said. "You ought to
read it. The son of a former Kentucky prison warden remembering the murder case
that turned his dad against the death penalty."

"Oh, come on in. Dashee won't mind."

"This book's more interesting," she said, "and he would
mind."

And of course she was right. When they parked, Leaphorn had seen Deputy
Sheriff Albert "Cowboy" Dashee sitting in a booth beside the window
looking out at them, his expression glum. Now, as he sat across from Dashee,
watching him order coffee, Leaphorn was remembering that this Hopi had struck
him as a man full of good humor. A happy man. There was no sign of that this
morning.

"I'll get right to the point," Dashee said. "I need to talk
to you about Jim Chee."

"About Chee?" This wasn't what Leaphorn had expected. In fact,
he'd had no idea what to expect. Something about the Hopi killing the Navajo
policeman, perhaps. "You two are old friends, aren't you?"

"For a long, long time," Dashee said. "That makes this harder
to deal with."

Leaphorn nodded.

"Jim always considered you a friend, too," Dashee said. He grinned
ruefully. "Even when he was sore at you."

Leaphorn nodded again. "Which was fairly often."

"The thing is, Jim got the wrong man in this Benjamin Kinsman homicide.
Robert Jano didn't do it."

"He didn't?"

"No. Robert wouldn't kill anyone."

"Who did?"

"I don't know," Dashee said. "But I grew up with Robert Jano.
I know you hear this all the time, but—" He threw up his hands.

"I know people myself who I just can't believe would ever kill
anyone—no matter what. But sometimes something snaps, and they do it. Temporary
insanity."

'You'd have to know him. If you did, you'd never believe it. He was always
gentle, even when we were kids trying to be tough. Robert never seemed to
really lose his temper. He liked everybody. Even the bastards."

Leaphorn could see Dashee was hating this. He'd pushed his uniform cap back
on his head. His face was flushed. His forehead was beaded with perspiration.

"I'm retired, you know," Leaphorn said. "So all I get
is
the secondhand gossip. But what I hear is that Chee caught the man red-handed.
Jano was supposed to be leaning over Kinsman, blood all over him. Some of the
blood was Jano's. Some of the blood was Kinsman's. Was that about it?"

Dashee sighed, rubbed his hand across his face. "That's the way it must
have looked to Jim."

"You talked to Jim?"

Dashee shook his head. "That's the advice I wanted. How do I go about
that? You know how he is. Kinsman was one of his people. Somebody kills him. He
must feel pretty strong about that. And I'm a cop, too. It's not my case. And
being a Hopi. The kind of anger that's grown up between us and you
Navajos." He threw up his hands again. "It's such a damned
complicated situation. I want him to know it's not just sentimental bullshit.
How can I approach him?"

"Yeah," Leaphorn said, thinking that everything Dashee had said
did indeed sound like sentimental bullshit. "I understand your
problem."

The coffee arrived, reminding Leaphorn of Louisa waiting outside. But she
had the thermos they'd brought and she would understand. Just as Emma always
understood. He sipped the coffee without noticing anything, except that it was
hot.

"Did they let you talk to Jano?"

Dashee nodded. "How'd you manage that?"

"I know his lawyer," Dashee said. "Janet Pete."

Leaphorn grunted, shook his head. "I was afraid of that," he said.
"I saw her at the hospital the day Kinsman died. The prosecution bunch was
gathering and she showed up, too. I'd heard she's been appointed as a federal
defender."

"That's it," Dashee said. "She'll do a good job for him, but
it sure as hell won't make dealing with Jim any easier."

"They were about to get married once, I think," Leaphorn said.
"And then she went back to Washington. Is that on again?"

"I hope not," Dashee said. "She's a city gal. Jim's always
going to be a sheep-camp Navajo. But whatever, it's going to make him touchy as
hell, being on opposite sides of this. He'll be hard to deal with."

"But Chee was always reasonable," Leaphorn said. "If it was
me, I'd just go and lay it out for him. Just make the best case you can."

"You think it will do any good?"

"I doubt it," Leaphorn said. "Not unless you give him some
sort of evidence. How could it? If what I hear at

Window Rock is right, Jano had a motive. Revenge as well as avoiding arrest.
Kinsman had already nailed him before for poaching an eagle. He got off light
then, but this would be a second offense. More important, I understand there
was no other possible suspect. Besides, even you persuade Chee he's wrong, what
can he do about it now?" Dashee hadn't touched his coffee. He leaned
across the table. "Find the person who actually killed Kinsman,"
Dashee said. "I want to ask him to do that. Or help me do it."

"But as I understand the situation, only Jano and Kinsman were there,
until Chee came along answering Kinsman's call for some backup."

"There was a woman up there," Dashee said. "A woman named
Catherine Pollard. Maybe other people."

Leaphorn, caught in the process of raising his cup for another sip, said,
"Ah," and put down the cup. He stared at Dashee for a moment.
"How do you know that?"

"I've been asking around," Dashee said, and produced a bitter
laugh. "Something Jim should be doing." He shook his head. "He's
a good man and a good cop. I'm asking you how I can I get him moving. If he
doesn't, I think Jano could get the death penalty. And one day Jim's going to
know they gassed the wrong man. And then you might as well kill him, too. Chee
would never get over that."

"I know something about Catherine Pollard," Leaphorn said.

"I know," Dashee said. "I heard."

"If she was there—and I understand that's where she was supposed to be
going that day—how could she fit into this? Except, of course, as a potential
witness."

"I'd like to give Jim another theory of the crime, Dashee said.
"Ask him to look at it for a while as a substitute for Jano kills Kinsman
to avoid arrest.' It goes like this: Pollard goes up to Yells Back Butte to do
her thing. Kinsman is up there looking for Jano, or maybe he's looking for
Pollard. One way, he runs across her. The other way, he finds her. Just a
couple of nights earlier, Kinsman was in a bistro off the interstate east of
Flag, and he saw Pollard and tried to take her away from the guy she was with.
A fight started. An Arizona highway patrolman broke it up."