Part 10 (1/2)

Bernie, looking fl.u.s.tered, said: ”Well, anyway, they missed.”

”And,” continued Chee, ”the FBI got its team in there and found the slug. They're checking it against a thirty-thirty owned by Hostiin Peshlakai. An old fellow who lives near the mouth of the canyon.”

”I've heard of him,” Leaphorn said. ”He did a Night Chant years ago for one of Emma's aunts. Is he their suspect in the Doherty killing, too?”

”Probably. Osborne's interpreter is a little weak on traditional Navajo, so they had me interview him.” Chee laughed. ”Osborne was in a hurry. He wanted yes or no answers, and you can guess how that went. Anyway, he finally said he didn't try to kill Bernie.”

Leaphorn digested that a moment.

”Didn't try to kill her,” Leaphorn said. ”Did he deny he tried to scare her away?”

”I didn't ask him that,” Chee said.

Leaphorn drank what was left of his coffee, looking at Chee over the cup. ”What are you thinking?”

Chee shrugged. ”Not much mystery there. Peshlakai says a place up the canyon is a unique source of some of the minerals and herbs hataali hataali need for some ceremonies. Like the Yeib.i.+.c.hai. He performs that one. I think he's trying to keep need for some ceremonies. Like the Yeib.i.+.c.hai. He performs that one. I think he's trying to keep belagaani belagaani from destroying the sacred place. Bernie heard the interview. She agrees.” from destroying the sacred place. Bernie heard the interview. She agrees.”

Chee provided some of the mythical and theological details of Peshlakai's statement, which were discussed. Bernie mentioned the artificial owl guarding the canyon from a tree. Louisa added a bit of her anthropological/sociological information about the role of owls as harbingers of death and disaster among southwestern tribes. Their orders arrived.

Over the coffee refills, Leaphorn got to the questions he'd come to ask.

”I may be getting myself in a sort of funny position,” he said. ”I mean, if I do some really serious digging for Denton while I'm hunting his wife, I'm going to need to know if the FBI decides he's a primary suspect in the Doherty homicide. I don't want to get in the way. Mess anything up. What do you think?”

”They don't tell me everything,” Chee said. ”They'd have to be interested. Doherty had Denton's telephone number with him. He'd taken that tin can out of the evidence file in the McKay case, and from what I hear, he seemed to be following McKay's tracks. Interested in the same old mine legend. But as far as I know they have absolutely nothing except some circ.u.mstantial evidence.”

”Would you mind if I call you now and then and ask you if anything criminal is brewing about Denton?”

”Lieutenant,” said Chee, ”you didn't need to ask me that. Of course I won't mind. If I know anything, I'll tell you. Trouble is, I may not know. How about reversing it. If you learn something, you tell me.”

”One more question. Do you think that Golden Calf dig, or whatever it was, is up Coyote Canyon?”

”I don't believe in these legendary mines,” Chee said. ”When I was a kid I used to think I'd go out someday and find the Lost Adams diggings, or maybe the Lost Dutchman's Mine, and when I was poking around on arroyo bottoms, sometimes I'd dig in the wet sand and pretend I was looking for placer gold. But no. I grew up. Peshlakai said there's some quartzite deposits up there somewhere, probably a little gold dust washes downstream if we ever have a wet summer. One wet year, maybe enough washed down to start the legend.”

”So you're not out looking for it?”

Chee laughed. ”Gold causes trouble. I don't look for that.”

17.

Unfortunately for Joe Leaphorn, Denton had spent a lot of money on his telephone taping system. It was modern stuff, installed by a technician, and thus it had all the high-tech bells and whistles and a twenty-four-page instruction book written in the opaque language that the specialists use to exclude laymen from their science. Leaphorn had stacked the acc.u.mulated answering machine tapes in neat reverse chronological order, wasted fifteen minutes trying to get the first one to play, and finally called in Mrs. Mendoza. She showed him how to get the tape properly located in the proper slot, which b.u.t.tons to push to reverse, repeat, adjust sound, and so forth.

With that, Leaphorn put on the earphones and immersed himself in the weird world of those who read the personal ads: of the lost, lonely, lovelorn, the angry, the wanna-be-helpfuls, and the predators. The first caller to speak into his ear was one of the latter.

”I read your advertisment in the Arizona Republic Arizona Republic,” the man said. ”I think I know where your woman is. I was eating lunch at Denny's, and there was this woman at the next table. Pretty girl but looking, you know, really strung out and stressed, talking to someone on a cellphone. Crying now and then. She mentioned running away from a man named Wiley. Whoever she was talking to, she told them she wanted to go back but was afraid this Wiley wouldn't want her, and she mentioned where she was staying. A place here in Phoenix. Using another name, she said. I got that written down, that address, along with the last name she was using along with Linda. I'd just tell it to you now, but I'm tapped out for cash, and I need a little financial help for this. I'll give you this number to call me at. Call right at three any day this week.”

He followed that with a number, and hung up.

Leaphorn checked the first item in the ledger Denton kept beside the telephone.

Call 1. Haley finds number of phone booth at the Phoenix Convention Center. Answered right at three on second ring. Told me he knew exactly where Linda was. Said if I would mail thousand to his P.O. box, he'll call me back, provide her address, keep eye on her until I arrive. Description not Linda. Haley says a man showed up ten minutes before I called. Waited, took call, left. Followed him to trailer park on the highway south. Haley checked Phoenix PD sources. Parolee.

Leaphorn laid aside the headphones and went looking for Wiley Denton. Instead he found Mrs. Mendoza mixing something in the kitchen. She thought Denton was ”off somewhere.” He'd left a few minutes ago in his car. Did Mrs. Mendoza know anything about the tape machine and Denton's call ledger? Not much, Mrs. Mendoza said, but she rinsed her hands, dried them, and followed him into the empty bedroom where the listening equipment was installed.

”He started this when he was in the prison,” she explained. ”He got us to take the tapes in to the prison. He had a player there, and he'd make these notes and tell George what he wanted done about them.”

”Who is this Haley he mentions in the first entry?”

”Mr. Denton's lawyer made some sort of arrangement with a security company. Haley Security and Investigations. Whoever the company had checking for him, Mr. Denton calls 'em Haley.”

”Must have cost him a ton of money,” Leaphorn said.

”Money.” She made a sound of contempt, shook her head, and skipped through the ledger, explaining Denton's dating system, code, and shorthand. Leaphorn thanked her and went back to work.

The next call was a complaint that the reward offered in the Boston Herald Boston Herald was too small and left a number to call if Denton would double it. That was followed by a woman motivated by hatred instead of avarice. She didn't know where Linda was, but she knew she would never come back. She had fled because her husband had abused her. Now she was free, happy at last. was too small and left a number to call if Denton would double it. That was followed by a woman motivated by hatred instead of avarice. She didn't know where Linda was, but she knew she would never come back. She had fled because her husband had abused her. Now she was free, happy at last.

Leaphorn skipped the last of that one and began listening to a fellow who was certain Linda had been whisked away by s.p.a.ce aliens. He then adopted a time-saving policy of making a quick judgment of whether the caller had anything enlightening to say.

After about two hours of this he had concluded that the idea had been a mistake. All he was learning was the peculiar nature of that segment of the population that responds to personal advertis.e.m.e.nts. A very few expressed sympathy for a man who had somehow lost the woman he treasured. But most of the responses had been triggered by greed, some sort of fantasy delusion, whimsy, or malice.

Then came another sort of call. A woman's voice, sounding both nervous and sad: ”You must be Wiley Denton,” the woman said, ”and I wish I could help you find Linda, but I can't. I just wanted you not to think she did you wrong. I've heard that gossip-that she was in cahoots with Marvin-but she wasn't. Not at all. I know for sure. I used to talk with her down where she worked before she married you. Just a sweet young girl. I'm praying that you find her.”

Leaphorn listened to that again. And again. And then he took off the headset. He would listen to more of the calls later. Maybe all of them. But now he wanted to find this sad-sounding woman.

18.

Wiley Denton was home now from wherever he'd been, but Denton was not much help.

”Who?” he asked, and when Leaphorn explained, he snorted, said: ”Oh, yeah. Her. I guess she was McKay's lady friend, but she didn't know anything. Or wouldn't admit it if she did.”

”You found her and talked to her?”

Denton was not in a good mood. ”I was still in lockup then, remember? But I got my lawyer to go out and see her. At least he billed me for it, but all she would tell him was that Marvin was a good man at heart, just liked to get his money the easy way, and he wasn't chasing after Linda.”

”You still have her address?”

”It's in the file, I guess. But, h.e.l.l, if this is the most interesting thing you've found so far, I'd say you're wasting your time.”

But Denton provided the address and her name. It was Peggy McKay, and the address was one of a row of very small concrete block houses built in the 1920s when Gallup was a booming railroad and coal center. ”Maybe she still lives there,” Denton said. ”But I doubt it. Her type moves around a lot.”

The woman who came to the door to answer his knock was younger than Leaphorn had expected, causing him to think Denton might be right. She smiled at him, and said: ”Yes. What can I do for you?”

”My name's Joe Leaphorn,” Leaphorn said. ”And I am trying to find Mrs. Linda Denton.”

The smile went away, and suddenly she looked every bit old enough to be Marvin McKay's widow. She moved a half step back from the doorway and said: ”Oh. Oh. Linda Denton. But I don't know anything to help you about that.”