'From the Burnt Water burglary. Big squash blossom job. Girl over at Mexican Water pawned it.'
'Where'd she get it?'
'Who else?' Cowboy said. 'Joseph Musket. Old Ironfingers playing Romeo.' Cowboy turned to Miss Pauling. 'Shop talk,' he said. 'Mr. Chee and I have been worrying about this burglary and now a piece of the loot finally turned up.'
'When?' Chee asked. 'How'd it happen?'
'She just pawned it yesterday,' Cowboy said. 'Said she met this guy at a squaw dance over there somewhere, and he wanted to…' Cowboy flushed slightly, glanced at Miss Pauling. 'Anyway, he got romantic and he gave her the necklace.'
'And it was Ironfingers.'
'That's what she said his name was.' Cowboy grinned at Chee. 'I notice with intense surprise that you're not interested in the car.'
'You said you found it?'
'That's right,' Cowboy said. 'Just followed a sort of hunch I had. Followed up an arroyo out there and believe it or not, there it was—hidden up under some bushes.'
'Good for you,' Chee said.
'I'll tell you what's good for me,' Cowboy said. 'I jimmied my way into it through the vent on the right front window, pried it right open.'
'That's the best way to get in,' Chee said.
'I thought you'd say that,' Cowboy said.
Miss Pauling was watching them curiously.
Chee turned to her.
'You remember me telling you that the plane crash and the narcotics case wasn't my business? Well, it's in the jurisdiction of Mr. Dashee's sheriff's department. Coconino County. And now Cowboy has found that car that everyone's been wondering about. The one that drove away from the plane crash.'
'Oh,' she said. 'Can you tell us about it?'
Cowboy looked slightly doubtful. He glanced at Chee again. 'Well,' he said. 'I guess so. Not much to tell, really. Green gmc carryall. Somebody drove it way up that arroyo and jammed it under the brush where it couldn't be seen. Been rented at Phoenix to that guy Jansen—the one that was found out there by the plane crash. Bloodstains on the back seat. Nothing in it. I think the fbi's out there now, checking it for fingerprints and so forth.'
'Nothing in it?' Chee said. He hoped he'd kept the surprise out of his voice. Cowboy looked at him.
'Few butts in the ashtray. Rental papers in the glove box. Owner's manual. No big bundles labeled cocaine. Nothing like that. I guess we'll be hunting around there tomorrow.'
Chee became aware that Miss Pauling was staring at him.
'You all right?' she asked.
'I'm fine,' Chee said.
'Funny thing,' Cowboy said. 'The inside had a funny smell. Like disinfectant. I wonder why that would be.'
'Beats me,' Chee said.
Chee considered it as he drove back to Tuba City. Obviously the body had been gone when Cowboy found the vehicle. Obviously someone had come and taken it. Why? Perhaps because whoever had seen him parked at the arroyo mouth had become nervous and decided the body might be found. But why preserve it in the first place? And who had moved it? Joseph Musket, it would seem. But tonight he felt very disappointed in Ironfingers. Disillusioned. Musket should be smarter than the run-of-the-mill thief. In his mind Chee had built him up to be much too clever to do the same thing that always trips up small-time thieves. And the facts as Chee knew them seemed to make him too smart to give a girl that stolen necklace. Someone seemed to have thought so. Someone had given him something close to seven hundred dollars—probably, Chee guessed, an even thousand—to do something when he left the prison at Santa Fe. And whatever it was, it involved working until the end of summer at Burnt Water. Doing what? Setting up and watching the landing strip for a multimillion-dollar narcotics delivery. That seemed to be the answer. But if he had seven hundred dollars in his pocket, if he had coming a payoff big enough to buy a wealth in sheep, why would he steal the pawn jewelry? Chee had been over all of that before, and the only motive he could think of was to provide what would seem to be a logical reason for disappearing from the trading post. Something which might put off the hunters if he intended to steal the shipment. And that meant he was too damn smart to give an instantly identifiable piece of squash blossom jewelry to some girl he'd picked up.
'Ironfingers, where are you?' Chee asked the night.
And oddly, just as he said it, aloud, to himself, another little mystery solved itself in his mind. He knew suddenly what had caused the clicking sound he'd heard in the darkness on the other side of the chamiso bushes. To make certain, he slid his .38 out of its holster. With his thumb he moved the hammer back and forth—off safety, to full cock, and back to safety. Click. Click. Click. He glanced at the pistol and back at the highway again. It was the kind of nervous thing a man might do if he was tensely ready to shoot something. Or someone.
The thought of Musket, pistol cocked, hunting him in the dark aroused a surprising anger in Chee. It made the abstraction intensely personal. Well, Largo wanted him away from Tuba City. He'd quit postponing that trip to the prison in New Mexico. He'd take another step down the trail of Ironfingers.
Chapter Nineteen
The drive from tuba city to the New Mexico State Penitentiary on the Santa Fe plateau is about four hundred miles. Chee, who had risen even earlier than usual and cheated a little on the speed limit, got there in the early afternoon. He identified himself through the microphone at the entrance tower and waited while the tower checked with someone in the administration building. Then the exterior gate slid open. When it had closed behind him, and
