T ^ t
THE YOUNG WOMAN to whom Chee's call was referred at the Madison Police Department had a little trouble believing in the Navajo Tribal Police. But after that was settled, things became most efficient. Yes, handguns were licensed. No, it would be easy to check the record. Just a moment. It was not much more than that.
The next voice was male. Eleanor Friedman-Bernal? Yes, she had been issued a license for a handgun. She had registered a .25 caliber automatic pistol.
Chee noted the details. The pistol was a brand he'd never heard of. Neither had the clerk in Madison. 'Portuguese, I think,' he said. 'Or maybe it's Turkish, or Brazilian.'
Step two went almost as quickly. He called the San Juan County Sheriff's Office and asked for Undersheriff Robert Bates, who usually handled homicides. Bates was married to a Navajo who happened to be 'born to' the Kin yaa aanu -- the Towering House People -- which was linked in some way Chee had never understood to his grandfather's To` aheedlinu' -- the Waters Flow Together Clan. That made Chee and Bates vaguely relatives. Just as important, they had worked together a time or two and liked each other. Bates was in.
'If you have the lab report back, I need to know about the bullets that killed Etcitty and Nails,' Chee said.
'Why?' Bates asked. 'I thought the FBI decided that killing wasn't on reservation land.'
'Out on the Checkerboard, the FBI always decides that,' Chee said. 'We're just interested.'
'Why?'
'Ah, hell, Robert,' Chee said. 'I don't know why. Joe Leaphorn is interested, and Largo has me working with him.'
'What's going on with Leaphorn? We heard he had a nervous breakdown. Heard he quit.'
'He did,' Chee said. 'But not yet.'
'Well, it was a twenty-five-caliber pistol, automatic judging from the ejection marks on the empties. All the same weapon.'
'You have a missing person's report on a woman who owns a twenty-five-caliber automatic pistol,' Chee said. 'Her name's Dr. Eleanor Friedman-Bernal. She worked out of Chaco Canyon. Anthropologist. Where Etcitty worked.' He told Bates more of what he knew about the woman.
'I got her file right here on my desk,' Bates said. 'I just a minute ago got a call from a Utah State Policeman. They want us to do some checking up on her out at Chaco. Seems they had a fellow shot up at Bluff and he left a note to Leaphorn telling him this woman is still alive. You know about that?'
'Heard about the killing. Not about any note.' He was thinking that a few years ago this weird roundabout communication would have surprised him. Now he expected it. He was remembering Leaphorn chewing him out for not passing along all the details. Well, there was no reason for Leaphorn not to have told him about this. Except that Leaphorn considered him merely an errand boy. Chee was offended.
'Tell me about it,' he told Bates. 'And don't leave anything out.'
Bates told him what he'd been told. It didn't take long.
'So Utah State Police think Dr. Friedman showed up and offed Houk,' Chee concluded. 'Any theories about motive?'
'Big pot hunting conspiracy is what they seem to think. They've had a federal crackdown up there on pot thieves last year. Bunch of arrests. Grand jury sitting in Salt Lake handing down indictments. So they're thinking pots,' Bates said. 'And why not? Big money in it the way prices are now. Hell, when we was kids and used to go out and dig `em up around here, you were lucky to get five bucks. Listen,' he added, 'how you coming on being a medicine man?'
'No clients.' It was not a subject Chee wanted to discuss. It was November, already into the 'Season When Thunder Sleeps,' the season for curing ceremonials, and he hadn't had a single contact. 'You going to Chaco now?'
'Soon as I get off the telephone.'
Chee gave him a quick rundown on the people he should talk to: Maxie Davis, the Lunas, Randall Elliot.
'They're worried about the woman. Friends of hers. Be sure and tell them about the note.'
'Why, sure,' Bates said. He sounded slightly offended that Chee had even mentioned it.
There was nothing to do then but stick close to the telephone and wait for Leaphorn's call from Bluff. He dug into his paperwork. A little before noon, the phone rang. Leaphorn, Chee thought.
It was Janet Pete. Her voice sounded odd. Was Chee doing anything for lunch?
'Nothing,' Chee said. 'You calling from Shiprock?'
'I drove up. Really just went for a drive. Ended up here.' She sounded thoroughly down.
'Lunch then,' he said. 'Can you meet me at the Thunderbird Cafe?'
She could. And did.
They took a booth by the window. And talked about the weather. A gusty wind was rattling the pane and chasing dust and leaves and now a section of the Navajo Times down the highway outside.
'End of autumn, I guess,' Chee said. 'You watch Channel Seven. Howard Morgan says we're going to get the first blast of winter.'
'I hate winter,' Janet Pete said. She hugged herself and shivered. 'Dismal winter.'
'The counselor has the blues,' Chee said. 'Anything I can do to cheer you up? I'll call Morgan and see if he can postpone it.'
'Or call it off altogether.'
