he was here and what was going on. Probably knew more than Chee did. That irritated Chee, but it didn't surprise him.
'I wanted to ask if the name Catherine Anne Pollard meant anything to you. If a missing persons report was filed on her. Or a stolen vehicle report? Anything like that?'
'Pollard?' Chee said. 'I don't think so. It doesn't ring a bell.' Thank God Leaphorn wasn't involving himself in the Kinsman business. It was already complicated enough.
'Woman, early thirties, working with the Indian Health Service,' Leaphorn said. 'In vector control. Looking for the source of that bubonic plague outbreak. Checking rodents. You know how they work.'
'Oh, yeah,' Chee said. 'I heard about it. When I get back to Tuba I'll check our reports. I think somebody in environmental health or the Indian Health Service called Window Rock about her not coming back from a job and they passed it along to us.' He shrugged. 'I got the impression they were more worried about losing the department's Jeep.'
Leaphorn grinned at him. 'Not exactly the crime of the century.'
'No,' Chee said. 'If she was about thirteen you'd be checking the motels. At her age, if she wants to run off somewhere, that's her business. As long as she brings back the Jeep.'
'She didn't, then? It's still missing?'
'I don't know,' Chee said. 'If she returned it, APH forgot to tell us.'
'That wouldn't be unusual,' Leaphorn said.
Chee nodded, and looked at Leaphorn. Wanting an explanation for his interest in something that seemed both obvious and trivial.
'Somebody in her family thinks she's dead. Thinks somebody killed her.' Leaphorn let that hang a moment, made an apologetic face. 'I know that's what kinfolks usually think. But this time there's a suspicion that a would- be boyfriend was stalking her.'
'That's not unusual either,' Chee said. He felt vaguely disappointed. Leaphorn had done some private detecting right after he'd retired, but that had been to tie up a loose end from his career, close out an old case. This sounded purely commercial. Was the Legendary Lieutenant Leap-horn reduced to doing routine private detective stuff?
Leaphorn took a notebook out of his shirt pocket, looked at it, tapped it against the tabletop. It occurred to Chee that this was embarrassing Leaphorn, and that embarrassed Chee. The Legendary Lieutenant, totally unflappable when he'd been in charge, didn't know how to handle being a civilian. Asking favors. Chee didn't know how to handle it either. He noticed that Leaphorn's burr-cut hair, long black-salted-with-gray, had become gray- salted-with-black.
'Anything I can do?' Chee asked.
Leaphorn put the notebook back in his pocket.
'You know how I am about coincidences,' he said.
'Yep,' Chee said.
'Well, this one is so strained I hate to even mention it-' He shook his head.
Chee waited.
'From what I know now, the last time anyone heard of this woman, she was heading out of Tuba City checking on prairie dog colonies, looking for dead rodents. One of the places on her list was that area around Yells Back Butte.'
Chee thought about that a moment, took a deep breath, thinking he'd been too optimistic. But 'that area around Yells Back Butte' didn't make it much of a coincidence with his Kinsman case. That 'around' could include a huge bunch of territory. He waited to see if Leaphorn was finished. He wasn't.
'That was the morning of July eighth,' Leaphorn said.
'July eighth,' Chee said, frowning. 'I was out there that morning.'
'I was thinking that you were,' Leaphorn said. 'Look, I'm headed to Window Rock now and all I know now is from some preliminary checking a lawyer did for Pollard's aunt. I couldn't reach Pollard's boss on the telephone and soon as I do, I'll go to Tuba and talk to him. If I learn anything useful, I'll let you know.'
'I'd appreciate that,' Chee said. 'I'd like to know some more about this.'
'Probably absolutely no connection with the Kinsman case,' Leaphorn said. 'I don't see how there could be. Unless you know some reason to feel otherwise. I just thought—'
A loud voice from the doorway interrupted him.
'Chee!' The speaker was a beefy young man with reddish-blond hair and a complexion that suffered from too many hours of dry air and high-altitude sun. The coat of his dark blue suit was unbuttoned, his necktie was slightly loose, his white shirt was rumpled and his expression was irritated. 'Mickey wants to get this damned thing over with,' he said. 'He wants you in there.'
He was pointing at Chee, a violation of the Dine rules of courtesy. Now he beckoned to Chee with his finger— rude in a multitude of other cultures.
Chee rose, his face darkened a shade.
'Mr. Leaphorn,' Chee said, motioning toward the man, 'this gentleman is Agent Edgar Evans of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He was assigned out here just a couple of months ago.'
Leaphorn acknowledged that with a nod toward Evans.
'Chee,' Agent Evans said, 'Mickey is in a hell of a—'
'Tell Mr. Mickey I'll be there in a minute or so,' Chee said. And to Leaphorn: 'I'll call you from the office when I know what we have.'
