the same way.
'I used to do that,' McGinnis said. 'Even had some bug spray. But you get older, and you look at 'em up close and you get to thinking about it. You get to thinking they got a right to live, too. They don't kill me. I don't kill them. You step on a beetle, it's like a little murder.'
'How about eating sheep?' Leaphorn asked.
McGinnis was rocking again, ignoring him. 'Very small murders, I guess you'd have to say. But one thing leads to another.'
Leaphorn sipped his Pepsi.
'Sheep? I quit eating meat a while back,' McGinnis said. 'But you didn't drive all the way in here to talk about my diet. You want to talk about that Health Department girl that run off with their truck.'
'You hear anything about that?' Leaphorn asked.
'Woman named Cathy something or other, wasn't it?' McGinnis said. 'The Fleacatcher, the folks out here call her, because she collects the damned things. She was in here a time or two, asking questions. Wanted to get some gas once. Bought some soda pop, some crackers. Can of Spam, too. And it wasn't a truck, either, now I think of it. It was a Jeep. A black one.'
'About that black Jeep. The family's offering a thousand-dollar reward to anybody who finds it.'
McGinnis took another sip, savored it, stared out the window.
'That don't sound like they think she eloped.'
'They don't,' Leaphorn said. 'They think somebody killed her. What sort of questions was she asking when she was in here?'
'About sick folks. Where they might have got the fleas on 'em to get the plague. Did they have sheepdogs? Anybody notice prairie dogs dying? Or dead squirrels? Dead kangaroo rats?' McGinnis shrugged. 'Strictly business, she was. Seemed like a mighty tough lady. No time for kidding around. Hard as nails. And I noticed when she was walking around, she was looking at the floor all the time. Looking for rat droppings. And that pissed me off some. And I said, 'Missy, what are you looking for back there behind the counter? You lose something?' And she said, 'I'm looking for mice manure.'' McGinnis produced a rusty laugh and slapped the arm of his rocker. 'Came right out with it without a blink and kept right on looking. Quite a lady she is.'
'You heard anything about what might have happened to her?'
McGinnis laughed, took another sip of his bourbon. 'Sure,' he said. 'It gives folks something to talk about. Heard all kinds of things. Heard she might have run off with Krause—that fellow she works with.' McGinnis chuckled. 'That'd be like Golda Meir running off with Yasser Arafat. Heard she might have run off with another young man who was out here with her a time or two. Some sort of student scientist, I think he was. He seemed kind of strange to me.'
'Sounds like you don't think she and her boss got along.'
'They was in here just twice that I remember,' McGinnis said. 'First time they never said a word to each other. I guess that's all right if you're stuck in the same truck all day. Second time it was snarling and snapping. Hostile- like.'
'I'd heard she didn't like him,' Leaphorn said.
'It was mutual. He was paying for some stuff he got, and she walked past him out the door and he said 'Bitch.'' Loud enough for her to hear him?' If she was listening.'
'You think he might have knocked her on the head and dumped her somewhere?'
'I figure him for being hell on rodents and fleas, things like that. Not humans,' McGinnis said. He thought about that for a moment and chuckled again. 'Of course, couple of my customers figure the skinwalkers got off with her.'
'What do you think of that?'
'Not much,' McGinnis said. 'Skinwalkers get a lot of blame around here. Sheepdog dies. Car breaks down. Kid gets the chicken pox. Roof leaks. Skinwalkers get the blame.'
'I heard she had driven out toward Yells Back Butte to do some work out there,' Leaphorn said. 'There always seemed to be a lot of witching talk around there.'
'Lot of talk about that place,' McGinnis said. 'Had its own legend. Old Man Tijinney was supposed to be a witch. Had a bucket of silver dollars buried somewhere. A tub full, the way some told it. When the last of that outfit died off people dug holes all around out there. Some of the city kids didn't even respect the death hogan taboo. I heard they dug in there, too.'
'Find anything?'
McGinnis shook his head, sipped his drink. 'You ever run into that Dr. Woody fella out there? He comes in here a time or two just about every summer. Working on some sort of a rodent research project here and there, and I think he has some sort of setup near the butte. He was in three or four weeks back to get some stuff and telling me another skinwalker story. I think it's a kind of hobby of his. Collects them. Thinks they're funny.'
'Who's he get 'em from?' Leaphorn asked. It was a rare Navajo who'd pass along a skinwalker report to anyone he didn't know pretty well.
McGinnis obviously knew exactly what Leaphorn was thinking.
'Oh, he's been coming out here for years. Long enough to speak good Navajo. Comes and goes. Hires local folks to collect rodent information for him. Friendly guy.'
'And he told you a fresh skinwalker story? Something that happened out near Yells Back?'
'I don't know how fresh it was,' McGinnis said. 'He said Old Man Saltman told him about seeing a skinwalker standing by a bunch of boulders at the bottom of the butte a little bit after sundown, and then disappearing behind them, and when he came out he turned into an owl and went flopping away like he had a broken wing.'
