Chee parked his patrol car on the hump overlooking the Tijinney place. They walked down together, Chee carrying the shovel from the trunk of his car, and stood looking over the tumbled stone. The hard-packed earthen floor was littered with pieces of the fallen roof, blown-in tumbleweeds, and the debris vandals had left. It was flat and smooth except for a half dozen holes and the filled-in excavation where the fire pit had been.
'That's where it would be,' Chee said, pointing.
Leaphorn nodded. 'I've been doing nothing for about a week but sitting in a car seat. Give me the shovel. I need a little exercise.'
'Well, now,' Chee said, but he surrendered the shovel. For a Navajo as traditional as Chee, digging for a corpse in a death hogan wasn't a task done lightly. It would require at least a sweat bath and, more properly, a curing ceremony, to restore the violator of such taboos to
'Easy digging,' Leaphorn said, tossing aside his sixth spadeful. A few moments later he stopped, put aside the shovel, squatted beside the hole. He dug with his hands.
He turned and looked at Chee. 'I guess we have found Catherine Pollard,' he said. He pulled out a forearm clad in the white plastic of her PAPR suit and brushed away the earth. 'She's still wearing her double set of protective gloves.'
Chapter Twenty-seven
DR. WOODY OPENED HIS DOOR at the second knock. He said: 'Good morning, gentlemen,' leaned against the doorway and motioned them in. He was wearing walking shorts and a sleeveless undershirt. It seemed to Leaphorn that the odd pink skin color he'd noticed when he'd first met the man was a tone redder. 'I think this is what they call serendipity, or a fortunate accident. Anyway, I'm glad you're here.'
'And why is that?' Leaphorn asked.
'Have a seat first,' Woody said. He swayed, supported himself with a hand against the wall, then pointed Leaphorn to the chair and Chee to a narrow bed, now folded out of the wall. He seated himself on the stool beside the lab working area. 'Now,' he said, 'I'm glad to see you because I need a ride. I need to get to Tuba City and make some telephone calls. Normally, I would drive this thing. But it's hard to drive. I'm feeling pretty bad. Dizzy. Last time I took my temp it was almost one hundred and four. I was afraid I wouldn't make it out.'
'We'll be glad to take you,' Chee said. 'But first we need to get answers to some questions.'
'Sure,' Woody said. 'But later. After we get going. And one of you will have to stay here and take care of things.' He leaned forward over the table and ran his hand over his face. Leaphorn now noticed a dark discoloration under his arm, spreading down the rib cage under the undershirt.
'Hell of a bruise there on your side,' Leaphorn said. 'We should get you to a hospital.'
'Unfortunately, it's not a bruise. It's the capillaries breaking down under the skin. Releases the blood into the tissue. We'll go to the Medical Center at Flagstaff. But first I have to do some telephoning. And someone should stay here. Look after things. The animals in the cages. The files.'
'We found the body of Catherine Pollard buried out there,' Chee said, 'Do you know anything about that?'
'I buried her,' Woody said. 'But, dammit, we don't have time to talk about that now. I can tell you about it while we're driving to Tuba City. But I've got to get there before I'm too sick to talk, and these cell phones won't work out here.'
'Did you kill her?'
'Sure,' Woody said. 'You want to know why?'
'I think I could guess,' Chee said.
'Silly woman didn't give me a choice. I told her she couldn't exterminate that dog colony and I told her why. They might hold the key to saving millions of lives.' Woody laughed. 'She said I'd lied to her once and that was all she allowed.'
'Lied,' Chee said. 'You told her the rodents weren't infected. Was that it?'
Woody nodded. 'She put on her protective suit and was getting ready to pump cyanide dust into the burrow when I stopped her. And then the cop saw me burying her.'
'You killed him, too?' Chee said.
Woody nodded. 'Same problem. Exactly the same. I can't let anything interfere with this,' he said, gesturing around the lab. Then he produced a weak chuckle, shook his head. 'But something is. It's the disease itself. Isn't that ironic? This new, improved, drug-resistant version of
He was reaching into a drawer as he said that. When his hand came out it held a long-barreled pistol. Probably .22 caliber, Chee guessed. The right size for shooting rodents, but not something anyone wanted to be shot with.
'I just don't have time for this,' Woody said. 'You stay here,' he said to Leaphorn. 'Look after things. I'll ride with Lieutenant Chee. We'll send somebody back to take over when I get to the telephone.'
Chee looked at the pistol, then at Woody. His own revolver was in the holster on his hip. But he wasn't going to need it.
'I'll tell you what we're going to do,' Chee said. 'We're going to take Mr. Leaphorn with us. As soon as we get out of this radio blind spot, we'll call an ambulance to meet us. I'll send out a patrolman to take care of this place. We'll turn on the siren and get to Tuba City fast.'
Chee stood and took a step toward the door and opened it. 'Come on,' he said to Woody. 'You're looking sicker and sicker.'
'I want him to stay,' Woody said, and waved the pistol toward Leaphorn. Chee reached and grabbed the gun out of Woody's hand and handed it to Leaphorn. 'Come on,' he said. 'Hurry.'
Woody was in no condition to hurry. Chee had to half-carry him to the patrol car.
