“Come to think of it,” Potts added, 'maybe that’s how you could tie in ole Everett Jorie. He used to be one of the militia bunch.”
Potts sat up. “Remember? He used to run that afternoon talk show on one of the Durango radio stations. Right-winger. Sort of an intellectual version of what’s his name? That fat guy. Ditto Head. Made him sound almost sane. Anyway, Jorie was always promoting the militia. He’d quote Plato, and
Shakespeare and read passages from Thoreau and Thomas Paine to do it. Finally got so wild the station fired him. I think he was a fairly big shot in the militia. I heard Baker was a member. At least I’d see him at meetings. I think I saw George at one, too.”
“Jorie still in the militia?”
“I don’t think so,” Potts said. “Heard they had a big falling-out. It’s all hearsay, of course, but the gossip was he wanted ’em to do less talking and writing to their congressman and things like that and get more dramatic'
Potts had his eyes wide open now, peering at Leaphorn, awaiting the question.
“Like what?”
“Just gossip, you know. But like blowing up a Forest Service office.”
“Or maybe a dam?”
Potts chuckled. “You’re thinking of that big manhunt a while back. When the guys stole the water truck and shot the policeman, and the FBI decided they were going to fill the truck with explosives, blow up the dam and drain Lake Mead.”
“What’s your theory on that one?”
“Stealing the water truck? I figured they needed it to water their marijuana crop.”
Leaphorn nodded.
“FBI didn’t buy that. I guess there was budget hearings coming up. They needed some terrorism to talk about, and if it’s just pot farmers at work, that hands the ball to the Drug Enforcement folks. The competition. The enemy.”
“Yeah,” Leaphorn said.
“Now,” Potts said, 'it is time for you to tell me what you’re up to. I heard you been working as a private investigator. Did the Ute Casino people sign you up to get their money back?”
“No,” Leaphorn said. “Tell the truth I don’t know what I’m up to myself. Just heard something, and had time on my hands, and got to wondering about it, so I thought I’d ask around.”
“Just bored then,” Potts said, sounding as if he didn’t believe it. “Nothing interesting on TV, so you thought you’d just take a three-hour drive up here to Utah and do some visiting. Is that it?”
“That’s close enough,” Leaphorn said. “And I’ve got one more name to ask about. You know Roy Gershwin?”
“Everybody knows Roy Gershwin. What’s he up to?”
“Is there anything to connect him to the other three?”
Potts thought about it. “I don’t know why I want to tell you anything, Joe, when you won’t tell me why you’re askin‘. But, let’s see. He used to show up at militia meetings a while back. He was fighting with the BLM, and the Forest Service, and the Soil Conservation Service, or whatever they call it now, over a grazing lease and over a timber-cutting permit, too, I think it was. That had gotten him into an antigovernment mood. I think Baker used to work for him once on that ranch he runs. And I think his place runs up against Jorie’s, so that makes them neighbors.”
“Good neighbors?”
Potts restored his glasses, sat up and looked at Leaphorn. “Don’t you remember Gershwin? He wasn’t the kind of fellow you were good neighbors with. And Jorie’s even worse. As a matter of fact, I think Jorie was suing Roy over something or other. Suing people was one of Jorie’s hobbies.”
“About what?”
Potts shrugged. “This and that. He sued me once ‘cause his livestock was running on my place, and I penned them up, and he wanted to take ’em back without paying me for my feed. With Gershwin, I don’t remember. I think they were fighting over the boundaries of a grazing lease.” He paused, considering. “Or maybe it was locking a gate on an access road.”
“Were any of those three people pilots?”
“Fly airplanes?” Potts was grinning. “Like rob the Ute Casino and then stealing Old Man Timms’s airplane to fly away? I thought you was retired from being a cop.”
