Gershwin had left on the note at the Navajo Inn coffee shop, and how that had led to Jorie’s place and about learning Jorie was suing Gershwin and the rest of it. Bernie was hanging on every word, and Leaphorn was obviously enjoying the attention. He’d been explaining to her why he had always been skeptical of coincidence, and Chee had heard that so often when he was the man’s assistant in the Window Rock office that he had it memorized. It was bedrock Navajo philosophy. All things interconnected. No effect without cause. The beetle’s wing affects the breeze, the larks’ song bends the warrior’s mood, a cloud back on the western horizon parts, lets light of the setting sun through, turns the mountains to gold, affects the mood and decision of the Navajo Tribal Council. Or, as the Anglo poet had put it, “No man is an island.”
And Bernie, in her kindly fashion, was recognizing a lonely man’s need and asking all the right questions. What a girl. “Is that sort of how you use that map Sergeant Chee tells me about?” And of course it was.
“I think Jim’s mind works about the way mine does,” Leaphorn said. “And I hope he’ll correct me if I’m wrong. This casino business, for example. The casino’s by Sleeping Ute Mountain. The escape vehicle is abandoned a hundred miles west on Casa Del Eco Mesa. Nearby a barn with an aircraft in it. The same day the aircraft is stolen. Closeness in both time and place. Nearby is an old mine. The Ute legends suggest the father of one of the bandits used it as his escape route. A little cluster of coincidences.”
Bernie said, “Yes,” but she sounded doubtful.
There are more,” Leaphorn said. “Remember the Great 1998 Manhunt. Three men involved. Police shot, stolen vehicle abandoned. Huge hunt begins. The fellow believed to be the ringleader is found dead. The FBI rules it suicide. The other two men vanish in the canyons.”
Now that his ankle was no longer painful, Chee was feeling drowsy. He let his head slide over against the upholstery. Yawned. How long had it been since he’d had a good sleep?
“Another coincidence,” Bernie agreed. “You have your doubts about that one, too?”
“Jim suggested the first crime might have been the cause of the second one,” Leaphorn said.
Chee was no longer sleepy. What did that mean? He couldn’t remember saying that.
“Ah,” Bernie said. “That’s going to take some complicated thinking. And that could go for the other ones, too. For example, seeing the abandoned truck and hearing about the robbery on the radio, Mr Timms saw a way to get rid of his airplane. He claimed it was stolen and filed an insurance claim.”
“It would be cause and effect that way, too, of course,” Leaphorn said. “Or perhaps the airplane was the reason the car was abandoned where it was, as the FBI originally concluded.”
Chee sat up.
“I’m afraid I’m lost,” Bernie said.
“Let me give you a whole new theory of the crime,” Leaphom said. “Let’s say it went like this. Someone up in this border country paid close attention to the 1998 crime, and it suggested to him the way to solve a problem. Actually two problems. It would supply him with some needed cash, and it would eliminate an enemy. Let’s say this person has connections with the militia, or the survivalists, or EarthFirsters, or any of the radical groups. Let’s say he recruits two or three men to help him, pretending they’re going after the money to finance their political cause. He gets Mr Timms involved. Either he leases the airplane in advance for a flight or he lets Timms in on the crime. Offers him a slice of the loot.”
“You’re talking about Everett Jorie,” Bernie said.
“I could be, yes,” Leaphorn said. “But in my proposal, Jorie has the role of the enemy to be eliminated.”
Chee cleared his throat. “Wait a minute, Lieutenant,” he said. “How about the suicide note? All that?”
Leaphorn looked around at Chee, gave him a wry look. “I had the advantage of being there. Seeing the man where he lived. Seeing what he read. His library. The sort of stuff he treasured, that made up his life. When I look back at it, it makes me think I’m showing my age. If you or Officer Manuelito had been the ones to find the body, to see it all, you would have gotten suspicious a long time before I did.”
Chee was thinking he still didn’t feel suspicious. But he said, “OK. How did it work?”
Bernie had slowed. “Is that where you want me to turn? That dirt road?”
“It’s rough, but it’s a lot shorter than driving down to 191 and then having to cut back.”
“I’m in favor of short,” Bernie said, and they were bumping off the
