bunker had converted her into a mummy.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
« ^
What hostiin peshlakai had told Chee, he had recited in the presence of Ms. Knoblock, his court-appointed attorney, and Mr. Harjo, who seemed to be serving as her interpreter as well as Agent Osborne's. And Peshlakai spoke, as seemed to be his habit, in general and ambiguous terms.
'But what it all boiled down to, Bernie, when you read between the lines, and you went ahead and completed a few sentences for him, was that Wiley Denton murdered Doherty with our friend Peshlakai aiding and abetting—if not actually pulling the trigger.'
Bernie looked very sad when she heard that. 'Putting that old man in prison,' she said. 'That would be awful. That would kill him.'
'Probably,' Chee said. 'But I don't think Harjo actually understood a lot of it. Not from the way he was translating it to Ms. Knoblock.'
Bernie gave him a sidelong glance. 'And you didn't butt in and explain things to them. Right? You seem to be implying something, well, something sneaky.'
'I don't know what I'm implying,' Chee said. 'But I know for sure that Peshlakai had no idea he was getting himself involved in a murder.'
'How did he get tied up with Denton anyway?'
'Just by living where he did. He'd see Denton coming up the canyon, nosing around, digging out sand samples and that sort of thing. And he must have warned Denton that he shouldn't go up to the headwaters area of Coyote Canyon because of the holy places there. He would be violating taboos, and that would make him sick. And so Denton was sympathetic, or seemed to be, and said he'd help Peshlakai guard the place. Denton gave Peshlakai a cellphone, showed him how to use it, and told him when he saw anyone prowling around up the canyon, he should call.'
'So he called him when Doherty showed up at the placer site?'
'Exactly,' Chee said. 'And Denton carne. Whereupon one of them shot Doherty.'
'With Peshlakai's rifle?'
'Unfortunately. Peshlakai didn't say so, but Osborne's crime scene crew finally recovered the slug with their metal detectors. It matched that old thirty-thirty, just like the bullet he fired to scare you away.'
Bernie shuddered, remembering that. 'And they put Doherty's body back in his truck,' Bernie said. 'And then one of them drove it up to where I found it, and the other one came along in Denton's car, and then everybody went home. Everybody except Thomas Doherty.'
'Peshlakai didn't get into explaining that, or say who actually fired the shot.'
Bernie sighed. 'I don't guess it matters much. Whether he's killer or conspirator. He's way too old to last long in prison.'
'He wouldn't want to,' Chee said.
Bernie rubbed her hand across her face. 'I hate this,' she said. 'Just hate it. So many people get hurt.'
'I know,' Chee said. A long silence followed. Chee broke it with what sounded a little like a laugh.
'What?' Bernie said.
'I sounded like I was agreeing with you, but I really wasn't. You were feeling pity for the victims, and sometimes the ones we arrest are the worst victims of all. I wasn't thinking that. I was thinking about us.'
'What do you mean?'
'You might have been killed in Coyote Canyon,' Chee said. 'That's been a nightmare ever since you told me.'
'No one would have blamed you for it,' Bernie said.
'I didn't mean that,' Chee said.
They turned into the fort entrance, showed their police credentials at the security gate, were assured that Leaphorn and another man had driven through a bit earlier, and were given some general instructions about how to find the D block of bunkers and bunker D2187.
Bernie spotted Leaphorn's pickup far ahead as they turned onto the worn asphalt lane, and they parked behind it.
'The door's open,' Bernie said.
Chee took out his flashlight and stepped out of the car. Bernie was already out.
'Bernie. Why don't you wait here until I—'
'Because I'm a cop, just as much as you are.'
'But I'm the sergeant,' Chee said. 'Stay back.'
He walked to the open door, looked in, flicked on his flashlight.
The beam illuminated the forms of two men, one seated on a barrel, the other standing. The man standing held a flashlight. The seated man held a pistol dangling from his right hand and what seemed to be a sheet of paper, illuminated by the flash, in the other. The seated man ignored the light from Chee's flash. The standing man looked into the flashlight. Joe Leaphorn.
'Wiley Denton,' Chee shouted. 'Drop the pistol.'
