“What kind of a name is Pardee?” Dr. Walker asked. “It doesn’t sound Apache to me.”
“It’s not,” Dan answered. “It’s a made-up name-my father’s made-up name. He was a stuntman in Hollywood. An Anglo-Irish, I believe. A Milgahn,” he added.
Dan might have pointed out that Lanita Dolores Walker didn’t sound like a Tohono O’odham name, either, but he didn’t. Realizing that he had said the word Milgahn aloud, he was embarrassed. When Dr. Walker replied with one of her glorious smiles he decided she was either laughing at him or else she liked it. Dan couldn’t tell which.
“How did you learn that word?” she asked.
“I bought a dictionary,” he said. “I’ve been studying.”
The doctor’s smile disappeared, but she nodded. “All right, then,” she said. “Now, getting back to Angie. Has the mother’s family been notified?”
Dan shook his head. “The M.E. was just arriving as I left the scene, but I talked to Detective Fellows. He said that officers from Law and Order most likely will handle the next-of-kin notification.”
“That’s true,” Dr. Walker said. “Although Brian Fellows could probably do it, too. He’s a good guy. People would accept it from him.”
“You know Detective Fellows?” Dan asked.
Dr. Walker nodded. “We go way back. But no matter who does the notification, it’s going to take some time. I’d rather Angie weren’t there while all of that is going on. Too traumatic.”
Me, too, Dan Pardee thought.
“So I’m going to admit her for right now,” Dr. Walker continued. “I’m sure her family will show up to collect her first thing in the morning, but if you’d like to sit with her for a while, until she gets settled into her room, I’m sure that would be fine.”
“Thank you,” Dan said. “I’ll be glad to.”
Thank you more than you know.
Tucson, Arizona
Saturday, June 6, 2009, 11:00 p.m.
72? Fahrenheit
Once Diana showed up, Brandon let Damsel out for her last walk. When they came back in from that, Diana was sitting in the living room studying the baskets.
“How was it?” he asked.
“How was what?”
“The party?”
“Abby wasn’t there,” Diana said.
“Abby?”
“Abigail Tennant. She’s been doing the night-blooming cereus party for years. She was the one who originally invited Lani to do the storytelling honors tonight. It’s not good manners to issue that kind of invitation and then be a no-show yourself.”
Brandon shrugged. “Maybe she came down with something,” he said.
“It’s still rude,” Diana insisted. “How was your day?”
Diana had been so distant of late that Brandon was a little surprised by her question. “Geet Farrell’s wife called and wanted me to stop by, so I did.”
“I remember Geet. How is he?”
“Not so good,” Brandon answered. “I’m afraid it won’t be long now.”
“I knew he had cancer. Are you saying he’s dying?”
Brandon nodded. “They’re doing hospice care at home,” he said.
“Why did he want to see you?”
“He handed over a case file to me-an unsolved homicide from 1959.”
“That’s a while ago,” Diana said, smiling.
“It is,” Brandon agreed. “I’ve spent the afternoon going over what he had, including a lead that came in just before they slapped Geet in the hospital this last time. I called the woman tonight after I got home. She lives down by Sonoita, and she invited me to come see her. I’m driving down there tomorrow morning. Want to come along?”
“Tomorrow?” Diana asked. “If the case is already that old, why the big rush now?”
“Because, as I said, Geet is dying,” Brandon said. “This case is one that has deviled him for years. If it turns out to be solvable, I’d like to do that for him before it’s too late.”
Diana nodded. “I see,” she said.
“Would you like to ride along?”
“Could we take the Invicta?” Diana asked. “With the top down?”
Brandon started to object. It was June, after all. It was likely to be hot as blue blazes, but this was the first time in a long time that Diana had shown much interest in anything. Besides, the last he had heard she wanted to unload her pride and joy. It would be fun to take it on one last road trip.
“Sure,” he said. “We’ll plaster ourselves with sunscreen and wear hats and long-sleeved shirts, but it sounds like fun. Are you coming to bed?”
“You go on ahead,” she said. “I’ll be there in a while.”
Tucson, Arizona
Sunday, June 7, 2009, 1:00 a.m.
70? Fahrenheit
Diana watched as Brandon went down the hall, switching off most of the lights as he went. She liked the fact that he continued to be thrifty-had always been thrifty-even when there had been no need to be.
Once he was gone, she returned to studying the many baskets that decorated the walls of the room, baskets her beloved friend, Nana Dahd, had made with her own hands, weaving them out of bear grass and yucca and devil’s claw and yucca root with the owij, the awl, Rita Antone had inherited from her own basket-weaving grandmother, Understanding Woman.
Diana sat there for a long while, wondering if Andrew Carlisle would make another appearance. She had seen him several times in recent days, always when she was alone; usually when she was outside-by the pool or in the front yard; occasionally in the kitchen, but never here. Never in this room-the room where she and Rita Antone had sat together when Davy was little, with Nana Dahd weaving her baskets and telling her stories, steeping the whole household in Tohono O’odham culture and tradition while Diana tried to see her way clear from being a teacher on the reservation to becoming a writer.
“Nana Dahd is still here, isn’t she?” Diana Ladd said aloud to an absent Andrew Carlisle. “At least her spirit is. That’s what keeps you away.”
With that, Diana Ladd got up and followed her husband down the hall to the bedroom. She hadn’t been sleeping well for weeks, but tonight, once she crawled into bed next to Brandon, his gentle snoring lulled her to sleep.
It seemed to her that Rita Antone and Brandon Walker were still protecting her from Andrew Philip Carlisle.
Nine
Highway 86, West of Tucson
Saturday, June 6, 2009, 9:00 p.m.
74? Fahrenheit
Driving back to Tucson, Jonathan could not believe how anything could have gone so completely wrong in such
