Hillerman, Tony - [Leaphorn & Chee 13] (21 page)

FOR CHEE, the next hours were occupied by the work of wrapping it up. He
called the Northern Arizona Medical Center, got the emergency room supervisor,
and told the woman Woody was en route in an ambulance and what to expect. Then
he called the FBI office in Phoenix. Agent Reynald was occupied. He got Agent
Edgar Evans instead.

"This is Jim Chee," he said. "I want to report that the man
who killed Officer Ben Kinsman is in custody. His name is Woody. He is a
medical doctor, and a—"

"Hold it! Hold it!" Evans said. "What're ya talking about?"

"The arrest this morning of the man who killed Kinsman," Chee said.
"You better take notes because your boss will be asking questions. After
being read his rights, Dr. Woody made a full confession of the assault on
Kinsman to me, in the presence of Joe Leaphorn. He also confessed to the murder
of Catherine Pollard, a vector control specialist employed by the Indian Health
Service. Woody is critically ill and is now en route to the hospital at Flag in
an amb—"

"What the hell is this?" Evans said. "Some kind of
joke?"

"In an ambulance," Chee continued. "I recommend you pass this
information along to Reynald, so he can get it to Mickey, so Mickey can drop
the charges against Jano," Chee said. "If you want to do a television
spectacular with this, the Navajo Police office at Tuba City can tell you where
you can find the Pollard body and the details you need about how you, the FBI,
solved this crime."

"Hold it, Chee," Evans said. "What kind of—"

"No time for silly questions," Chee said, and hung up.

Next he worked his way down the list of law enforcement agencies put to work
by J. D. Mickey on the Kinsman case and gave them the pertinent information.
Then he called the Public Defender Service in Phoenix. He got the office
secretary. Ms. Pete was not in. Ms. Pete had left about an hour ago en route to
Tuba City. Yes, there was a telephone in her car. Yes, she would notify Ms.
Pete that she should contact him at Tuba City to receive information critical
to the Jano case.

"I think she was going to Tuba to talk to you, Lieu tenant Chee,"
the secretary said. "But this 'critical information.' She'll ask me about
that."

"Tell Ms. Pete she was right about the Kinsman case. I arrested the
wrong man. Now we have the right one."

Then he called Leaphorn's room at the motel. No answer. He called the desk.

"He's over at the diner," the clerk said. "He said if you
called to come on over and join him."

Leaphorn had been busy, too. First he had called the law firm of Peabody,
Snell and Click and persuaded a receptionist that he should be allowed to talk
to Mr. Peabody himself. He'd told Peabody the circumstances and suggested that,
in view of Mrs. Vanders's fragile health, someone close to her should break the
news to her. He'd explained that Miss Pollard's body would not be released to
the family until the crime scene crew exhumed it properly and the required
autopsy had been completed. He'd given him the names of those who could provide
further information.

That done, he had called Louisa and recited into her answering machine the
details of what had happened. He'd told her he was checking out, would drive
back to Window Rock, and would call her from there tomorrow. Then he'd taken a
shower, rescued what was left of the soap and shampoo from the bathroom to add
to his emergency supply, packed, left a message for Chee at the desk, and
strolled over to the diner to eat.

He was enjoying the diner's version of a Navajo taco and watching a Nike
commercial on the wall-mounted television when Lieutenant Chee walked in,
spotted Leaphorn and came over. He moved Leaphorn's bag from a chair and sat.

"You leaving town?"

"Home to Window Rock," Leaphorn said. "Back to washing my own
dishes, doing the laundry, being a housewife," He had to speak up because
the Nike ad had been followed by a used-car commercial, which involved noise
and shouting.

"I wanted to thank you for the help," Chee said.

Leaphorn nodded. "I thank you in return. It was mutual. Like old
times."

"Anyway, if I can ever—"

But now he was talking over a promo for what the Phoenix station called a
news break. A pretty young man was telling them there had been a startling
development in the Ben Kinsman murder case and he would take them to Alison
Padilla, who was "live at the federal building."

Alison was not as pretty as the anchorman, but she seemed competent. She
told them that Acting Assistant U.S. Attorney J. D. Mickey had called a press
conference a bit earlier. She would let him speak for himself. Mr. Mickey, looking
stern, got right to the point.

"The Federal Bureau of Investigation has taken into custody a suspect
in the homicide of Officer Benjamin Kinsman and in the death of an Indian
Health Service employee who has been missing for several days. The FBI has also
developed information which verifies statements made by Robert Jano, who had
previously been arrested by the Navajo Tribal police and charged with the
Kinsman murder. Charges against Mr. Jano will now be dismissed. More
information will be released as details become available."

While Mickey was reading this, Officer Bernadette Manuelito walked in. Chee
waved her over, pointed to a seat. Mickey was now waving off questions and
ending the conference, and the camera switched back to Ms. Padilla, who began providing
background information.

"Lieutenant," Officer Manuelito said. "Mrs. Dineyahze asked
me to tell you the U.S. Attorney's office is trying to reach you." She
pointed to the screen. "Him."

"Okay," Chee said. "Thanks."

"And the U.S. Public Defender Service. They said it was urgent."

"Okay," Chee said again. "And, Bernie, you remember Mr.
Leaphorn, don't you? From when we were both working at Shiprock? Have a seat.
Join us."

Bernie smiled at Leaphorn and said she had to get back to the station.
"But did you hear what that man said? I think that's awful. He made it
sound like we screwed up."

Chee shrugged.

"It's not fair," she said.

"They tend to do that," Leaphorn said. "That's why a lot of
the real cops resent the federals."

"Well, anyway, I just think—" Bernie paused, looking for the words
to express her indignation.

Chee wanted to change the subject. He said: "Bernie, when did you say
they were having the
kinaalda
for your cousin? Now that we have the
FBI handling the Kinsman case, I'm not going to be so busy. Would it still be
okay if I came?"

The beeper in her belt holster made its unpleasant noise. "It would be
okay," Bernie said, and hurried out the door.

Leaphorn picked up his check, looked at it, fished out his wallet and
dropped a dollar tip on the table. "That drive from here to Window seems
to get longer and longer," he said. "Got to get moving."

But at the door he paused to shake hands with a woman coming in and chat for
a moment. He pointed back into the room and disappeared. Janet Pete had arrived
from Phoenix.

She stood in the doorway a moment, scanning the tables. She wore boots and a
long skirt with a patterned blouse, and her silky hair was cut short like the
chic women on the television shows wore theirs these days. She looked tired,
Chee thought, and tense, but still so beautiful that he closed his eyes for a
moment and looked away.

When he looked again, she was walking toward him, her expression saying she
was glad she had found him. But it revealed nothing else.

Chee stood, pulled back a chair for her and said: "I guess you got the
message."

"The message, but not the meaning." She sat, adjusted her skirt.
"What does it mean?"

Chee told her how they had found Pollard's body, about Woody's confession
that he had killed Kinsman when Kinsman found him burying the woman, about
Woody's desperate sickness. She listened without a word. "Mickey was just
on television announcing the murder charge against your client is being
dropped," Chee said. "Nothing left now but the 'poaching an
endangered species' charge. It's a second offense, done while on probation for
the first one. But under the circumstances I'd imagine the judge will just
sentence Jano to the time he's already spent locked up waiting for the big
trial."

Janet was looking at her hands folded on the table in front of her.
"Nothing left but that," she said. "That and the wreckage."

He waited for an explanation. None came. She simply looked at him
quizzically.

"Let me get you a cup," Chee said. He pushed back his chair, but she
shook her head. "I got your call about the eagle being tested," Chee
said. "I intended to call you back, but things got too busy. How did it
come out? Mickey made it sound like they found blood."

"It doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Well, sure," Chee said. "It would be nice to know Mr. Jano
wasn't lying to us."

"I haven't seen the report yet," Janet said.

He sipped his coffee, watching her. The ball was in her court.

She took a deep breath.

"Jim. How long had you known about this Woody? That he'd killed Kinsman?"

"Not very long," Chee said, wondering where this was leading.

"Before you told me about catching the eagle?"

"No. Not until this morning." She looked down at her hands again.
Calculating all this, he thought. Adding it up. Searching for a conclusion. She
found it.

"I want to know why you told me you'd taped Reynald's telephone
call."

"Why not?"

"Why not!" The anger showed in her face as well as her voice.
"Because as you certainly knew I am a sworn officer of the court in this
case. You tell me you have committed a crime." She threw up her hands.
"What did you think I would do?"

Chee shrugged.

"No. Don't just kiss it off. I'm serious. You must have had a reason
for telling me. What did you think I would do?"

Chee considered that. By traditional Navajo ethical standards he wouldn't be
required to tell the absolute truth unless she asked the question a fourth
time. This was time two.

"I thought you'd either push the FBI to get the eagle tested or you'd
handle it yourself."

"That's not what I meant. What would I do about the taped call? And for
that matter about the agent in charge asking you to destroy evidence."

"I thought the information would be useful. Give you leverage if you
needed it," Chee said, thinking: That's the third time.

She stared at him, sighed. "You're not good at pretending to be naive,
Jim. I know you too well. You had a reason—"

Chee held up his hand, ending this just short of the fourth question. Why
make her ask it? He spoke carefully.

"I thought you would go to Mickey and tell him that you had learned
Jano's first eagle had been caught, that the FBI declined to test it on grounds
that it would be a waste of time and money and had ordered the eagle disposed
of. I presumed that if you did this, Mickey would tell you he agreed with the
FBI. He would suggest that you, a rookie member of the federal justice family,
should be part of the team and drop the issue. Then you would either agree or
you would defy Mickey and tell him you would have the eagle tested
yourself."

He paused, then drew a deep breath, looked away.

Janet waited.

Chee sighed. "Or you might start by telling Mickey that you had become
aware of a potential risk to the case. The Navajo Police had caught the eagle,
the FBI agent representing Mickey had ordered it destroyed and the telephone
call during which he had done this had been taped. Therefore you would urgently
recommend that he order the first eagle tested immediately and make the results
public."

Janet's face was flushed. She looked away from him, shook her head, looked
back.

"And what would I say when Mickey asked who had made this unauthorized
felonious tape? And what would I tell the grand jury when Mickey called it to
investigate?"

"He wouldn't call a grand jury," Chee said. "That would drag
Reynald in, Reynald would pass the buck back to Mickey, and then Mickey's
political hopes are down the tube. Besides, he'd have no trouble at all
figuring out who taped the telephone call."

"And you certainly knew that. So what did you do? You deliberately
wrecked your career in law enforcement. You put me in an intolerable position.
What happens if there is a grand jury? What do I testify?"

"You'd have to tell the simple truth. That I had told you I had
illegally taped Reynald's call. But Mickey will never call the jury."

"And what if he doesn't? There's still the fact that you admitted a
felony to me and I, also an officer of the court, failed in my duty to report
it."

"And the FBI knows you failed to report it. But the FBI knew it, too,
and didn't report it either."

"Not yet," she said.

"They won't."

"And if they do, what then?"

"You say that Jim Chee told you he had, without authorization, taped a
telephone call from Agent Reynald." Chee paused. "And that you had
believed him."

She stared at him. "Had believed him?"

"Then you say that after you had reported this to the assistant U.S.
attorney, Jim Chee informed you that while Reynald had made the remarks exactly
as reported, Chee had no such tape."

Janet was rising from her chair. She stood looking down at him. How long? Five
or six seconds, but memory doesn't operate on conscious time. And Chee was
remembering the happiest day of his life—the moment when their romance had
become a love affair. He had imagined their love could blend oil and water. She
would become a Navajo in more than name and work on the reservation. She would
forget the glitter, power, and prestige of the affluent Washington society that
produced her. He would set aside his goal of becoming a shaman. He would become
ambitious, compromise with materialism enough to keep her content with what he
knew she must see as poverty and failure. He'd been young enough to believe
that. Janet had believed it, too. Believed the impossible. She could no more
reject the only value system she'd ever known than he could abandon the Navajo
Way. He hadn't been fair to her.