The Wailing Wind - Leaphorn & Chee 17 (12 page)

"That's sort of what I suspected," Leaphorn said. "Always seemed funny that gold deposits were so easy to lose out here."

Denton didn't like the sound of that.

"They weren't exactly lost," he said, tone defensive. "With the Adams dig, the Apaches wiped out the miners. It was usually something like that. Pretty much the same with the Golden Calf, too."

"Yeah," Leaphorn said. Sooner or later
Denton
would get to what he'd brought him to talk about. The coffee was good and the chair comfortable, something more important to him now that his back had discovered arthritis. He had intended to drive north today to see Chee at Shiprock, but Chee could wait. After a while Denton would say something interesting and it would give him a chance to ask questions. He had several to ask.

"About fifteen years ago one of the people working on a lease up by the Utah border told me about the Golden Calf. He was part Zuñi, part white, and he said his white granddaddy used to talk about it. Claimed the grandfather had known Theodore Mott, the fellow who found the deposit and was borrowing money to build the sluices he needed to develop it. This half-Zuñi guy showed me a little bit of placer gold. It was supposed to have been sluiced out of an arroyo draining south out of the Zuñi Mountains."

Denton unbuttoned his shirt pocket and extracted a little bottle about the size of shampoo bottles found in hotel bathrooms.

"Here it is," Denton said, and handed the bottle to Leaphorn.

"I had it assayed. A little more than half an ounce, but it is flake gold all right. You'll notice some of those little grains are pinkish and some are almost black. It don't turn shiny gold until it's washed and refined." He laughed. "The son of a bitch charged me for a full ounce, and that was back when we were having that inflation and the gold price was up over six hundred dollars."

Leaphorn shook the bottle and studied it. He noticed the pink and the black, but it looked pretty much like the stuff Jim Chee had showed him from the troublesome Prince Albert tobacco tin.

"Interesting," he said. He handed Denton the bottle and watched him button it back into his pocket.

"The price is way down now. Running below two hundred and fifty an ounce the last time I checked the market." With that said, Denton put down his cup, picked it up again, sipped, and looked across the rim at Leaphorn, waiting. But for what?

Leaphorn gestured around the room. "From the looks of all this, I wouldn't think the price has much to do with you being interested in gold mines. Am I right?"

"Exactly right,"
Denton
said. "It ain't the money. I want to be in the books. The man who solved the mystery. Wiley Denton. The man who found the Golden Calf. I was going to have people paying attention to me." He put down the cup, threw up his hands, and laughed, dismissing the idea. But Leaphorn saw he wasn't laughing at himself. He was watching Leaphorn, waiting again for what Leaphorn would say.

Well, now, Leaphorn thought, we Navajo are good at this waiting game. The Enduring Navajo, as one of the anthropologists had labeled them. He examined the view through the window behind Denton, the sunlight on the cliffs across the interstate and the cloud formation given new shape by the slanting light. But Leaphorn's patience was overcome by his curiosity. Was Denton mentally unstable? Probably. Who wasn't, to one degree or another?

"Mr. Denton," Leaphorn said. "Are you going to tell me what it is you want me to do for you?"

Denton sighed. "I want you to find my wife."

That wasn't exactly what Leaphorn expected. But it probably wasn't exactly what
Denton
wanted, either. What Denton wanted, Leaphorn suspected, was to use him as a pipeline into what the fbi was doing about the Doherty homicide. He was surely smart enough to know they must be looking for a connection.

"How do you think I can do that?"

"I don't know," Denton said. "You're the cop. Or were. People tell me you're good at getting things done."

Leaphorn didn't respond to that. He sipped his coffee.

"I'll pay you whatever you ask," Denton said. "Doesn't matter. Just look for her for as long as it takes. And let me know."

The coffee was cold now. Leaphorn put the cup down.

"Is this where you shot McKay? Right here in this room?"

Denton pointed. "There by the hall door."

"Whether I'll try to find your wife will depend on how you answer some questions," Leaphorn said. "If I see any signs you're misleading me, or holding stuff back, then I'm not interested. It would be impossible. It's probably impossible anyway, unless you can tell me something useful."

Denton's expression was quizzical. "There's talk that you've already been looking for Linda," he said.

"I was once. I drew a blank."

"And there was some talk that I'd killed her," Denton said. "And hid the body. I was supposed to think she was in cahoots with McKay and I was jealous."

"That would be my first question," Leaphorn said. "Did you kill her?"

"No," Denton said. "Hell no, I didn't."

"Have you heard anything at all from her, or about her for that matter, since she left here that morning?"

"Nothing at all from Linda. Got some calls and some letters after I ran those advertisements. None of them had anything to tell. Just people trying to get some reward money."

"Calls? How? Your telephone number's not listed."

"I had another phone line put in. Put the number of that one in the advertisements. Had a technical man come to hook up an answering machine recorder on it. I've got the tapes if you think listening to any of those creepy bastards would help."

"It might. You saved the letters, too?"

"In a file."

"How did Doherty get your unlisted number?"

"Doherty? What do you mean?"

"He had it," Leaphorn said. "Had he called you?"

"He didn't get it from me, and no, he hadn't called me. I bet that's why the fbi has been asking around about me."

"That, and all the stuff about gold mining he had with him. I'd guess they think there might be a connection with the McKay homicide and his."

That didn't seem to surprise Denton. He nodded.

"Okay," Leaphorn said. "Now I want you to describe that day for me. Everything pertinent. I know you told it all to the police then, but give it to me again now that you've had some years to think about it."

Denton did as instructed. The discussion at breakfast of what to do about the ground squirrels looting Linda's bird feeders, Linda's anticipation of her luncheon meeting with girlfriends—one of whom she thought was going to announce being pregnant. Linda planning to stop at the shopping mall enroute to look at possible presents. Linda leaving, saying she'd be back about three. Denton spending the morning in his office, not getting any work done because he was excited about the information McKay was to bring him—a map showing the whereabouts of the Golden Calf and the evidence to prove it was all authentic.

At that point Leaphorn stopped him.

"Evidence? Like what?"

"He said he'd bring a pouch of placer gold, copies of old letters from Theodore Mott to his lawyer up in Denver. He said they described the site—and its location from Fort Wingate—in great detail. And another copy of a letter from an assayer describing thirteen ounces Mott had brought in, and a copy of the assay report. And then he said he'd have some other stuff."

"Like what?"

Denton laughed. "Well, for one thing, a copy of a contract I was supposed to sign guaranteeing him fifty percent of all proceeds from the mine. And a bunch of photographs of him placering the gold he was bringing."

Leaphorn nodded.

"I was to seal the deal with delivery of fifty thousand dollars in cash, and he'd give me a partnership contract he'd signed to a claim he said he'd already filed."

"That was all agreed to before?"

"Right. On the telephone. Two days before. That was a Monday. He said he needed to collect the stuff and he'd be out here right after noon on Wednesday to close on the arrangement. And after we'd made the deal and shook hands on it, he'd drive me out and show me the place."

"But you didn't go," said Leaphorn.

"Of course not. I shot the son of a bitch and went to prison instead,"
Denton
said. He produced a grim smile and continued his account.

McKay had called about 2:00 P.M., said he was running a little late and he'd arrive about 6:00. He'd asked if Denton had the money there, and Denton said he had five hundred one-hundred-dollar bills in a briefcase ready to be paid in return for the map and the evidence. A little after 6:00 McKay had called in from the driveway gate, Denton had pushed the opener button, and Mrs. Mendoza had answered the front door and brought McKay to the office. McKay had laid a briefcase on the table and asked to see the money. Denton had got his own case, opened it, and showed McKay the bundles of bills he had gotten at the bank. McKay dumped them out, inspected the bundles, and put them back into the case. Then he opened the padlock on his own case and took out a map and other papers.

Denton stopped, shook his head. "Bunch of damned trash," he said. "I don't know what had gotten into me to have believed that bastard. I guess it was too many years wanting so bad to find that mine I was ready to believe anything. I just felt sick when I looked at the stuff." He shook his head again. "Sick to my stomach."

Leaphorn hadn't been there when Denton had gone before the judge to plead and receive his sentence. But he'd heard about it from a half dozen friends who had. This seemed to be the same story Denton had told the court when his lawyer was urging clemency. It had the rehearsed sound Leaphorn had listened to at all too many criminal trials.

"Bad map?" Leaphorn asked.

"It was a section of one of those U.S. Geological Survey quadrangle maps. It covered a piece of the south and east side of the Zuñi Mountains. He just drew his own set of marks on that."

"You think that's not a likely place to look for gold? But isn't that about where that half-Zuñi told you the placer gold came from?"

"Same general area, I'd guess. But hell, you can find gold anywhere. Even in ocean water. It just happens that I personally know that little corner of the Zuñi Mountains. Most of the land he had marked out is BLM or Forest Service. Public land. Years ago, I did a lot of seismograph work right where that map covered, thinking I might want to lease it for oil and gas. I've been up and down every little creek and arroyo in that whole quadrant. I didn't get any seismograph results that made me want to drill, and I didn't see any of the quartzite formations you're trying to find when you're prospecting for gold."

"You didn't trip over any nuggets," Leaphorn said, and immediately wished he hadn't. It came out sounding sarcastic, and he didn't want Denton to think he wasn't taking this account seriously.

Denton hadn't noticed.

"Wrong kind of deposit for nuggets," he said. "Some big chunks were brought in and assayed from the Lost Adams dig and the Dutchman mine, too, but from what we know about the Golden Calf, the source there must have been just quartzite with a fantastically rich mix of gold veins through it. When quartz breaks up and weathers away, the gold just comes off in teeny little flakes." Denton made a dismissive gesture. "So soon as I saw McKay's map, I knew damn well it was a phony."

The memory of this disappointment stopped Denton. He drank his cold coffee. Put down the cup, gave Leaphorn a wry look.

"The rest of his so-called evidence was photocopies. Looked like he'd had some letterheads printed to make stuff look authentic, and the name right. I've been studying this stuff for years, and I know all those names. But, hell, I could have put together a better package myself. Anybody could have done it."

He looked at Leaphorn, at his hands, and at Leaphorn again, and then just sat, saying nothing, looking old, defeated, and exhausted.

"What next? You tell him no deal?"

"I told him to go to hell. Get out of my house and take his garbage with him. And he accused me of being a welcher. Said he'd given me his location of the Golden Calf and he wasn't leaving without me signing his contract and him walking off with the fifty grand. Well, we exchanged a word or two, and he pulled that pistol out of his jacket pocket and was going to shoot me. So I said to hell with it. I'd sign the paper, he should just take the money and get out. I reached in my desk drawer like I was getting my pen, and got my pistol out and shot him. I don't usually keep a gun in here, but with all that cash in the house, it seemed like a pretty good idea."

Another long pause with Denton either remembering the moment or, Leaphorn thought, perhaps deciding what else to tell and what to leave out. Denton shook his head.

"I yelled for Mrs. Mendoza to come, but she'd heard the shot and was already on her way. I checked to see if McKay was dead. She called nine one one and reported it. The ambulance came, and the sheriff's deputies. And that was pretty well it."

Denton stood, looking down at Leaphorn. "Well, what do you think? You going to give me some help?"

"We need to fill in some blanks before I decide. I want you to answer some questions."