'Where could she have gone?' Mrs. Luna said. Obviously it was something she had often thought about. 'So early in the morning. She told us she was going to Farmington, and got the mail we had going out, and our shopping lists, and then just vanished.' She glanced from Chee to Leaphorn and back. 'I'm afraid it isn't going to have a happy ending. I'm afraid Ellie got in over her head with a man we don't know about.' She attempted a smile. 'I guess that sounds odd--to say that about a woman her age--but at this place, it's so small--so few of us live here, I mean--that everybody tells everybody everything. It's the only thing we have to be interested in. One another.'
Luna laughed. 'It's pretty hard to have secrets here,' he said. 'You have experienced our telephone. You don't get any secret calls. And you don't get any secret mail--unless it happens to show up at Blanco the day you happen to pick it up.' He laughed again. 'And it would be pretty hard to have any secret visitors.'
But not impossible, Leaphorn thought. No more impossible than driving out to make your calls away from here, or setting up a post office box in Farmington.
'You just get to know everything by accident even if people don't mention it,' Mrs. Luna said. 'For example, going places. I hadn't thought to tell anybody when I was going to Phoenix over the Fourth to visit my mother. But everybody knew because I got a postcard that mentioned it, and Maxie or somebody picked up the mail that day.' If Mrs. Luna resented Maxie or somebody reading her postcard, it didn't show. Her expression was totally pleasant--someone explaining a peculiar, but perfectly natural, situation. 'And when Ellie made that trip to New York, and when Elliot went to Washington. Even if they don't mention it, you just get to know.' Mrs. Luna paused to sip her coffee. 'But usually they tell you,' she added. 'Something new to talk about.' At that she looked slightly abashed. She laughed. 'That's about all we have to do, you know. Speculate about one another. TV reception is so bad out here we have to be our own soap operas.'
'When was the trip to New York?' Leaphorn asked.
'Last month,' Mrs. Luna said. 'Ellie's travel agent in Farmington called and said the flight schedule had been changed. Somebody takes the message, so everybody knows about it.'
'Does anyone know why she went?' Leaphorn asked.
Mrs. Luna made a wry face. 'You win,' she said. 'I guess there are some secrets.'
'How about why Elliot went to Washington?' Leaphorn added. 'When was that?'
'No secret there,' Luna said. 'It was last month. A couple of days before Ellie left. He got a call from Washington, from his project director I think it was. Left a message. There was a meeting of people working on archaic migration patterns. He was supposed to attend.'
'Do you know if Ellie's going to New York had anything to do with her pots? Is that logical?'
'Just about everything she did had something to do with her pots,' Luna said. 'She was sort of obsessive about it.'
Mrs. Luna's expression turned defensive. 'Well now,' she said, 'Ellie was about ready to make a really important report. As least she thought so. And so do I. She pretty well had the proof that would connect a lot of those St. John Polychromes from the Chetro Ketl site with Wijiji and Kin Nahasbas. And more important
than all that, she was finding that this woman must have moved away from Chaco and was making pots somewhere else.'
'This woman?' Luna said, eyebrows raised. 'She tell you her potter was a woman?'
'Who else would do all that work?' Mrs. Luna got up, got the coffeepot, and offered all hands, including the children, a refill.
'She was excited, then?' Leaphorn asked. 'About something she'd found recently? Did she talk to you about it?'
'She was excited,' Mrs. Luna said. She looked at Luna with an expression Leaphorn read as reproach. 'I really do believe that she'd found something important. To everybody else those people are just a name. Anasazi. Not even their real name, of course. Just a Navajo word that meansâŚ' She glanced at Chee. 'Old Ones. Ancestors of our enemies. Something like that?'
'Close enough,' Chee said.
'But Ellie has identified a single human being in what has always just been statistics. An artist. Did you know that she'd arranged her pots chronologically⌠showing how her technique developed?'
The question was aimed at Luna. He shook his head.
'And it's very logical. You can see it. Even if you don't know much about pots, or glazing, or inscribing, or any of those decorative techniques.'
Luna seemed to have decided about then that his self-interest dictated a change in posture on this issue.
'She's done some really original work, Ellie has,' he said. 'Pretty well pinned down where this potter worked, up Chaco Wash at a little ruins we call Kin Nahasbas. She did that by establishing that a lot of pots made with this potter's technique had been broken there before they were fully baked in the kiln fire. Then she tied a bunch of pots dug up at Chetro Ketl and Wijiji to the identical personal techniques. Trade pots, you know. One kind swapped to people at Chetro Ketl and another sort to Wijiji. Both with this man's--this potter's peculiar decorating strokes. Hasn't been published yet, but I think she has it pinned.'
It gave Leaphorn a sense of deja vu, as if he remembered a graduate student over some supper in a dormitory at Tempe saying exactly these same words. The human animal's urge to know. To leave no mysteries. Here, to look through the dirt of a thousand years into the buried privacy of an Anasazi woman. 'To understand the human species,' his thesis chairman liked to say. 'To understand how we came to behave the way we do.' But finally it had seemed to Leaphorn he could understand this better among the living. It was the spring he'd met Emma. When the semester ended in May he'd left Arizona State and his graduate fellowship and his intentions of becoming Dr. Leaphorn, and joined the recruit class of the Navajo Tribal Police. And he and EmmaâŚ
Leaphorn noticed Chee watching him. He cleared his throat. Sipped coffee.
'Did you have any clear idea of what she was excited about?' Leaphorn asked. 'I mean just before she disappeared. We know she drove over to Bluff and talked to a man over there named Houk. Man who sometimes deals in pots. She asked him about a pot she'd seen advertised in an auction catalog. Wanted to know where it came from. Houk told us she was very intense about it. He told her how to get the documentation letter. Did she say why she was going to New York?'
'Not to me, she didn't,' Mrs. Luna said.
'Or why she was excited?'
'I know some more of those polychrome pots had turned up. Several, I think. Same potter. Some identical and some with a more mature style. Later work. And it turned out they came from somewhere else -- away from the Chaco. She thought she could prove her potter had migrated.'
'Did you know Ellie had a pistol?'
Luna and his wife spoke simultaneously. 'I didn't,' she said. Luna said: 'It doesn't surprise me. I'd guess Maxie has one, too. For snakes,' he added, and laughed. 'Actually it's for safety.'
'Do you know if she ever hired Jimmy Etcitty to find pots for her?'
'Boy, that was a shock,' Luna said. 'He hadn't worked here long. Less than a year. But he was a good hand. And a good man.'
'And he didn't mind digging around graves.'
'He was a Christian,' Luna said. 'A fundamentalist born-again Christian. No more chindi. But no, I doubt if he worked for Ellie. Hadn't heard of it.'
'Had you ever heard he might be a Navajo Wolf?' Leaphorn asked. 'Into any kind of witchcraft. Being a skinwalker?'
Luna looked surprised. And so, Leaphorn noticed, did Jim Chee. Not at the question, Leaphorn guessed. That fooling around with the bones they'd found at the ruins would suggest witchcraft to anyone who knew the Navajo tradition of skinwalkers robbing graves for bones to grind into corpse powder. But Chee would be surprised at Leaphorn's thinking. Leaphorn was aware that his contempt for the Navajo witchcraft business was widely known throughout the department. Chee, certainly, was aware of it. They had worked together in the past.