A Thief of Time

Step two went almost as quickly. He called the San Juan County Sheriff's Office and asked for Undersheriff Robert Bates, who usually handled homicides. Bates was married to a Navajo who happened to be 'born to' the Kin yaa aanü -- the Towering House People -- which was linked in some way Chee had never understood to his grandfather's To` aheedlinü' -- the Waters Flow Together Clan. That made Chee and Bates vaguely relatives. Just as important, they had worked together a time or two and liked each other. Bates was in.

'If you have the lab report back, I need to know about the bullets that killed Etcitty and Nails,' Chee said.

'Why?' Bates asked. 'I thought the FBI decided that killing wasn't on reservation land.'

'Out on the Checkerboard, the FBI always decides that,' Chee said. 'We're just interested.'

'Why?'

'Ah, hell, Robert,' Chee said. 'I don't know why. Joe Leaphorn is interested, and Largo has me working with him.'

'What's going on with Leaphorn? We heard he had a nervous breakdown. Heard he quit.'

'He did,' Chee said. 'But not yet.'

'Well, it was a twenty-five-caliber pistol, automatic judging from the ejection marks on the empties. All the same weapon.'

'You have a missing person's report on a woman who owns a twenty-five-caliber automatic pistol,' Chee said. 'Her name's Dr. Eleanor Friedman-Bernal. She worked out of Chaco Canyon. Anthropologist. Where Etcitty worked.' He told Bates more of what he knew about the woman.

'I got her file right here on my desk,' Bates said. 'I just a minute ago got a call from a Utah State Policeman. They want us to do some checking up on her out at Chaco. Seems they had a fellow shot up at Bluff and he left a note to Leaphorn telling him this woman is still alive. You know about that?'

'Heard about the killing. Not about any note.' He was thinking that a few years ago this weird roundabout communication would have surprised him. Now he expected it. He was remembering Leaphorn chewing him out for not passing along all the details. Well, there was no reason for Leaphorn not to have told him about this. Except that Leaphorn considered him merely an errand boy. Chee was offended.

'Tell me about it,' he told Bates. 'And don't leave anything out.'

Bates told him what he'd been told. It didn't take long.

'So Utah State Police think Dr. Friedman showed up and offed Houk,' Chee concluded. 'Any theories about motive?'

'Big pot hunting conspiracy is what they seem to think. They've had a federal crackdown up there on pot thieves last year. Bunch of arrests. Grand jury sitting in Salt Lake handing down indictments. So they're thinking pots,' Bates said. 'And why not? Big money in it the way prices are now. Hell, when we was kids and used to go out and dig `em up around here, you were lucky to get five bucks. Listen,' he added, 'how you coming on being a medicine man?'

'No clients.' It was not a subject Chee wanted to discuss. It was November, already into the 'Season When Thunder Sleeps,' the season for curing ceremonials, and he hadn't had a single contact. 'You going to Chaco now?'

'Soon as I get off the telephone.'

Chee gave him a quick rundown on the people he should talk to: Maxie Davis, the Lunas, Randall Elliot.

'They're worried about the woman. Friends of hers. Be sure and tell them about the note.'

'Why, sure,' Bates said. He sounded slightly offended that Chee had even mentioned it.

There was nothing to do then but stick close to the telephone and wait for Leaphorn's call from Bluff. He dug into his paperwork. A little before noon, the phone rang. Leaphorn, Chee thought.

It was Janet Pete. Her voice sounded odd. Was Chee doing anything for lunch?

'Nothing,' Chee said. 'You calling from Shiprock?'

'I drove up. Really just went for a drive. Ended up here.' She sounded thoroughly down.

'Lunch then,' he said. 'Can you meet me at the Thunderbird Cafe?'

She could. And did.

They took a booth by the window. And talked about the weather. A gusty wind was rattling the pane and chasing dust and leaves and now a section of the Navajo Times down the highway outside.

'End of autumn, I guess,' Chee said. 'You watch Channel Seven. Howard Morgan says we're going to get the first blast of winter.'

'I hate winter,' Janet Pete said. She hugged herself and shivered. 'Dismal winter.'

'The counselor has the blues,' Chee said. 'Anything I can do to cheer you up? I'll call Morgan and see if he can postpone it.'

'Or call it off altogether.'

'Right.'

'Or there's Italy.'

'Which is warm, I hear,' Chee said, and then he saw she was serious.

'You hear from your Successful Attorney?'

'He flew all the way to Chicago, to Albuquerque, to Gallup. I met him at Gallup.'

Not knowing what to say, Chee said: 'Not exactly meeting him halfway.' It sounded flippant. Chee didn't feel flippant. He cleared his throat. 'Has he changed? Time does that with people. So I'm told.'

'Yes,' Janet Pete said. But she shook her head. 'But no. Not really. My mother told me a long time ago: `Don't ever expect a man to change. What you see is what you live with.''

'I guess so,' Chee said. She looked tired, and full of sadness. He reached out and took her hand in his. It was cold. 'Trouble is, I guess you love him anyway.'

'I don't know,' Janet Pete said. 'I just…' But the sympathy was too much for her. Her voice choked. She looked down, fumbling in her purse.

Chee handed her his napkin. She held it to her face.

'Rough life,' Chee said. 'Love is supposed to make us happy, and sometimes it makes us miserable.'

Through the napkin he heard Janet sniff.

He patted her hand. 'This sounds like a cliche, or whatever it is, but I know how you feel. I really do.'

'I know,' Janet said.

'But you know, I've decided. I'm giving up. You can't go on forever.' As he heard himself saying that, he was amazed. When did he decide that? He hadn't realized it. He felt a surge of relief. And of loss. Why can't men cry? he wondered. Why is that not allowed?

'He wants me to go to Italy with him. He's going to Rome. Taking over their legal affairs for Europe. And Africa. And the Middle East.'

'He speak Italian?' As he said it, it seemed an incredibly stupid question. Totally beside the point here.

'French,' she said. 'And some Italian. And he's perfecting it. A tutor.'

'How about you?' he said. Why couldn't he think of something less inane. He would be asking her next about her passport. And packing. And airfares. That wasn't what she wanted to talk about. She wanted to talk about love.

'No,' she said.

'What did he say? Does he understand now that you want to be a lawyer? That you want to practice it?'

The napkin was in her lap now. Her eyes dry. But they showed she'd been crying. And her face was strained.

'He said I could practice in Italy. Not with his company. It has a nepotism rule. But he could line something up for me after I got the required Italian license.'

'He could line something up. For you.'

She sighed. 'Yeah. That's the way he put it. And I guess he could. At a certain level in law, the big firms feed on one another. There would be Italian firms doing feed-out work. The word would go into the good-old-boy network. Tit for tat. I guess once I learned Italian I would be offered a job.'

Chee nodded. 'I'd think so,' he said.

Lunch came. Mutton stew and fry bread for Chee. Janet was having a bowl of soup.

They sat looking at the food.

'You should eat something,' said Chee, who had totally lost his appetite. He took a spoonful of the stew, a bite of fry bread. 'Eat,' he ordered.

Janet Pete took a spoonful of soup.

'Made a decision yet?'

She shook her head. 'I don't know.'

'You know yourself better than anyone,' he said. 'What's going to make you happy?'

She shook her head again. 'I think I'm happy when I'm with him. Like dinner last night. But I don't know.'