“Come down to my office. I’d rather show you in person.” He heard the panic in her tone. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”
She hadn’t asked, but he didn’t say that. “I can leave in ten minutes.”
The atmosphere at the tribal museum and library seemed quieter—and not just because there was no tour group in the building. Leaphorn noticed it right away, a somberness that seemed to penetrate the walls. He told the young man at the information desk he was there to see Mrs. Pinto and headed to her office.
She rose when he entered. “Thanks for coming. I don’t know how to handle this.”
“What happened?”
“Take a look.”
They walked together into the rapidly warming day. She led him to an empty parking spot that captured a bit of shade. An orange cone blocked vehicles from using it.
“I always park here, under this tree. This morning, I found that thing in the middle of my usual spot. I’m not superstitious, but this isn’t good.”
“The cone?”
“No,” she snapped at him. “I had them put it there. They moved the dead thing over that way.” She pointed with a jut of her chin.
On the ground just beyond the cone, he saw an old rag. No, he realized, it was the body of a cottontail rabbit. In the old days, a person suspected of witchcraft might receive such a warning. The next time the dead thing could be the witch. Even those who didn’t believe would be upset to find a dead rabbit purposely left in their parking spot.
Mrs. Pinto turned her back on the scene. Leaphorn nudged the rabbit out of view with his boot. It wouldn’t be long, he knew, before some other animal would welcome the free meal.
As they walked back to the building, he asked, “Why do you think this happened?”
“Ignorance, suspicion, jealousy.” She opened her eyes a bit wider. “Because I’m successful, people think there’s something evil going on with me. I’m surprised you haven’t heard the rumors. The progression of Tiffany’s illness stirred things up. That poor girl kept going to the doctor. She was lucky that her sister helped with the appointments and that she worked in a pharmacy so she could pick up the medicine. Tiffany hated it that no one could figure out why she kept getting worse.” She frowned. “Her father thinks witchcraft caused her problems and that I had something to do with it because I asked a lot of Tiffany.”
“From what you told me, the girl liked you and her job. She enjoyed working hard.”
“True, but the sicker she got, the more Mr. Benally resented me. When I spoke to Tiffany about it, she told me not to worry. She thought with her sister helping, her dad would back off a little.” Mrs. Pinto shook her head. “And I thought I could ignore his craziness. But I’m disgusted by this dead cottontail business. What should I do?”
He had handled similar questions as a cop, too. “If something like that happened to me, I’d ask myself who might have a grudge against me. If I came up with someone, I’d seek out that person and try to get things resolved.”
She sighed. “Come inside, cool off a minute, and give me an update on your progress.”
Leaphorn felt his cell phone vibrate and chose to ignore it, as was his habit when he was with a client. But he thought about Louisa, and then the information Bean had promised. By the time he pulled the phone from his pocket, he was too late to catch the inspector’s call. “I’ll be right there. I’ll meet you in your office.”
“OK, but don’t be long. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.” Mrs. Pinto continued her march toward the building.
Leaphorn listened to Bean’s message. “Joe, sorry I missed you. I’ve got a good lead on who sent that box, but I’m in the field until six. Call me after that. Six my time. I never know what time it is for you guys in the summer in Arizona. What’s with that daylight saving mess, anyway?”
Leaphorn smiled at the message. The state of Arizona didn’t observe daylight saving time, but the Navajo Nation—even communities within Arizona—did. That meant that in the summer, it was an hour earlier in Ganado or Window Rock than it was in Flagstaff, Phoenix, and the rest of non-Navajo Arizona, including the Hopi villages and tribes of the Grand Canyon. Navajo tribal government kept all of the Navajo Nation in sync with the Mountain Time Zone while Arizona went its own way.
He walked inside to give Mrs. Pinto the good news about Jim Bean’s message and Rita Begaye’s sales records, two ways to help track the mysterious shipment.
Mrs. Pinto shook her head.
“Considering what little you’ve found so far, I guess it’s worth checking out, but Rita Begaye’s notes about old jewelry sales don’t seem like much of a lead. The post office might turn into something. I’m profoundly disappointed that this is taking you so long.”
As he rose to leave, Leaphorn flashed on several tart responses, but he let her comment hang between them like forgotten laundry. He understood why the doctor treating Tiffany attributed her symptoms to stress. He had dealt with difficult clients, each a challenge in his or her own way. Still, he would be relieved when he closed the book on this assignment. And he’d screen Louisa’s friends more closely before saying yes to them again.
“Sir?”
The voice interrupted his thoughts as he walked to his truck.
A man in a Navajo Emergency Medical Services uniform approached. “I was one of the guys who helped the lady who collapsed out here a few days ago. I saw you helping at the scene. You’re a retired cop, right?”
“Lieutenant Joe Leaphorn. You speak Navajo.”
The man nodded and introduced himself. “I was on ambulance duty the evening she passed away.”
Leaphorn waited.
“I wish we had taken her to the hospital that afternoon. She might still be alive if she’d listened to us.”
“I’ve been in those situations. You can’t force someone to do what you know is best.” Leaphorn paused. “What happened the night she died?”
The ambulance man shook his head. “All I know is that she was dead when I saw her that night. The older lady who worked with her was outside with a flashlight so we could find the house and said she was still breathing when she left her. The woman who died was alone when we got there. Then another woman showed up—I don’t know if she was elsewhere in the house or had just arrived.”
The young man studied his black Nikes for a moment. “We couldn’t bring Tiffany back. It was too late.”
Leaphorn heard his phone buzz as he was driving home and glanced at it. Jim Chee. He let the call go to message. He called the police station and spoke to the chief about Tiffany’s death and his concerns. The man, a Window Rock officer who had worked with Leaphorn years ago, confirmed that an autopsy had been ordered because the death was “unattended” and “suspicious.”
Leaphorn fixed a late lunch for himself and fed Giddi, who seemed hungry but turned up her little black nose at the cat food. He gave Louisa’s plants some water because he thought they looked a bit droopy. He felt rather droopy himself. He usually took a nap after lunch, but he remembered the call from Chee he’d let go to voicemail.
He left a message for Chee with Sandra at the Shiprock station, then asked, “Is Bernie around?”