"I don't know," Leaphorn said. "I'm going on out there now and see if I can find a bunker with that number on it. And I thought Jim or you might want to check on it."
"You bet," Bernie said. "And by the way, Mr. Denton called for you here. He said he needed to find you as soon as he could. He said it was urgent. He wanted you to call him."
"Did he say why?"
"I asked. He wouldn't tell me."
Mrs. Mendoza answered the telephone at the Denton home, confirmed that Mr. Denton wanted to talk to him, and put him through.
"Leaphorn," Denton said. "Are you still in Gallup? Come on out to the house. I've got something I have to tell you. Something important."
"I don't work for you anymore, Mr. Denton," Leaphorn said. "In fact, I never did work for you."
"To hell with that," Denton said. "This is something you really need to know."
"Then tell me."
"Not on the damned telephone. I think the fbi has had this line tapped because of the Doherty case. They think I'm involved in that. Come on out."
"I learned in all these years as a cop that when somebody has something important to tell me, it turns out to be a lot more important to them than it is to me."
Silence. Then Denton said, "Meet me halfway then. Where are you?"
Leaphorn considered that. "All right," he said. "In fifteen minutes from now I'll pull into the parking lot at the Smith grocery on Railroad Avenue. You remember my pickup truck?"
"I do," Denton said. "I'll be there."
And there he was, sitting in his big, mud-splattered off-road sports utility vehicle watching as Leaphorn made his turn into the lot, getting out and walking over as Leaphorn parked, leaning in the passenger's-side window.
"Let's take your truck," he said.
"Take it where?" Leaphorn asked.
"Someplace quiet where I can tell you my secret," Denton said while he opened the door and got in.
Leaphorn wasn't liking any of this. He had the uneasy feeling he'd miscalculated.
"We'll do our talking here," Leaphorn said.
"No," Denton said, shaking his head. "Let's get away from all these people."
"Just tell me this secret of yours," Leaphorn said. "Not that I guarantee I'll believe it."
"Part of the secret is I may have to kill you," Denton said, and he pressed what felt like the barrel of a pistol against Leaphorn's ribs.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
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When dealing with federal agencies, Sergeant Jim Chee was always conscious of the "Navajo time" stereotype applied to the Dineh. Thus he showed up at the Gold Avenue address of the fbi ten minutes early. Bernie was in the entrance area talking to the receptionist as Chee passed through the metal detector. She looked, as usual, slightly disheveled, as if some impossible breeze had invaded this guarded office, ruffled her hair, and moved the collar of her uniform shirt slightly out of its official alignment. With that notion of her thus confirmed by his glance, Chee's analysis and conclusions advanced to another level. Officer Bernadette Manuelito was a very bewitching young woman in a way he couldn't quite define. Certainly Bernadette's style was equal to (and far beyond) the perfect beauty of Janet Pete or the sensuous, soft, blonde charms of Mary Landon. With that established, and just as Bernie noticed his arrival and turned and recognized him with a smile, Sergeant Chee's consciousness took the great jump to the very top level. Face it. He had fallen in love with Officer Manuelito. And what the devil could he do about that?
Bernie's welcoming smile faded into a wry look.
"The meeting's been postponed," she said. "Something came up down at the Zuñi Pueblo, and the Albuquerque Office supervisor came in, and now Osborne has to go down there with them."
Chee said: "Oh, well." Which wasn't what he would have said had he not been suddenly engulfed with a flood of thoughts about Bernadette Manuelito. "So what?" he added.
"And," Bernie added, "Lieutenant Leaphorn called for you here. He wanted to ask you the number that was on a card with Mr. Doherty's stuff."
"Number?" Chee said. "What number?"
"The number was D2187," Bernie said. "Don't you remember? It was written on the back of a business card Doherty had, and nobody had any idea what it was about."
"Oh," Chee said. "I remember telling Leaphorn about it. I thought he might understand it. Has the Legendary Lieutenant now solved the number puzzle?"
"He thinks it's the army's munitions depot code number for one of the bunkers out at Fort Wingate," Bernie said. Chee was just standing there, staring at her with a strange look on his face but no sign of understanding.
"He thinks it might be near where those kids heard the wailing woman the night Mr. McKay was killed," Bernie said, wondering what was bothering Chee.
"Oh," Chee said. "He wanted me to call him? Where? I need to call him anyway about talking to Hostiin Peshlakai this morning. About what Peshlakai said."
"Maybe at Mr. Denton's place. He said he had to see Denton about something. But he also said he was going out to the fort to see what he could find out," Bernie said. "And what did Hostiin Peshlakai tell you?"
"It's complicated," Chee said. "Let's find Leaphorn first."
He called Denton's number. No, Mrs. Mendoza said, Leaphorn wasn't there and neither was Mr. Denton. "I heard them talking on the telephone. I think Mr. Denton drove down into Gallup to meet him somewhere."
"Let's go find Leaphorn at the fort," Chee said. "I'll tell you on the way out."
"You sound nervous," Bernie said.
"I am," Chee said. "From what Peshlakai told me, I think our Legendary Lieutenant is playing with fire."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
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As he rolled his truck through the grocery parking lot toward the exit, Leaphorn was analyzing his situation. It didn't seem reasonable to believe that Wiley Denton actually intended to kill him. However, there was a lot of circumstantial evidence that suggested otherwise. For one thing, he had given Denton a motive. Louisa had warned him that Denton was dangerous. He'd already known that. And yet Leaphorn unloaded on the man the very evidence Denton had already killed one man—and probably two—to protect. He had poked Denton's two sorest spots—his obsession to claim the Golden Calf, legendary or not, and his desperate love of his missing wife.
At this tense moment, Leaphorn was doubting his judgment on several things, but not on that. Denton dearly loved the girl who had been willing to marry him. Leaphorn had been a fool for love himself, had been there and done that, would never ever forget Emma. He crept through the parking-lot traffic, giving right-of-way to everyone, thinking about tactics.
"Move along," Denton said, pushing the pistol against Leaphorn's side. "Do a left turn out on Railroad Avenue."
"You were going to tell me something I needed to know," Leaphorn said. "Remember? Called it a secret. That's how you got me to meet you."
"We'll get to that when we get where we have some privacy."
"Give me a hint," Leaphorn said. "Tell me what McKay told you about his back-up plan. No use to keep lying, is there?"
Denton snorted. "You're not going to believe this, either."
"Probably not," Leaphorn said. "Why not try me?" He stopped again and waved ahead a blue Chevy that was waiting for him to pass.
"All right," Denton said. "McKay said he had a love affair started with Linda, but she didn't want to leave me. So he made this bet with her. He took her to a little hut way back in the Zuñi Mountains. Took her shoes away from her, and said he was going back to see me and tell me I could have her back along with his Golden Calf map for fifty thousand dollars."
The Chevy drove past. The pickup behind Leaphorn honked.
"What else did he say?"
"He said he bet her I wouldn't pay to get her back."
The pickup honked again. Leaphorn eased his truck forward.
"What'd you say to that?"
Denton's laugh had a bitter sound. "Just like the court records show. Marvin McKay pulled out his pistol, and I shot the son of a bitch."