The Sinister Pig - 15 by Tony Hillerman Page B

about the Mexican welding/metal construction connection. She’d want to talk about this with Mr. Henry. Make sure she knew what sort of checking she should do to find out if that famous North American Free Trade Agreement made all such traffic free and easy. And she’d want to talk with Jim Chee about the welding/metal construction company renting the car for his homicide victim.
7
     
    Former Lieutenant Joe Leaphorn, now retired, had his day pretty well planned. Professor Louisa Bourbonette was up on the Ute Reservation collecting her oral histories from the tribe’s elderly. She had left even earlier than usual, the sky visible through his east-facing window barely showing predawn pink when her bumping around in her bedroom awakened him.
    He listened to the sound of her car fading, felt a twinge of loneliness, and considered for a moment bringing up the topic of marriage again, and then dismissed the idea. She’d tell him, as she always did, that she had tried that once and didn’t care for it. That would be followed by a few days of uneasiness between them and of his feeling a vague sort of guilt for even thinking of trying to replace Emma. The infection had killed her physically, but Emma lived on in his mind. Emma would always be his lover. But Louisa had become a confidante and a [60] friend. He was smart enough to see she cared for him, and the sentiment was mutual.
    Hearing Louisa drive away left a sort of silence that made him remember too much. He had planned to use the quiet time to exercise his mind—gone rusty with retirement idleness. He’d accumulated a list of nine really tough Free Cell games he’d had to abandon unsolved on his computer. He consumed his breakfast coffee and toast, turned on his machine, called up game 1192, and was planning his first move when the telephone rang.
    “Dan Mundy, Joe,” the voice said. “How’s retirement treating you? You keeping busy?”
    Mundy, Joe thought. Yes. Prosecutor in the U.S. Attorney’s Office. Old-timer. Retired years ago.
    “Can’t complain,” Leaphorn said. “How about you?”
    “I’m bored with it,” Mundy said. “You doing anything important today?”
    “Working on a puzzle on my computer.”
    “How about me coming by? I want to introduce you to a fellow.”
    Leaphorn had been retired long enough to know that when such casual semifriends called it was always to ask a favor. But why not? Perhaps it would offer some variety. Anyway, what could he say?
    Joe said: “OK. I’ll have some coffee made.”
     
    Mundy looked exactly as Leaphorn had remembered him. White hair, sharp blue eyes, precisely clipped goatee. “Joe,” he said. “This is Jason Ackerman. Known him since we both cribbed our way through law school. But he’s still practicing. Big office in Washington. Jase, this is Lieutenant [61] Joe Leaphorn, retired. Out here they call him the ‘Legendary Lieutenant.’ I’ve told you about him.”
    Jason shifted the briefcase he’d been holding to his left hand and offered Leaphorn the right one. With the hand shaking done, Leaphorn motioned his visitors to sit and brought in Louisa’s tray with its array of saucered cups, sugar bowl, creamer, spoons, and napkins. Coffee was poured, pleasantries exchanged.
    “And now,” Leaphorn said. “What brings you to Window Rock?”
    This produced a moment of hesitation, a sipping of coffee by Mundy. Ackerman was waiting for him to answer.
    “I guess officially and formally, it’s none of our business. We’re just being nosey,” Mundy said. “But we’re sort of curious about that murder case. That fellow shot up there just off the southwest edge of the Jicarilla Reservation.”
    “Which murder case?”
    Mundy laughed, shook his head. “Come on, Joe. You don’t have that many.”
    “You mean the recent one? Victim unidentified?”
    “And why wasn’t he identified?” Mundy asked. “I heard he got there in a rental car. They don’t let those cars go without knowing who