The Shape Shifter by Tony Hillerman

Author:Tony Hillerman
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Police Procedural, Detective and mystery stories, Leaphorn, Mystery & Detective, Police - New Mexico, Navajo Indians, Fiction, Joe, Indian reservation police, Chee, Mystery fiction, Lt. (Fictitious character), Suspense, General, Cultural Heritage, Jim (Fictitious character), New Mexico
ISBN: 9780060563479
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2007-12-06T06:27:41+00:00

16

While this conversation was winding down, Leaphorn had been keeping a casual eye on various auction attendees milling in the parking lot, hoping to see someone he recognized from his distant past, and failing at that. But as he slid the cell phone back into his jacket pocket he noticed that a young-looking man seemed to have taken an interest in his pickup truck. He was standing right beside it now, peering into the truck bed.

Leaphorn crossed the lot at something close to a trot, passed the hulking Ford 250 King Cab parked at the end of the row, an equally bulky Dodge Ram, and an SUV whose heritage he didn’t identify. Beyond was his pickup, with a slender man leaning way into its bed, and then coming out of it looking at something in his hand. The man was Tommy Vang, and Tommy Vang was holding a paper sack, carefully unfolding its top, preparing to open it.

“Ah, Mr. Vang,” Leaphorn said, “Professor Bourbonette told me you might be coming here to see me.”

Tommy Vang had spun with remarkable agility. He stood, feet spread, facing Leaphorn; his eyes were wide as he sucked in a breath.

“And what have you found there?” Leaphorn asked. “That looks like that lunch sack you so kindly prepared for me at your place.” Leaphorn was talking slowly, intent on Vang’s expression. It had varied from stunned to an unreadable blank.

“That was very polite of you,” Leaphorn added. “I’m sorry to say I’ve been too busy to enjoy it.”

Vang nodded, holding the sack against his chest, looking like a little boy caught stealing.

“What caused you to think of making me a lunch?” Leaphorn reached for the sack, lifted it from Vang’s unresisting hand. “Professor Bourbonette told me you had come to see me in Shiprock. She said you might come here looking for me. Is that correct?”

Vang had regained his composure. He swallowed. Nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I came out to here hoping I could talk to you.”

“Why?”

Vang swallowed again. “To tell you that your friend—that Mr. Bork who came to see us just before you came. To tell you he was killed in a car accident. I thought you should know about that.”

Leaphorn waited, eyes on Vang. “Oh?” he said.

“Yes,” Vang said, producing a smile. “You had come to our house looking for him. Remember?”

“Did Mr. Delos send you?”

Vang hesitated. Thought. “Yes,” he said. Grimaced. Shook his head. “No,” he said. “He has gone to hunt for another elk. But I thought I should come when I heard on the radio how Mr. Bork died.”

Leaphorn unfolded the sack, looked in, saw a neatly made white bread sandwich wrapped in waxed paper and a Ziploc kitchen bag containing what seemed to be a V-shaped slice of something that must be fruitcake.

“This cake of yours looks very good,” he said. “But remember what I told you and Mr. Delos, I never eat it very much because—” he smiled at Vang, and rubbed his stomach “—because for some reason it makes me sick.

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