A Thief of Time by Tony Hillerman

field,” Elliot said. “I think he was chairman of her dissertation committee when she got her doctorate at Madison. Now he’s a professor at University of New Mexico. Two or three books on Mimbres, and Hohokam, and Anasazi pottery evolution. Top guru in the ceramics field.”
    â€œEllie’s equivalent of our Devanti,” Davis said. “She pretty well had to persuade Lehman she knew what she was talking about. Like in migrations, Elliot and I have to deal with our top honcho.”
    â€œDoctor Delbert Devanti,” Elliot said. “Arkansas’s answer to Einstein.” The tone was sardonic.
    â€œHe’s proved some things,” Maxie Davis said, her voice flat. “Even if he didn’t go to Phillips Exeter Academy, or Princeton.”
    There was silence. Elliot’s long, handsome face had become stiff and blank. Maxie glanced at him. In the glance Leaphorn read…what? Was it anger? Malice? She turned to Leaphorn. “Please note the blue blood’s lofty contempt for the plebeians. Devanti is definitely a plebe. He sounds like corn pone.”
    â€œAnd is often wrong,” Elliot said.
    Davis laughed. “There is that,” she said.
    â€œBut you give people the right to be wrong if they came out of the cotton patch,” Elliot said. His voice sounded normal, or almost normal, but Leaphorn could see the tension in the line of his jaw.
    â€œMore of an excuse for it,” Maxie said, mildly. “Maybe he overlooked something while he was working nights to feed his family. No tutors to do his digging in the library.”
    To that, Randall Elliot said nothing. Leaphorn watched. Where would this tension lead? Nowhere, apparently. Maxie had nothing more to say.
    â€œYou two work as a team,” Leaphorn said. “That right?”
    â€œMore or less,” Davis said. “We have common interests in the Anasazi.”
    â€œLike how?” Leaphorn asked.
    â€œIt’s complicated. Actually it involves food economics, nutrition tolerances, population sizes, things like that, and you spend a lot more time working on programming statistical projections in the computer than you do digging in the field. Really dull stuff, unless you’re weird enough to be into it.” She smiled at Leaphorn. A smile of such dazzling charm that once it would have destroyed him.
    â€œAnd Randall here,” she added, “is doing something much more dramatic.” She poked him with her elbow—a gesture that almost made what she was saying mere teasing. “He is revolutionizing physical anthropology. He is finding a way to solve the mystery, once and for all, of what happened to these people.”
    â€œPopulation studies,” Elliot said in a low voice. “Involves migrations and genetics.”
    â€œRewrites all the books if it works,” Maxie Davis said, smiling at Leaphorn. “Elliots do not spend their time on small things. In the navy they are admirals. In universities they are presidents. In politics they are senators. When you start at the top you have to aim high. Or everybody is disappointed.”
    Leaphorn was uncomfortable. “It would be a problem,” he said.
    â€œBut not one I had,” Maxie Davis said. “I’m white trash.”
    â€œMaxie never tires of reminding me of the silver spoon in my crib,” Elliot said, managing a grin. “It doesn’t have much to do with finding Ellie, though.”
    â€œBut you have a point,” Leaphorn said. “Dr. Friedman wouldn’t have missed that appointment with Lehman without a good reason.”
    â€œHell, no,” Maxie said. “That’s what I told that idiot at the sheriff’s office.”
    â€œDo you know why he was coming? Specifically.”
    â€œShe was going to bring him up-to-date,” Elliot said.
    â€œShe was going to hit him with a bombshell,” Maxie said. “That’s what I think. I think she finally