Rock with Wings by Anne Hillerman Page A

beyond our control. I think that’s one reason people like horror movies. That, and they like to be scared.”
    â€œDo you enjoy watching them?”
    â€œWell, horror movies tend to do well at the box office. At least, that’s what we’re hoping.”
    Chee tried bringing the conversation back to the reason for his visit once again. “What can you tell me about the grave?”
    â€œNothing. Sorry.” Robinson looked at the clock over the food line. “I’ve got to run. Have some dessert if you’d like. They do a good job with the pie. Thanks for finding Missy.”
    As he savored the last of his coffee, Chee noticed three Navajo men in the food line. When they settled in at a table, he selected a piece of apple pie—a juicy one, in the Lieutenant’s honor—and introduced himself to the men, mentioning his cousin Paul.
    The one who called himself Randy wore a black Stetson with a band of small silver conchos. He motioned to Chee to join them. “I know that guy. Good man. I remember him from high school. I heard that he got one of those big old Jeeps they used at Canyon de Chelly.”
    Chee told them the story about the People Mover and Paul’s tour business, and then they sat in silence for a while.
    â€œSo did they hire you to be an actor?” Randy asked.
    â€œNo. I’m a real cop. I got called to find a missing lady who wasn’t really missing. Then I got invited to have a sandwich.”
    All the men nodded. “You are having a good evening,” Randy said.
    When Chee finally asked, none of them had anything to say about the grave. But they didn’t seem surprised at the question.
    Chee had just opened the door of his unit, ready to drive back, when Robinson jogged up.
    â€œGlad I caught you. We’ve got some trespassers. Our security guy was going to give them a warning, but they turned belligerent. Can you help us?”
    â€œWhere are they?”
    Robinson pointed to a trailer. “Over there in the production office. The guard is waiting for you with them.”
    â€œOK, I’ll be there in a minute.”
    He radioed the station with the news about the trespassers and Robinson’s professed ignorance of the grave. Bahe had gone home, but Monica filled him in. “We handle those trespass calls every once in a while. Usually bored local kids.”
    But instead of Navajos, Chee found two young white women and a well-muscled rent-a-cop. His name badge read “Samuel.” Chee wondered if that was his first name or his last.
    â€œ Yá’át’ééh .” Chee introduced himself to the guard.
    Samuel didn’t return the greeting. “What happened to Tsinnie?” Leaning against the back wall, arms crossed, he turned his gaze from the girls to Chee.
    â€œI don’t know. I’m the new guy. Temporary help.”
    Samuel uncrossed his arms, moving his hands to his hips. “Well, you need to arrest these two for trespassing and having an illegal firearm. And for being smart-asses.”
    The suspects, squeezed together knee-to-knee on a love seat against the office wall, looked to Chee to be in their late teens. They stared at the floor.
    â€œSo, trespassing and a firearm. What happened?”
    Samuel studied one girl, then the other—focusing long enough to make them uneasy, Chee noticed. “I was driving patrol when I heard something up by one of the cast trailers. I drove over to check it out, and I saw these idiots outside Rhonda’s place, trying to break in.”
    The girl in the black T-shirt with a silver ring in her eyebrow looked up. “We weren’t—”
    â€œJust a minute. Let him talk. You’ll get your turn.” Chee spoke to the security guard. “Who’s Rhonda?”
    Samuel looked at Chee as though he thought the officer was an idiot.
    â€œRhonda Delay. Even you people out in the sticks here must have heard of her. She’s