Watchman spoke not to Kendrick but to Rand; it was Rand, of the two, who had less to lose. “The tribe had a stronger case than yours. If you went into court over those water rights you were bound to lose. Hell every water-rights lawyer with a shingle to hang out knows the Winters-versus-U.S. case, it’s broken all these private water deals down and it’ll break yours down just as fast if you ever get hauled into court. You didn’t want to go into court. You didn’t want your wells closed down. So you did a deal with Kendrick. You kept him out of prison and he kept you out of court.”

Victorio walked in during Watchman’s speech and when Watchman paused he caught Victorio’s eye. Victorio said, “What the hell is this?”

Kendrick said, “They pretend they’ve got some reason to arrest me for murder. Four murders, the man says.”

“What?”

Kendrick leaned forward and stared at him. “Did you rifle my files, Tom?”

Watchman spoke quickly. “Don’t give him the satisfaction, Tom.”

Victorio said, “What files?”

Kendrick half-shuttered his eyes and sat back again.

Victorio made an interrogatory throat-clearing sound but Watchman waved him back. He turned to Kendrick. “It’s been six years since you killed Calisher. The water case still hasn’t come to court. You must have pulled every delaying tactic in the book. Not Rand’s lawyers—you. And when you ran out of legal delays you stole your own files to set the case back another year.”

Victorio’s head rocked back. “Ah,” he breathed. “Yeah. Of course. Jesus Christ. Him!”

Watchman glanced at him. “You can confirm that part of it—the unnecessary delays Kendrick kept making.”

“You bet your ass I can.”

Kendrick said, “Tom, you’re jumping in before you find out if there’s any water in the pool. You’re in a lot of trouble with me as of right now.”

Watchman got the ball back. “You ran out of delays and you couldn’t afford to take the Indians’ case into court—because you knew you’d win.”

Rand made a sound. He was thinking about inveighing. Watchman’s angry eyes pinned him back. “He couldn’t afford to win it, could he Mr. Rand. Because if you lost it you’d throw him out in the cold to stand trial for murder.”

“You’re talking yourself into the goddamnedest slander suit that’s ever been brought in the state of Arizona,” Kendrick said. “Go right ahead, Trooper—finish digging your grave.”

“Not my grave. Yours.” Watchman went back to Rand: “It had to be like that. You forced him to keep the case out of court. And that’s why I know you’ve got the evidence to prove he killed Calisher.”

7.

Kendrick attempted to laugh but he didn’t bring it off. And the false smile slid from his face when Rand suddenly stood up.

Rand said, “Let’s go outside. I want to talk to you.” He was talking to Watchman and Watchman nodded and turned to go with him but Kendrick bounced to his feet and bellowed. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Rand sounded weary. “Shut up, Dwight. Come on”—the last to Watchman.

Victorio said, “Use my office.”

Watchman followed Rand into it. The cluttered cubicle was hardly big enough for the two of them.

Rand didn’t sit down. He leaned his shoulder against a bookshelf. His face was not readable. “I want to know how much you’ve got.”

“That’s better. You don’t——”

“I’m not admitting a damn thing, Trooper. Not now. Put your cards on the table face up and we’ll see how good your hand is. Then I’ll decide.”

“Fair enough.” It was as good as Watchman was going to get; it was a little better, in fact, than he had expected. It could save a lot of time.

He said, “Here’s what happened. Kendrick got desperate, he didn’t have any delays left in his pocket. He knew the tribal beliefs about witchcraft and he set it up to look as if Maria Threepersons had been witched. Last Monday morning he borrowed Victorio’s Volkswagen—Victorio knew it but at the moment he’s not admitting it. He will. Kendrick drove down to Maria’s house in Phoenix, in Victorio’s car. A witness saw that car drive away from her house. It ran the red light at the corner. You told me yourself that he’s color-blind, he tends to run red lights when he’s upset. You telling me about that dog he killed—that’s what made me see how it was.”

“You’re saying he killed the woman in cold blood.”

“Maybe he didn’t mean to kill her. He probably took the powder out of some capsules and dropped it in her coffee. It wasn’t supposed to be enough to kill her—just enough to make her damned sick. He didn’t count on her getting in the car and passing out at the wheel and driving head-on, into a truck. How could he? He didn’t intend that, he only meant for her to get sick. Then he planned to send Jimmy Oto down to the prison to convince Joe that somebody was witching Maria. Then Jimmy was supposed to help Joe break out. Kendrick planted an idea in Joe’s head that Harlan Natagee had witched her and Harlan was working for you. The whole idea was to get Joe mad enough to kill you.”

“Nobody’s that devious,” Rand said. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s not far-fetched. Kendrick wanted Joe to kill you because it would solve all his problems at once. It would get you off his back and he’d be free to go ahead into court and win the water case. And it would destroy whatever credibility Joe had left as a witness against him. Look at it—if Joe kills you, who’s going to believe him when he says he never killed Calisher?”

“I guess that makes a kind of sense,” Rand said, bemused. “I mean it’s one way to look at things, isn’t it. But all this sly business about dragging Harlan Natagee’s name into it and persuading the kid that Harlan was working for me—that just doesn’t follow.”

“It does. Because Kendrick had to cover his own tracks in case anything went wrong. He couldn’t afford to have you find out that he was trying to have you killed. You’d have thrown the Calisher case wide open and had him arrested. He had to be roundabout—he had to keep Joe in the dark. There was always the chance we’d catch Joe before Joe got to you and if that happened Kendrick had to be in the clear. So he arranged to put the suspicion on Harlan.”

“But what about Maria?”

“I told you I don’t think he meant her to die. But it worked to his advantage. It gave Joe more reason than ever to kill you. And it got a big financial load off Kendrick’s back. You don’t have to pay dead people.

“Victorio’s car puts Kendrick at the scene of the crime,” Watchman went on. “And I expect after we get a warrant we’ll find the Seconal and a hacksaw that matches the marks on Jimmy’s tie rod.”

Rand’s face was pale yellow against the somber books. “If that’s all the evidence you’ve got you won’t convict him on a jaywalking rap, let alone murder.”

“I think the hacksaw will turn up. It’ll connect him to the Oto murder. We may never prove in court that he was responsible for the deaths of Maria and little Joe but we’ll prove he killed Calisher. We’ll nail him cold on that one.”

“With what?”

“The evidence you give me.”

“Out of the goodness of my magnanimous heart?”

“Out of the Anglo-Saxon businessman’s enlightened self-interest, Mr. Rand. You’re wide open to prosecution. Extortion. Bribery. Withholding evidence in a felony case.”

“Prove that.”

“Do you think I can’t?” Watchman demanded.

Rand met his gaze. That he was not sure of his ground was clear enough; he knew the extent of Watchman’s knowledge but he wasn’t sure how much evidence Watchman could produce.

Watchman had to play the last cards.

He said, “You’ll still have some of your hide left intact if you use your head. Look: whatever happens to Kendrick, the tribe won’t go on using him to represent them. There’ll be another lawyer. It may be Tom Victorio. You won’t have a lever against him. He’ll drag you into court and you’ll lose every drop of water you’ve got up here.”