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No use you wasting your time. What you fixing on that bus? The man stared at him. Hair in Bun stepped into the doorway, pulled his hands out of the bib of his overalls, and let them hang by his sides. Leaphorn stopped. The voice remained mild. Really great. The concert. Maybe too much. It would be exclusive. Some sort of high-society fund-raiser. Shaking down the social set for some worthy literacy cause, probably. Almost certainly it would be by invitation only.

Or just members and guests for the big-money patrons of library projects. He had thought, once, that John McDermott might have taken her. She and Chee, their usefulness exhausted, had then been advised to go about their business elsewhere while the crime scene folks sniffed the air, read the sand, and deduced what had happened here.

The hogan now was definitely occupied. The Wailing Wind - v4 by Tony Hillerman. Copyright Disclaimer: This site does not store any files on its server. Then what would they say? An even more dreadful thought emerged. The next step. Bernie would be outraged, furious, terminally resentful. And justifiably so. The car was rolling slowly now.

Chee pulled it off onto the shoulder, slammed it into reverse, made a pursuit turn, and headed back toward Bluff, giving his idea of saving Officer Bernadette Manuelito more thought. That thought was quickly interrupted. The sound of a siren in his ear, the blinking warning light atop a Utah State Police car reflecting off his rearview mirror.