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stared at the AZDPS cop.
    So you think because I found and “prosecuted” a serial killer three years ago that I have now, three years later, taken to acting out and serial-killing on my own just to blow off some bad psychological steam, Mr. Anderton? Or else you think that I was Charlie’s accomplice?
    The cop was very still.
    If that’s your theory about these recent murders in Los Jarros, it’s pretty weak, Officer Anderton.
    The trooper eyed the revolver beside the coffee pot.
    I don’t have a theory at the moment, Mr. Garnet. I am just trying to analyze the pattern of this most recent series of murders in Los Jarros County. But be assured sir, that I’ll be in touch with you if I construct a plausible theory. The cop stood and backed toward the door of the casita, his eyes on the gun on the kitchen countertop. And I apologize for the imposition if that’s how you interpret my visit here today, sir. Thanks so much for your time, Mr. Garnet.
    The Statie left the house and drove off in a new cloud of dust.
    *   *   *
    Rodeo held open the door of Twin Arrows Trading Post and followed his dog inside the store and to the bar. Luis reached back and poured a cup of coffee from the blue speckled pot into a rusty tin cup and slid it down the countertop. Under the glass-topped counter a slightly new variety of human artifacts from priceless to worthless were now displayed.
    Free coffee today, brother. Free beer tomorrow.
    Rodeo ignored the coffee as he took his usual seat.
    A Highway Patrol name of Ted Anderton came by my house just a while ago to show me some photocopied pictures of some artifacts, Luis. Rodeo described the objects as thoroughly as he could. You deal in Indian artifacts, legal and illegal, so what can you tell me?
    Well, the rattle that might be from anywhere in Indian Country, Luis said. Who knows which tribe? You go to sweat lodge anywhere these days and every drunk in the tent has got a sad story and a goddamned rattle of some kind. Pots a lot of us got too. Somebody at the Pottery Center over at the University would have to tell by the type of mud, you know, where something like that comes from. The comb, that’s probably a wool comb from the Dine, the sheep people. An ironwood carving would be from the Seri. That’s them down at Kino Bay and that’s about the last place that pueblo are. Back in the day the Seri they fished from little boats made out of sticks and ate turtle eggs and cactus so they was a pretty backwards bunch, but they gave the Spaniards a hard time and wouldn’t go Catholic and you got to hand it to people who won’t get civilized without a fight. Like your Yaqui, right, brother? They never went down on the Spanish either.
    My tribe was too little for the Spanish to bother with, Luis.
    Sometimes little is better, Rodeo.
    You would know about that better than me, Luis.
    I’m not the one living alone, little brother.
    You know this kid from State Barracks, Luis? asked Rodeo. Ted Anderton?
    I seen him a few times, the storekeep said. He camps out with his radar gun near the overpass and picks up drunk Indians when they try to drive onto the interstate. He comes in here sometimes but don’t ever buy nothing but Doublemint and bottled water. I think he’s one of them Church People. The blond ones.
    Mormons?
    Yeah. I think this Anderton he’s a Mormon guy, Luis said. That’s why he can’t buy nothing good in here. His church they would excommunicate him if he did.
    What’s he want with me?
    He’s a badge-and-haircut, brother, so maybe he’s trying to break some case so he can get out of Traffic? Maybe he’s ambitious that way like they all are, brother. All them Anglos are ambitious. Luis paused. He asked me about what you did to Charlie Constance back in the day.
    What did you tell him?
    I told him to read the papers like everybody else.
    Rodeo looked at the AMexica News Wall.
    Was there anything in any of the newspapers about Native American artifacts found at any of