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believe that. He’s got power, and he knows it. So just don’t keep pushing me.”
    I understood I had to respect Didi on this, I just didn’t want to. I knew about the Zuni Bow priesthood from my Zuni fetish collecting. She was right. It was a powerful entity. I pulled out my cell phone and started taking photographs.
    She plucked the phone from my hands. “That’s not allowed, either!”
    “Christmas, Didi!” I snatched back the phone. “What’s wrong with you? You’re always more than willing to share—”
    “Not today. Not her. I will not be accused of profaning a holy American Indian person.”
    “Fine.” I slapped the phone shut.
    “Delete them.” Didi’s pale eyes, aged and tired with overwork, burned. She wasn’t kidding.
    I’d known Didi for years. A curmudgeon, yes. But this was different. And strange.
    “Did you hear me?” she repeated. “Delete them.”
    “Sure.” I flicked some buttons and moved my fingers across the phone.
    Two knocks, then, “Delete what, ladies?”
    Fogarty. “Don’t sneak up on people like that,” I said. “It’s creepy.”
    He frowned. “You. I truly believed we were well rid of you.”
    “Gee, Tom,” I said. “You’re always such a welcoming fellow. And here I was going to congratulate you on your appointment as assistant chief medical examiner. Shucks. So are you butting in on this, too?”
    He crossed his arms, crinkling his starched lab coat. “I never barge where I don’t belong.”
    I winked. “Of course not . . . unless publicity is a factor.”
    He puffed up. “Why you—”
    My attention was distracted by a shadow that blurred the doorway. I looked closer, yet for some reason, it was difficult to see. Lousy lighting at OCME.
    The shadow said, “Hello,” and coalesced. How had he done that? He’d been watching us, I was sure. His sun-browned face wore a quizzical smile. He was short and heavy set, with a barrel chest and large bones and a bladed nose that implied authority. His vibes were curious—jolly yet powerful. His chocolate eyes were laughing, apparently at us. Yet I was sure there was more to it than that. He’d heard everything we’d said and found it amusing. He’d tied a bolo around the neck of his turquoise snap shirt, and his black jeans were pressed to a knife edge. His cowboy boots were well used yet gleamed with polish. He carried a small rawhide bag that I guessed he would use for the ceremony.
    I was staring, and though I knew it was rude, I couldn’t seem to help myself. His presence was compelling. Then again, I never trusted that first, charismatic reaction. Charisma often had a short shelf life.
    Didi thrust the black wig back into my hands, walked over, and embraced the man I assumed was the Zuni governor.
    “Let me introduce you,” she said. “This is Governor Ben Bowannie.”
    I nodded, smiled. “Hello, Governor Bowannie. I’m so pleased to meet you. You live in a place of beauty.”
    “Suck up,” Fogarty hissed. “Governor!” He shook hands with the governor, who was obviously uncomfortable with Fogarty’s faux friendliness.
    “Come, Governor,” Didi said. She turned to Fogarty and me. “If you would excuse us, this is a private ceremony.”
    “I insist on staying!” Fogarty said.
    Didi waved a hand. “Go, Tom. Shoo, shoo. This is private. Come back later.”
    “I refuse—”
    “Shall I call Dr. Morgridge?” she said. Her exasperation was palpable. “She assured me the governor and I would have privacy.”
    Fogarty flushed. He pushed the bridge of his glasses higher onto his nose. “As you wish.” He stalked out, lab coat flying behind him.
    The governor bent down to pet Penny, who accepted his affection as a queen would a courtier. He’d certainly passed that test.
    “Fogarty is such a drama queen,” Didi muttered.
    “I know.” I hadn’t missed him one bit. I turned to the governor, who had begun unloading his bag onto Didi’s desk. I spotted a sage stick, but the other items I