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before intercepting the Tucson detectives.
    â€œWhat do you think?” Ms. Jardine asked.
    â€œI think we’ve got to be careful here. If we go in there and wait for him and he wins this argument, he just might detain us as material witnesses.”
    â€œYeah. This guy seems to have his heart set on your uncle as the killer.” Jardine shook her head. “You really think Mad Dog is here?”
    â€œIt sure sounds like it,” Heather said. “I mean, this guy knew about Hailey and the Mini Cooper.”
    â€œSo, what should we do?”
    Heather’s preference would have been slipping into the shadows and going to look for her uncle, but that wouldn’t work. “Why don’t you stay here and use my cell. Try Mad Dog. I know it’s after two in Kansas, but call my dad next. He needs to know what’s going on, especially if we get taken in. He might be able to make some things happen from his end.”
    â€œWhile you do what?”
    â€œI’m going to join that conversation. If somebody takes us into custody, I’d rather be in the hands of your big city pros than a tribal force we don’t know anything about. It’s too easy for little law enforcement agencies to let the legal niceties slide if that’s more convenient. I don’t think the Tucson Police Department will do that, especially if you’ve managed to let Dad know what’s happening.”
    Ms. Jardine agreed. She took Heather’s cell phone and started punching numbers. Heather turned toward the street. She got a much angrier glare from the Sewa captain as she pulled her ID and introduced herself to the Tucson detectives.
    â€œWelcome to town, Deputy English,” one of them said. “What’s your interest in this?”
    â€œWe were in the process of establishing that,” the Sewa said. “Now, young lady, if you’d just go back over there with your friend and wait for me….”
    Heather nodded toward the captain. “This man seems to think my uncle killed his officer. He’s wrong about that, but he believes we’re withholding evidence instead of cooperating. I thought maybe we should talk to you before he starts the water boarding.”
    ***
    The sex shop was fresh out of breechcloths, but they had other things Mad Dog could strap on. A selection stood like a row of absurd stalagmites on a nearby display case.
    At least they had body paint. Mad Dog decided on the large container of licorice, since he favored a nearly solid black look, except for vanilla lightning bolts. He bought some cherry, as well, to use as tint for the sand painting he wanted to make, and a little blueberry because he liked to mix that and vanilla to highlight the cosmological singularity, even if it wasn’t traditional.
    Mad Dog would have explained all this to the guy behind the counter, but the man seemed infected by a terminal case of ennui. What marginal interest he managed related to the items that Mad Dog might purchase, not how Mad Dog planned to use them. The guy at the magazine rack, though, moved from the bondage section to spanking—as close as he could get to listen in. Somehow, Mad Dog didn’t feel like discussing Cheyenne religious concepts when a man wearing a raincoat on a cloudless evening hovered nearby.
    â€œAnything else?” the counterman muttered.
    â€œThere is one thing.” Mad Dog could do with some corn pollen, but he was allergic to it. He’d discovered the perfect substitute, however. It was bright and sparkly and he’d first run across the product in a Wichita toy store. “I don’t suppose you have any Genuine Official Magic Faerie Dust?”
    The counterman’s heavy eyelids lifted for the first time. He pulled away, ever so slightly. The guy in the raincoat suddenly decided to browse the most distant magazines, a section labeled FARM ANIMALS.
    â€œNo faerie dust?” Mad Dog had picked up on the