Buffalo Bill's Defunct (9781564747112) by Sheila Simonson

Rob got Jack to give him the girlfriend’s name.
    Jack didn’t know the phone number. “She works for the fisheries people.”
    “Okay, we can trace her.” Rob sat beside Jack with the tape recorder between them.
    Maddie stalked over. “Trace her? She hasn’t done anything wrong!”
    Rob mustered patience. “Find her. Talk to her. Eddy may have said something to her about the swap meet or whatever else he was doing, something that will help us identify his killer. Why a swap meet?”
    Silence. Jack and Madeline stared at each other. Todd sneezed. “Sorry.”
    Madeline said, “He hung out at the big swap meets because he was looking for things that were stolen from us.”
    “From Lauder Point?”
    “A lot of the young ones did it.”
    “Not me,” Todd interjected.
    “I wouldn’t let Todd,” she said with the hint of a sneer. “Didn’t want to get him fired.”
    But Todd knew about it. Rob said, “Let me understand you. You were conducting an investigation, looking for the looted objects, and using your young people as agents?”
    “We have a right to do that.”
    He stared at her.
    Madeline’s eyes dropped. “They just went to the swap meets and antiques shows.” She sat down on the next bench over and gazed into the fire.
    “How young?” The hair on the back of Rob’s neck prickled.
    “No kids under eighteen. Just the ones out of high school, and only if they wanted to and had time. I told them to be careful and not to…to confront any of the dealers. Just to report anything to me that might be part of the missing cache. And to give me the dealers’ names.”
    “And?”
    “I didn’t think anything would come of it. They like doing it,” she burst out. “It makes them feel part of the Klalo people. They’ve been looking ten years now, different kids every year, never found anything. A few dealers were selling looted stuff, but it wasn’t ours. I gave their names to the fisheries people Eddy worked for.”
    But not to me, Rob reflected. He didn’t say anything. Chief Thomas sounded defensive.
    “The laws have changed a lot in the last ten years,” he ventured, keeping his voice neutral.
    “Oh, you noticed?”
    He said through his teeth, “I attended three workshops on the changes—two at my own expense. I have a filing cabinet full of cases, legal opinions, and articles from archaeological journals. I noticed.”
    She made a dismissive noise and turned her face away.
    “Paused at four fifty-two.” He hit the Pause button. He needed to think, not emote. He walked to the other end of the room and looked at the display of pine-needle baskets. Beautiful work. Some of the baskets must have been very old, but one tiny perfect thing looked as if it had been made last week. He wished his daughter, Willow, could see it.
    Artifacts such as the baskets, not to mention the ceremonial objects hanging from the walls, now fetched thousands of dollars at auction. Museums and private collectors had created a market that transformed pothunters into thieves, even grave robbers.
    An Oregon man was on trial for looting a burial site in Nevada that dated back several thousand years B.C. In Washington, archaeologists and tribal leaders were at loggerheads over proposed scientific examination of one ancient skeleton. Sacred sites throughout the region had been vandalized. There had been no human remains anywhere in Lauder Point County Park, fortunately. The new laws, actually old laws with new teeth, were an attempt to deal with the situation.
    When he thought he had his temper under control, Rob went back to where Todd was hovering over his aunt and uncle. They had been speaking in low voices and broke off at his approach.
    Maddie started to say something, but Rob held up his hand. “Let me say my piece. If I haven’t offered apologies for failing to find the sacred objects stolen from Lauder Point, I offer them now. There’s no reason for you to believe I take the theft seriously after all this time.