you know that?" She assessed me again the way she had earlier, except this time she seemed more interested in my soul than my body. "But you seem sort of sad, too, you know?"
"My wife died."
"Oh, God. I'm sorry. When?"
"Couple of years ago."
"Cancer?"
"Brain aneurism. We were standing in the kitchen just talking and—"
"I really am sorry."
I smiled. "Now I'm using you as a shrink."
"Well, I'll say what you said to me — I don't mind."
We looked at each other a long moment and then she said, "I guess we probably should talk about the murder, huh?"
"Probably be a good idea."
"Where should we start?"
"Why don't we start by you telling me why some people think your husband killed that woman?"
"Yeah, I guess that would make sense, wouldn't it?"
Only the black male was held in lower regard than the Indian man. Invariably, when a local white was murdered, and there were no handy suspects, Indian males were questioned by police.
Professor David Cromwell's Indian Journal
May 12, 1903
Chief Ryan didn't want to create a scene — it was just after suppertime and the potential for a crowd of onlookers was great — so he went over to the livery stable alone. He wore street clothes, his five-pointed badge on the breast pocket of his Edwardian-cut jacket, and he carried his old Remington .36, which he'd had altered so it could use metal cartridges instead of the original paper ones.
The way he figured things, there wouldn't be much trouble.
The young Indian man he suspected of killing the Indian girl the other night had a room above the livery and was said to be there right after suppertime most nights. He was also said to have argued violently and publicly with the girl on the afternoon of her death. And he had an extremely bad drinking problem. Ryan felt sure he had his man. Now it was simply a matter of arresting him, hopefully without incident.
A fter supper, Anna Tolan went back to the crime scene. She wanted to comb a particular area of grass once more before the rain came and washed all the evidence away.
She spent half an hour at the scene and then walked back toward town.
As a farm girl, she was always properly thrilled by Cedar Rapids. Nearly 30,000 population now, electric lights, more than 2,000 telephones, electric trolleys and theaters that saw some of the world's biggest acts play here. She loved window-shopping, too, especially since the large floral hats were in for spring. She was saving her money up to buy one.
Even from the back, she recognized him. Chief Ryan. Walking fast. Alone.
She caught up with him. "Good evening, Chief."
"Hi, Anna." But he didn't sound as hearty as usual. In fact, he didn't sound all that happy to see her.
She walked along with him. In silence. "Everything all right, Chief?"
"There could be a little trouble, Anna."
"Oh?"
"The Indian girl."
"Uh-huh?"
"I think we've got our man: I'm just going to arrest him now. I don't think it's any place for you, Anna, and please don't take that the wrong way."
"I have my own gun."
"I know you do."
"And I'm a good shot."
"I know you are."
"So I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Mrs. Goldman, who was educated, always said things like "perfectly capable", and Anna loved the sound of such words in her ear and the feel of them on her very own tongue.
The Chief sighed. "So in other words, you want to go along."
Anna nodded. "Yes, I do. But I should tell you one thing."
"Oh?"
"I don't think he did it."
"You don't, eh? Is this more of your "scientific detection?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, now's not the time for it, Anna. We've got our man and we've got him good so if you want to go along with me to arrest him, can you please just be quiet about your scientific detection for once?"
Anna said, "I'm perfectly capable of being quiet when I need to be, Chief."
Chapter 5
I' ll tell you a secret about sexual homicides: the stranger the better where the FBI's psychological-profile group in Quantico, Virginia
"My wife died."
"Oh, God. I'm sorry. When?"
"Couple of years ago."
"Cancer?"
"Brain aneurism. We were standing in the kitchen just talking and—"
"I really am sorry."
I smiled. "Now I'm using you as a shrink."
"Well, I'll say what you said to me — I don't mind."
We looked at each other a long moment and then she said, "I guess we probably should talk about the murder, huh?"
"Probably be a good idea."
"Where should we start?"
"Why don't we start by you telling me why some people think your husband killed that woman?"
"Yeah, I guess that would make sense, wouldn't it?"
Only the black male was held in lower regard than the Indian man. Invariably, when a local white was murdered, and there were no handy suspects, Indian males were questioned by police.
Professor David Cromwell's Indian Journal
May 12, 1903
Chief Ryan didn't want to create a scene — it was just after suppertime and the potential for a crowd of onlookers was great — so he went over to the livery stable alone. He wore street clothes, his five-pointed badge on the breast pocket of his Edwardian-cut jacket, and he carried his old Remington .36, which he'd had altered so it could use metal cartridges instead of the original paper ones.
The way he figured things, there wouldn't be much trouble.
The young Indian man he suspected of killing the Indian girl the other night had a room above the livery and was said to be there right after suppertime most nights. He was also said to have argued violently and publicly with the girl on the afternoon of her death. And he had an extremely bad drinking problem. Ryan felt sure he had his man. Now it was simply a matter of arresting him, hopefully without incident.
A fter supper, Anna Tolan went back to the crime scene. She wanted to comb a particular area of grass once more before the rain came and washed all the evidence away.
She spent half an hour at the scene and then walked back toward town.
As a farm girl, she was always properly thrilled by Cedar Rapids. Nearly 30,000 population now, electric lights, more than 2,000 telephones, electric trolleys and theaters that saw some of the world's biggest acts play here. She loved window-shopping, too, especially since the large floral hats were in for spring. She was saving her money up to buy one.
Even from the back, she recognized him. Chief Ryan. Walking fast. Alone.
She caught up with him. "Good evening, Chief."
"Hi, Anna." But he didn't sound as hearty as usual. In fact, he didn't sound all that happy to see her.
She walked along with him. In silence. "Everything all right, Chief?"
"There could be a little trouble, Anna."
"Oh?"
"The Indian girl."
"Uh-huh?"
"I think we've got our man: I'm just going to arrest him now. I don't think it's any place for you, Anna, and please don't take that the wrong way."
"I have my own gun."
"I know you do."
"And I'm a good shot."
"I know you are."
"So I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Mrs. Goldman, who was educated, always said things like "perfectly capable", and Anna loved the sound of such words in her ear and the feel of them on her very own tongue.
The Chief sighed. "So in other words, you want to go along."
Anna nodded. "Yes, I do. But I should tell you one thing."
"Oh?"
"I don't think he did it."
"You don't, eh? Is this more of your "scientific detection?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, now's not the time for it, Anna. We've got our man and we've got him good so if you want to go along with me to arrest him, can you please just be quiet about your scientific detection for once?"
Anna said, "I'm perfectly capable of being quiet when I need to be, Chief."
Chapter 5
I' ll tell you a secret about sexual homicides: the stranger the better where the FBI's psychological-profile group in Quantico, Virginia
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