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Authors: Ed Gorman
Tags: Mystery & Crime
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more."
"He hasn't had an easy life."
"Neither have you."
"His sister. That's how all this started."
"What about his sister?"
"Kidnapped."
"From the reservation?"
"Yes," Cindy said. "She was three years old, playing out in the back yard. Her mom was a good parent, always kept an eye on her kids. But she had to go to Des Moines one day, and had to get a babysitter. And when she got back, her daughter had disappeared."
"Were there ever any leads?"
"Not any good ones. David was obsessed with her. He was one of those brothers who are really protective of their little sisters. He can be very tender. Honest."
The waitress came with more coffee.
"Well," I said, after the lady left, "I feel sorry for him about his sister but he sure as hell hasn't treated you very well."
"I know that, but I want to help him anyway."
"There were two men tonight. They were beating him up, outside the casino. He tell you anything about that?"
"No. My God, what was that all about?"
"I don't know but it may have something to do with him wanting to leave town."
I thought of telling her about the burned-out Victorian house and the human arm the Border collie had brought me. David Rhodes had been somewhere in that fog. He was likely the person who'd knocked me out. He was probably in a great deal more trouble than Cindy understood.
"Will you go with me to see him?" she asked suddenly.
"Now?" I said.
"Yes. I'd appreciate it. I'm sure he's started drinking and . . . he gets abusive. You know."
Nope, sometimes they never got over the dashing bad boys. Not ever. And almost no matter what those bad boys did to them, either.
"Sure."
"This kind of irritates you, doesn't it?"
"Not at all. I almost never have anything better to do at two forty-five in the morning."
"I'm crazy for still loving him, aren't I?"
I smiled. "Wasn't that the title of the last song they played on the jukebox? ‘I'm Crazy for Loving the Dirty Sonofabitch’ — or something like that?"
She laughed, a burst of pure pleasure that put some luster back into those beautiful dark eyes of hers.
"C'mon," I said, "let's go see him before somebody puts more money in the jukebox."
W hat was important to know about the relationship between the red and white man was that the red man was perceived as having only four roles in white society — as the wretched drunk; as the lazy reservation Indian; as the impossibly noble icon the liberals contended; or as one of the mainstays of the American criminal class.
Professor David Cromwell's Indian Journal
June 4, 1903
Rain all day, rain all night. Anna had wanted to play basketball — she was as good at it as most men — but not in rain like this.
Mrs. Goldman had a bad head cold and went right up to her room after dinner.
Anna stayed in the living room with its elegant twelve-light electric fixture suspended from the ceiling, and its comfortable Victorian furnishings, and its abundance of plants and ferns.
She read the paper, starting with News in Brief , which was always her favorite section.
President Theodore Roosevelt declared yesterday that control of the Pacific Ocean must fall under American control in this new century
More than 100 Jews were murdered in St Petersburg on Friday of last week.
Professor Albon W. Small, head of the Department of Sociology at Chicago University, predicted at last weekend's Journalist Society that sooner or later Germany and the United States would go to war. He predicted the war will likely come within three years.
William Thompson, of Kearney, Nebraska, will speak at the Cedar Rapids History Society tonight on the subject of scalping. Mr. Thompson claims to have been scalped as a young man and to have photographic evidence of this. A lively discussion is promised.
A nna was still thinking about the last story when she heard the door buzzer. She got up, left the living room and walked to the front door.
"I was just walking by and thought I'd stop in and say
"He hasn't had an easy life."
"Neither have you."
"His sister. That's how all this started."
"What about his sister?"
"Kidnapped."
"From the reservation?"
"Yes," Cindy said. "She was three years old, playing out in the back yard. Her mom was a good parent, always kept an eye on her kids. But she had to go to Des Moines one day, and had to get a babysitter. And when she got back, her daughter had disappeared."
"Were there ever any leads?"
"Not any good ones. David was obsessed with her. He was one of those brothers who are really protective of their little sisters. He can be very tender. Honest."
The waitress came with more coffee.
"Well," I said, after the lady left, "I feel sorry for him about his sister but he sure as hell hasn't treated you very well."
"I know that, but I want to help him anyway."
"There were two men tonight. They were beating him up, outside the casino. He tell you anything about that?"
"No. My God, what was that all about?"
"I don't know but it may have something to do with him wanting to leave town."
I thought of telling her about the burned-out Victorian house and the human arm the Border collie had brought me. David Rhodes had been somewhere in that fog. He was likely the person who'd knocked me out. He was probably in a great deal more trouble than Cindy understood.
"Will you go with me to see him?" she asked suddenly.
"Now?" I said.
"Yes. I'd appreciate it. I'm sure he's started drinking and . . . he gets abusive. You know."
Nope, sometimes they never got over the dashing bad boys. Not ever. And almost no matter what those bad boys did to them, either.
"Sure."
"This kind of irritates you, doesn't it?"
"Not at all. I almost never have anything better to do at two forty-five in the morning."
"I'm crazy for still loving him, aren't I?"
I smiled. "Wasn't that the title of the last song they played on the jukebox? ‘I'm Crazy for Loving the Dirty Sonofabitch’ — or something like that?"
She laughed, a burst of pure pleasure that put some luster back into those beautiful dark eyes of hers.
"C'mon," I said, "let's go see him before somebody puts more money in the jukebox."
W hat was important to know about the relationship between the red and white man was that the red man was perceived as having only four roles in white society — as the wretched drunk; as the lazy reservation Indian; as the impossibly noble icon the liberals contended; or as one of the mainstays of the American criminal class.
Professor David Cromwell's Indian Journal
June 4, 1903
Rain all day, rain all night. Anna had wanted to play basketball — she was as good at it as most men — but not in rain like this.
Mrs. Goldman had a bad head cold and went right up to her room after dinner.
Anna stayed in the living room with its elegant twelve-light electric fixture suspended from the ceiling, and its comfortable Victorian furnishings, and its abundance of plants and ferns.
She read the paper, starting with News in Brief , which was always her favorite section.
President Theodore Roosevelt declared yesterday that control of the Pacific Ocean must fall under American control in this new century
More than 100 Jews were murdered in St Petersburg on Friday of last week.
Professor Albon W. Small, head of the Department of Sociology at Chicago University, predicted at last weekend's Journalist Society that sooner or later Germany and the United States would go to war. He predicted the war will likely come within three years.
William Thompson, of Kearney, Nebraska, will speak at the Cedar Rapids History Society tonight on the subject of scalping. Mr. Thompson claims to have been scalped as a young man and to have photographic evidence of this. A lively discussion is promised.
A nna was still thinking about the last story when she heard the door buzzer. She got up, left the living room and walked to the front door.
"I was just walking by and thought I'd stop in and say
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