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Back The Trickster Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. The Trickster
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface to the 20th anniversary edition
  6. Introduction
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. Keep Reading
  70. FURNACE
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. About the Author
  73. ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
  74. About the Publisher

Craig kicked back his chair and shut the file. ‘Thanks, Bob. We’ll get back to you.’ He looked across at Daniel Hawk, holding the cookie plate like a mother at a child’s birthday party. ‘Through the proper channels, of course.’

He made to leave, and then hesitated. ‘Incidentally, how long from the discovery of the body until they stopped investigating?’

Bob Cochrane swung back on the chair again. ‘Two, maybe three months. Like I said, there was nothing to find out.’

Craig looked across at Daniel Hawk, then back at Cochrane.

‘They closed it because it was just an Indian, didn’t they?’

‘No. Like the file says, they can’t be sure it was an Indian.’

‘The file says the body was wrapped in a stitched buckskin sack. Is that an Indian burial, Hawk?’

‘It’s an old way. It’s pretty unique to the Kinchuinicks. Usually used for someone important. They use pine boxes now like everyone else.’

‘And the investigating officers at the time knew that?’

‘Sure they knew it. I worked on this case, remember?’

Craig grunted and looked back at Cochrane.

‘Doesn’t mean it was an Indian. We got no proof of that.’

‘Get real, Bob.’

Bob looked at Daniel with some embarrassment. Both Craig and Daniel saw that it was true.

The two men left the room, bracing themselves for a fight through the snow back to their homes on the other side of Wolf Mountain, and for the storm that they felt brewing between those green cardboard sheets.

14

She was always waiting at the window and Katie always pretended to hide behind the big Engelmann spruce in Mrs Chaney’s front yard. Katie peeped from behind the trunk and saw Jess laughing behind the glass, while Mrs Chaney approached from behind with her tiny coat as though it were a net in which to snare her.

Jess was all dressed and ready with her mittens on when Katie stomped the snow off her boots in the lobby of the big old house, its floorboards thumping to running feet, and the high rooms booming with the shouts and shrieks of the other children still waiting to be picked up.

‘Here she is, Mrs Hunt.’

Katie swept her daughter into her arms. ‘Thanks again, Mrs Chaney. Have you been good, sweetheart? Have you had a nice day, huh?’

‘We don’t speak through the children at this crèche, remember, Mrs Hunt?’