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Back The Trickster
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

‘I thought you might tell me. I don’t know what it means. Well, at least I know you said it means boundary or something, but I don’t know what it meant to Daniel.’

She looked away again, thinking. Then as if she’d made her mind up about something she turned back to him. ‘It’s also the name of a charm. A Kinchuinick charm.’

‘What do you mean? Like a spell?’

‘No. An amulet. A thing you wear.’

Craig sucked his top lip and bit at the skin. He remained silent, although part of him wanted to shout. Katie got up and went out, leaving him unsure what she was doing. Then she returned with a mess of fax paper and her spectacles and sat down at the table. He kept his eyes on her face. She was going to tell him something she was unsure about, and he wasn’t going to roll any barrels in her way by talking like a cop.

He needn’t have worried. Katie wanted to talk. Very badly.

She rustled the paper at him. ‘It’s a rare amulet. So rare I’ve only ever come across one in my whole career. This stuff is the only research material done on its origins. I had it faxed over from Vancouver yesterday.’

Craig looked down at the shiny roll of paper tumbling over itself, then back up at Katie Hunt. ‘The one you’ve seen. It’s round your husband’s neck isn’t it?’

She nodded dumbly and they looked at each other for a moment before the silence was broken by the final vulgar slurping of the coffee machine. Katie got up and poured two mugs of unpleasantly weak coffee, then rejoined him at the table. Craig fingered the fax paper.

‘This tell you anything?’

‘Plenty.’

‘Keep it simple. It took me an hour and a half to get through the stuff you gave me yesterday. If it doesn’t start with The suspect stated … I lose it after the second paragraph.’

She laughed, and Craig brightened involuntarily at the heat she made with that smile. Katie leaned back in her chair and sipped her foul coffee, and either the murky brew or what she was about to say wiped the sun from her face.

‘How about I read you just a bit? I can’t paraphrase. Not well enough.’

He shrugged, and she rustled the paper, searching for the desired passage.

‘This is an interview recorded in 1959 with a woman elder from a Kinchuinick band in British Columbia. It’s an English translation. She would have spoken in Siouan.’

‘Right.’ He tried to sound interested in the academic shit, but Craig McGee just wanted facts.

Katie opened her spectacles, propped them on her neat nose and started to read in a surprisingly monotone voice. It was unlike her normal sing-song tone and it gave what she was saying a gravitas that he hoped it would deserve.