Authors: James DeVita
Anderson was out of breath.
So was Mangan.
“Daniel,” Mangan said, trying to buy some time. “Daniel, I know what happened to your daughter.”
Anderson leaned in slowly and took Mangan's gun from its holster and tossed it aside.
“We talked to your wife,” Mangan continued. “You can stop this now, Daniel. Just stop.”
Anderson looked at Mangan for a long quizzical moment. He lowered the barrel of his gun and fired into Mangan's knee.
Mangan screamed, crashing to the ground. He writhed on the floor, scouring his mind, and the room, for a way out. His Glock and shotgun were out of reach. His backup snub .38 was strapped to his ankle. The assailant was wearing body armor.
“You're not going to die,” Anderson said, in an oddly detached voice. “No, you live. Live a long life. But Kathleen ⦠your daughterâ”
Mangan loosed a furious cry and rolled left, drawing his .38. Anderson fired, missing, as Mangan got off two shotsâcenter chestâknocking the assailant backward, but not stopping him. Anderson came at him again, aiming andâ
Two thunderous blasts deafened Mangan as the cabin window behind him shattered and Anderson went flying across the room, knocked against the far wall, his shirt and body armor smoldering. He dropped his weapon and fell to the floor, gasping for breath. Mangan, unable to stand, kept his weapon trained on Anderson, wondering what the hell had just happened. A moment later a flash of silver pushed
through the doorwayâthe unmistakable barrel of a .44 Magnum, gripped by officer Michele Schaefer.
Schaefer advanced steadily, keeping a level aim on Anderson, kicking weapons out of the way as she approached. He was sitting on the floor, trying to breathe. Taking a .44-caliber shot wearing body armor is like getting hit by a sledgehammer, full swing, without wearing body armor. Anderson looked up at Schaefer, dazed. She stared back at him, expressionless. The long barrel of her gun, absolutely motionless. Her breathing, steady and calm.
There was a long silence.
Very long.
Then Schaefer, in a near whisper, said, as if only to herself, “A policeman was just born.” Anderson moved and she fired again, snapping his head back in a vapory blur of red.
A
t Rockford Memorial Hospital, a level-one trauma center, Mangan waited to be prepped for surgery. His vitals were good, he'd lost some blood, but was stable. The gunshot had shattered part of his upper tibia and ripped through his patellar tendon, which is why his kneecap was no longer in the right place. The surgeon, who looked like he'd just graduated high school, came in after examining the MRI scan and said he'd know more after he opened Mangan up, whether he could repair the injury sufficiently or whether a total knee replacement might be a better option.
“Will I be able to dance after this, Doc?” Mangan asked him.
“Yes, you'll be able to dance.”
“That's great, I never could before.”
The doctor almost smiled. Coose was alive, that was the best news. Critical but stable, the bullet having just missed his carotid artery and spinal column. “Luck of the Irish,” Mangan had called out to him when they wheeled him past. Coose had been unable to respond, although he did muster a nearly indiscernible smirk. Mangan thanked his God for Coose's life. He'd lost one partner in his career, he didn't think he could bear another.
Captain Pribyl dropped by. “You look awful,” he told Mangan.
“Thanks.”
He dropped a manuscript on the table. “This is for you,” he said. “A copy of the document found on Anderson's computer.”
Mangan ignored it. “Is Schaefer around?”
“She's out in the hall, talking to IA about the shooting.”
“Anderson made a move.”
“That's what she said.”
They were silent for a moment. “She's okay,” Mangan said.
“Yes, she is.”
“How the hell did she find us anyway?”
“One of her officers told her. Dan. Dan something.”
“Ehrlich.”
“Yeah. Schaefer showed up around the time Gaffney's guys got there with the boat. We heard shooting coming from the island, so Schaefer and me, we got in the boat and tried to raise you on the walkie, but you didn't answer. As soon as we got to the island we heard more shots, so we headed into the woods to flank them. That's when we found Cusumano and saw the cabin. We heard more shots coming from there, so I went around the far side, and Schaefer took the front. She saw the guy through the window and fired.” Pribyl pointed to the manuscript on the table. “The prelim CSI report is in there too. Thought you might like some reading material. You're probably gonna be here awhile.”
Mangan picked up the report.
“I gotta get going,” Pribyl said, heading toward the door. “Nice working with you.”
“You too, John,” Mangan said. “Thank you.”
“I put a
Victoria's Secret
in there too. Found it in the cafeteria.”
Mangan smiled as Pribyl left. He skimmed the CSI report. Of the evidence found in the cabin, a few things stood out: 1. Fillet gloves, the fingers and palms of which were dotted with tiny metal studs, the same shape as the impressions found on Deborah Ellison's neck. 2. Bottles of organic boat soap, similar to the cleaning solution found on Deborah Ellison's body.
Mangan took up the manuscript that Pribyl had left.
The Righter,
by Daniel Alan Anderson.
He turned to the first chapter.
DEBORAH ELLISON
Mangan wasn't sure he wanted to read it.
I WATCHED HER. NIGHT AFTER NIGHT. BY HER APARTMENT. IN THE CITY WHERE MY DAUGHTER WAS ONCE ALIVE AND NOW WAS NOT. WHY SHOULD SHE, OR THEY, OR ANYONE, HAVE LIFE, AND LYNNETTE NO LIFE AT ALL?
I FOLLOWED HER ON THE NIGHT WHEN SHE STOPPED BEING. ON THE CORNER, SHE STOOD AS IF SHE WERE TELLING ME, YES, YES, NOW, NOW IS THE TIME FOR ME TO PAY FOR THE SINS OF MY FATHER. I PULLED UP NEAR HER AND ASKED HER HOW MUCH. SHE LEANED INTO MY WINDOW AND I TOOK HER.
IT WAS SO EASY. IT WAS ALL SOâ
Mangan tossed the manuscript back onto the table. He didn't want to read it, didn't want to go there just yet.
I have supped full with horrors.
The door opened and Michele Schaefer walked in.
“Hey,” she said.
She looked exhausted. “Hey, yourself,” Mangan said. “How you doing?”
“Okay. How about you?
“Oh, I'm fine. Never liked this knee anyway.”
“They're asking me a lot of questions out there.”
“You were justified. I was there. He moved.”
“That's what I said.”
“You said right. That's what happened.”
“Well ⦠thanks. Thanks for finding the guy.” Schaefer looked to the floor, hesitating, as if she were going to say something. “Anyway, I, uh, I have to get headed back to Winsome. My dad.”
“Michele,” Mangan said, “I'm so sorry about your sister.”
She nodded and eased out the door. “See you around.”
“Bye.”
Mangan watched through the window of the door until she disappeared down the hallway.
And down I laid, to list this sad-tuned tale;
A plaintful story from a sistering vale.
He thought of his wife and daughter. He picked up the phone and called Mickey Eagan in Chicago.
“Eagan, it's me,” he said.
“Glad to hear you're breathing.”
“Me too. Hey, I need a favor.”
“What?”
“I got keys to my apartment in the top drawer of my desk.”
“Yeah?”
“I need you to get something for me.”
“Sure. What?”
“You know that parrot store over on Jefferson?”
“What?”
“The Windy City Parakeet Boutique, 58âwrite this downâ5840 Jefferson.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I need you to get over there and get some bird food, take it over to my apartment.”
“For what? You got a
bird
?”
“Yeah, I got a bird. You got a problem with that?”
“No, Iâit's justâno.”
“You got to feed it for me. She's going to starve. I want you to get the fruit blend, the supreme fruit blend. You got that?”
“I'm writing it down.”
“It's got good stuff in it, nuts and things. You do that for me?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“All right, there's a little cup in her cage, you fill it halfway. Not too much.”
“Is it going to fly out at me, when I open the cage?”
“No, she'll hide in the corner. She's nervous. I got a nervous bird.”
“All right, I'll take care of it. Don't worry.”
“Thanks, Mickey.”
“No problem.”
“Hey.”
“What?”
“Her name is Phoebe.”
My deep thanks to Sara Young, for being a trusted and tireless reader of the various incarnations of this book. Her insightful criticisms, and encouragement, were, and always have been, a great help to me. Thank you, Sara. Thanks also to Raphael Kadushin of University of Wisconsin Press for championing the book and for his very helpful criticism; thanks to my editors; and to Noel Silverman, for his belief in me and my work for many years.
Much appreciation to my wife, Brenda, for slogging through some very early drafts of the book; to Ms. Sarah Day, for once mentioning something about an actor who wrote crime novels; to James Bohnen, for bringing the great authors of the world to my door, literally; to Morgan Henry Cafaro, for sparking my imagination many years ago when the book was just a vague idea drifting around her kitchen; to Dean Bakopoulos, for his generosity and support; to John Christianson, for his encouragement; to D. P. Lyle, M.D., for graciously sharing his knowledge of forensics; to Nils Richardson, for coaching me through my first experience of firearms; and a special note of thanks to Fred.
I have freely and unabashedly plundered the works of
the divine William
, as Herman Melville referred to Shakespeare. Most of the excerpts have been quoted verbatim. Some, however, I paraphrased, changing the words, changing the punctuation, adding and/or cutting words. I made no attempt to remain textually precise with the quotes. The words come to Mangan through his particular veil of memory, and they adapt themselves freely in his own mind, mingling with whatever experience he is having at any given moment.
There are many different editions of Shakespeare's works, all of them with their own textual idiosyncrasies. They differ greatly in word choice, punctuation, meter, act breaks, line numbers, stage directions, etc., and I referred to a great variety of texts while working on the book. For those of you interested in seeing the quotes in the context of Shakespeare's plays, I have included the notes below. The notes include the name of the play, the character who speaks the lines, and the act and scene in which the lines can be found. I also noted whether or not I paraphrased the quote. For the really ambitious, read the Variorum editions of Shakespeare's plays and
all
the notes. (It's a bit like making your way through
Moby-Dick
âworth the effort.) You will occasionally find yourself laughing out loud at the subtle, and often not so subtle, disagreements between scholars.
| 28 | And who has cut those pretty fingers off ? Titus Andronicus , Marcus, Act 2, scene 4 (paraphrased). |
| 28 | Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears. Titus Andronicus , Titus, Act 3, scene 1. |
| 28 | What accursed hand hath made thee handless? Titus Andronicus , Titus, Act 3, scene 1. |
| 35 | and I ⦠with tears ⦠do wash ⦠the blood away. Henry VI, part 3 , York, Act 1, scene 4. |
| 35 | Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, / Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. Titus Andronicus , Aaron, Act 2, scene 3. |
| 37 | Habit, the great deadener. Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot , Vladimir, Act 2 (paraphrased). |
| 37 | I was not angry until this instant. Henry V , King Henry, Act 4, scene 7 (paraphrased). |
| 38 | This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine. The Tempest , Prospero, Act 5, scene 1. |
| 39 | This is a subtle whore, a closet lock and key of villainous secrets. Othello , Othello, Act 4, scene 2. |
| 39 | we have scotched the snake, not killed it. Macbeth , Macbeth, Act 3, scene 2. |
| 50 | They were his Yale and Harvard. Herman Melville, Moby-Dick , Chapter 54, “The Advocate” (paraphrased). |
| 51 | I'll find a day to massacre them all, / And raze their faction and their family, / The cruel father and hisâ Titus Andronicus , Tamora, Act 1, scene 1. |
| 62 | thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold. Macbeth , Macbeth, Act 3, scene 4. |
| 62 | upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse as may not be spoken of. Henry VI, part 1 , Westmoreland, Act 1, scene 1 (paraphrased). |
| 63 | There's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. Hamlet , Hamlet, Act 5, scene 2. |
| 63 | I am burned up with inflaming wrath; a rage that nothing can allay, nothing but blood. King John , King John, Act 3, scene 1 (paraphrased). |
| 64 | the bug which you would fright me with, I seek. The Winter's Tale , Hermione, Act 3, scene 2. |
| 68 | It will have blood, they say, / Blood will have blood. Macbeth , Macbeth, Act 3, scene 4. |
| 68 | See thy mangled daughter. Titus Andronicus , Marcus, Act 3, scene 1 (paraphrased). |
| 68 | Sweet father, ⦠cease your tears. Titus Andronicus , Lucius, Act 3, scene 1. (paraphrased). |
| 68 | Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm? Herman Melville, Moby-Dick , Chapter 132, “The Symphony.” |
| 68 | What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it? Herman Melville, Moby-Dick , Chapter 132, “The Symphony.” |
| 68 | deeper, faraway things the occasional flashings forth of the intuitive truth. Herman Melville, “Hawthorne and His Moses.” |
| 68 | There is a divinity that shapes our ends, rough hew them how we will. Hamlet , Hamlet, Act 5, scene 2. |
| 68 | for in this world of lies, truth is forced to fly like a scared white doe in the woodlands; and only by cunning glimpses will she reveal herself. Herman Melville, “Hawthorne and His Moses.” |
| 69 | the great art of telling the truth, even though it be covertly, and by snatches. Herman Melville, “Hawthorne and His Moses.” |
| 70 | From this time forth, I never will speak word. Othello , Iago, Act 5, scene 2 |
| 70 | And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. Twelfth Night , Feste, Act 5, scene 1. |
| 72 | What stern ungentle hands have lopped and hewed and made thy body bare? Titus Andronicus , Marcus, Act 2, scene 4. |
| 72 | Let grief convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. Macbeth , Malcolm, Act 4, scene 3. |
| 75 | rehearsed a billion years before the oceans rolled. Herman Melville, Moby-Dick , Chapter 134, “The ChaseâSecond Day.” |
| 79 | Do not worryâ¦. Just write one true sentence. Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast (paraphrased). |
| 81 | an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of not one good quality. All's Well That Ends Well , Second Lord, Act 3, scene 6. |
| 82 | at length, the truth will out. Merchant of Venice , Launcelot, Act 2, scene 2. |
| 84 | Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind, / And makes it fearful and degenerate. Henry VI, part 2 , Queen Margaret, Act 4, scene 4. |
| 84 | the poison of deep grief. Hamlet , Claudius, Act 4, scene 5. |
| 86 | Never, never, never, never, never. King Lear , Lear, Act 5, scene 3. |
| 89 | It was a lover and his lass, / That o'er the green corn-field did pass. As You Like It , Second Page, Act 5, scene 3. |
| 89 | men, like ravenous fishes, will feed on one another. Various authors, Sir Thomas More , Sir Thomas More, Act 2, scene 4 (speech attributed to Shakespeare, paraphrased). |
| 89 | Sell all, sell merrily. Henry IV, part 1 , Hotspur, Act 4, scene 1 (paraphrasing of “die all, die merrily”). |
| 90 | mustering in the clouds. Richard II , King Richard, Act 3, scene 3 (paraphrased). |
| 91 | the wide sea hath drops too few to wash her clean again. Much Ado About Nothing , Leonato, Act 4, scene 1. |
| 93 | O God, that one might read the book of fate. Henry IV, part 2 , King Henry, Act 3, scene 1. |
| 94 | New-reaped, like a stubble-land at harvest home. Henry IV, part 1 , Hotspur, Act 1, scene 3. |
| 95 | Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds. Titus Andronicus , Tamora, Act 2, scene 3. |
| 95 | Like to a slaughtered lamb, in this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. Titus Andronicus , Martius, Act 2, scene 3. |
| 95 | I must talk of acts of black night, abominable deeds. Titus Andronicus , Aaron, Act 5, scene 1. |
| 95 | A crimson river of warm blood ⦠Titus Andronicus , Marcus, Act 2, scene 4. |
| 96 | Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Macbeth , Lady Macbeth, Act 5, scene 1. |
| 98 | turning your books to graves, your ink to blood. Henry IV, part 2 , Westmoreland, Act 4, scene 1. |
| 100 | I am Revenge, sent from the infernal kingdom / To ease the gnawing vulture of my mind. Titus Andronicus , Tamora, Act 5, scene 2 (paraphrased). |
| 101 | If I digged up thy forefathers' graves ⦠I live in hell. Henry VI, part 3 , Clifford, Act 1, scene 3 (paraphrased). |
| 101 | I will find them out, / And in their ears tell them my dreadful name ⦠/ Revenge. Titus Andronicus , Tamora, Act 5, scene 2. |
| 105 | Had I thy brethren here ⦠I live in hell. Henry VI, part 3 , Clifford, Act 1, scene 3. |
| 106 | Be thou revenged on men, and let me live! ⦠why wilt thou slay me? Henry VI, part 3 , Rutland and Clifford, Act 1, scene 3. |
| 106 | These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience, / Are more than any living man could bear. Titus Andronicus , Marcus, Act 5, scene 3. |
| 106 | Past cure I am; now reason is past care. Shakespeare Sonnet 147. |
| 106 | My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are. Shakespeare Sonnet 147. 106 O, full of scorpions is my mind. Macbeth , Macbeth, Act 3, scene 2. |
| 107 | Confusion now hath made his masterpiece. Macbeth , Macduff, Act 2, scene 3. |
| 117 | You are deceived, for what you see is but the smallest part of humanity. Henry VI, part 1 , Talbot, Act 2, scene 3. |
| 121 | There is no darkness but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog. Twelfth Night , Feste, Act 4, scene 2. |
| 123 | plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. King Lear , Lear, Act 4, scene 6. |
| 126 | Thou art death's fool; / For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, / And yet runn'st toward him still. Measure for Measure , Duke Vincentio, Act 3, scene 1. |
| 127 | Now o'er the one half-world nature seems dead, / And wicked dreams abuse the curtained sleep. Macbeth , Macbeth, Act 2, scene 1. |
| 127 | He sleeps with clenched hands; and wakes with his own bloody nails in his palms. Herman Melville, Moby-Dick , Chapter 44, “The Chart.” |
| 127 | Whole oceans away, from that young girl-wife. Herman Melville, Moby-Dick , Chapter 132, “The Symphony.” |
| 127 | There's a great spirit gone. Thus did I desire it. / Would the hand could pluck her back that shoved her on. Antony and Cleopatra , Antony, Act 1, scene 2. |
| 127 | When I think of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a Captain's exclusiveness. Herman Melville, Moby-Dick , Chapter 132, “The Symphony.” |
| 128 | Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. Shakespeare Sonnet 73. |
| 129 | A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, / A scum of base lackey peasants, / Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth. Richard III , King Richard, Act 5, scene 3. |
| 130 | Whither should I fly? I have done no harm. Macbeth , Lady MacDuff, Act 4, scene 2. |
| 137 | When sorrows come, they come not single spies but in battalions. Hamlet , Claudius, Act 4, scene 5. |
| 140 | Tell him Revenge is come to join with him, / And work confusion on his enemies. Titus Andronicus , Tamora, Act 5, scene 2. |
| 142 | I have done a thousand dreadful things / As willingly as one would kill a fly, / And nothing grieves me heartily indeed / But that I cannot do ten thousand more. Titus Andronicus , Aaron, Act 5, scene 1. |
| 143 | Alack, alack, my child's dead, / My soul and not my child. Romeo and Juliet , Capulet, Act 4, scene 5 (paraphrased). |
| 143 | Dead art thou, alack my child is dead. Romeo and Juliet , Capulet, Act 4, scene 5. |
| 143 | The sweetest, dearest creature's dead. The Winter's Tale , Paulina, Act 3, scene 2. |
| 143 | Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff. / Life and these lips have long been separated. Romeo and Juliet , Capulet, Act 4, scene 5. |
| 143 | 'Tis here, but yet confused. Othello , Iago, Act 2, scene 1. |
| 143 | If ever you chance to have a child, / Look in her youth to have her so cut off. Henry VI, part 3 , Margaret, Act 5, scene 5 (paraphrased). |
| 148 | For this was he ordained, for this was he set on this earth. Henry VI, part 3 , Gloucester, Act 5, scene 6 (paraphrased). |
| 149 | Grief fills the room up of my absent child. King John , Constance, Act 3, scene 4. |
| 154 | I am a man more sinned against than sinning. King Lear , Lear, Act 3, scene 2. |
| 154 | This one hand yet is left to cut your throats. Titus Andronicus , Titus, Act 5, scene 2. |
| 154 | I would have thee live, for in my sense 'tis happiness to die. Othello , Othello, Act 5, scene 2. |
| 154 | My wits begin to turn. King Lear , Lear, Act 3, scene 2. |
| 154 | There's not a hollow cave or lurking place ⦠but I will find them out. Titus Andronicus , Tamora, Act 5, scene 2 (paraphrased). |
| 157 | a murdering peace. Hamlet , Claudius, Act 4, scene 5 (paraphrased). |
| 157 | She had been his all-the-world. Shakespeare Sonnet 112 (paraphrased). |