Indian.”
Laszlo and I both froze, and then spun silently on the man. Our stares must have been fairly intense, for Theodore looked momentarily unnerved. “And what’s gotten into you two?” he asked, a bit indignantly. “If I may make so bold?”
“Roosevelt,” Laszlo said evenly, taking a step forward. “Would you mind repeating what you just said?”
“I’ve been accused of many things when I speak,” Theodore answered, “but never mumbling. I believe I was clear.”
“Yes. Yes, you were.” The Isaacsons and Sara had drawn close, reading something big in the fire that had swept into Laszlo’s previously downcast features. “But what exactly did you mean?”
“I was simply thinking,” Roosevelt explained, still a little defensively, “of the only other violence like this that I’ve ever come across. It was when I was ranching, in the Dakota Badlands. I saw several bodies of white men who’d been killed by Indians, as a warning to other settlers. The corpses were cut up terribly, much like this one—in an effort, I suppose, to terrify the rest of us.”
“Yes,” Laszlo said, as much to himself as to Theodore. “That’s what you naturally would suppose. But was that, in fact, the purpose of it?” Kreizler began to pace around the operating table, rubbing his left arm slowly and nodding. “A model, he needs a model…It’s too consistent, too considered, too—structured. He’s modeling it after something…” Checking his silver watch, Laszlo turned back to Theodore. “Would you happen to know offhand, Roosevelt, what time the Museum of Natural History opens its doors?”
“I should hope I would,” Theodore answered proudly, “as my father was a founder and I myself am quite involved in—”
“What
“Nine o’clock.”
Kreizler nodded. “Excellent. Moore, you’ll come with me. As for the rest of you—Marcus, get to your darkroom and let’s see if this experiment of yours has produced anything. Sara, you and Lucius go back to Number 808 and get in touch with the War Department in Washington. Find out if they keep any records of soldiers dismissed for mental illness. Tell them we are only interested in soldiers who have served in the Army of the West. If you can’t get a telephone line through, send a cable.”
“I know a few people at War,” Roosevelt added. “If it would be any help.”
“It would indeed,” Laszlo answered. “Sara, take the names. Go, go, on your way, all of you!” As Sara and the Isaacsons left, taking with them Marcus’s equipment, Kreizler came back to Roosevelt and me. “You’ve realized what we’re looking for, Moore?”
“Yes,” I said. “But why the museum, exactly?”
“An old friend of mine. Franz Boas. If mutilations such as these do have some kind of cultural significance among Indian tribes, he’ll be able to tell us. And should such prove the case, Roosevelt, resounding congratulations will be due you.” Kreizler laid the dirty old sheet back over Ernst Lohmann’s body. “Unfortunately, I let Stevie take the calash home, which means we’ll have to get a cab. Can we drop you anywhere, Roosevelt?”
“No,” Theodore answered, “I’d better stay and cover our tracks. There may be a lot of questions, considering that crowd. But I wish you good hunting, gentlemen!”
The number of disgruntled people outside the morgue had only grown during the time we’d spent examining the Lohmann boy’s remains. Sara and the Isaacsons had apparently gotten through the throng without incident, for we saw no sign of them. Kreizler and I were not so lucky, however. We’d only made it halfway to the main gate of the hospital grounds, with the crowd suspiciously scrutinizing us every step of the way, when our path was blocked by a thickset, square-headed man who carried an old ax handle. The man fixed a cold stare of recognition on Kreizler, and when I turned I saw that Laszlo seemed to know him as well.
“Ah!” the man exclaimed, from deep in the pit of his considerable belly. “So they’ve brought in the famous Herr Doctor Kreizler!” The accent indicated a lower-class German.
“Herr Hopner,” Laszlo answered, in a firm but wary tone that indicated the man might know how to use the ax handle he was carrying. “I’m afraid my colleague and I have urgent business elsewhere. Kindly stand aside.”
“And what, then, of the Lohmann boy, Herr Doctor?” The man Hopner did not move. “Have you something to do with this matter?” A few of the people standing near him muttered echoes to the demand.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hopner,” Kreizler answered coolly. “Please move.”
“No idea, eh?” Hopner began to slap the piece of wood against one palm. “I must doubt that. Do you know the good doctor,
“I’ve told you once,” Laszlo said, his teeth starting to grind. “I know nothing about any Lohmann boy. And as for your daughter, Herr Hopner, she
The crowd drew breath as one, and Hopner’s eyes went wide. “What a man does in his own home with his own family is his own business!” he protested.
“Your daughter felt differently about that,” Kreizler said. “Now, for the last time—
It was a command to move, such as one might give to a servant or some other underling. Hopner looked like he’d been spat on. Raising the ax handle he made a move toward Kreizler, but suddenly stopped when one hell of a commotion rose from somewhere behind Kreizler and me. Turning to look over the crowd, I could see a horse’s head and the roof of a carriage plowing our way. And along with them I spied a face that I knew: Eat-’Em-Up Jack McManus. He was hanging on to the side of the vehicle, swinging the gargantuan right arm that had made him a formidable force in the prize ring for nearly a decade before he’d quit the fight game to work as a bouncer—for Paul Kelly.
Kelly’s elegant black brougham, brass lanterns shining on either side, made its way to where we were standing. The small, sinewy man in the driver’s seat cracked his whip in general warning, and the crowd, knowing who was inside the carriage, moved aside and said nothing. Jack McManus jumped down once the wheels had stopped rolling, then looked at the crowd threateningly and straightened his miner’s cap. Finally he opened the door of the brougham.
“I suggest you get in, gentlemen!” said an amused voice from within the carriage. Kelly’s handsome face soon appeared at the door. “You know how mobs can be.”
CHAPTER 28
Ha! Will you look at them!” Kelly was full of glee as he stared back at the crowd during our bumpy flight out of the Bellevue grounds. “The pigs have actually gotten off their knees for once! This ought to make for a few sleepless nights on Mansion Mile, eh, Moore?” I was sitting next to Kreizler across from Kelly in the front half of the brougham. As the gangster turned back around to face us, he pounded his gold-headed stick on the floor and laughed again. “It won’t last, of course—they’ll be back to packing their kids into sweatshops for a dollar a week before the Lohmann boy’s even been boxed. It’ll take more than just another dead boy-whore to keep them going. But for now, it does make a glorious picture!” Kelly extended his heavily ringed right hand to Kreizler. “How do you do, Doctor? It’s a genuine privilege.”
Laszlo took the hand very tentatively. “Mr. Kelly. At least
“Oh, I do, Doctor, I do—that’s why I arranged it!” Neither Kreizler nor I said anything in acknowledgment. “Well, come on, gentlemen, you don’t think people like that would stand up for themselves without some urging, do
