The Alienist - Caleb Carr [155]
We spent the remainder of the morning researching possible points, both in time and on the map, at which we might begin to look for such a trail. Eventually we came up with two overall areas: Either the killer had, as a child, witnessed the brutal campaigns against the Sioux that had led up to and followed General Custer’s death at the Little Big Horn in 1876, or he had participated as a soldier in the brutal repression of dissatisfied Sioux tribesmen that had culminated in the battle of Wounded Knee Creek in 1890. Either way, Kreizler was anxious to have someone make the trip out west immediately: for, as he told us, he now suspected that the murder of the Zweig children had not been the killer’s first taste of blood. And if the man had in fact committed murder in the West—either prior to or during his military service—there would have to be some record of the case somewhere. True, such a crime would almost certainly have remained unsolved in the years since its commission; quite probably, it would have been written off as the work of marauding Indians. But there would still be documents relating to it, either in Washington or in some western administrative office. And even if no such killing had taken place, we would nonetheless need to have operatives out there ready to follow whatever leads were uncovered in the capital. Only by visiting the actual localities involved could we discover exactly what had happened to our man, and thus be able to predict his future moves accurately.
Kreizler planned to make the trip to Washington himself; and when I told him that I still knew a good number of journalists and government workers in that city—including one especially good contact at the Department of the Interior’s Bureau of Indian Affairs—he deemed it advisable for me to come along. That left Sara and the Isaacsons, all of whom were eager to make the western trip. Someone, however, had to remain in New York to coordinate our various efforts. After much discussion, it was decided that Sara was the logical choice for this job, since she was still making—and was expected to make—occasional appearances at Police Headquarters on Mulberry Street. Though bitterly disappointed about missing the western journey, Sara had a firm grasp of the overall picture and accepted her assignment with as much grace as possible.
Roosevelt, meanwhile, was the obvious person to put the Isaacsons in touch with guides in the western states, and when we telephoned him about the project he became wildly enthusiastic, threatening to accompany the two detectives himself. We pointed out, however, that the press followed him wherever he went, and especially when he went out west. Tales of his hunting trips and photographs of him wearing his fringed buckskin suit were guaranteed to sell copies of whatever papers and magazines they appeared in, and questions concerning whom he was traveling with and why would naturally be asked. We couldn’t afford that kind of publicity. Besides, with the power struggle on Mulberry Street about to enter a new and perhaps decisive phase, the Police Department’s main exponent of reform could hardly up and disappear into the wilderness.
The Isaacsons would go on their own, then; and we reasoned that if they left immediately, they could be in place by the time Laszlo and I dug up any useful information to wire them from Washington. It was with some shock, therefore, that Marcus arrived at Number 808 Broadway after developing his eyeball photographs (which turned out to be a resounding failure, Monsieur Jules Verne notwithstanding) and learned that he would be leaving the next morning for Deadwood, South Dakota. From there he and