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    were writing?
     The paper won t print it.
     You can t print a story about Gray, and I m supposed to arrest him? On what evidence? I don t have a
    damn thing linking Simon Gray to any of this other than that hobo yelling his head off.
     You ve got my pictures from the mill.
     That s a blob, Constantine.
     Get a warrant, then. Tear his place apart.
    Willson wheeled back on his chair, opened a file cabinet, and brought out a stack of case jackets.  You
    know what these are, Constantine? Missing persons reports. Two hundred thirty-three of them. All
    colored folks who ve vanished in the past year. Some of  em we can account for, people running off,
    leaving town because of problems and the like. But the rest are gone. No trace. Like this one. He
    opened a folder.   Wife stated she asked husband to go down to the grocery for a loaf of bread and
    some eggs approximately seven-thirty in the evening; husband did not return. Grocer reported he had
    seen the man; he bought groceries, a newspaper, and a tin of tobacco approximately seven forty-five.
    And this one:  Subject went fishing as was his habit along west side of Lake Calhoun. Tackle and stringer
    of fish discovered near the spot frequented by subject. Subject s daughter reported subject failed to
    return home from work. Or this:  Following an argument with husband, subject went out to walk around
    the block to cool off. Did not return. 
    Willson closed the jacket.  Two hundred thirty-three people, and not a single body. Willson dropped
    the folder onto the pile in front of him.  We don t have enough manpower in the department anymore to
    follow up on a tenth of this number of cases. On the other hand, just by law of averages, with so many
    cases, we ought to have stumbled onto something. Four weeks ago we got our first body over in Loring
    Park. Maybe it s been this so-called vampire all along. Maybe I can tie the murders to all these cases.
    But I ve got to have some evidence.
     What about the body? Why d Gray remove his organs?
     I don t care if Gray cut him into chops, Constantine. The fact is, Simon Gray s contributed almost a
    million dollars to help settle colored folks here. He s one of the reasons this is an open town. Look what
    happened in Milwaukee, for Christ s sake. They posted militia on the highways and the railroads to keep
    us away. Now they got nothing. That man s helped our people and he s helped yours. And you haven t
    given me a single good reason yet why I should suspect him of murder. Not just three murders, either.
    Maybe it s two hundred thirty-three murders.
     I ll find it, Danny said.
     Shit, Willson said, dropping the files back into the cabinet drawer.  You re a reporter. You don t
    know nothin about police work. All you re interested in is making noise. And that s not all. Willson s
    gaze leveled and fixed on him.
     What?
     You re white, Willson said.
     What s that got to do with it? Danny said uncomfortably.
     There s two hundred thirty of my people missing in a year, Willson said fiercely.  Two hundred thirty
    that were reported. That s at least four a week. You never came around asking about it. Your fucking
    paper never printed a word.
     What are you saying? That I didn t care because they were colored? That s wrong, Dooley. I m not
    prejudiced.
     Shit, Willson said, disgustedly.
     I don t hate anybody. I was brought up to respect people. Why, my father once washed my mouth out
    with soap because I said the word  nigger .
     He wash the inside of your head out, too?  cause I ll bet you thought it plenty of times.
     I m telling you I m not like that.
     I don t give a damn what you re like. You can t be any other way than what you are. A white man,
    loyal to his own kind. Oh, you tolerate us now because you re in trouble. But it s the same as it s always
    been. You need us, but you don t want us around. And when we get into trouble, tough shit.
      No man is an island,  Danny said.  You ever heard that one? John Donne wrote it during the
    plague  
      No man is an island, entire of itself,  Willson quoted.   Every man is a piece of the Continent, a part [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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