In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

33 “The department chair,” said Clarke. “Figures.” Monique directed her attention to the small desk light next to the computer . It had a snake neck and shade with glass dragonflies on it, a poor man’s version of a tiffany lamp. Another small lamp with a brown base and a blue shade shaped like a flower sat atop a filing cabinet. The lamp on the desk focused down on the essay next to the keyboard. “Light’s on,” Monique said. “Why have on a desk light when there’re all those lights on the ceiling?” asked Clarke, looking up at the three large light panels. “It’s too much overhead light with those big fluorescent bulbs,” answered Meg. “They can give you a headache. It’s more peaceful to have the shades up and the small lamp on.” “Was this Badger lady in here, then went to pay Smoke Rise a visit?” Clarke asked. “Nope. I think our prowler came here before killing Smoke Rise and found the door locked. Badger was the intended target, or at least one of the two targets. The perp thought she’d be in here. I bet if we stand outside tonight and look up here, we’ll see that this light is visible from the sidewalk .” Meg walked over to the lamp on the filing cabinet and rotated the on-­ off switch on the cord with her thumb. “No light. Burned out. Maybe this was on, too.” “That’s what I’m thinking,” Monique agreed. “But we’ll get a better idea after doing some interviews. We’ll leave you to work, Meg. Do this room, right?” “Yes, dear, I know.” Now the detectives could begin the next phase of their investigation. Monique found it unpleasant having to look at the dead man who died unnecessarily , but it might be even worse interviewing the anthropology faculty. Monday, 9:30 a.m. Roxanne Louise Badger, cultural anthropologist and member of the Oglala Sioux Tribe of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation of South Dakota, 34 normally woke early on weekdays to read the newspaper, grade student papers, then write for an hour. Roxanne’s husband Warren, a mixed-­ blood member of the Osage Nation of Oklahoma, slept while she wrote, then she woke him before leaving to play handball with her best friend Renell at the health club. Before leaving, Roxanne fed their young daughter Giselle and the numerous animals on their ten-­ acre property, then dropped Giselle off at preschool. “Sure, honey,” Roxanne had told Warren, an artist and sculptor, when they negotiated duties after Giselle was born. “I’ll wear myself out for the good of the family in the mornings, but you’ll pull your weight in the evenings .” Warren became the grocery shopper, and he approached cooking as he did art. He mastered casseroles and pies and side dishes for teriyaki chicken. To Roxanne’s delight, her husband became the dinner-­ maker, and to her surprise he thought it a fair deal. Roxanne and her best friend Renell had met ten years ago, the day after Roxanne had been given some tough news: despite receiving two book contracts , she was destined to teach three courses that spring semester, while her colleagues who did not write taught only one or two classes so they could “concentrate on their committee assignments.” Roxanne had fumed all night and was ready to work out hard the next morning. She had discovered lifting weights the year before and became instantly hooked. She arrived at the club around 6:30 a.m. and stood by the leg extension machine, waiting for a large lady with varicose veins to finish. “Can I spot you?” a tall, skinny woman with freckles and a red pageboy haircut standing on the other side of the machine asked the big woman. “Spot?” “You know. Help you lift it.” “Well,” the big woman looked around, confused. The weight key was under the lightest setting and twenty pounds wasn’t that hard to lift. “No, I’m almost done. But thanks.” “You are very welcome.” The freckled woman looked at Roxanne and winked. When the large lady finally got up, the redhead Renell said to Roxanne, “You first.” “Thanks. But I don’t need a spot.” 35 The skinny lady laughed loudly enough for the entire gym to hear. “No shit. Really?” After Roxanne finished one set, the other woman hopped on, added another fifty pounds and easily did a set. “Hey, wanna squat...

pdf

Additional Information

ISBN
9781609172251
Print ISBN
9781611860115
MARC Record
OCLC
778433444
Pages
202
Launched on MUSE
2012-01-11
Language
English
Open Access
N
Back To Top

This website uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience on our website. Without cookies your experience may not be seamless.