The Medusa Effect Chapter Nine
https://steemit.com/writing/@medusaeffect/the-medusa-effect
https://steemit.com/writing/@medusaeffect/the-medusa-effect-chapter-two
https://steemit.com/writing/@medusaeffect/the-medusa-effect-part-two
https://steemit.com/writing/@medusaeffect/the-medusa-effect-chapter-three
https://steemit.com/writing/@medusaeffect/the-medusa-effect-chapter-four
https://steemit.com/writing/@medusaeffect/the-medusa-effect-chapter-five
https://steemit.com/writing/@medusaeffect/the-medusa-effect-chapter-six
https://steemit.com/writing/@medusaeffect/the-medusa-effect-chapter-seven
https://steemit.com/writing/@medusaeffect/the-medusa-effect-chapter-eight
CHAPTER NINE
RITES
Carl unrolled the cigarette. He worked the tobacco between his fingertips sprinkling it over the frozen ground. He placed several coins on the small wooden cross. He pulled the stones from his satchel and carefully placed them on Sylvia's grave.
Hardy couldn’t believe his luck, he just happened to be there at the right time although he was guessing someone would show up, eventually when they finally released the body. He knew the tribe usually paid their respects right away, but the body had been kept at the morgue for so long the detective could hardly have hoped to find him, of all people, giving her the things she needed for her journey.
Purposefully Hardy marched directly at him. The giant stood his ground never acknowledging him, although in Hardy's mind he might be easily disposed of in Spectacle Lake without anyone being the wiser. It was just the two of them in the lonely cemetery perched high above the water. Hardy couldn't think what possessed him to confront him that way.
The long flat nose snorted at him. Carl pressed the long slick blade of hair from his face behind his ear. Slowly he turned away from the detective and walked to his jeep. He got in. The detective had the distinct impression that his fate was being mulled over by the monster he'd stirred up. Hardy froze. He felt his ears stinging as the sloppy slush spit against his short cropped hair and slid down his head. He was more than a little relieved when he saw him disappear down the hilly road.
He shook off the crust forming at his neck and headed for the cruiser. He wondered if he had waited quietly for the mourner to finish if he would have gotten a better read on the suspect. As it was, alerting him before he was finished with the ritual, made Hardy sure he had insulted the Great Spirit and his Holy Man. You didn't want to piss off a six-foot-four Chippewa in the middle of the woods, especially when it was clear, he already didn't like you.
Hardy wound his way down the curvy road in his car. At the bottom the jeep was blocking the way. Hardy got his shotgun from the floor and put it on his lap. He sat there listening to the heater blowing full blast. The radio couldn't get a signal in that remote location. He was screwed. Staring at the foggy window he couldn't even see into the perp's car. For all he knew he was staring down the barrel of rifle with nowhere to run. Too bad, he thought painfully, he really wanted to solve this one.
From nowhere the passenger door swung open. Hardy found himself sitting next to Carl.
"I want you to tell me what you know about Sylvia's death."
"I don't know much."
He told him everything. He told him about the school teacher, about the way Sylvia was a loner, even though a lot of people showed up at the memorial service. She was a valued member of the community. He even told him that she had a head full of lice when she was found floating at the ore docks. Last of all he told her he met her once, that he liked her.
"She was a beautiful woman and I find her death a disgusting waste." Hardy cleared his throat, "And, I'm gonna get to the bottom of it."
Before Laurel’s hands stopped shaking Carl had left and was driving away into the pelting ice storm. It surprised Hardy that Carl was hardly the threat he first seemed, even stranger, suddenly they were on the same side.