A reporter investigates a murder and a lurid web of deceit in this historical novel set in the late 19th century. Isaac Ruthman suddenly dies in Lawrence, Kansas, under peculiar circumstances—to witnesses, he seemed perfectly healthy. He leaves a note that complains of a “terrible sensation of a rush of blood to the head, and my skin burns and itches” due to medication. His wife, Kate, takes it for granted that he chose suicide, but there are reasons to believe she’s conducting an affair with his doctor, John Medlicott, an illicit tryst Isaac discovered. In addition, Isaac recently took out a hefty life insurance policy, of which Kate is the sole beneficiary. Moreover, Medlicott’s wife, Sarah, recently died under similarly suspicious conditions, a demise that resulted in a financial windfall for the physician.
Neighbor Mary Fanning—her name by marriage is Apitz, which she loathes—takes an interest in the case and lands a job at the Kansas Daily Tribune, making her the “first woman journalist west of the Mississippi.” She is a nearly feral force of nature, powerfully depicted by Krishtalka—consider Mary’s announcement to her new employer at the newspaper, John Speer: “My credentials are excellent. From Shakespeare and Chaucer I learned the state of man. From Darwin I learned the descent of man—his book was published three months ago. From Lincoln I learned the equality of man.” A toxicology report confirms that Isaac died from the ingestion of poison—two, in fact—but that hardly settles the case. Both he and Kate have dark romantic pasts, and at least two men could have been motivated to murder Isaac. They include Harold Bennett, the husband of a woman Isaac seduced, and Seymour Voullaire, Kate’s former husband and the man from whom Isaac won her affections.
Krishtalka’s tale is impeccably researched—he brings this sordid succession of events and the American South in the wake of the Civil War into vividly sharp relief. The plot is an exceedingly complex one, so much so it sometimes flirts with convolution, and keeping track of every twist and turn can become a trial of readers’ patience. Yet there is something irrepressibly tantalizing about the lascivious tableau painted by the author—a compelling nihilism. And the story unfolds with all the virtues of a conventional crime drama: titillating suspense and an astonishingly unpredictable narrative arc.
Still, the heart and soul of the novel is Mary, a defiant suffragist locked in a loveless marriage who maintains a passionate lesbian affair with Julie Newman, a similarly frustrated woman way ahead of her time. Mary can turn even a discussion of her name in court into a declaration of independence: “Your Honor, if I may, I appreciate your consideration. ‘Fanning’ is what I prefer. Yet ‘Correspondent Fanning’ is too awkward. And ‘Miss Fanning’ would be inaccurate. With all due respect to the married ladies here, the term ‘Mrs.’ subsumes our independence. It is high time womanhood had a salutation that is free of marital status.”
A thrilling tale of murder and betrayal.
