Chapter Five
Anderson Reichmann stood by the Duck Lake. He smoked a cigarette. The fiery embers burned his small, right, middle finger; he spoke in German. He wasn't going to tell the Michigan Mayor that a killer was on the loose in the city; he was in West Germany, mainly in Berlin, for a conference over the fact that the social, economic, and political era of the past was gone; The Berlin Wall was up, and the Iron Curtain meant that spies in Europe hadn't infiltrated America from the World War II years of nineteen thirty-nine to April of nineteen forty-five, when Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun, died in the deep bunkers, as the bombings happened around them. From the Communist nineteen fifties onward, J. Edgar Hoover and lawyer Robert Kennedy, took down the Mob, as they became agitated by the rumble. That fact was, as the Feds made sure no gangsters from Chicago, and New York, came to Michigan, the city spilled its blood like a geyser in different ways, at the hands of a killer who was hell-bent on savagery during the era of free love in the nineteen sixties, and the hippie generation of the nineteen seventies. Anderson finished smoking, and threw the cigarette in the trash bin. It didn't catch fire; it remained blackened by the right boot that Anderson stomped on it. He looked at the silvery colored gate, and headed to the park, where he brought a Hot Dog, and coffee, then he relaxed for the rest of the cold morning.
It was Tuesday, January 23, 1975.
9:21 AM.
Page 6.
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