An amateur historian (and retired doctor) pieces together the extent to which she is tangled up in the bloody, peculiar history of her tiny North Dakota town.
(from The New Yorker, Dec. 13, 2004)
I love neatly arranged, atypically told stories like this, where some tiny details lay dormant while others turn out to be clues. I should like to read some more by this author.
Guess what? I found a place you can read the story online. It’s right here. I found it by Googling the unlikely name of a bit character, Murdo Harp.