There were no windows, so he felt a tad claustrophobic. The State Police’s Central District is located in the basement of the Indiana Statehouse, near War Memorial Plaza, a five-city-block memorial built to honor WWI veterans. Only Washington DC has more veterans’ monuments than Indy. But Jasper couldn’t see any of them from this cramped belowground dungeon. “We’re looking for your accomplice, a guy named Stickley,” said Lt. Wannamaker, pointing an accusing finger at his prisoner. The tip was yellow with nicotine. The policeman had developed a three-pack-a-day habit. It was a stressful job, catching crooks. “Sam Stickley? Yeah, I know ’im, but he ain’t no accomplice of mine.” “Admit it,” said Wannamaker. “You slipped ol’ Stickyfingers the alarm code so he could steal the Wilkins Witch Quilt. How are you two splitting the money – fifty-fifty?” “Hey, I told you before, that robbery happened on my day off.
