Buried Prey

glory days as an amateur hockey player,” Ignace said, “while overestimating his abilities on a basketball court.”
    “That’s me,” Lucas said. “I got something you may be interested in, or maybe not.”
    “I got nothing today—if you got a cat in a tree, I’m interested,” Ignace said. “In fact, I’d encourage you to put a cat in a tree.”
    “What about the Jones case?”
    “Day before yesterday’s news. Nobody’s got anything,” Ignace said. “We got one guy, called up Scrape’s relatives, and asked them if they were going to sue. They said no, they weren’t the suin’ kind. Our guy said they didn’t remember him very well.”
    “Won’t sue? My God, where do they live?”
    “I don’t know, but it must be someplace so primitive they haven’t even developed trial lawyers.”
    “Pretty fuckin’ primitive,” Lucas said.
    Ignace said, “Okay, I’m starting to yawn, here. Always happy to talk to a source, of course, but I gotta polish my shoes. . . .”
    “This can’t come from me,” Lucas said. “There’s a guy over at St. Paul who just got back from the FBI school at Quantico.”
    “James Hayworth. ‘Call me James.’ Yeah, but I’d cut my wrists before I wrote about some guy doing an FBI school,” Ignace said.
    “The thing is, he got really freaked out by the behavioral science thing. He now sees serial killers in his garbage can,” Lucas said. “So: I think if you called him about the Jones case, he’d probably tell you that the killer didn’t stop with the Jones girls. That he’s probably been killing right along. That there are God-onlyknows how many victims, buried in lonely old basements.”
    “Huh. But it’s a Minneapolis case, and he’s St. Paul,” Ignace said, not uninterested. “You think he’d say something anyway?”
    “He’d talk to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer if Rudolph asked him about sex killers,” Lucas said. “I’m thinking you could talk to him, take what he has to say, and then blow it all out of proportion.”
    “That’s true, and a worthy goal in itself,” Ignace said. “But an equally interesting question is, what does Davenport get out of it?”
    “Just trying to help out an old newspaper friend,” Lucas said.
    “You too often lie by reflex,” Ignace said. “You should consider your lies more carefully.”
    “Well, hell, I’m dealing with the press,” Lucas said. “So, what do you think?”
    “If I go with this, will I wind up looking like a fool? Or will it turn out that he actually has killed more people?”
    “Off the record?”
    “For now,” Ignace agreed.
    “We think we have at least one more attack,” Lucas said. “So we think he kept doing it. And you won’t wind up looking like a fool anyway, because if it doesn’t pan out, nobody’ll remember it: just another piece of paper for the bottom of the birdcage.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah. So what do you think?”
    “I think it’ll be on the front page tomorrow,” Ignace said.
    “There you go,” said Lucas.
     
     
    DEL SAID, “If Marcy finds out . . .”
    “Ah, Ruffe can keep his mouth shut,” Lucas said. “But, I oughta call Marcy and tell her about Barker.” He got back on the phone, was told that Marcy Sherrill was in a budget meeting. He left a call-back.
    “Want to do schools?” he asked Del.
    “No, but what else have we got?”
    Armed with a batch of subpoenas set up by Sandy, the researcher, they started with the schools the farthest out, in south Washington County, then drove north to Mounds View schools, then over to Minneapolis.
    The first firing, of a forty-four-year-old male teacher named Hosfedder, in south Washington County, was actually a double firing. Hosfedder and a female teacher named Dubois, who had also been fired, had been involved in an extramarital affair, according to an assistant superintendent. The affair had been consummated, at least once, on a table in the chemistry lab on a dim Saturday afternoon in the late fall. Unfortunately for them, the coupling had been witnessed by a group of students who’d been in the school for a music program, and who’d gone quietly down to the lab for reasons not disclosed and presumably not relevant.
    “Probably to neck,” Del suggested to the assistant superintendent.
    “At least,” the guy said.
    “No kids involved, I mean, no kids approached by Hosfedder,” Lucas said.
    “Nothing recorded here,” the assistant superintendent said, thumbing through the file.
    The second