The Lesson of Her Death

not notice Slocum and Miller play a round of eye rolling.
    “Also,” the security chief added, “Personnel has a policy of never hiring ex-felons. So if there are any on staff they lied about it on their resumes.”
    Ebbans asked, “Was she ever up before the UDB?”
    University Disciplinary Board. Kresge said she wasn’t.
    “Now,” Corde said, jotting down these facts, “as for the murder: At around ten o’clock on Tuesday night she was raped and strangled, possibly by someone she knew.”
    “How could you tell that?” Kresge asked and Corde glanced at him with irritation.
    “Look—” Corde began.
    Ebbans answered Kresge. “Because she didn’t run and because he got close enough to subdue her before she fought back.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “If she’d fought there’d be tissue under her nails.”
    “Kleenex?”
    Slocum laughed. Ebbans said, “Skin. The man’s skin.”
    “Oh.” Kresge added, “But then if she knew him, he probably wasn’t a, you know, cult killer.”
    Slocum lectured, “Not so, Chief. A good percentage of sacrifice killers know their victims.”
    “Oh. I didn’t know that.”
    The meeting was meandering away from Corde. He said emphatically, “We have a lot of unknowns here. Maybe robbery wasn’t a motive. But maybe it was. Maybe he got scared before he could take her valuables.”
    Slocum laughed. “Bill, she had a diamond necklace. When he was through doing it to her he could’ve snatched it, just like that.” He illustrated ripping a chain off his own neck. “Wouldn’t take more than two seconds.”
    Ebbans said, “What’s the coroner say about COD?”
    “Just what it looked like. Traumatic asphyxiation. Pinpoint hemorrhages in the eyes. Fractured hyoid. Our man used his hands at first then he finished with a wire or rope. We didn’t find any weapons. The coroner said the man was a foot or so taller than her. He wasn’t so strong. He had to rearrange his grip on her neck several times. He did it from the front. Oh and the coroner guessed he wasn’t married. Or he had a bad sex life with his wife.”
    “Why’s that?” Miller asked.
    “Quantity of the semen. Probably hadn’t had sex for four, five weeks.”
    Jim Slocum said, “Then you mean he had a
good
sex life with his wife.” Miller laughed out loud; the others except Corde snickered.
    Corde looked at his cards, fanned some out. “Now what I want to do is focus on four areas. First, on the mall and on drivers along 302. I’d like you to handle that, Jim. It’s a tall order. But that’s a real busy road and we probably had some people coming home from the mall around ten that night.” Corde jotted a note on an index card. “Oh, and check out if anybody picked up any hitchhikers.
    “Now, second, T.T., I was thinking maybe you could hit the houses around the pond.”
    Ebbans nodded and Corde said, “Third, Lance and I’ll set up shop at the school and start talking to students and employees.”
    “Yessir.” Even sitting, Miller seemed to be at attention. He reminded Corde of a color guard Marine. “What exactly—”
    “We’ll go over it later. I also want you to talk to the phone company and find out what calls went out from the phones in the dorm from last Saturday through Tuesday night.”
    Miller whistled softly. “Must be a lot of students making a lot of calls, wouldn’t you think?”
    “You would,” Corde said. “And we need a warrant for the dorm room. It’ll be pro forma but you’ve gotta do the paperwork.”
    “Right.”
    “And finally I want all the prints on everything we found at the scene matched against known sex offenders in the county. T.T., if you could coordinate that with your office?”
    “Will do. I’ll order the printout.”
    “Wynton, I don’t suppose you folk fingerprint students and professors?”
    “Been my dream and desire but no we don’t.”
    Corde referred to his notes again and started to say something to Kresge then paused. He scanned everyone’s face. “One thing Steve said is right. The
Register
and WRAL are going to be looking at this thing real close. No talking to reporters. Refer everyone to me or Steve or Sheriff Ellison.”
    Echoes of “yup” or “uh-huh” filled the room.
    Corde turned back to the security chief. “You get us a room, William? Uh, Wynton, I mean.”
    “In the Student Union. Off the cafeteria. Room 121. You got it all week, next too if you let me know by Friday.”
    “’Predate it.”
    Kresge