The Lesson of Her Death

same way Steve Ribbon used to stand.
    “We got him. He’s in Lewisboro.” Corde grinned at Slocum. Then he saluted. “Thanks, Sheriff.”
    Bevan’s tavern was sixty miles north of New Lebanon in Lewisboro County, edged into a stand of pine and sloppy maples, and just far enough back from Route 128 so you could angle-park a Land Cruiser without too much risk of losing the rear end. Today four men sat in one of the tavern’s front booths, drinking iced tea and soda and coffee. A greasy plate that had held onion rings sat in front of them. Lewisboro County Sheriff Stanley Willars said, “How do you know he’s there?”
    Bill Corde said, “Wynton here tracked him down. He called must’ve been a thousand real estate companies. Gilchrist used Sayles’ name and rented it for two months.” Corde wanted more onion rings; he hadn’t eaten a meal in eighteen hours. But he counted up that he’d had twelve rings himself so far, with ketchup, and decided not to ask if they wanted another round.
    Wynton Kresge said, “He doesn’t have any family that we’ve been able to find. And no other residences. We think he’s there and …” Kresge looked at Corde then added, “… we want to hit him.”
    Corde continued, “It’s your county, Stan, so we need your okay.”
    “Never heard of a professor killing anybody before,” said Assistant Sheriff Dudley Franks, who was lean and unsmiling and reminded Corde of T.T. Ebbans. “You’d think they’d be above that or something.”
    Willars said wryly, “So’s Hammerback’s providing all the firepower?”
    Corde grinned. “Okay, we’d like some backup too.”
    “Uck.”
    Corde added, “Fact of life, Stan.”
    Willars said, “You boys want more rings?” Corde said sure quickly. Willars ordered. He was laughing as he looked out the window at Corde’s squad car. “Look at that Dodge. It brand new?”
    Corde said, “We got ’em this year.”
    “You got that damn university down in Harrison. No wonder you got new wheels.” He turned to Franks. “What year’re we driving?”
    “Eighty-sevens.”
    Kresge said, “That’s pretty old.”
    “That damn university,” Willars said. “Remember those old Grand Furies? The Police Interceptors.”
    “That was quite a car,” Corde said.
    “Had a four-forty in them, I believe,” Franks offered.
    Willars said, “What I wish is we had one of those emergency services trucks. You should see the wrecks we get along 607.”
    Franks said, “Sedge Billings near to cut his little finger off with his chain saw trying to get somebody out of a Caprice that went upside down. There aren’t but one Jaws of Life in the whole area. Sedge had to use his own Black and Decker.”
    The waitress brought the onion rings.
    “No,” Willars corrected, “that wasn’t a Chevy, was a Taurus.”
    “You’re right,” Franks said.
    Corde said, “I don’t think Ellison’d have it in his heart or his budget to buy you boys one of those vans. The one they got in Harrison is secondhand. I
know
we don’t have the money in New Lebanon.” There was silence as they dug into their rings.
    Willars said, “It’s just a shame you couldn’t loan it to us from time to time. Like a week we’ve got it, three weeks you’ve got it.”
    Corde said, “I don’t know the citizens of Harrison’d be too happy to see that. They’re the one’s paying.”
    “True,” Willars said pleasantly, “but I don’t know the citizens of Harrison’re real happy about what thisGilchrist fella’s done.” With cheer in his voice he added, “And the fact he’s still at large.”
    Franks said, “And the fact that it’s election time come November.”
    “I’d guess,” Corde said slowly, “Hammerback’d be willing to work out a sharing arrangement. But only if you’re talking a limited period of time. And I’ve gotta clear it with him.”
    Willars said, “I think of the families of some kid rolls his car off that bend on 607. You ever seen that happen?”
    “It’s pretty bad?” Kresge asked. “How come you don’t put up guard rails?”
    Willars looked mournful. “Fact is we’re a poor county.”
    Corde said, “I think we could work something out.”
    Sheriff Willars said, “That’s good enough for me. Let’s pick us up a couple M-16s and go catch ourselves a dangerous professor.”
    Warning. No trespassing
.
    Bill Corde and Wynton Kresge stepped out of a stand of trees and found themselves looking at the summer house Leon Gilchrist had