The Lesson of Her Death

of another Auden co-ed, Susan Biagotti, 21, a resident of Indianapolis.
    It is believed that the killer may act again on the night of the next full moon, Wednesday, April 28. Deputies and Auden campus security police have intensified patrol efforts and are urging young women to avoid going outside alone.
    C orde dropped the
Register
on Jim Slocum’s desk and said, “How’d this happen?”
    Slocum rubbed his cheek. “You got me. Steve had an idea to have me go up to Higgins and talk to the state boys. Just a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
    “Didn’t you check out the roads and the mall, like I asked?”
    “Did that too. Put nearly two hundred miles on the cruiser. Didn’t find diddly.”
    “Well, did you talk to a reporter?”
    “Why would I talk to a reporter?” He frowned and slapped the newspaper with his hand. “Where I was maybe a little careless was I wrote up a memo after I talked to the State Police and circulated it to everybody on the case. It’s in your in basket. Didn’t you see it? You know what I’ll bet happened is something got leaked from the state.”
    Corde was angry. He shouted throughout the office, “No reporters! Nothing goes to the press without clearing it with me. Understood?” Four deputies nodded, stiff-faced with unjust accusation.
    “But Bill,” Slocum said, “there’s a lot that adds up. Look at this moon thing. The ‘lunatic’ message, the knife—”
    Corde snapped, “Damned coincidence.”
    “Everybody knows about the full moon. Remember Ed Wembkie?”
    Corde said, “This is not some guy got foreclosed out of his farm and went crazy.”
    “Ed killed that banker on the night of the full moon.”
    “Was also the day the marshal tacked up the auction notice. And what’s this talk about Biagotti? Who brought that up?”
    Slocum shrugged. “We
are
looking into it. Or at least you said you were going to.”
    “Jim, I don’t care that it’s
accurate,”
Corde said in a low voice. “I care that it’s being talked about in the press.” He punched the newspaper. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. But in the future—”
    “In the future I won’t trust them state boys,” Slocum said earnestly. “That’s for damn sure.”
    Corde stared at the article for a moment. He clicked his tongue. “Okay, what’s done’s done. Now, I’d like you to get out to the truck stops and along 116, put up some fliers asking for witnesses. That route’s a feeder for the interstate if you’re coming from Hallburton.”
    “That town’s mostly dead, Bill. I doubt there’d be any truck traffic.”
    “Do it just the same. Fast-Copy’s delivering them this afternoon.”
    “Uhn,” Slocum said.
    Corde continued into his office. He cracked open the window. Before he could sit down T.T. Ebbans walked up to his desk, carrying his own
Register
.
    Ebbans said angrily, “We got ourselves a leak, looks like.”
    Corde snorted and swung his door shut. “It’s not a leak if the sheriff doesn’t mind.” He dug into his in box and found Slocum’s memo. It presented most of the same information that was in the article. Across the top Slocum had scrawled:
Something to think about
. Corde handed the memo to Ebbans, who read it and said, “Watkins knows what he’s about but it’s too darn early for this sort of profile. He should know better.”
    Corde nodded toward Ribbon’s office. “You know something, T.T.,” he whispered. “Steve’d look like a genius, he stops a cult killer in his tracks, don’t you think? Especially if he could tie the Biagotti killing to this guy.”
    “I guess,” Ebbans said, “but he wouldn’t, you know, hurt the case just to do something like that.”
    Corde shrugged. “We catch this guy, five’ll get you ten Ribbon mentions Biagotti at the same press conference. Also with this Moon Killer poop he’s taking a lot of focus off the school, which is where he doesn’t want the focus to be.”
    “Why not?”
    “You don’t live in New Lebanon, T.T. Hell, the school damn near pays our salaries. If Auden goes, what’ve we got? Precious little. Farms. A few dealerships. Insurance.”
    Corde tossed the
Register
into the trash. He began pacing slowly and then stopped abruptly. “You know, I can’t let that go.”
    Ebbans looked at him quizzically.
    “Woman came up to me today and she was mighty spooked, like she had the killer on her tail. Some paperboy or milkman comes to somebody’s front door and he’s going to get himself