The Night Killer

this man in my office who insists on speaking with you. He said his name is Sheriff Leland Conrad.”

Chapter 13
    “Talk about slaying dragons,” said Diane.
    Laura rose. “I’ll go out your rear door and leave you to it,” she said. As she glided out the door she said, “Have fun. Off with his head.”
    “I’ll see him in my office,” Diane told Andie, straightening her clothes and running her fingers through her hair.
    “I need to go to archives,” said Andie, “but I’ll stay if you want.”
    Diane smiled at her. “I’ll be fine.”
    “He’s not going to arrest you or anything, is he?” asked Andie. “I mean, you just found the bodies.”
    “It will be all right,” insisted Diane. “Go to your meeting. This is the meeting with the collection managers, right?”
    Andie nodded. Diane had been giving Andie more responsibilities because she had asked for them. Andie was in charge of a webcam project they were starting up for the schools, and she also met with the collection managers. She had been doing quite well and Diane was proud of her.
    Diane walked into her office with Andie, closing the door to her meeting room behind her. She sat down behind her desk before she asked Andie to bring Sheriff Conrad in.
    Andie opened the door and introduced Diane’s guest, Sheriff Leland Conrad. Diane had heard about Sheriff Conrad, but had never met him. His son looked nothing like him. The sheriff had a large, square, stern face with permanent frown lines on either side of his small mouth. He had smooth skin pulled tight, almond eyes, and high, rounded cheekbones. He had a small nose and deep nasal folds. His thick brown hair was reminiscent of the fifties hairstyles in men. He wore his brown sheriff’s uniform, which looked like it had been starched. Leland Conrad was a tall, barrel-chested man who looked as if he liked to scare people into a confession. Diane found his whole demeanor to be off-putting, but it may have been simply that she didn’t like the things she had heard about him. He didn’t look like a happy man; nor did he look like he thought he ought to be happy.
    “Afternoon, Miss Fallon. I usually ask people I interview to come to my office. Most people find that intimidating, but I reckoned that you wouldn’t, being in the business yourself, so to speak.”
    Diane raised her eyebrows. So, he was interviewing a suspect. Best not to show any fear , she thought.
    “No, I wouldn’t,” she said. “I used to work in human rights investigations in South America. You’d be hard-pressed to be more intimidating than some of the people I had to deal with down there.” Although Slick gave it a good go , she thought. And you’re not doing too bad a job, just walking in here.
    “That so? Interesting.”
    “Please sit down, Sheriff,” she said.
    He’d wandered over to the photograph of her dangling at the end of a rope, rappelling into a cave.
    “I like to get a look at where a person works. Tells me a thing or two about what makes them tick. What’s this photograph?”
    “It’s of me. I’m rappelling into a cave that has a vertical entrance,” she said.
    “Entering a cave. That right? Looks dangerous,” he said.
    “Not if you know what you’re doing. It’s really very relaxing. Strenuous, but relaxing.”
    “That what you do to relax?”
    It was more of a comment than a question. Diane was used to people thinking that caving was anything but relaxing.
    “Yes,” she said.
    “Interesting,” he said. “Don’t look too relaxing to me.”
    Diane wondered what assessments he had made of her so far. He moved to the other side of the office and looked at her Escher prints: a castle with an endless ascending and descending staircase, an impossible self-filling waterfall, and a tessellation of angels and devils. It was the angels and devils he stared at.
    “You religious?” he said.
    “Depends on what you mean by it,” she said.
    “Simple question.”
    “I believe in God,” she said. “I sometimes go to church. When I do, I go to the Presbyterian or First Baptist, because I know and like the people who go there. I consider religion personal and private.”
    “Humm . . .” was all he said.
    Diane saw that he was trying to get to know her, trying to place her in perspective in his own worldview. Religion was important to him.
    “What does this mean?” he said, pointing to the angels and devils drawn in such a pattern that there were no overlaps of the individual angels