The Night Killer

I’m not sure the sheriff is up to catching him. He warned me off, but I can’t just drop it.”
    “You may have to. How are you going to investigate when you are persona non grata over there? True, it’s illegal for him to forbid you to come into the county, but he can really make your life difficult if you do,” said Frank.
    “I’m thinking that his son, Travis Conrad, might be more amenable to talking with me, if I approach him just right.”
    “I don’t know about that,” said Frank. “That would put him at odds with both his father and his superior.”
    “Maybe. Anyway, I have evidence that Sheriff Conrad couldn’t take with him. He would have if he could. He asked for the negatives,” said Diane.
    Diane ran her analysis of the photographs by him. “I wish I’d paid more attention to the cigar box when I was there,” she said.
    “When I’m out somewhere, I see bright little auras surrounding objects that are about to become important, don’t you?” he said, grinning at her.
    Diane gently punched his shoulder. “Unfortunately, that isn’t one of my superpowers,” she said.
    “You have more information than I realized,” he said, “between what you found in the photographs and what your crime scene crew was able to reveal.” He picked up his coffee again and took a tentative sip. “It must be a relief that no blood was found on the knife or the rain gear.”
    “It was, I confess.” Diane looked at her cup of coffee. “Is this a different mix?”
    Frank’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at her. “I was wondering if you were going to notice. It’s a mixture of chocolate-raspberry and mocha. You like it?”
    “Yes, I do. What’s not to like?” Frank was a constant experimenter in mixing varieties of coffee for unique tastes. “This one is a keeper. I hope you remember how you mixed it,” she said.
    “I thought you would like it. When we finish our coffee, why don’t we stop all the crime talk and turn in? I have to get up a little earlier tomorrow morning, and I’d like to do more tonight than talk about murder.”
    “That’s an offer I can’t refuse,” she said, smiling at him and drinking her coffee a little faster.

    Diane had just arrived in her museum office when Andie came rushing in.
    “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, taking off a light sweater and hanging it on a hat rack in the corner of her office.
    Today she wore an emerald green jersey dress with a wide black belt. Andie was definitely changing her fashion sense.
    Diane looked at the porcelain grandfather clock that sat against the wall in the part of the office Andie had furnished like a pretty cottage-style sitting room.
    “You’re not late,” Diane said.
    “I mean, I’m usually early, and today I’m on time. That’s late,” she said.
    “On time is good,” said Diane. “You look great. I like your dress.”
    “Do you? Thanks.” Andie sat down behind her desk and blushed.
    Diane sat down on one of the overstuffed chairs and waited for Andie to say something. Clearly, something was on the tip of her tongue and wanting out.
    “I met the greatest guy,” Andie said. “He was visiting the museum yesterday with one of the tours.”
    “Is that why you were—weren’t early?” said Diane.
    “We were out late, just walking and talking,” said Andie. “We went to Atlanta. He had tickets to the Fox Theatre. We saw Chicago .”
    “How did he get tickets on such short notice?” asked Diane.
    “He already had them. He was supposed to go with his cousin, but the cousin had to back out at the last minute.”
    Diane nodded. “What’s his name?” she asked.
    “William Dugal. He’s great-looking, interesting, funny. Perfect,” said Andie.
    “Where’s he from?” Diane winced inwardly. She sounded as if she were interrogating Andie.
    “Atlanta, right now. He’s been in the military and has traveled around quite a bit,” she said. “He’s interested in museum work. He’s been thinking about going to the university and studying museology.”
    “I can see you’re quite taken with him,” said Diane.
    “Too soon, isn’t it? I mean, to be so . . . so . . . you know so . . . interested,” said Andie—a bit breathlessly, Diane thought.
    “Not too soon to be interested,” said Diane.
    “He’s not the kind of guy I usually date,” said Andie. “Most of the guys I go out with are not serious . . . you know . . . about their future. And they’re kind of crazy, like me. You know what I