Chapter 24

Thursday, July 1, 9:22 a.m.

Thursday morning, Sam discussed with Lester and Hugh Fulcher his belief that running the witness sketches in the newspaper or on television might be counterproductive.

In addition to his fear that the drawings just weren't sufficiently definitive, Sam suggested that they might have the effect of scaring off the criminal. It was possible, Sam told them, that the suspect was unaware that he'd been seen by anyone who'd spoken to the police. Even a poor sketch, Sam thought, could spook the man and send him packing.

"Well, now, Sam, I don't know as how I agree," Lester said. "These pictures may not be great, but I gotta admit, you were right, they're way better'n anything Wentzel ever gave us. We've run his stuff in the paper often enough."

"You ever remember catching anybody that way?" Sam countered.

"I'm with Sam," Hugh Fulcher said. "I think we ought to trot all three of these sketches around in person to hotel clerks and other people who might have seen an out-of-town guy. If anybody recognizes him and we can locate him, we can bring in Wallace and Mumford for a confirming look."

"Maybe we should just spook the guy and send him runnin'," Lester said. "'Least we wouldn't be riskin' another killing in this county."

"You think he's some kind of serial killer, Lester?" Sam was shocked at the thought. To him, the unique circumstances surrounding Emma Majeski's death were just that -- a distinctive motive for an atypical crime.

"He may not be a serial killer in the sense that he chooses random victims, or just any pretty girl," Lester said. "Maybe he just triggers off of women who do what our girl did... women who show it off a little too much."

Sam was listening intently. He'd always respected Lester's basic intelligence, but seldom had he heard the Sheriff engaging in what could be considered analytical thought. Sam was impressed.

"What about strippers?" Sam asked. "The county's got its share of strip bars. Hey, Hugh, your guy, the chimney-sweeper guy -- he was in a strip bar the day Emma Majeski was murdered... Hell, that was his alibi!"

The Sheriff interrupted. "Well, I ain't talkin' about strippers or massage parlor queens. 'Course it's possible a killer'd go after one of them girls, but our boy had his pick of all them, and evidently he didn't go for it. He wanted him a nice, respectable girl. One who happens to like to show off her -- self to strange men.

"My guess, the commercial girls are a whole 'nother thing, Sam. 'Like shootin' fish in a barrel. 'Like a lotta guys, Sam, they don't want no sex, if they gotta pay for it. 'Wanna be loved, for themselves, or not at all."

"You very well could be right on it, Lester. But what are the chances of this guy running into another woman like Emma Majeski?"

"Who the hell knows?" Lester boomed. "It don't happen much t'me, worst luck! But you know, I have had experiences, time-to-time, sorta like what that Hatfield woman told you, 'bout Emma."

"That's true," Fulcher said. "I got a couple' special memories, over the years, 'women like that. 'Could be, what they showed me was just an accident, y'know? But I don't think it was. I remember one time..."

Sam stopped him, smiling. "You're right, Hugh. I guess every man's got a little voyeur in him, and those unexpected... encounters do stick in your memory. But would they be commonplace enough to give rise to a serial killer who preys on exhibitionist women?"

"No telling," Lester said. "But it's something to think about. What worries me, what if this guy really is a visitor here? If you was just passin' through, and you murdered somebody, would you hang around, 'get caught? I think you better think up some ways, 'find this guy if he turns out to live here. If he don't live here, he's probably long gone."

"That's true enough, Sheriff," Sam replied. "Well, we're still looking for that car, and it's still unregistered, except to Mumford. Me'n Hugh will start with the hotels and motels, showing these sketches around. It's worth a try."

"Keep it out a' the paper for now, if that's what you want to do," the Sheriff said, "but don't put all your eggs in that stranger-in-town basket. Show them sketches around at the VFW Hall, and over to the Moose Lodge. Hell, show 'em to the breakfast crowd over to Herman's. No, never mind -- I'll do that my own self!"