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“And what about our investigation firm?”
“You can still do that,” answered Williams quickly. “I’m not asking you to spend all your time on this. But what I’m willing to do is give you access to everything. You won’t have to tag along after me everywhere. You can go and talk to people and snoop around all by yourself under my badge. I’ve got the power. I can deputize anybody I damn well want
to.”
“And Bailey won’t have a problem with that?” said King skeptically. “Come on, Todd, you know better.”
“So what if he gets his back up? He can’t argue with your credentials. But you just leave him to me. I’ll go to the mat on this one, even if I have to call the governor.”
“I don’t know,” said King, “this could turn out to be one big turf war nightmare, and I went through enough of those with the Service.”
Michelle punched him playfully in the arm. “Come on, what could it really hurt?”
“We could get killed by this psycho! I bet that would hurt.”
Michelle looked at Williams and winked. “I’m in.”
The police chief glanced nervously at King. “Sean?”
A long moment passed. “All right,” he finally muttered.
“Good,” Williams said in a relieved tone. He took a pair of silver badges out of his pocket, recited two sentences of official legalese swearing them in and handed them the badges. “Okay, you’re officially deputies. Now, look at this.”
He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it across to them. They read it simultaneously.
“The letter from Bobby’s killer, the Mary Martin Speck wannabe, only not,” said Michelle as she glanced up.
King read the letter aloud: “Another one down. That makes five. It was a big one this time, but more to come. And no, I’m not Mary, no Florence Nightinghell here. The feather was just that, a feather for the featherweights that all of you are! See you soon. Not MMS.”
He looked up with a thoughtful expression. “Was there a Zodiac symbol on the envelope this letter came in?”
“No, it was clean. Like the Canney-Pembroke letter and the Hinson letter. We’ve already checked it for prints and other traces. Nothing.”
“This letter says that Battle was victim number five,” said King.
“Well, he is number five, Sean,” replied Williams.
“But the Pembroke-Canney letter only mentioned the death of one kid. Taken literally, that would make Battle only victim number four. That’s an inconsistency that’s inexplicable right now.”
Williams slapped his thigh with his hand. “See, that’s why I want you two on board. You see things, deduce things.”
“We may be entirely wrong in our deductions,” countered King.
“Or you may be exactly right,” rejoined Williams. “Another thing you need to know. Hinson wore an anklet, a gold one. It wasn’t on the body, and it didn’t turn up anywhere in her house.”
King said, “Pembroke’s ring, Canney’s St. Christopher’s medal, possibly Tyler’s belly ring and now Hinson’s anklet.”
“Maybe he wants them as souvenirs,” said Michelle, “trophies from his kills.”
“Maybe. Was there anything missing from Bobby Battle?”
“Nothing that we know of.” Williams studied King closely. “So what’s your next move?”
King pondered this for a bit. Finally, he said, “It’s time we determined once and for all if there’s any connection between the killings.”
“But, Sean, we know they were killed by the same person,” said Williams.
“No, we don’t know that,” said King sharply. “But that’s not what I meant anyway. I mean we have to find out if there’s some common thread among the victims, if somehow they’re connected to each other.”
