Free Artist by Eric Drouant

asked.
    “Maybe. Maybe he just lives around there. Or works there. But something ties him to the area right around the University. All the victims are in a small area.”
    “You could be right,” Dupond said. “But I don’t know how much that helps us.” He thought for a minute. “Let’s do this. Let’s get the complete class schedule for Jill Chaisson. Get the complete work schedule for the Maro girl. We want to know where they were on campus. See if we can tie them into the same place at any time. Do the same thing with Kelt. Maybe she did some work around the area and the guy saw her and just picked her up. We get all three of their schedules together and see if anything matches. First thing tomorrow , I’ll have Adan start pulling it all together. We’ll go over it and see if anything sticks out. Agreed?”
    “Agreed.” Cassie said. “Now I think I’ll head out. It’s getting late. See you in the morning.”
    She gathered her things and started for the door.
    “Wait,” Dupond said.
    Cassie stopped.
    Dupond started again. “You know, I’m supposed to be training you. This isn’t going the way it’s supposed to. You’ve…uh…you’ve been a big help on this.”
    “Does that bother you?” Cassie asked.
    “No, no,” Dupond said. “It’s just that I’m not used to dating really intelligent women.”
    “Oh,” Cassie said. “Are we dating?”
    “Well, we are if you’re free tomorrow night. After work, maybe we can go get something to eat. Something decent I mean. I know a couple of good places.”
    Cassie looked down at her shoes. Crunch time. She could say no and continue mourning Ronnie or say yes and maybe be able to move on. She wasn’t expecting this, didn’t think it was possible. She found herself attracted to this man though, and that was another thing she hadn’t expected. Just maybe. She stepped back in the door.
    “Listen. I think I’d like to try. But you have to know what you’re getting into. I’ve got a lot of baggage. I’ve got a sharp tongue, too. I’m not all curly hair and perfume. Can you deal with that?”
    Dupond said “Do you like oysters?”
    “Love ‘em,” Cassie said. She went out the door. Dupond got up and watched her walk away down the hall. 
     
     
    The sailboat cut across the water, tacking into the wind. There was just enough chop to make it interesting, not enough to make it uncomfortable. Viktor Watt had his hand on the till, guiding the craft out into Lake Ponchartrain. He’d taken the day off, called in sick. He wanted to reward himself for a job well done and at the same time, think about his next move.
    Watching every day was a habit. The hunter studied his prey even when he wasn’t hungry. Gloria Maro, laid out for the world to see, announced his presence. He knew it also increased the pressure on the police as the public demanded action. The newspaper articles, the sound bites on television, flared the first day, receded on the second, vanished on the third. It would take another victim to reach the first page and that was where he wanted to be.
    He would need time. Time with the victim. Time to prepare. The risk increased with every minute he spent with any one girl. Quick was best but so much less satisfying. Today, with the sun on his face and the boat slicing through the water, he would have time to think. And plan. God , he thought, is in the details.
     
     
    “Here’s what we have.” Adan laid a chart out on the table. He, along with Cassie and Dupond, were in the interrogation room, the only place with a table big enough to spread everything out. They spent the morning going over schedules, contacts, anything they had. Coffee cups piled out of the wastebasket in the corner. To Cassie, the room smelled like sweat and lies.
    “Chaisson was an Art student but there’s a lot more to it than just drawing or painting. To get a degree, and to really appreciate the artists that have gone before, you have to study the surrounding