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them, and there was a tension they were trying to deny. The wildly impulsive and heedless attitude was a cover, an inability to accept AIDS, theft, the unending poor, the failure of society to progress in all they felt should count. A constant eroding of their confidence, at their skills, at their serenity. Too much happening, too many societal threats, too much financial burden to fit into their 24/7.
    The young men and women on campus appeared to be on the same tightrope that the yuppie crowd started balancing on five years into their jobs. Everyone is strung out these days, she thought. Even the local gas station owner on the corner, once cheerful and carefree, bends customer’s ears about EOC charges dealing with the DER.

 
     
    Chapter 5
     
    Be suspicious when examining handwriting. Our writing leaves a trail of clues about us and can tell our tale though we never speak.
Katharine Everitt
     
    The blue eyes stared mournfully. “Could you give me a ride over to the police station?”
    As opening sexual banter it lacked zest. Still, Kat jumped at the chance and rushed him through his lunch.
    “Detective Richard Burrows said he’d give me an update in half an hour.” He proffered the explanation even though she obviously didn’t require one.
    Normally she would have introduced him to more of the faculty and let him chat with the lunchroom diehards, but she’d had some questions for Burrows and this invitation was a godsend.
    “What happened with your car?” she asked innocently.
    “The prognosis isn’t in yet. I’ll hear later.”
    She polished off the last lettuce leaf and stood impatiently while he wolfed down half a sandwich. Detective Burrows and she were old pals but he noticeably bridled whenever she got just a little bit involved in one of his investigations. This crime was on her home turf, one of her professors, and she wasn’t inclined to back out.
    Burrows rose and arched his back into a leisurely stretch when they entered; offered a handshake for Nick and a nod for Kat, only raising his eyebrows at her presence and not pushing the issue.
    “Sit,” he said and waved towards the chairs in front of his desk before reseating himself. He spoke directly to Nick. The good ol’ boy network or something. Or maybe it was just professional courtesy. No reason for her to get miffed yet. Besides, he hadn’t told her to leave. Richard had bounced Katharine on his knee when she was a child and had difficulty seeing her as a professional, especially since she’d been involved in a recent investigation where she was in danger. She also helped solve the case, which was probably even more difficult for him to accept.
    Burrows explained that it looked like Professor Charles Abbott died of cardiac tamponade. She knew a little about it but was happy for the mini-lesson in cardiology he provided.
    “The heart throbs inside its fibrous or pericardial sac. The stab wound through the anterior chest, or front of his upper chest can result in cardiac tamponade relatively quickly if not found and drained. The sac fills with blood. It doesn’t take a lot of blood before the pressure makes the heart’s pumping job much more difficult. Eventually, as it continues to fill, the heart is literally squeezed to death.”
    “So that’s why his neck veins were so enlarged when they found him,” Kat said.
    Always amazed at her perception, he merely nodded and rolled his eyes. “If you knew last night, why didn’t you tell us?”
    “I didn’t know! I just noticed the neck!”
    Detective Burrows grimaced and said, “OK! OK! You know how I feel about you getting involved in my investigations, but your perspective would be helpful this time around. I’d like to give you a list of names and have you provide any information and insights that you can. No exploring on your own, right?”
    “Richard, you’re coming through loud and clear,” Katharine acquiesced in a limited way, hoping he wouldn’t notice she hadn’t