Sawyers was saying: “… makes at least thirty-one people dead today: by gunshot, rifle and pistol; by stabbing—knife, screwdriver, broken fire poker; by clubbing, with a rifle butt, with a pair of wireclippers; by strangulation, with jumper cables, bailing wire—and now the latest victims include a pregnant mother and her year-old child. That thirty-one does not include Michael Rhomer, tragically killed in the street because someone mistook him for the murderer. There are over half a dozen people in severe condition at Frontwater District Memorial Hospital. This city, I think it is safe to say, has never seen a day like this before. And we all hope it never sees one like it again. I’m going to be talking to Police Inspector Haley in a few seconds. Inspector Haley is going to explain what the police will be—Oh, yes. That’s right. Yes, this is Inspector Haley. Inspector?”

“Yeah? Well, we’re all agreed this has been pretty terrible.” It was the voice of the man in the rumpled suit. “Anyway, we’re sure he hasn’t gotten too far away. He’s only had minutes to run, this time. And the place is surrounded with just about everything we have. We got it from a couple of people at the bar where he did the first bunch in—people who knew him there—that the kid don’t even know how to drive. We’ve already done some checkin’ on him. We’re gonna catch him, soon now.”

“Can you tell us why you’re so sure the capture is imminent, Inspector?”

“Well, there’s that thing he always writes.… Is that all right to talk about? Do they know about that?”

“If they’ve been listening to their radios, Inspector. Ladies and gentlemen, Harkner—or the killer alleged to be Dennis Harkner—at the scene of each crime has written ‘All right,’ somewhere on the floor or a wall or a window. This time, it’s on the front of the barge cabin where the murder was committed. Would you tell us something about how he writes it, Inspector?”

“Huh?—well, in these big … Eh, with blood … Eh … blood. The murder victims’ blood. That’s pretty—you know—grim.”

“Yes, Inspector. And you were saying?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, he didn’t get a chance to finish it this time. He wrote ‘All’ and the first four letters of ‘Right.’ Then there’s this smear—you can see it over there on the cabin wall of the barge.”

“Yes, I do, Inspector. Ladies and gentlemen, the spotlights are illuminating the front wall of the barge’s cabin where the victims, Harry and Mona Bunim, with their year-old son, Chuck, worked and lived. Next to the door, across the torn tarpaper, you can read, plainly and clearly, the gruesome words the Inspector has described.”