ALL INCIDENTS UNSOLVED -STOP- NO RELATED CASES ON RECORD -STOP- ASSISTANCE WELCOME -STOP- There the message ended. A quick glance at other pages revealed similar notes with varying dates and occupations of victims from Brahannasburg and Gadston.

“My God,” I said, reading over the pages a second time. “But there are so many!”

“Yes. Mr. Bragg seems to have been following a trail of serial murders extending back for several months, probably longer. The marks on his map, N. Wd. and C. Wd., denote neck wounds and chest wounds. It seems our killer favored the chest. All of them appear just beyond the jurisdiction of New Fiddleham, which shows that the killer made an effort to keep the authorities in the dark. Bragg’s attempts to connect and shed light on these deaths only brought him to his own, it would seem.”

Back in Jackaby’s office, the detective unfolded the dead reporter’s hand-drawn chart and placed it on top of a massive, finely detailed map already shrouding most of his desk. He rummaged in a drawer and produced a small box of pins with fat, shiny heads. He emptied the box onto the surface and compared the two maps.

In the flat section of his desk, we could see that the two maps corresponded well. Bragg had been diligent in his copying. Jackaby began marking each of the original Xs with a pin on the larger map, jamming the points deep into the wood and effectively tacking the chart in place for the time being. From across the desk I scooped up a few pins and helped him finish the job.

“That’s the lot,” I said.

“Not quite,” said Jackaby.

I scanned the original map again and counted out the marks. Jackaby swept the extra pins back into the box while I checked. We had stabbed all twelve points. The detective handed a single pin to me, with a somber, purposeful look. I took his meaning and, leaning in to find the right section of the city, plugged Arthur Bragg’s own pin into the map. Thirteen shiny markers stood like polished gravestones.

“Bragg was not marked on his own map for obvious reasons. What else do you notice that sets his death apart from the other murders?” he asked.

I looked at the map. Bragg’s pin looked very alone in the center of the chart. The others stood in little groups of twos and threes, circling his like school-yard bullies.

“He’s the only one in New Fiddleham,” I ventured.

“Very good. What do you make of that?”