Haunting Refrain by Ellis Vidler

said she was tall, that she could see the top of her car, so the killer must be quiet tall. And very strong. Maybe her roommate could describe the men she went out with.”
    “What about the lake? And the ghostly trees? Could it be in an area near a forest fire?” Kate sipped her coffee, afraid to go too near the visions.
    “Somehow, that doesn’t seem right. Maybe if you look at a map, something will come to you.” More paper shuffling. “I don’t see anything in today’s paper. Why don’t you call John?”
    “Thanks anyway, Venice . I’ll call you later. Tell Ramses hello for me.”
    She went to the living room and sifted through a stack of papers on her desk, looking for a map, but found only Alabama and Virginia . Nothing on South Carolina or the Piedmont area.
    Her stomach growled, reminding her that she had skipped supper last night. A survey of the cabinets turned up a box of Grape-Nuts, a jar of peanut butter, and some canned soup. She opted for the cereal and hoped she had milk. In the refrigerator she found a half-empty carton and a loaf of stale bread. The milk had a few suspicious swirls, but it smelled all right. She poured it over the cereal and carried it back to the table. As she ate, she planned what she would say to Josephine Wardlaw .
    Maybe Jo? Jodie? Josie?
    She scraped the mold off the corner of a slice of bread, toasted it, and smeared it with peanut butter, thinking about the image she would need to present to approach Kelly’s roommate. The girl had surely been besieged—by the police, the press, friends, and the merely curious.
    Kate finished the toast, rinsed the peanut butter and crumbs off her fingers, and ran upstairs to rummage through her closet. Pushing aside one hanger after the other, she rejected her clothing—too dressy, too sophisticated, too this, too that.   The girl would have had enough of authority figures, but Kate supposed that she had also been overwhelmed by other students. Definitely no weirdos —she was likely to be frightened. Maybe someone conservative and solicitous, like a Sunday School teacher or a missionary type, could get in to see her.
    A navy blue dress caught her eye. She usually wore it with a bold scarf and heavy gold jewelry, but if it had a white collar, it could look very sensible. A thorough search yielded only an old white blouse. Kate ruthlessly cut out the collar and yoke, then snipped off the cuffs a few inches from the elbow. She put the severed collar around her neck and pulled the cuffs on, then pulled the dress over her head. The effect was demure if boring, she decided. Too bad she hadn’t thought of this outfit while she was married. J. B. would have loved it.
    Maybe a little makeup—she wasn’t aiming for dead. She looked longingly at her mascara. No, it would spoil the picture. She got out the glasses again.
    Standing in front of the mirror, she twisted her hair into a tight knot on top of her head. “Wow. Miss Prim. All I need is a pulpit.”
    * * *
    The RX-7 didn't fit with her new missionary image; Kate left it at the far end of the parking lot and walked to Reed Hall, where she supposed Kelly's roommate still lived. She hoped the poor girl hadn't left college and gone home. In a suitably docile voice, she asked a young woman clad in red and white striped tights and a star-studded blue T-shirt for directions to Josephine Wardlaw's room.
    The flag-wearer looked at Kate strangely. “Upstairs, first door on the right.”
    “I'm from her church,” Kate explained in what she hoped was a sweetly sincere manner, and ran up the stairs. She dismissed the laughter that followed her, thinking that visiting missionaries probably didn't run.
    The door had no identification, but Kate knocked anyway, wondering if she should call the roommate Miss Wardlaw .
    The door opened so quickly that Kate jumped. A large, muscular woman with chopped-off brown hair glared down at her. A baseball bat hung from her hand.
    “Whatever it is, I'm not