Leopold's Way by Edward D. Hoch Page A

the names. He could not recall seeing any of them on the skindiver list. So he thanked her and drove downtown to the hospital, where he obtained a list of all the patients Flown had treated there during the past year. Again, there was nothing familiar about any of the names.
    Leopold went to bed early that night. He was awakened at eleven thirty by his bedside telephone. “Hello?” he mumbled.
    â€œCaptain, this is Browning. I’m at the harbor. There’s been another one.
    â€œAnother one?” His mind snapped into focus.
    â€œAnother killing.”
    Leopold cursed. “Meet me at the police boat. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes!”
    Leopold stood beside Browning in the sea-swept bow of the police boat as it churned through the harbor, its high-powered searchlight sweeping the water in random arcs. They followed a zigzag route leading nowhere, and before they had completed their second pass the police captain was convinced it was useless.
    â€œIt’s been a good forty-five minutes,” he said. “Time enough to swim to any of those boats or to shore. We’re wasting our time.” He ordered the police boat to head in toward the battery of lights that marked the scene of the latest crime.
    It was a converted whaleboat fitted with sails and an eight-horsepower motor, an odd sort of craft even for this portion of the Sound. Leopold guessed it had come from up north, somewhere along the New England coastline.
    There was a young man in swimming trunks aboard, crying like a baby over the body of a pretty girl. She had been shot. The bikini she was wearing accented the youthful curves of her body. Leopold dropped the canvas with a sigh.
    â€œI’m Captain Leopold, Homicide. Suppose you tell me what happened.”
    The young man looked up, his eyes still blurred with tears. “She’s dead. She’s dead.”
    â€œDid you see the killer?”
    â€œYes. We were going for a late swim. Jean had already changed to her suit, and I was below getting into mine. I felt the boat sway a bit, heard Jean scream. There…there was a shot. I ran up on deck and saw a figure in shiny black bending over her. It was horrible—he seemed to be looking at the wound his bullet had just made. Even though he saw me, he stayed long enough to fire one more shot into her. Then he went over the side. I went in after him, but I lost him in the dark. So I came back on board, and…”
    Leopold turned to one of the uniformed men. “You got their names?” he asked softly.
    â€œHe’s Martin Irving, and the girl’s name is Jean Young. Down from the Cape, pulled in tonight. Hadn’t heard about the murders, Irving says.”
    â€œEngaged?”
    The patrolman shook his head. “Week’s vacation together. Just shacking up.”
    â€œAll right. If the Doc finds she was pregnant, let me know right away.”
    Browning edged forward. “You think the guy killed her, Captain?”
    â€œMaybe. Two bullets in this one. Change of pattern. He could have heard about our murders and decided to tie in.”
    They stood around while photographers snapped flash photos and the doctor made a preliminary examination. As the body was being carried ashore, Leopold asked the medic what he thought. “Funny thing,” the doctor answered. “Looks to me like the first shot killed her. Why he would stop for a second shot this time beats me.”
    â€œLet me have your report first thing in the morning.”
    Leopold went home, but he did not sleep. He spent the rest of the night pacing the floor, seeing the mysterious figure in its glistening black skindiver’s suit.
    On Wednesday morning the papers had a ball: HARBOR PHANTOM KILLS AGAIN! THIRD MURDER IN 11 DAYS! Leopold read it all, even the editorial he could have written himself. “Citizens demand action.” Sure they did!
    Fletcher slipped some typed sheets onto Leopold’s desk.
    The