Page 95

Pullman, Washington

S o what do you think about the murders in Moscow?”

Peggy at the state department of licensing in Pullman is making small talk with the tall, thin WSU student at the front of the line who has come to exchange his Pennsylvania plate for two Washington plates for his white Hyundai Elantra.

His name, according to the forms, is Bryan Kohberger.

She and her five colleagues regularly make small talk with their customers. They pride themselves on running a government outfit that’s got some character. They allow pet dogs to run around. They don’t want their customers to have a run-of-the-mill experience just because it’s vehicle licensing.

They want the experience to be memorable, fun even. They’ve got a reputation they are proud of.

So Peggy doesn’t hesitate to get into the murders with this guy in order to pass the time.

“Horrific, isn’t it?” he replies.

She later says that there was nothing out of the ordinary about their conversation.

He’s as happy to chat as she is. Frankly, it makes people feel better about what happened to blow off steam together. It’s a productive coping mechanism.

The guy says he’s as shocked as they all are. Nervous, too, that the murderer is on the loose. He wants to know what she thinks. Who would have done that? Is the murderer among them? What about what the cops said?

It’s such a perfectly normal exchange that, given the circumstances, Peggy doesn’t think twice about it.

But then, after he’s arrested, when she sees his face on TV, it hits her.

The guy she had that perfectly normal chat with about the murders was changing his plates.

To try to get away with it.

She can hardly believe it.