The Butcher and the Wren(19)

Will hasn’t taken his eyes off the television that sits high above the shelves of alcohol.

“Can you believe this shit still gets steam?” he asks, gesturing with a nod to the news story playing out on the screen.

Leroux and Wren raise their eyes to the screen and follow his gaze. The local news is highlighting a middle-aged man interviewed by a young, eager reporter. The man looks frazzled and wrings his hands anxiously while he talks.

“It is the occult. Devil worshippers are infiltrating this community, and until we get back to respecting the teachings of Jesus Christ, more innocent people will be sacrificed to the darkness,” the man on the screen proselytizes.

He raises his hand during the last few words, and the reporter nods enthusiastically along with his sermon. The camera then switches to another interview with a larger group of concerned citizens, wearing an astonishing array of novelty T-shirts, baseball hats, and jean shorts. The group is frenzied, hyping one another up behind a man with a microphone.

“This community is in danger of falling prey to the ways of the devil!” he yells. “Our children are next! Don’t you get it? These disciples of Satan will tear them from their beds and sacrifice them to their master! The cops need to round these freaks up and toss them into the swamp. Why are the good people of Orleans Parish the only ones who see that this is the work of a group of devil worshippers?”

The reporter, who has tried to interject a couple of times, finally asks, “So, you think the recent murders are not isolated incidents, as has been stated by law enforcement?”

The crowd incoherently yells their answers, and their unofficial spokesman nods aggressively.

“The police are lying to us! They don’t want us to know how deep the occult has embedded itself in this community. This is the work of the devil and his followers. Mark my words!”

Leroux chuckles and turns away from the screen, pointing to Will’s drink as the bartender approaches. “Whatever this is, please.”

She smiles and nods, taking a glass tumbler out from below the bar and filling it with Macallan twelve single malt scotch.

“Cheers.” He salutes and holds his glass up, and Wren mimes clinking an invisible glass with his.

Will shakes his head and takes a sip from his own glass. “This satanic panic stuff was supposed to die out at some point, right? It’s the eighties all over again and completely acceptable to assume angry goths are committing sophisticated murders.”

“Bound to happen.” Leroux sighs.

Will raises one eyebrow and turns to look at him. “Are we really at the point where we are just accepting a complete breakdown of rational thought?”

Leroux shrugs slightly as he takes a sip of drink.

“Well, kind of.” He gestures at the screen up above them. “People look for patterns that aren’t there because they are scared shitless. They can’t handle that they are just as likely to be scooped up by a totally normal-looking psychopath as the victims were, so they make up this crap instead.”

“I hate when you make sense.” Will shakes his head and leans back in his seat. “The problem is these people are redirecting the focus now. Instead of looking for the single, basement-dwelling asshole responsible for these weird crime scenes, they are encouraging people to start tackling anyone in a Metallica T-shirt.”

“Yeah, and these news stations are giving them a shiny new platform for their bullshit.”

“Ugh, I can’t talk about this anymore.” Will pivots, “Still nothing on that paper he left with the book?”

Leroux shakes his head. “Nada. Ben is hitting walls left and right over there.”

“This guy definitely thinks he is smarter than everyone around him. And no doubt, he is loving all of this.” Will sneers, gesturing again at the screen.

Leroux nods, puckering his lips a bit. “I agree that he thinks he’s smarter than everyone, but I actually would put money on the idea that he’s pissed about this Satan stuff.”

“Yeah? I’d think he’d be psyched to have the heat off him. People aren’t going to be looking for a Ted Bundy–type anymore. These fools have them worrying about Charles Manson and the family.”

“I just don’t think he is that simpleminded. At least, based on his profile.”

“You think?” Will asks incredulously. “I guess I have to believe your weird ass on this one.”

Leroux laughs and leans forward, planting his elbows on the bar. “Yeah, well, let’s hope I’m not way off base here. To me, he just seems like a classically organized killer. Wren, want to tell Will the latest chapter in this guy’s rise up the ranks of enormity?”

Will sighs and drops his head dramatically. “I have a feeling I don’t want to know.”

“That last body? He refrigerated it,” Wren interjects finally.

“Wait, what? Refrigerated? Why?”

“It really messes with getting an accurate time of death. Throws off the progression of livor mortis or something,” Leroux cuts in.

“Wow, well done. You angling for my job or something?” Wren teases.

Will just shakes his head as he asks, “He didn’t do this with the other one, right?”

“Nope. Just this latest,” Wren confirms.

Leroux glances up at the mirror, blinks, and narrows his gaze determinedly. He stands and turns to face the bustling bar, his eyes wild but focused.