The Butcher and the Wren(21)

He can’t fully comprehend what Leroux’s job requires of him, especially lately. He’s an executive chef at a high-end restaurant in New Orleans, working similarly absurd hours, but the type of stress is incomparable. Picky customers and incompetent line workers can make for a tough shift and a shitty Yelp rating, but bearing witness to the horrors that human beings willingly inflict upon one another burrows far deeper. But he tries to empathize, and that’s what matters.

“Yeah, it’s just been kind of a weird one, and I feel like I’m letting my dad down or something.”

“Don’t get mopey now. You have a job to do.” Andrew’s words are almost like a pat on the back, and Wren watches as Leroux’s face softens. “And you’re on the right track after finding that flyer.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.”

“But next time there’s no cream for my coffee, I won’t be so understanding.”

Wren can’t help it, she laughs through her hand, startling Leroux. He looks up and smiles, shaking his head and throwing Andrew on speakerphone. “Andrew, say hi to Muller.”

“Hi, Wren!” Andrew yells loudly over the speaker.

“Hi, Andrew! How’s my favorite chef in all of Louisiana?” Wren grins, taking a seat.

“Oh, you know, taking the culinary world by storm and keeping my broody boyfriend at bay.”

Wren looks over at Leroux, who is rolling his eyes. He leans over and spins the speaker back in his direction. “All right, enough chitchat for one day. See you at home, Andrew.”

“Every party has a pooper; that’s why we invited you,” Andrew manages to say before being cut off.

Wren laughs again, spinning around in the chair to look at the office they are in. “I love Andrew.”

“Yeah, he’s a peach. Anyways, let’s get into it. The flyer. I still can’t get over it. I’m telling you, it was like fate. I saw it in a fucking mirror!” Leroux is animated, his eyes on fire with exhaustion and excitement. “It’s for that jazz festival this weekend. Embellishments, color, and type match the scrap exactly.”

Wren stands up. “I assume we have a meeting with Ben?”

They enter the laboratory area where Ben sits on a stool by a lab bench. He’s tall and lanky, with round, wire-rimmed glasses and black hair that is shaved cleanly to his head. Next to him is Leroux’s partner, Will, waiting impatiently with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“So?” Leroux asks eagerly as they approach, his arms outstretched.

“It is definitely the same paper. You can see that both are recycled with bits of salvage distributed evenly throughout the page, and it has the same sheen that the original had,” Ben explains as he lines up the scrap of paper that was left near the victim’s body with the flyer from the bar to punctuate his point.

Leroux and Will can’t help but mirror Ben’s proud grin.

Wren interrupts the celebratory spirit. “Do you think he’s already killed the new victim, or is he still scouting for this drop?”

“There’s no way to know for sure. I don’t think we can stop something from happening here; we can only prepare for what is coming,” Leroux answers, now solemn.

Wren looks off and shakes her head. “He is a real piece of work, this one.”

“The Bayou Butcher returns,” Ben throws out flippantly.

Wren stops abruptly, turning quickly to face the group. “The Bayou Butcher?”

Ben looks from Wren to Leroux, sensing he has said too much. “You know, the brutally violent methods, the swamp water …”

Wren quickly walks into the hallway, spotting a watercooler and making a beeline for it. As she sips it from the tiny paper cup, her thoughts jumble like weeds. Composing herself quickly, she rejoins the group. “Sorry, dehydration emergency.”

Leroux quirks an eyebrow in her direction as if making a mental note to check up on her later.

He continues, “Well, now we have a time and place, let’s get a plan rolling here. The festival is only hours away. I’ll bring this to the station and see what higher-ups want to do. Muller, you coming?”

“You had me at Butcher,” she says as she walks through the open door in front of them.

Wren is suddenly even more thankful to be the boss at the ME’s office. As they enter the police station together, she feels the atmosphere become heavier somehow. The smell of stale coffee and frustration wafts through the air like a humid breeze.

The lieutenant is intimidating at first glance. He is physically looming, with thick arms, a bald head, and gray eyes that can bring anyone to their knees. Standing somewhere around six foot three, he was made for a position of power. And at this particular moment, he is looking over the papers and reports that were thrust into his face first thing this morning. Leroux and Will didn’t waste a second sharing the news of their newly discovered evidentiary connection. They had burst into his office, both speaking over each other in a haze of exhaustion and adrenaline until he held up one of his massive hands and demanded silence, and the space to read over what they just threw on his desk. Now, Leroux can see the wheels turning in the lieutenant’s head as he pieces together exactly what needs to be done next.

“So, you think it’s a body drop?” he asks, flicking his eyes up to meet Leroux’s and Will’s. He briefly eyes Wren but gives her a nod of approval quickly.