Page 32 of Death in the New Year

“Was she a good tenant?” asked Wilson.

“Best I’ve ever had. I lowered her rent so she’d stay. She would pick up groceries for me, help me with the yard when she could, even bought the stuff to help me fix up the shutters and paint the outside.”

“Was it unusual for her to disappear for several days?” asked Zeke.

“I guess so. It never happened before, and I’ve known her almost two years now. She and I would walk to church together every Sunday. Made me feel like her grandpa or somethin’.”

“That’s nice,” smiled Zeke.

“Yeah,” he nodded with a sad look. “I hope she’s okay. I heard what that reverend did, and it makes me sick. She wasn’t very big, so he coulda’ hurt her.”

“Did you see the reverend run by the house often?” asked Wilson.

“Almost every day the last month or so. Before that it would only be once in a while. Since Thanksgivin’, I’d say it was every day.”

“He was stalking her,” said Zeke. The other men nodded. “Sir, we want you to be very careful about who you let into your home. If the reverend comes by here, even if he just jogs by, call the police immediately.”

“I’m old, not stupid,” he snapped.

“No, sir, you definitely are not stupid,” laughed Wilson. “We didn’t mean to imply that. Do you have any other suggestions of someone we should speak with?”

“Oh, definitely. Over on Pauline Street there are four yellow houses all in a row. They got four or five people livin’ in each one. They all work in the Quarter at the bars and restaurants, but they all attended church just like me and Alecia. Hard workin’ kids mostly, young folks, you know the type. They ain’t never hurt anyone and watch out for each other. That says something in my book.”

“That’s helpful, sir. We’ll be sure to check on them. Thank you.” Zeke opened the door, and the men started to file out.

“Hey, you fellas find that man and punish him for what he did to them folks. No one deserves that.”

“No, sir. They definitely do not deserve that.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

He’d been able to move all the bodies out of the house and dump them in the waters below the bridge. Now, he was sitting in an empty, run-down home with nothing to play with. He was getting bored, and he was pissed off.

His sister had always helped him when he needed it. Not willingly, of course, but she always gave in. He tried calling her a few hours ago, and the phone number was no longer in service. When he attempted to call her home, it was disconnected. Even Andrew’s business line refused to answer his calls.

“I don’t like to be ignored,” he whispered to himself, walking into the kitchen.

After moving the bodies, he’d gone on a cleaning spree and bleached every surface, fearful that something might be left behind. He’d put on some makeup, a wig, and ball cap and went grocery shopping. Until he could get enough money to leave the country, he was stuck.

He did trade out his license plates for an old, abandoned car, swapping out the date of expiration to alleviate any suspicion. The last young woman, Alecia was her name, had offered herself up to him as payment if he would let her go. Interesting, she believed he couldn’t take it if he wanted it.

“Please,” she begged, “please, I’ll do anything for you, anything to you. Please just let me go.”

“You don’t get it, do you? What you do disgusts me. If I wanted sex with you, I’d take it. Forcefully. I’d make sure your body regretted being near me.”

She cried after that until he decided it was time to let her know that her days on earth were done.

Over the years, he’d perfected his techniques. At first, he just shot them. But that left little time to enjoy his work. So, he began using a knife. With the front of being an ordained minister, he thought the touch of stabbing where the wounds of Christ were was clever. It almost offended him that people didn’t figure it out right away.

But even the knives were boring after a while. So, he started to experiment with other things. Branding, beatings, torture, anything that caught his mind. It was incredible the ideas that would come to him by watching television. Movies, documentaries, and the news! Oh, the news was a plethora of ideas for him.

Now, though, he was alone, and he didn’t like it. Even if they were crying and screaming, at least he wasn’t alone.

Making himself a sandwich, he grabbed the potato chips and took a seat with a diet soda. The home had belonged to one of the victims now swimming in the Mississippi River. An older woman who wanted to talk about God and what heaven would be like when she arrived. He gave her a front-row seat.

He turned on the television and was surprised to see his face on the screen.

“Well, I’ve made it to the big time,” he smiled. “That’s right, I am armed and dangerous.”

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