Page 34 of Death in the New Year

“I get it. I promise. If he’s anywhere near us, we’ll call the cops or you guys.” Hearing shuffling behind him, he turned to see the group of friends gathering around the television that was set up on the porch. “What now?”

As they got closer to the screen, they knew. Three more bodies were found, knife wounds in the same locations of their bodies, tortured, murdered, and bodies dumped. One was the girl Alecia.

“We have to stop him,” said Wilson. Zeke nodded.

“We will.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Dinner was quiet that evening, with everyone trying to figure out where the reverend was hiding.

“Tomorrow night is New Year’s Eve. He’s going to make it big,” said Nine.

“I know. I have a feeling the same thing will happen. He wants people to recognize his work, and now that we know who he is, he has nothing to lose. I think we need to keep patrols in the Quarter area,” said Gaspar.

“Are we sure he’s going to keep going back to the same well?” asked Ian.

“I’m not sure of a damn thing,” said Gaspar.

Outside, the winds were howling once again, almost sending an omen of things to come. He looked up to see his mother walking hunched over and wondered what she was doing and where she was going. Almost willing to blow it off, he then noticed that she wasn’t hunched over. She was carrying something and hauling something behind her.

“What the hell is Mama doing?” asked Miller, standing.

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” said Gaspar, “but I know that I have to.”

The men stood, leaving believing they’d left their wives behind as they walked outside to see Irene pulling a large wagon. So focused on the case, none of them noticed that their own wives had left the cafeteria an hour ago.

“Mama? Mama!” he yelled when she ignored his first call. “Mama, what are you doing?”

“What do you mean, Gaspar? I’m walking with my wagon.”

“Mama, you don’t own a wagon. What is in that wagon, and why is it covered?” he asked, taking a step forward.

“I want to know why it’s not a little red wagon,” smirked Nine. “That’s much larger. What’s in there?”

“You know, Nine, you outta watch yourself,” said Irene, frowning at her son’s friend.

“I’m sorry, Mama Irene,” he laughed. “I just know you.”

Miller walked up to the wagon and stared beneath the cover. His eyes grew huge, and he took two steps backward, then forward again.

“What is it?” asked Gaspar, almost afraid to ask.

“Mama, tell me these are pygmies,” said Miller. She stared at him with her wide eyes, and he shook his head.

“Pygmies? What the fuck are you talking about?” asked Gaspar, staring at his brother. Then he knew. “No. No, don’t tell me. Mama! Where in the ever-loving hell did you get baby hippos?”

“Now, listen,” she said calmly. “They’re mama died, and they didn’t have anyone that would nurse them.”

Luc stepped forward, opening his mother’s coat. She had two massive bottles filled with a milk-like substance. He took them from her, showing them to the other men.

“Thank you, Luc. Those were gettin’ heavy. Take Harry, feed him, and give the other to your brother. He can feed Harriet.”

“Harry and Harriet? You named the fucking hippos Harry and Harriet?” said Gaspar. Again, the blank stare nearly buckled him. “Mama, hippos are dangerous. Truly one of the most dangerous creatures on the planet. They’re deceptively fast and have one of the most powerful bites in the world.”

“And they like water and swampland, and they can be sweet as honey when treated right. These babies deserve a good beginning to their life, Gaspar.”

“Mama, you and I both know this isn’t a beginning with you. You intend to keep them forever. Here. At Belle Fleur!”

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