Murder by Devil's Food

by Joanne Pence

  To her surprise, she had shed no tears, despite Paavo's news. Perhaps because she had already cried her eyes out too many times, and to tell the truth, his news only confirmed what she had known in her heart for a long time now. At least, now, she had closure, and could try to find a way to move on.

  On the taxi ride, she found herself looking forward to spending the day simply baking batches of cupcakes and using all her skills and experience as a pastry chef to make beautiful frostings for them. To lose herself, in other words. With Angie, she could talk when she wanted, but also to be silent. Angie was good about recognizing her need for silence at times.

  But if she drove home now, she knew she would spend the rest of the day in her tiny apartment stewing over not having stopped Joy from leaving home. Or over not coming with her when she decided to move to San Francisco. She had failed Joy, and somehow, she was going to have to learn to live with that.

  But right now, she couldn't bear to think about it.

  She went to the front door and rang the bell. When there was no answer, she knocked.

  A beautiful woman opened the door. She had a strangely fragile, almost ethereal look to her, with amazingly silky, pale blond hair that fell to her shoulders in sleek, soft waves. She wore a lot of eye make-up, but her lips and cheeks were pale. One glance at the dress she wore, and Kylie figured she must be one of Angie's rich relatives. It was sleek and stunning in a deep blue color, although it did have surprisingly dated shoulder pads.

  "I'm looking for Angie," Kylie said.

  "I'm sorry, but she's not in." Even her voice was so soft and light it seemed all but other-worldly.

  "Oh. And you are?"

  "Natalie. I'm a friend."

  Kylie nodded. "Well, I guess I should get going. Tell her Kylie came by. I'll see her tomorrow." With that, she turned to leave, but as she did, the little white dog she had once seen at the house ran out to her, and put his paws on her leg, his tail wagging, as if he wanted nothing so much as for her to stop and pet him. "Hello, Jock," she said. "What are you doing out here?"

  "Wait," Natalie said, still hovering inside the house. "Maybe you should know that Angie's friend, Connie, came to visit her, but then an older man came to the door and made them both leave with him."

  Something in Natalie's tone made Kylie go on full alert. "An older man? Did Angie know him?"

  "He wasn't a friend, that was clear. She may have recognized him because, if anything, she looked scared. So did her friend Connie."

  "Did the man see you?"

  "N…no. When I saw Angie's reaction, I stayed out of sight."

  "Did he give a name? What did he look like?"

  "Older. Bushy hair. Very '70's, actually. Like lots of guys wore their hair back then."

  That struck Kylie as odd because the woman hardly was old enough to remember 'guys' from the 1970's, but at the moment, she was too worried about the description to bother about the woman's words. "Was his hair white?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you know where they went?"

  "No. But … I wonder if you shouldn't look for her."

  That's exactly what Kylie was thinking. "Did you call Paavo?"

  The woman hesitated, then shook her head. "I don't really know him."

  "Oh? Well, it's okay, I'll take care of it. Thanks."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The room was completely dark and, except for the sound of Connie softly crying, it was silent.

  Angie could scarcely believe what had happened to them, even as she was filled with fury that she hadn't acted somehow, some way, to save herself and Connie.

  She had thought it was Kylie at the door to her house, but when she opened it, the same frightening white-haired man—the man Paavo told her called himself 'the Baron'—pointed a gun at her and pushed his way inside. Startled, she froze just long enough for him to grab her and press the gun to her head.

  He ordered her and Connie into the back of his van. There he bound their wrists and ankles and covered their mouths with duct tape before putting a hood over their heads.

  After driving for some minutes, he stopped the van and turned off the engine, but didn't open the van's back door. It seemed an eternity passed, and then Angie heard three distinctive "ping" sounds. She'd watched enough crime films with Paavo to have an idea what a gun with a silencer sounded like. She hoped that wasn't what she'd heard.

  A short while later, the Baron opened the van. He untied their ankles, removed the hoods and ordered them out. They were at the churchyard—the same one where Lorraine Miller's body had been found.

  He forced them to hurry into the yard, although Angie was so scared she could hardly walk. Connie was even worse. The Baron grabbed Connie's arm and dragged her along even as he kept jabbing the nose of the gun against Angie's back to force her to move faster.

  They entered a crypt and were made to go down steep stone stairs that led underneath it. They found themselves in a small room lit only by the scant light filling the crypt from the opening above the stairs. He again put hoods over their heads and pushed them through what seemed to be another doorway.

  He took hold of Angie's arm and shoved her hard against a stone wall, hitting her head and knocking the breath from her. Shocked and dazed, she couldn't fight as he cut the tape from her wrists, turned her so that her back was against the wall, and then fastened each wrist, one at a time, with a manacle. She tugged on the heavy iron bands and chains, but the chains were attached to the wall.

  She heard what sounded like a chair sliding across the floor. She had no idea what he was doing to Connie. With the duct tape over her mouth, and the hood covering her face, she felt completely cut off except by sound to what was happening. All she knew was that he was a killer, and the terror his earlier victims must have felt was now consuming her as well.

  "If you could scream, no one would hear you," the Baron said. "But I suggest you save your energy because soon, you will meet the Dark Lord. You wouldn't want to disappoint him."

  With that, Angie heard his footsteps recede, and then the door shut.

  She could only try to cry out, and Connie did the same, but it was impossible to communicate or doing anything else but listen to their own heartbeats.

  Angie had no idea how much time had passed—it felt like hours—before she heard the sound of a door knob turning, the creak of a door opening, and then the lock catching as the door was closed once more.

  She held her breath.

  She heard approaching footsteps.

  "Don't be afraid," the Baron whispered. She heard the peel of tape, and then Connie's soft whimper. "Isn't that better?" the Baron asked.

  "Please," Connie whispered, and then began to cry.

  "Hush, my dear. There's no need for tears."

  The footsteps came closer. The hood was removed from Angie's head. The flame of a candle burned near her eyes. She pressed hard against the wall as a hand lifted towards her face, and then the duct tape was removed from her mouth in one painful yank that brought tears to her eyes.

  She squeezed her eyes tight, but when she opened them again, she saw two bright red eyes staring at her. She tried hard to hold herself steady, to not move. But as they came closer, she couldn't stop herself from crying out.

  Now, up close, she could see that the candle was carried by a man wearing a heavy black robe and a full black face mask with cutouts for the eyes. He might be masked, but she was sure, judging from his voice, height, and body size, it was the Baron.

  His red eyes stared a moment at Angie and then at Connie, who now seemed too petrified to cry. Connie, Angie noticed, had not been manacled to the wall, but was seated on a large wooden chair, her wrists tied to its arms.

  The Baron walked away and lit several more candles that stood on a table made of heavy, dark wood with intricate carvings on the legs.

  Finally, Angie could see the small cave-like room she was in. But almost immediately her gaze went to the wall behind the candle-lit table. Instinctively, she ha
d not wanted to look closely at it, but she couldn't stop herself. What she saw caused a sharp intake of breath.

  The shape of a pentagram had been drawn on the wall in black paint, and on each point of the star was a heart. From the size, and newspaper reports of the serial killings taking place in this city—Paavo hadn't wanted to talk about the more gruesome aspects of the cases—she guessed they were human hearts.

  Angie's head spun. Her fright made her breathing quick and shallow.

  "Angie," came Connie's tiny voice. "What is that on the wall?"

  "Silence!" the Baron demanded. He lifted a wooden chest onto the table, then pushed aside his black cape to draw a key from the pocket of his trousers. He turned and faced them. "I am the Dark Lord. With you here, I can now complete the prophesy. These, on the wall, are the servants to my Queen, my Queen's consorts. Here are Heather, and Anna, and Lorraine, and Tashanda, and Joy, my first. Joy. How ironic. She had never known any joy in this world." He stared at the pentagram, and then ran a finger over the desiccated heart.

  As soon as his back was turned, Angie tried to pull her hands free of the manacles, but the iron bands were too tight on her wrists. Seeing her struggle, Connie also tried pulling herself free from the ropes that held her. But then, the Baron spun around, facing them once more.

  "As you see," he said, his voice low, deep and sonorous, "I am missing the most important being of all—the Dark Queen. My bride. Together, we will rule for eternity. And that, my dear, is why you are here. Finally, my Dark Queen shall join me."

  "Your Dark Queen?" Angie repeated.

  Opening the chest, he took out a syringe and a bottle of serum.

  "I am the Dark Lord." This time, the Baron shouted those words. "And I will thrust down to hell your God and all the angels, demons, and vampires that wander through the world and allow the ruination of souls. I am the only Truth, and only I shall be followed."

  Angie scarcely breathed as she watched him. What, she wondered, was the serum?

  He put down the syringe but continued to mutter as he set up an old book and candles in what resembled a makeshift altar.

  "Angie," Connie whispered. "What do we do?"

  "You have no reason to hurt us," Angie cried, tugging again at the manacles. "We haven't done anything. We're not demons or vampires. We mind our own business. All Connie does is sell lovely gift items, and all I've done is bake and bake and bake, until I'm sick of it." As the Baron prepared the syringe, her hysteria grew. "Isn't it bad enough that my business is ruined, that I was sure my only friend hated me? I tried to be a good person, I really did. Is it my fault that I often screw up? I don't want my life to end this way!"

  He whirled on her. "Shut up!" he demanded.

  She froze. "Please, Bar—, I mean, Dark Lord," she said on the verge of tears. "I don't want to be your Dark Queen."

  "Hah!" The Baron laughed aloud. "Not to worry."

  o0o

  When the statue of St. Michael the Archangel on the church top became visible against the sky, Paavo shut off the siren he had used to tear across the city.

  Kylie arrived right behind him, jumped out of her car, and ran to meet him at the churchyard gate.

  "I hope I'm right about this," Paavo said as he looked at the gate.

  "I think you are," she said.

  "I'll go inside. You stay back, keep watch. If anything happens, call this number." He handed her a card. "My partner's waiting since we don't yet know where Angie is. Tell him to send back-up."

  "Will do," Kylie said but as Paavo went through the gate, she followed. "I'll stay back, but I've been here a few times."

  He nodded and went ahead a few steps, but then stopped. "Kylie, over there."

  It was a body. He hurried to it and turned it over. A young, dark-haired man. Bullet holes pierced his jacket.

  "Oh, my God. No!" Kylie cried. "It's Danger."

  Paavo felt a light pulse. "He's still alive." He tore open the shirt to see the damage and found a bulletproof vest. The kind cops wear. The vest had protected him from the heart shots he'd taken, and had saved his life. So far, at least. The shock of being struck in the chest was sometimes enough to kill. He took out his phone and made an "officer down," call—the kind that got the fastest possible attention.

  Kylie knelt by Danger's side, patting his face and calling his name, trying to wake him.

  He opened his eyes. He looked startled, dazed, then shifted as if he wanted to sit up, but immediately stopped, grimacing with pain. Paavo put a hand on his shoulder making him lie back down.

  "Who did this?" Paavo asked.

  "The Baron. He showed up here with his van. Came into the churchyard. I followed." Danger blinked, as if his gaze wasn't quite in focus. "He must have known … disappeared … and next thing I knew, I was facing a gun with a silencer. Stupid of me!"

  "Kylie, watch him," Paavo said. "I'm calling for back-up now."

  Danger used an elbow to prop himself up, although his eyes would cloud with pain from time to time. "I'm DEA. Undercover," he said, as Paavo made the call. "We've been watching these clubs, trying to get a lead on the supplier of drugs to these kids. And then, I stumbled on this Baron. He's a strange one. Seemed fixated on Angie—I don't know why. I had to get close, find out what's going on."

  "He's got Angie," Kylie said.

  "God, no!" Danger whispered. "The big crypt in the back. Old, gargoyle on the door." With that, he laid back down.

  "I'm heading back there," Paavo said. "When others come, direct them that way."

  Kylie's eyes were wide. "I've been here before. I know exactly where it is."

  Danger's eyes met hers and in their glance, many unspoken words were conveyed. "I'll be fine," he whispered. "Help Angie. But be sure to come back to me."

  She nodded, and led Paavo to the spot Danger spoke of.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  "I am Lord and Master of all, known to the world as the Dark Lord," the Baron said, his voice deep and hushed as he turned from Angie and stepped closer to Connie. He bent low and looked into her eyes. "And you, most beautiful creature, are my Queen." He ran his fingertips along the side of her face.

  Connie turned her head, but he caught her jaw and made her face him. She gasped, too petrified to speak or to move.

  "Her?" Angie said, trying to distract him. "What do you mean? I'm the one who should be the Queen around here!"

  The Baron spun on her, his voice tinged with disgust. "You? You're a pushy little thing. Not even a virgin. The only reason I paid any attention to you at all was because I knew that, in time, you would lead me to my Queen. I didn't even know her name."

  He then gazed at Connie, putting a hand on her hair, stroking her head. "My Queen is beautiful, and pure. Twenty minutes before midnight tonight she will become mine, and the commandment of the Ars Diabolus shall be met."

  "Midnight where?" Angie asked, not understanding who or what he was talking about. "Your book sounds like Latin. If it's talking about Italy, midnight is long past. You lose." She hoped she'd bought them all some time, and hadn't just signed their death warrants.

  He laughed. "You are clever. Perhaps, you will be my Queen's chambermaid."

  "Me?"

  It was on the tip of her tongue to protest, but she thought better of it.

  o0o

  "I always wondered where the Baron disappeared to," Kylie whispered as she and Paavo reached the back of the churchyard. "This makes sense." The crypt was a large one, dedicated to a family and probably built well over a hundred years earlier.

  Paavo pushed open the door. Inside the crypt, he felt so cold, his hands could barely grip his gun. He could see his breath with each exhale. He glanced at Kylie. The cold didn't seem to bother her at all

  Near the back wall, a hatch had been left open. He went to it, and saw stairs heading downward into the darkness.

  "Severus could be down there. Stay back." He said as he stepped onto the staircase. Kylie followed.

  He glanced back and frow
ned at her.

  "You might need help," she whispered.

  His experience with Angie told him it was easier not to argue. The two continued down.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  From the wooden chest, the Baron lifted a knife, a flask, scissors and pliers, and placed all on the altar-like table. He removed the glass top from the flask. "This contains the oil of purification," he said. "We will bathe my Queen with this oil, to make her ready to receive me."

  Connie groaned inconsolably.

  "I don't think so," Angie said, her heart pounding with fear. "People are looking for us right now. They'll find us."

  "The cop won't be helping anyone, ever again," he said with a chuckle.

  No! Her mind screamed as the world tipped. "Paavo?" she whispered, all but faint from what he was suggesting.

  "Was that his name? The one who hung around and pretended to be one of us. Did he think I was so stupid I couldn't tell he was a cop? I could smell it on him."

  Angie's mind raced. "Danger?" she murmured, and even as she said it, she realized that would have explained a lot of the contradictions she had noticed in the man. But now, if he was dead … She refused to believe it, and glared at the madman before her, fighting tears close to the surface.

  A plastic sheet lay folded in a corner of the basement. The Baron spread it on the floor and placed a stack of towels beside it. The once-white towels had rust-colored stains, the color that appears when blood is imperfectly washed from cotton.

  Connie whimpered hysterically and continued to struggle with her bindings and somehow pulled a hand free, stripping away her skin as she did so. Her shocked eyes met Angie's, and Angie gave a slight shake of the head, hoping Connie understood not to let the Baron know. Connie watched him as she used her free hand to untie the bindings on her other wrist.

  Seeing hope from Connie, Angie's fury grew that this monster had inflicted so much pain and death to so many young people. She'd pay him back with her tongue if nothing else. "You think you can control people? I've seen you without that mask and robe, you pathetic old man. I've seen your little piggy eyes, your weak, spindly limbs. And what I saw made me want to throw up!"