The Wizard Murders

by Sean McDevitt

  Denise smiles underneath her oversized sunglasses. "No need to apologize, hon. We're all scared."

  They set foot on a trail leading the way out, and after a moment of silence between them, Pitt lets out a sardonic laugh.

  "What?" Denise asks.

  "Look to the sky, eh?" He points in the distance to a hilltop near Bogart Park, where there stands a lone cross in the summer sun. It's the location where Easter services have been held for years in Cherry Valley.

  Pitt stops cold. "Northern... cross?"

  They stand riveted for a moment, looking at each other, then back to the cross and even around themselves, almost reflexively. Its beams are somewhat indistinct against the pale blue sky.

  Finally, Pitt speaks, slowly drawing out his first word.

  "Noooo... but I am going to send a patrol up there."

  *************

  By sunset, a patrol has already been dispatched to the hilltop area, but officers find nothing of any value... no freshly upturned dirt, no cryptic messages, nothing. Didn't really expect them to find anything out there, Pitt thinks to himself, checking his watch and monitoring the progress of nightfall between the blinds of his office. It's too vague, too broad a clue for it to have anything to do with that cross. He's already fended off J.C. with a cover story as to why he's staying later than usual at the station- "Need to catch up on case work," he'd told him- which isn't entirely untrue. He isn't about to tell him his plans for the night include looking for homicide clues by gazing at stars with the cute secretary.

  Pitt expects Denise to arrive back at the station at about 9PM; they've already agreed that there will be no point in meeting until the skies are dark enough. Finally, Pitt's anxiousness in getting this desperate move over with motivates him to stand outside the building until Denise arrives. She arrives at fifteen past the hour, driving up in her red Pinto.

  "You know those things are deathtraps," Pitt calls to her. "You won't get me to ride in one of those things. All you need now are some Firestone 500s and you're done."

  "Ha, ha," Denise responds with gentle sarcasm. "It's a good little car and I've never had a problem."

  "You've got more guts than I do," Pitt deadpans. "All right. Let's get this over with." He pulls his notebook out and turns once again to the now dog-eared page with his "LOOK TO THE SKY" notes. "Might as well just tear this page out separately," he mutters, doing just that, folding it over, and pulling out a small flashlight. "Did you bring your star chart?"

  "Yep. Right here." Under her arm, she's carrying a smallish bit of cardboard, on which she's taped a chart. "I know the print is kind of small on this one, but everything we need is right here."

  "Okay. Now... give me kind of a crash course here. All I know how to do is find the Big Dipper or the Little Dipper. Talk to me like I'm stupid."

  "You're not stupid, Andy," she protests, poking him gently in the arm. "If I can understand these charts, anyone can.

  "Now. First let me explain how it is you pinpoint the position of stars. Stars move together in the sky from east to west. Usually, if I'm going to be looking for them, I'll sit outside for about ten to fifteen minutes so my eyes can adjust to the darkness. Here in California- well, in Beaumont, at least- it's kind of like Texas 'cause there aren't a lot of trees and buildings to block the view.” She points to the chart. “Now, east, west, north and south are marked around the edge of this circle that represents the night sky. So if we point ourselves south-" she turns around, facing the building- "we're gonna want to hold the chart in front of us with the marked-south horizon pointing towards the ground. If we then raise the chart-" she does so- "all the stars on the chart will correspond with what's in the sky. The stars directly in front of us correspond to the bottom of the chart. The stars directly behind us correspond to what's at the top of the chart." She then turns away from the building. "So... if you look right there, there's the Northern Cross." She points it out to him.

  "You mean the swan constellation?"

  "Well, no, remember the Northern Cross is a part of the Cygnus constellation. It's an asterism."

  "Whoa, hold on, you've lost me there. It's a what?"

  "An asterism. It's part of the constellation. It starts from the swan's tail-" she gracefully traces the outline with her long fingernails- "all the way to its beak."

  Pitt is squinting. "Well.. okay, it's kind of a stick figure, but all right."

  "Everyone always says that." Denise wrinkles her nose as she studies the chart. "I guess you kind of have to use your imagination."

  Pitt is glancing from the chart to the sky and back again. "God, I hope no one sees me doing this. Okay, so... yeah, there it is, but now what?" The two of them stand silhouetted in the indirect fluorescent light coming from the windows of the station, and the night is still.

  Denise slowly shakes her head and shrugs. "I don't know, sweetie, I suppose you could take your chance and propose your undying love and affection for me while we're out here under the stars." She winks at him.

  "Cute. Very cute," Pitt offers, finding himself a curious mix of excited and upset and nervous and distracted. He fumbles for the "LOOK TO THE SKY" note. "Let me take another look at this thing, I want to check something..." as he's pulling the note up, the tenseness in his hands is preventing him from unfolding the note and holding the small flashlight at the same time. As he does so, however, he catches a glimpse of his writing being backlit, the letters facing differently than they normally would because the note has been folded. He stops for a moment. The "paseniw" line looks different now. For an instant, his crossword puzzle trained eyes hold the word together and then apart, forwards and then backwards, his eyes darting back and forth horizontally. "Hold on. Hold on for a moment, here."

  "What? What is it?" In the dim light Denise searches for clues on Pitt's face, which has gone slack-jawed. "What is it, Andy?"

  Paseniw... pas... sap... wine... winesap.

  "Winesap. Winesap! It says Winesap, for Chrissake. Winesap!"

  "Like... Winesap Avenue? By Bogart Park? Winesap? Is that what it says?"

  "It's backwards!" Pitt exclaims. "10404 Winesap. It's a damn address!"

  "Oh my God." Denise slaps a hand over her mouth and her already fair skin turns even more pale. "It's a house? Do you think there's a body there?"

  "I don't know. Come on, let's take my car." He moves quickly in the direction of his Rambler, but then senses that Denise hasn't budged. "Yes, I have my service revolver. Come on."

  The drive takes about ten minutes, and Denise is clutching her purse close to her face the entire time. "Please, you're not going to make me go in there, are you? I don't want to see dead bodies."

  "Of course not," Pitt responds tersely. "Mainly, I just want to verify that it is in fact an address, and we'll take it from there." He's aware that Denise tossed her star chart unceremoniously into her footwell immediately before they left the station. "Keep that thing handy. We can't just assume we're going to find something there. Remember- the note said LOOK TO THE SKY. We also don't want to scare the bejeezus out of whoever might live there, so let's just try to play this thing cool, all right? Are you with me? Do you trust me?"

  "Yes... yes." Denise takes a moment to collect herself. "I'm sorry. I'm overreacting. I'm just not used to this sort of thing."

  "You want to know something?" Pitt pauses for effect while keeping his eyes on the road. "Neither am I. And I don't ever want to be used to this sort of thing. I either want to go back to working some nice simple burglaries, or if this continues, I want to retire and leave this area. But I'm not going to ask you to do anything dangerous. I just... kind of want you here." Pitt hears himself talking and for an instant feels embarrassed. Don't be a sap, you idiot, don't be a sap....

  "Really?" Denise responds; he can't determine if she's incredulous or touched, and at the moment he realizes he just doesn't have the time.

  He takes Brookside to the southern terminus of Winesap, and then turns left to head up that street. "Ok
ay. Start looking at mailboxes. Let's find out where the hell we are. Here, take my flashlight, help me." Pitt hands her the flashlight and slows the car down, as Denise tries to pinpoint the address on various mailboxes as they roll by, but she doesn't have much success. "Here, is this the ten thousand block? Okay, it is."

  The few homes on the road are surrounded by pyracantha, juniper bushes and a few palm trees; it's hard to make out any other details in the darkness, but Pitt rolls on, looking for 10404. Finally, as they approach High Street, he senses they're getting close, and indeed he spots a mailbox with larger than usual reflective numbering: 10404. Is that deliberate? he thinks. Did he choose a place 'cause it has kind of distinctive numbers? He rolls to a stop on the dirt-covered roadside, and quickly cuts his headlights off.

  "Oh my God, it's an address, it's an address. What do you think is in there?" Denise is speaking in a stage whisper while the car's engine is still idling.

  "I don't know. There aren't any lights on." The house appears to be an old split level, and from what Pitt can tell, it's one of the few homes in the area without a lot of trees. Makes for an unobstructed view of the sky, he thinks.

  "Okay, tell you what. Stay here. Lock the doors and do not try to follow me or turn the headlights back on." He takes the flashlight from her and- for the first time in recent memory- pats his holster, reassuring himself that his sidearm is there.

  "Are you crazy? I'm not going in there!" That comes out a lot angrier than what Denise has intended to say. "I'm sorry. I'm just really freaked out right now." She starts rubbing one of her arms and she's honestly not sure if it's because she's tense or cold or both.

  "Just stay here, and you'll be okay," Pitt reemphasizes, steeling himself. He opens the driver's side car and gets out, tapping down the door's lock before he shuts it.

  At first Pitt uses the flashlight as he starts walking the twenty yards or so that's he parked from the house, but then instinctively he clicks it off, thinking to himself, Look to the sky. That's what this is about. Look to the sky. His untrained eyes blink and search for the Northern Cross- God, am I even sure that's the Northern Cross? What if I've got it wrong? He comes to a stop, and decides it's as good a time as any to pull out his revolver.

  Coming closer to the darkened house, there's a chimney chute protruding from the right rear portion of the building. He cringes a bit as the gravel under his shoes starts to make a crunching sound. This is insane, what the hell am I doing out here? What would Clarence be saying right about now? He'd been saying, what if this is an ambush? He stops and in fact totally freezes for a moment, straining to hear; the only sound is the engine of the Rambler a few yards away, and maybe there's the sound of a TV coming from a house behind him and across the street, but that's it.

  Okay, it's September 17th, you asshole, Pitt thinks to himself, angry sweat starting to irritate his eyes. You've got me out here on Winesap- son of a bitch, Winesap! 10404 Winesap, what the hell do you want me to do now. A little gust of evening wind comes along, and Pitt finds it oddly reassuring; there's a brief whistling sound as the breeze goes through some nearby pine trees, followed by a few random rings from what must be wind chimes somewhere on the property. He takes a moment to breathe, looking up at what he's hoping is the Northern Cross, his eyes also straining to see if there's anything unusual about the house.

  Looking left to right, he traces the silhouette of the house's roof as best he can, all the way to the chimney on the far right and back again. Nothing. Should I knock on the damn door or what? He shoots a glance back over his right shoulder, trying to see if he can make out Denise sitting in the passenger seat of the Rambler, but it's too dark and far away. What is she thinking right about now? She's right, this is crazy.

  He looks back up at the house, and as another little gust of wind comes up, he senses motion around the chimney. What? The chimney? What was that, smoke? He sniffs the air strenuously with his nose, but he doesn't detect any sort of wood burning smell. He's not even too sure of what he's seen, and he stands on his toes for a moment, thinking, Maybe that's a tree or something in the backyard, just moving behind it, maybe just a tree branch swinging in the breeze. And yet... there it is again! What is that, just a leaf or something stuck up there? Whatever it is, it flaps so quickly that Pitt can't make out what it is against the starry summer night sky.

  He turns his attention back to the house, and makes a snap decision to turn his flashlight back on. It quickly becomes apparent that the curtains have been drawn, at least on all the windows out in front. Pitt, feeling that he's just taken an unnecessary risk, quickly shuts it back off.

  Now what? He sighs, his breath a combination of weariness and stress. At some point I've probably got to go in there. I can't just leave Denise back in the car, I've got to move a lot faster. The evening breeze kicks up again, rattling a few wind chimes that sound like they're hanging on the backside of the house- and once again, looking up, there's that weird little motion up by the chimney. Frustrated, he clicks the flashlight on and tries to illuminate what's up there, but if anything what he'd like to see is apparently obscured by any light coming from the front. He shuts it off again, still watching up there, and something indeed flaps again, noiselessly. He finds himself rooting for a stronger gust of breeze- c'mon, what's up there?! After about a minute, he gets his wish- a burst of wind- and there it is, something blowing against the night sky. What is it, string? What is it, it's almost like hair, or fur from an animal... hair?

  He gazes, unmoving. The chimney stands sentinel in the sky. Another breeze comes along... more movement. It looks like stringy hair. Stringy, human hair.

  Pitt backs up for a moment- takes three steps backwards, to be precise- and then with great speed lunges for the front door. He slams his fist. "Beaumont Police! Open up, right now, Beaumont Police!"

  Back in the car, Denise hears him shouting and even with the engine rolling and the window rolled up, she senses his urgency and holds her head in her hands. "Oh my God, no."

  "Beaumont Police!" he bellows again, letting about five seconds pass by until he decides to kick in the door. Pitt- who is not a small man- hauls off and manages to smash the door open in about three kicks. Stepping inside, Pitt finds a hallway with a brown slate floor. Also immediately in front of him are three black poles that support a beamless ceiling. Shining his flashlight, he can make out a darkish blue-green shag rug, or at least pieces of one that appear to pulled up, torn out of the floor, and rolled back. As his eyes adjust, a monstrous smell hits his nose, and he begins to absorb what he's seeing.

  It's an enormous amount of blood. Clumps, lumps and piles of blood that..."Oh dear God," Pitt exclaims, his flashlight unveiling a ghastly tableau.

  What appears to have been the living room carpet has been torn up. On the floor, on the scarred cement that lay under the rug, is blood, flesh, entrails... and a crude depiction of the all-too familiar wizard's circle stare up from the floor at him, his eyes and his robe and his beard all sculpted out of intestines and blood. Pitt's flashlight drifts upward, to an enormous stone fireplace that rests against the back wall of the room, and it's obvious that even more entrails are dangling down the chimney and onto the ashes of a fire that must have been burned before the attack occurred. In time, police will locate and remove 23-year-old Drew Smith's head from the chimney top.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Pitt has decided he won't fly to Maine. He'll actually go by train. A nice, prolonged trip to make the anticipation last, a chance to really see America and avoid the whole "fly-over country" mentality.

  It's October 2nd. Despite tearful and impassioned protests from both Denise and Clarence (and, not surprisingly, a totally nonplussed reaction by J.C.), Pitt has decided more or less to pack up and leave- a target date at the end of the month. Halloween, Pitt chuckles to himself, ruefully. That's appropriate. Wonder if anyone's gonna actually feel like putting their jack o' lanterns out this year.

  Meanwhile, more turmoil has surfaced. The morning
after Pitt discovered the fourth victim came the phone call from the City Manager that he'd been dreading: Chief Stevens's cancer is a fast-moving one and he will not be able to return. Pitt feels a tremendous amount of guilt in not having gone to Loma Linda to visit him, But what am I gonna do? Pitt thinks to himself. Walk into his room and say 'Hi Geoff, are you still dying? Oh, okay, then. Goodbye.'