by Daniel Jeudy
Addison looked at his partner and was reassured to see him jotting down all the details in his notepad. “Inpawsis?”
“That’s what Andrew called them.”
“How do you spell it?” Jed asked.
“Capital I – n – space – capital P – a – u – c – i – s. Two words.”
Recounting those past events looked as if it might have forced Bath to confront an ocean of repressed guilt as he became suddenly quiet and dropped his head. Addison believed most people detached from any horror outside their own lives to help them cope with all the suffering in the world. Because if everybody connected with a universal plane of feeling, it would crush them beneath a burden of heartbreak.
Bath slowly raised his head.
“Andrew said that his friend, another youth named Luke Green, was murdered by people associated with In Paucis, and he believed they also intended to kill him. A wealthy female doctor had promised to recruit Luke if he was willing to sacrifice an individual of her choosing.”
“Are you all right, Father?” Addison inquired.
“Yes, I’m okay, thanks. These memories have been locked inside me for a long time … This lady told Luke he would undertake his initiation at a sacred site and that they were all going to drink the victim’s blood to toast his acceptance when it was over.
“Andrew told me the inverted Christian cross was a revered symbol with In Paucis. He believed they were never genuinely interested in Luke becoming a member. It seems they fabricated his recruitment as a lure. I asked Andrew what he expected of me, but when I suggested we approach the police, he ran out the door, and I never saw him again.
“Andrew used drugs frequently, and I assumed he had psychosis. When he didn’t return to my meeting over the next few weeks, I phoned the boarding house where he stayed in Pasadena, but the manager said he’d skipped town.
“A few years later, I decided to ask around as to whether anybody had seen the boys, and an associate told me she’d heard they were both dead. She claimed to have seen Luke Green’s face on the back of a milk carton. After I did some additional digging, I learned that Luke had been reported missing by a parole officer from the time Andrew came to me with his story. My source also confirmed the veracity of In Paucis a few months later, although she wasn’t prepared to say anything aside from the fact that they were real. The woman claimed to have a cousin on the fringes of the group.”
Addison’s heart skipped a beat.
“They’re called In Paucis, you say?”
“Were called, Detective. They changed their name several years ago. To what, I have absolutely no idea. At the end of it, I don’t wish to know.”
“What about Andrew King? Do you know where he might have gone?”
“No one has heard from Andrew since I spoke with him last.”
Addison felt momentarily speechless. He’d encountered sociopaths during his career who were capable of doing almost anything to appease their urges. Still, a cooperative of homicidal maniacs was not something he’d ever imagined possible.
“Do you recall the time these boys disappeared?” Jed asked.
“October 1994, but Andrew wasn’t put on the missing person register until 1998.”
“Are you getting all of this?” Addison asked his partner.
“Oh yeah,” Jed replied.
“What about the boys’ families?”
Bath shook his head. “Luke and Andrew were both wards of the state. Runaways who’d been in and out of foster homes and detention centers their whole lives. As I said, it was the boys’ parole officers who first reported them to the police after they failed to show up for their appointments, and as far as I’m aware, their bank accounts have never been accessed. I was told the LAPD initially assumed Andrew moved out of state and that Luke had fallen victim to foul play, most likely at the hands of some vengeful delinquent from his past. But I’m sure you’ll be able to verify those particulars on your databases.”
“What about the woman? The one you said claims to have a cousin who might know people on the inside. Do you know where we can find her?”
“Her name is Sarah Cross, and she once resided in Riverside County. The last I heard, she got married and moved someplace away from the city.”
“Sarah with an H on end or without?”
“I have no idea.”
This was a hell of a lot more than Addison had been expecting to walk away with. They had some names and a bunch of solid details to present to the lieutenant, which was a darn sight better than anything coming in on the phones.
“I don’t suppose you know who the woman’s cousin is?” Addison asked hopefully.
“If I did, I would have told you their name already.”
“Of course. Is there anything else you can remember that might help? Did this Cross woman happen to tell you what the new name of In Paucis might be?”
“No, she most certainly did not. I’ve told you everything I know.”
Addison turned toward his partner. “You got anything you want to ask?”
Jed looked up from his notepad and shook his head. “Nah, it sounds like Father Bath has already provided all he can.”
Jed was probably right, but Addison was like a kid in a candy store. “Do you have any idea of where they may have been situated?”
Harry Bath moved to the edge of his chair. “No, I don’t, and what I did uncover should clearly illustrate why I have never really spoken of this. I quit digging when it became apparent how dangerous they are.”
“You sure there’s nothing else you can think of?”
Bath appeared as if he might be growing impatient. “No, that’s all. I hope you find whoever is responsible for killing those women,” he concluded by raising himself out of the chair. “But I have someplace I need to be.”
An expression of satisfaction covered Jed’s face as he slipped the notepad back inside his jacket. The detectives stood to follow the priest back down the hall. Jed offered his thanks while making his way outside. Addison looked the man in his eyes.
“Thank you for seeing us, Father.”
“You’re welcome,” Bath mumbled, gazing down at the floor.
A final question popped into Addison’s head. “One last thing …”
Bath didn’t react. “Do you believe they still exist today?”
“Yes, I do. You’d know better than most that inherently evil people don’t often change their ways. And none of them have ever been apprehended as far as I can tell.”
Addison smiled appreciatively. “Thanks again; it was very good of you to see us.”
“That’s quite all right. But please don’t come back here. And when you see her, give my regards to Elizabeth Plume,” Bath replied before closing the door in Addison’s face.
Twenty-Eight
Fairmont International’s luxuriant offices were situated on the top floor of a company-owned building in Beverly Hills. The high-end accountancy firm was a favorite among California’s elite due to the exceptional economic thinkers they retained on staff. The Old Man was brilliant at manipulating numbers, and success had arrived soon after he established the business in 1975. He found the work to be somewhat gratifying and had always held ambitions of amassing tremendous wealth. Yet, the corporation primarily served as a smokescreen to conceal his voracious appetite for murder.
Cruelty had been part of his shadow for as long as he could remember. It all started with the small animals and birds he would trap around Presidio Heights in San Francisco as a boy. Next in line was a neighbor’s dog, which he skinned alive at Glen Canyon Park, and by the time his eighteenth birthday came about, he’d already buried the disfigured corpses of two children deep inside the Armstrong Redwoods.
Most of his early victims were just kids from broken families, meaning the authorities soon lost interest in trying to locate them. Few people cared for the needy. They slipped through the cracks and had continued to provide him with fresh meat in the decades that followed. He’d never come cl
ose to being unmasked, and only in America could a mass-murdering predator become a pillar of the community.
The Old Man began thinking about Susan Rodriguez waiting inside his office while he strode through the downstairs lobby toward the elevator. She was second in the Filii Reprobi hierarchy and the foremost candidate to eventually take his chair. Her distinctive qualities had been evident from the moment his plant at Juvenile Psychiatry arranged their introduction. Susan came from a Mexican family who assembled an empire by importing petroleum products into the USA. Her parents sent her to California to obtain a first-class education when she was ten. A teacher quickly reported Susan’s sadistic leanings, and she was sent to an institution for profoundly troubled youth. The Old Man received a notification when her IQ scaled off the charts, and he took Susan under his wing a short time later. He’d been thrilled to discover her avidity for bloodshed was insatiable.
Their meeting today represented an escalating dilemma the Old Man needed to solve. Edward’s recurrent theme of directing the limelight onto his pretty corpses certainly wasn’t ideal. Filii Reprobi weren’t accustomed to watching one of their own embark upon a killing spree punctuated by risk. His flagrant disregard of their longstanding regulations was apparent to all, and people questioned why he hadn’t already reined him in.
In truth, the Old Man wanted to see whether the boy had what it took to come through this. He didn’t think Edward was being motivated by the onset of delusion, not for an instant did he believe that. His old girlfriend was influencing him again; only this time, she was doing it from beyond the grave. Linda had always presented an annoying distraction; it was the very reason why the Old Man decided on Edward sacrificing her six years earlier. He knew she would have gotten in the way of his call by breaching the void inside him.
The LAPD were now tasked with hunting a wily opponent. Edward was so deliberate and orderly in everything he put his hands to, not to mention as frosty as an arctic moon. He was practically peerless among the rest of his associates—none besides Susan could match his cunning. Even then, it would likely come down to a toss of the coin. Still, the Old Man didn’t want anybody to start suggesting he was ineffective in his governance, meaning he would soon be required to demonstrate his doggedness about upholding the rules. But part of him remained reluctant to bring his hammer down, and it wasn’t as if he could get entangled inside any complications, for Ghost was only a phone call away.
If he permitted Edward to continue with his game, he would need to show how their virtues were being maintained. Allowing him to persist with total impunity might generate an influx of rebellious behavior, and there were already specified periods set aside where they could act without restraint.
In addition to the thirteen retreat weekends held at the Adelanto compound, they also got to spend a week at the gated estate in Mississippi during Halloween. The Old Man kept a lively collection of dirty human playthings on hand at both locations. Runaways, and street creatures he procured through various trafficking networks. A Filii Reprobi could source other prey if they wanted. However, it was supposed to be undertaken discreetly, never drawing attention to their ongoing delinquencies.
The Old Man’s influence had been achieved by providing judiciously targeted individuals with inside knowledge on tainted currency. Greed usually inspired fools to tighten a noose around their neck with a sense of gratitude, and he never grew bored of seeing respectable folk sell their souls beneath the charm of a quick buck. People were easily exploited, eating from the hand of corruption for a vision painted in acid.
After exiting the elevator on the thirteenth floor, the Old Man strolled past reception, where two glamorous secretaries smiled a greeting. They both appeared enthusiastic, but he didn’t bother returning their acknowledgment. The Old Man never gave much thought to adulation or softened speech, always carrying himself with an air of preeminence. Despite the fact his existence was a falsehood, he seldom deviated off course. He was the founder of Filii Reprobi, and if his manner offended, it concerned him not at all.
Saturdays were reserved for their most important clients. He surveyed the new leather couches near the interactive TV and recognized the latest number one NBA draft pick sitting alongside his manager. Olivier Woodward looked up from whatever magazine he was reading, but when the Old Man ignored him, the kid’s focus returned to the article.
Fairmont International subscribed to over one hundred publications and kept an extensive library for any clients who arrived early for their appointment. They provided a stocked bar that offered everything from panda dung tea to single malt whiskey, and an assortment of pastries was available inside the kitchen. The reception area was tiled in dark granite, and the counter featured a mosaic business logo that exuded class. Sports memorabilia, contemporary artworks, and rare Hollywood artifacts provided a finishing touch. In truth, there wasn’t another firm in the city that presented better.
The Old Man marched down the corridor leading to his office. When he stepped boldly through the door, he saw Susan Rodriguez sitting quietly on the other side of his desk. She didn’t notice him as she studied something inside a display cabinet mounted on the wall.
Susan was dressed unassumingly in gray business slacks, a red top, and a pair of velvety heels. She appeared almost majestic with her long legs folded over to one side of her body. Her silky brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and there wasn’t a trace of makeup on her stunning face. When the Old Man closed the door behind him, she swiveled in her chair, smiling as he gave her shoulder a light squeeze.
“Hello,” she sighed.
“Hello, dear girl, how are you?” he inquired while breezing his way around the desk to his chair. Their eyes connected in a way that comes from knowing a person intimately.
“I’m okay, I guess,” she replied. “A little agitated, but otherwise okay.”
“I presume your concerns are all to do with Edward.”
Susan appeared to appreciate his foresight even though her motives for requesting the meeting were obvious enough. It could often be challenging to read what she was feeling, but her restlessness today made her an open book.
“Can I speak freely here? Or do we need to step outside?”
The Old Man chuckled confidently.
“This room is harder to infiltrate than the Oval Office,” he promised with a smirk, watching as her dark, enigmatic eyes took him in.
“I’m conscious that you have always had high expectations when it comes to Edward, which I might add is entirely justifiable. There’s no denying he brings a distinct authenticity to the order. Nevertheless, these current events are unnecessary, not to mention a blatant violation of the rules.
“I was troubled from the moment the first body materialized up at the Hollywood Bowl, and the LAPD is going to be disclosing the bitch was a British medical student who arrived on a three-month visa exchange. I’m sure I don’t need to point out how a butchered tourist will likely grab the FBI’s attention. As expected, there are people within who have started approaching me for answers. I suppose I just wanted to hear where you currently stand on matters.”
The Old Man fidgeted with paperwork on his desk, sliding it around with his manicured hands until he aligned all the edges. He was irritated by the realization he hadn’t already been versed about the first woman’s identity or the fact she was a tourist, and he sure as hell wasn’t acquainted with being exposed on the hop.
“My contacts are keeping an eye on things and will give me a call the moment there is any reason to be concerned. I’ve been assured we’ve got nothing to worry about as of right now. The LAPD is busying itself with finding the chemicals. Besides, I was told it would all be over soon enough.”
“How soon?”
“Apparently, he intends to kill six girls in total, so if we include the one from last night, then that leaves three more.”
“Can we afford to be on standby? If there are any more corpses, then things might spiral completely out of control. Hav
e you listened to the radio or watched TV over the last day? If another body is found in those damned hills, he’s going to be contending with the FBI. What if he gets caught?”
The Old Man paused to remind her of his stewardship.
“I can guarantee the LAPD won’t be landing on his door anytime soon. Like I said already, I have it on dependable authority that their focus right now is finding where those chemicals have originated from, and because our own Meagan Banks supplied them, his tracks are covered. Should the circumstances change, they will notify me before any plan is enforced. If the situation requires a swift resolution, the executioner is on standby. Filii Reprobi will not be compromised.”
When Susan lowered her eyes, her face reminded the Old Man of the confused child he’d first encountered at the psychiatric hospital. He waited for her to look up, recognizing how her expression portrayed a lying innocence to conceal her undeniable deadliness. It would be fascinating to know how many had perished beneath her beguilement.
“I hope you don’t think I was questioning your judgment.”
“Not at all, Susan,” he assured her meaningfully. “I would have been completely disappointed if you hadn’t come to me about this.”
Susan dropped her gaze again.
“I will be sure to allay any concerns and explain how Edward is going to be chastised very shortly.” It appeared Susan was anticipating Edward’s punishment with bated breath.
“Did you get lunch earlier?” he asked.
“No, I haven’t even eaten breakfast.”
The Old Man floated out from behind his desk and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I’ve found an Armenian eatery. It’s nothing flash, but the food is something else.”
“Where is it? Over in East Hollywood?”
“No, it’s in Glendale and well worth a drive through traffic.”
“Sounds swell. I can’t recall ever eating Armenian food before.”
“Well then, my dear girl, you are in for a special treat.”
Twenty-Nine