by Robin Caroll
1935
“I wanted to share something with you two.” Will watched James and George as he spoke. Both looked at him, even as they continued to eat the sandwiches he’d stolen off the cart at lunch today. “I’ve been given special instructions by God.”
Both of his friends nodded. Ever since they’d left the orphanage and struck out on their own, they had been missing mass. Will had let them know that he was in commune with their holy father to lead them and to give these young souls direction. Now was the time to tell them of the first stage of the plan. “He’s instructed me to start a group of devoted followers of His to do His holy work.”
James let the last bite of his sandwich drop to the napkin.
George swallowed. “What work?”
Will smiled. “I don’t know exactly what yet, but God’s shown me it will be important. We will be following His leading.”
“So what do we do?” James asked.
“We need to start behaving in the way that is pleasing to Him. He has shown me where I’ve been failing Him. There is much evil here in this city, and it is His desire to reduce that here. We are to call ourselves the Cretum Deus.”
“What does that mean?” George took a drink of water.
“It is a literal translation of God Decreed. That’s what our group will be—decreed by God. We will follow His truth, His wisdom, His leading. Without fear and without wavering.” Will ignored his own hunger pains. “We must not let God down with our first task that He gave me last night.”
“What’s that?” James leaned forward, closer to Will.
“We are to gather more young men to join us in our quest to do God’s work as He relays it to me.”
“Guys, not girls?” George asked.
“Not just yet. The Lord will eventually call us to bring women into our fold, to do their part in His will, like cooking, cleaning, bearing us children to continue doing God’s work.” Will tried not to frown, but he felt his facial muscles tighten. “But it’s important to remember that women are not important. God has shown me that. He clearly has little disregard for females other than to obey men and produce sons to continue His holy work. It is because of my own mother’s failure to keep herself from sin that I didn’t have a father.”
“But a demon possessed a man and killed your mother, right?” George pressed.
Will held in the sigh as he slowly nodded. “Yes, because God will allow Satan to use sinners to do evil if they aren’t true followers. That’s what all who enter the Cretum Deus must be—true followers of God.”
“How will we know that?” James asked.
Will looked at his friend. “God will let me know if they aren’t and they will be dealt with.”
“It sounds okay and all.” George wadded up his trash and stuck it in his pocket to use to start a fire later, just like Will had taught them. “But how are we supposed to get and keep followers and true believers? We barely survive ourselves, now that it’s getting cooler out and the work at the park is slowing. We hide out and sleep in the park or break into one of the abandoned buildings when the weather’s bad. That doesn’t exactly entice anyone to want to join us.”
“Does the Bible not say in the book of Luke, ‘And he said to all, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.’ It doesn’t say to follow God only if there is a place to live, plenty of food to eat, and all the comforts man prefers. It clearly says that man should deny these luxuries and follow God’s leading. That’s a true believer, and that’s what we want and need.”
James nodded. “That’s what the Bible says all right.”
Will smiled. James had studied the word of God daily and knew much from memory. Probably more than Will himself, but Will had God speaking to him in dreams, so reciting Scripture wasn’t necessary. “We should begin our task tomorrow. ‘Gathering the sheep,’ as God has told me.”
Again, James nodded. “I’ll ask all the guys I work with tomorrow if they are believers and followers of God.”
Perfect. “If they say they are, have them come see me here.” Will already felt like the leader he’d been called to be.
“You aren’t going to work at the park with us?” George asked.
Will shook his head. “As you said, the work is slowing, and I’d rather you and James be able to work. Besides, I will need to question each of the men you and James send to me. To see if God accepts each one into the Cretum Deus.”
“That will put us short on wages coming in though.” George pointed out the obvious.
“No, because each man who joins will turn over their wages to the group. We’ll purchase food and needed items and dispense to our members.” Will shifted to keep the balance on the wobbly old chair he sat upon in the abandoned house they were using for the time being. “Eventually, we should be able to save enough to rent a place for us all.”
Before George could argue any more, James’s excitement came through. “I’ll start gathering the flock tomorrow. I’m so glad I came with you, William—I mean, Will. Even though I was scared, I prayed and knew that God wanted me with you.”
Will smiled. “I prayed before I asked you two to come. If God wouldn’t have wanted this, I would have never invited you.” He smiled wider. “Make no mistake about it, guys, the Lord has a very specific plan for our lives and He’s starting to unveil it to me in stages. Following His leading to go out on our own was the first step, trusting Him to meet all our needs. This is the second step in His plan. I know He’s going to use Cretum Deus to help rid the world of evil.”
“How can you be so sure?” George asked.
“I was brought into this world through the sin of my mother. She was taken from me because of her sin and because another person allowed a demon to take control of him. God has been carefully leading me in this direction all my life. Now He’s calling me to action.” Will shot his stare between his two friends’ faces. “Calling us to act on His behalf.”
13
— Beau
“Good morning, partner.” Marcel grinned as he sat at his desk, flashing his pearly whites at Beau. “Ready to take a ride?
“Why, what’s going on? Why are you in such a good mood?”
“There was another attack this morning. Amelia Schneider, four months pregnant, was attacked in her home by a man with an axe.”
“That’s sick, Marcel, even for you. To be in such a good mood over a murder. And of a pregnant woman, too.” He couldn’t believe his partner was so cheerful after such horrors. Maybe Marcel had finally just gone off the deep end. He might need psychological help.
“Ah, I said she was attacked. I never said she was murdered.” Marcel grinned.
“What?” Could this finally be a break they needed? Not that it would solve the skeleton case, but the other three murders could very well be solved with such a lead.
“Right. Mrs. Schneider is currently at the hospital being checked out with her doting husband in tow, awaiting two of the best detectives to arrive and question her.”
Beau jumped to his feet. “What are we waiting for?”
Ten minutes later, they were pulling into the parking lot for the hospital’s emergency room. Marcel flashed his badge to the ER check-in nurse, and within moments, they were in the cramped little examining room with the victim and her husband, who sat on the bed beside her. Beau dismissed the two uniformed officers to the hallway until they were done. No way was he going to let whoever had attacked Mrs. Amelia Schneider get another opportunity.
Marcel introduced them to the couple, then dove immediately into the interview. “Please, Mrs. Schneider, we know this is terribly upsetting, but our goal here is to catch the man who attacked you, so please, tell us what happened.”
Beau pulled out his notebook and pen.
“I was watching the morning news while Wally took a shower.” She laid a hand on her baby bump that had a belt monitor hooked up to a low-beeping machine. “Mornings are harder for me because of th
e morning sickness, so I can’t start cooking breakfast too early or I get sick.”
Her husband took her hand and patted it. “We’ve gotten into the habit of Amelia watching the news and having some water and a cracker or two while I take a shower. After that, we usually have enough time to have breakfast together before I head in to work.”
“So you were watching the news?” Marcel prompted.
She nodded. “I caught movement from the corner of my left eye, and turned toward the front door, and all I could see was a figure in a dark, hooded sweatshirt wielding an axe. I screamed, but then I felt such a sharp pain on my head…and I don’t remember anything else until Wally was pressing one of our kitchen towels on my head, rocking me in his arms, and telling me the ambulance would be there soon, to just hold on.” Tears filled her eyes.
Her husband leaned over and kissed her, then turned back to them. “I wasn’t sure what I heard at first. I thought it might be the television, but something told me to check on her. I threw on my jeans and went into the living room. I saw Amelia and called her name.”
“Did you see anyone in your house besides your wife?” Beau asked. He normally wouldn’t interrupt a witness’s account, but he needed to get a mental image of what had happened in the order it happened.
Wally Schneider nodded. “I called out her name when I saw her on the floor with blood on her head. I thought she’d fallen, but then I saw a figure in all black wearing a hood run out the kitchen door. I hollered after him and would have given chase, but Amelia was down and bleeding and I had to help her. I called 911 and they told me to put a clean towel on the cut on her head. They stayed on the phone with me until the ambulance arrived.”
“Are you sure the person was wearing a hood?” Marcel glanced at Beau and a thousand words passed between them silently.
“Positive. He was on the other side of the kitchen bar, so I couldn’t see his legs so I have no idea what kind of pants or shoes he wore, but he was definitely wearing a black shirt with a hood. And the shirt wasn’t tight. It was very loose.”
“Almost like it could be an outer garment?” Beau asked carefully. He would never lead a witness, but the connection was so obvious. He just had to be sure.
Wally shook his head. “It wasn’t tight like the hoodies everyone wears these days. It was almost flimsy, like maybe a windbreaker or something that was several sizes too big.”
Like a robe.
Beau paused and stared at his partner. It was close enough for him. He gave a slight tilt of his head.
Marcel gave a quick nod back before turning to Wally again. “So, the guy ran out, then what happened?”
“Like I said, he ran out of the kitchen door, I called 911 and did what they told me to help Amelia. I grabbed a kitchen towel, and that’s when I saw the axe lying on the floor by the kitchen door. That freaked me out because I saw that reporter on the news the other day, talking about the old Axeman serial killer. Is this another Axeman?”
“After you got the towel on your wife’s head, then what?” Beau knew that distraction was the easiest way to avoid answering direct questions he didn’t want to answer. Couldn’t answer.
He was right. Wally continued his recollection. “The ambulance got there right after she came to. We got here, the doctor finished stitching her up, and then the police officers arrived. We’re just waiting on our OB to get here.” He patted the belt-thing wrapped around her stomach. “The nurse said once he looks over her stress test results and if everything is okay with junior, we’ll get to head home.”
Not without police stationed outside their door. “For your own protection, until the assailant is apprehended, we will have officers outside of your home for your protection.”
“Why? Do you think he’ll come back?” The fear was very evident in Amelia’s voice. She clutched her husband’s hand.
“No, but we want you to feel safe.” Marcel had a very soothing and comforting tone at times like these. “This is mainly for your peace of mind.”
“Oh. Okay.”
The nurse entered and looked straight at Marcel. “Her doctor just arrived. He’ll need to examine her in just a moment.”
“Of course.” Beau pulled one of his business cards from his pocket and handed it to Wally. “If you remember anything else, just give us a call.”
— Dimitri
“Got a second?” He hesitated at Adelaide’s office door.
She looked up from her desk and smiled. “Sure. Come in.” She started to stand.
“Don’t get up.” He crossed the space to sit in the chair in front of her desk. “I just wanted to update you on what I found out after our figuring out the skeleton is most likely my great-uncle Harold yesterday.” He pulled out his folder with everything he’d acquired on the man, and opened it.
“Good. I was wondering if you discovered anything else.”
He nodded. “I spoke with the archdiocese office for Orleans parish. After much conversation, and a long wait for a return call from this morning, I got an email with the information I wanted.”
“Well, tell me.” Adelaide laughed.
Dimitri smiled. “Well, you know how you commented on big events in his life happening on holidays?”
She nodded.
“It continues. He was born on Halloween in 1917 as we know, but he was turned over to St. Vincent’s Infant Asylum for adoption on Halloween 1919.”
“No way!”
He nodded. “I know. That’s why I called the archdiocese office back this afternoon, just to confirm the dates.”
She shook her head slowly as she leaned back in her chair. “This is unbelievable. I mean, I can’t even fathom. It’s unreal.”
“I know, but they confirmed.” He glanced back down at the open file sitting on the edge of her desk. “The reason he was left at St. Vincent’s for adoption is because his parents died in the big flu epidemic.”
Adelaide lifted her hands. “Sorry, don’t know about that.”
“I didn’t either, at first. I did a little online searching and then I remembered learning about it. In the fall of 1918, an oil tanker arrived at the port in New Orleans. On it were like five or six men who were sick with Spanish influenza. Even though the state health board barred the ship from coming into port, some of the men were taken to Belvedere Hospital. And the epidemic started.”
She nodded. “I remember learning something about that. There was like record-breaking numbers of deaths, right?”
“Yes. Estimates are in the 3,500 range. They’d gotten it under control a bit in early 1919, but another round hit in the fall, and the death toll rose again. The country got hit hard, but Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, and New Orleans had the highest number of deaths.”
“So Harold’s parents both died from the flu?”
He nodded. “Sadly, that’s why he was given over to St. Vincent’s. Of course, the archdiocese office says that many children were left there if their only adult family members were sick, and many were later reclaimed once they were well.”
“But not Harold?”
Dimitri shook his head. “Both of his parents died. Incidentally, they’re buried in St. Louis Cemetery Number Three.”
“So he was available for adoption then. He was, what?—two years old?”
“Exactly two.”
“Why wasn’t he adopted? I mean, it’s not like he was an older child who are statistically harder to place.”
“The lady I spoke with indicated they had many, many children taken in at St. Vincent’s in 1918 and 1919 because of the influenza outbreak. Many families had illnesses in their own homes. Some who weren’t affected were leery of adopting a child whose parents had died from the flu, worried the child might contaminate them.”
Compassion settled over Adelaide’s delicate and beautiful features. “That’s horrible.”
“It is, but what could they do?” He shook his head and looked back at the file. “It was policy then that when the babies and toddlers turned seven, they w
ere sent to asylums befitting each gender. In this case, Harold was transferred to St. Mary’s for boys.”
“That poor child.”
Dimitri nodded. “I’ve put in calls to the Touro Infirmary, the hospital where, according to the archdiocese records, Harold’s parents died.”
“Why?”
“I just want to find out as much as I can about his family. What if he had family he could have gone to?”
“While heartbreaking, there’s not much that can be done now, Dimitri.”
He shrugged. “That’s true, but I just want to know, for my own curiosity.”
“I understand.”
Dimitri sighed. “Anyway, Harold was transferred to St. Mary’s in 1924, on no holiday.” He smiled across the desk at Adelaide.
She grinned back. “Progress, I guess.”
“Not exactly. Remember, he was adopted by the Pampalons on April 1, 1931.”
“April Fool’s Day.”
He nodded. “At the ripe old age of fourteen or so.”
Adelaide chewed her bottom lip. “Interesting that they would adopt a child so old, isn’t it?”
“They needed an heir.”
“What? Surely you’re kidding.”
Oh, how he wished he was. “According to my father, his grandparents—Louis and Eva, believed they were unable to have children and were aging. They realized they needed an heir to bestow the Darkwater Inn to, because heaven forbid the Pampalon name not be carried on.” He shook his head, recalling his father’s story. “Apparently Eva didn’t want to adopt a baby. No newborn that wasn’t her own flesh and blood, so they adopted an older child. Harold.”
Dimitri had wrestled with this last night and this morning. “I’m not sure if they adopted him at fourteen because it would be easier to teach him, or if they could get free labor at the hotel out of him. I don’t know. Either way, according to Father, they sent him to school and groomed him to take over the hotel.”
Adelaide ran her top teeth over her bottom lip. “Yet seven years later he runs away? From this?” She gestured toward the building. “Why?”