by Bo Luellen
The girls gave an accusatory, “Ummmmmmm.”
Amanda rolled her eyes and retorted, “No! Not an ex-boyfriend. A professional acquaintance of your Father’s and I. I’m consulting with him on some research for a case.”
Nancy picked up her phone and asked for clarification, “How do you spell his last name?”
She put a hand up in protest when Larry blurted out, “Josh Dyer. D-Y-E-R. He should be in his forties, and his hometown is Tulsa. Although he might be living in a Buddhist temple in California or you can possibly check a hippie commune. Commune is spelled, C-O-M-M…”
Amanda tilted her head and interrupted, “Don’t start, Larry. Josh is a friend and someone I can trust as an advisor on the material we talked about.”
Nancy perked up and announced, “Found him!”
Amanda held up her hand in amazement and asked, “W-what? How did you find him that fast?”
Larry quickly shuffled behind his daughter and peered down at her phone. Nancy was picking over Dyer’s profile, and Amanda put her head in her hands at how quickly the situation was getting away from her. In less than 30 seconds, the young girl had found his website and Instagram account.
Nancy held the phone as April read from his Bio, “Josh Dyer is a millionaire philanthropist who is the leading telecommunications specialist in the world. He has acted as a Presidential advisor on matters concerning internet security, started a charity to bring fresh water to the Pygmies of the Congo, and offers free college to anyone in his employment. Mr. Dyer is a significant contributor to the Pagan Federation and travels the world in search of the more profound spiritual mysteries. He has lectured at Cambridge and Yale on the subject of lost pagan traditions and the concept of High Magic and Druidism.”
Amanda lifted her head and said matter-of-factly, “See, he’s exactly what we need to help in our research.”
Nancy turned her phone around towards her mother and showed a picture of Josh on a beach in Costa Rica, admiring, “Oh, he has abs, and he’s cute!”
Larry stared directly at his wife with a blank face while he circled back around to the kitchen. The girls giggled at the uncomfortable exchange, and they continued cycling through his more impressive Instagram photos. The Lanyon children were like little sharks, and tonight they smelled blood.
She stood up and leaned on the kitchen counter, reporting, “I sent him a sketch of the thing we talked about. He’ll get back to me, and that will be the end of it.”
April perked up and observed, “Did you know he has discovered three new species of lizards in the Congo?”
Larry continued the blank stare towards his wife and replied dryly, “He always had a knack of finding his lizards in odd places.”
The kids gave another round of laughter, which crushed her hopes that the joke went over their heads. Closing her eyes to keep from laughing, she felt her phone vibrate one more time. She quickly snagged her cellphone from her own pocket before April’s fast hands could grab it first.
Larry robotically buttered his corn on the cob as he stated, “Oh, joy. The mystic millionaire of the plant people has replied. Please, don’t let this delicious meal I’m fixing get in the way of your intellectual curiosity. Please, read it aloud.”
A long silence was followed by her abruptly saying, “Okay, whatever.”
She cleared her throat and read the text, “I’m isolated up here, so service is spotty. I can’t confirm this on my end, but if you Google the Crimson Brotherhood, I think you will find this matches up. If this is indeed the Brotherhood, you need to be very careful. They are a dangerous cult whose purpose is to bring a return of Cthulhu. Their Brotherhood believes in guerilla tactics, political assassination, and terrorism, which are used in concert with their alleged mystical and military might. They only recently fell off the list of top ten terrorist organizations in the world. I think this blade was indeed an Athame Dagger. If it was used on someone in a murder, then it hints at something more sinister than one death. I’ve had dealings with them before. They shouldn’t be underestimated.”
She slid the phone over to her husband for him to read. A few seconds later, Larry pushed it back as the girl's eyes darted back and forth between them as if they were watching a tennis match. He grabbed their plates and put down the food on the dinner table. The evening eventually toned down, and after they ate, her husband pulled her into the study.
He sat down on a bean bag chair and relented, “Putting the past aside, Dyer is one of the brightest guys I know on the topic of the occult. If he says this comes from this terrorist group, the Crimson Brotherhood, then you need to tell that cop. What if Henry was connected to the cult? You said yourself that he was raised by an insane mother. When you exit one control system, you tend to look for another to replace it. For all you know, Jekyll could have fallen in with the Brotherhood, and Turner’s murder was connected in some way.”
She pulled out her phone, made a call, and soon Terry Johnston answered, “Hey Doc, we are kind of busy here. Can this wait?”
Lanyon put the device on speakerphone and replied, “Officer Johnston, I have evidence that points towards the identity of the owner of that knife. I think I know who killed Lewis Turner.”
She explained who the Brotherhood was and what Josh had revealed about the handle. Larry moved to the PC and brought up a picture of an Athame dagger as she went into detail about the design. Soon, her husband was joining in on the discussion by giving information on the cult from newspaper clippings from ten years ago in Scotland.
A gruff voice came over the phone announcing, “Dr. Lanyon, this is Detective John Utterson of the Tulsa Police. I’m the lead investigator on a special task force related to the investigation into Lewis Turner’s murder, and Officer Johnston has been assisting me.”
Amanda completely shifted to a professional tone as she replied, “Detective Utterson, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I understand you were injured in the attempt to apprehend the thief. I hope you are mending well.”
Utterson cleared his throat and replied gruffly, “You say this knife is used in ritualistic cult practices or pagan worship. Is it normal to see this kind of thing done in public?”
Amanda retrieved her laptop as she replied, “The rituals involving a human sacrifice are done in secret. After all, practicing blood magic comes with dire consequences in most countries. Although, in some cultures, it was done as a part of their public celebrations. The ancient Mayans entertained crowds with a macabre version of soccer, where the winner would be sacrificed and beheaded.”
The detective observed flatly, “I don’t think anyone was playing soccer on that bridge, Doctor. So, unless the Mayan version of the Crimson Brotherhood decided to come through time and space to Oklahoma, I’m all ears for other theories?”
She took a deep breath and replied, “It all depends, really. If the person they attacked had some kind of spiritual significance or was marked for execution, then it might be worth the risk. It could even be a part of the cult’s policies.”
Johnston piped in, asking, “Policies?”
Lanyon tapped on her laptop as she answered, “Yes, a member could have failed in some duty, betrayed a law, or displeased their god. The life of a victim is extinguished in a way that repays the debt. Was Lewis Turner involved in any pagan practices?”
Officer Johnston spoke up, “Unless you call playing Dungeons and Dragons a cult practice? According to his ex-wife, he has played since he was a kid.”
She kept browsing for information and answered, “Lewis and Henry played that game fairly often with their friends at the shop. It does have connections to paganism, but not as much as people let on. You would find more correlation with devil worship in your average episode of Buffy or Supernatural.”
Officer Johnston’s voice seemed to go up a tone as he asked, “Wait, why haven’t we heard about these lunatics?”
She stopped on a website called The Hunt for the Truth. It seemed dedicated to exposing the occult.
She read, “According to a YouTuber named Quincy Hunt, the Crimson Brotherhood has been operating in America silently for decades. He says they migrated over with the colonists. I’m not sure how much I’d believe a conspiracy theorist on the internet, but it seems like there may be more information on them than we know.”
Utterson made a deep sigh and offered, “Professor, I would like to use you as a consultant on this case officially. I have some further details I could give you, but it has to be done in a manner that would protect the investigation. The department could pay you a consideration for your time. Would you be interested?”
She looked over at Larry, who made shrug and mouthed the words, “It’s up to you.”
She nodded and agreed, “Yes, that sounds good to me. I have some conditions, though.”
The Detective cautiously asked, “What are they, Doctor?”
She moved a little closer to the phone and answered, “First, you guarantee my safety and the safety of my family. I’m not to be put into harm’s way, and my name is never mentioned in the papers.”
He gave a quick reply, “I can do that. Your work on this case will be carefully protected by our team.”
She looked at Larry and continued, “Second, I have people I need on this. The first is my husband, Larry, and the second is a colleague named Josh Dyer. Dyer is a world-renowned expert in the occult and a college acquaintance of mine. Their help will be indispensable. Are these terms acceptable?”
Utterson quickly complied, “Yes, Professor. That’s fine, but we can only pay you for now. Anyone you bring in on the case will have to be expensed out by the city. That means seeking approval. I will submit Josh Dyer through the proper channels. I’m sure it will be fine.”
Larry was smiling at her for including him, and she knew it was a decent peace offering for contacting Josh without telling him first. Having him involved would make him feel more at ease considering the history between her and Dyer, and they truly did make a great team. Butterflies in her stomach started to roll around at the idea of this adventure.
She put the phone on mute and whispered, “Honey, is this all good with you?”
Her husband beamed and replied, “This sounds fun! I’m not your sidekick, though. I will never be that guy that goes to get coffee.”
She unmuted and announced, “Detective, that will be fine. I would suggest we gain a better understanding of what kind of presence the Brotherhood has in Tulsa.”
The Detective cleared his throat and replied, “It’s interesting you bring that up. The body of Lewis Turner was released by our medical examiner to a funeral home in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. The family had the funeral set for Saturday. Last evening at approximately midnight, the funeral home was broken into. Someone went directly to the body, mutilated it, then left.”
Dr. Lanyon snapped her head towards the phone and asked, “Mutilated? How so?”
Terry replied, “We’re not exactly sure. The best I can get is that the burglars cut up the body pretty good.”
Utterson added, “One of the embalmers was on staff that night, hid in one of the garage vehicles, and saw the intruders. The officer that responded got a statement from her, but I’ve yet to interview the woman myself. Doctor, tomorrow I’m headed to the funeral home to speak to her about the event, I feel like it would be good to have you with us.
She leaned back on the couch and answered, “I haven’t used any of my sick time at work. There are plenty of substitutes that could be brought in quickly cover my classes. Larry, what do you think?”
She looked over at her husband, who was busy text messaging on his phone and remarked, “I’m contacting my boss and letting him know I won’t be in tomorrow. Let’s do this.”
She grinned then announced, “Okay, Detective, we are in. What time and where?”
Officer Johnston gave an upbeat reply, “Broken Arrow Chapel Funeral Home at 9 a.m. They will be expecting us.”
They ended the call, and her husband remarked, “Well, you are now an official consultant for the Tulsa Police Department. I think you have definitely gone from good Samaritan to officially nosey. You’re a little too sexy to be Jessica Fletcher. More like a slutty Miss Marple.”
She ignored him and picked up her phone. The thought came to her that this might be another piece of the puzzle that Josh could work with. She sent a text informing him about the break-in and the mutilation of Turner’s headless body.
As she typed, Amanda thought, In the meantime, I need to read up on anything related to ritualistic killings and sacrifices.
She moved over to the PC and started hunting around on Google. Larry went to get the kids ready for bed as she studied all things occult. It was an angle to religion that Amanda had kept far away from since college. At one time, she had been an expert in most religions, but the pagan ones had been left alone since her appointment to Eastland. Her tenor at the College might not be so secure if they found out she had an ongoing interest in that area.
It turned 10 p.m., and her eyes were getting heavy. She had a website pulled up that showed dozens of images of rituals and ceremonies to Thor. On a notepad, she had made a list of all the deities that had a history of sacrifice.
Her husband came up from behind her and asked, “So how about that browser history, huh? I’m using it as Exhibit A if you ever try to off me.”
She rubbed her sleepy face, replying, “Did you know there are over one million practicing pagans in America, with nearly two dozen recognized occult organizations?”
Larry sat down and put a bowl of popcorn in front of them, as he replied, “No, but how many of them still sacrifice animals or people?”
She watched him dig into the snack and answered, “None of them, actually. All of these groups say they disavow any acts of sacrifice but do allow burnt offerings.”
With a mouthful, he gave a muffled, “Burnthhh Offerings?”
She smiled and confirmed, “Yes. Burnt offerings. Sacrifices would be murder in America, regardless of whether the victims were willing or not. So we can only guess that this organization has been operating well outside of the normal pagan circles. Still, there may be someone that has heard of something.”
Her phone flashed a voicemail notification from Josh as she observed, “That is weird. I guess it is because of Josh’s reception. He is hiking a mountain in Montana.”
Larry’s eyes went as dead as his expression as he fumed, “Of course he is. He must have been running short of awesome Instagram photos. I wonder if he will find a reason to take his shirt off? How fast can a douche bag’s nipples freeze off at that altitude? I’ll Google it.”
She let him have a slight smile as Amanda hit the voicemail button and sat back as Dyer’s voice came from her phone, “Hey, Mandie. I got your message. If someone broke in to cut into the body, that is a strong piece of evidence that it is cult-related. I have a reason to believe this is bigger than you might suspect. I’m breaking camp early tomorrow morning, and I’ve already had my assistant book a flight to Tulsa International Airport. I will be in town at around 1 p.m. I’ll call you when I arrive. Watch yourself, Mandie.”
Chapter 9: Henry III
Tulsa, OK - Wednesday, October 17th, 2018 – 2:32 p.m. CST
Henry Jekyll had decided to keep the bloodstained strip of flesh hidden in his pack, and not to call Detective Utterson or Officer Johnston about it. He couldn’t imagine a scenario where turning it in ended well for him. He pedaled hard back towards his home while keeping an eye out for anyone following him. His paranoia was mixed with a dash of fear making his senses on high alert. Whether it was the adrenaline, the new bike, or the strange new vigor he seemed to possess, Henry was making better time on the ride home than ever before.
He skidded to a stop and marveled at the three bug exterminator trucks parked outside his complex. This was a tremendous surprise to him, as he had never seen a pest company at his apartment before. The owners of the building were an old Italian couple who refused to put any more work into p
lace than necessary. The issue with an apartment complex was that if one person didn’t do their part, everyone would still have the bugs. As Dallas had pointed out several times, Henry was that person.
As he walked up to his front door, an overweight exterminator in a blue shirt opened his truck door and stood across from Jekyll with an odd look on his face. The man had a blue cap on that read, “West Side Exterminators,” and he sported a pair of thick horn-rimmed glasses. He walked up to Henry with a confident stride and then held up a clipboard.
Looking down at the nametag on Henry’s backpack, heasked, “I take it you are the client, Henry Jekyll?”
Henry was frozen in place as he replied meekly, “Yes… I-I mean no. Well, yes, I’m Henry Jekyll, but no, I didn’t...”
The man pushed up his ball cap and interrupted, “Well, our teams have completed the work order for the building except for your place. Without you being home, we couldn’t gain access. We were about to push off, but now that you’re here, we can get to it.”
Henry felt a familiar wave of familiar confusion and probed, “Work order. Right. Can you go over what you’ve done so far?”
The man cycled through some papers and replied, “Sure. So I can’t speak for the other companies, each one handling a different infestation problem and all that. Okay, so I finished treating each apartment with bait and roach killer. The exterior was treated as well, but it will take another week before you stop seeing dying roaches on your floors. Usually, we don’t come out this quick and don’t coordinate with other companies. However, considering how much your assistant paid us this morning, our owner made some exceptions.”
Henry gripped his bike handles a bit harder at this news. Now the whole complex would know something strange was up, and the landlords would be alerted and start asking questions. Beads of sweat fell from his face as he saw his neighbors standing outside their homes and listening to the exchange.