The Devil's Harp String: Hexham Chronicles: Book One by Anthony Barber

Author:Anthony Barber [Barber, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2017-11-05T06:00:00+00:00

Mads and Father Peterson followed Detective Mills, not to New Orleans PD, but to a small diner two miles from the scene of the murder, and only three from the Poole house where Jeremy Poole still slept.

Detective Mills pulled into the diner parking lot where a converted turn of the century rail car now sat.

The pair pulled in next to the detective’s sedan and all three walked into Lucky 7’s Diner. After being waved into a booth by a waitress who seemed to be about forty years past her prime and missing most of her teeth, Detective Mills produced a manila envelope from the small leather valise he carried and was constantly teased about by younger detectives in the department.

The detective waited for the waitress to bring their coffee before opening it.

The grouchy looking diner employee lingered for a moment over the booth, looking curiously down at the envelope on the table.

“How would like a visit from the New Orleans Health Department?” Detective Mills grinned at her.

The waitress, wordlessly, walked away at the detective’s threat and stood behind the diner’s main counter, where the only other patron sat. She folded her arms and stared at them.

As Mads and Father John took furtive sips of their high octane diner coffee, Detective Mills produced a sheaf of crime scene photographs.

“This could get my ass fired,” the detective said and spread the photos across the table like a dealer at Vegas Casino.

Mads gasped mildly, but Father John betrayed no emotion as far as she could tell. After looking at each photo the priest handed them to her. She wasn’t a detective and the horror she was looking at was definitely above her pay grade.

“What gives?” She finally questioned the detective. Up until now she had followed Father Peterson’s lead and played the quiet assistant. She remained quiet at the gruesome accident scene of Father Walter, but now she was done.

Detective Mills looked at her, almost bemusedly.

“You’re not really his assistant are you?” Jabbing a thumb towards Father John. Mads shook her head.

“You’re fucking-A right,” she said a little more forcefully than she intended. The former nun blushed a little and looked over at Father John for a reaction. If he had one, it didn’t show on his face. He was still pouring over the New Orleans PD crime scene photos and pretending to ignore her colorful language.

“Not a Sister of the cloth either I take it.” Detective Mills grinned and the smile even touched his tired eyes.

“No.” She said and fell silent but held an icy stare on the detective.

“None of this has been released to the media?” Father Peterson said. It wasn’t really a question.

“No.” Mills pulled out the worn notebook from his jacket pocket, thumbed through several pages.

“After the first murders, we thought about it.”

Father John put one of the graphic photos in front of Mads.

“Look familiar?” The black and white crime scene photo, a white male in his twenties or thirties, nude and in a sitting position inside what appeared to be a mausoleum.

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