The Wizard Murders by Sean McDevitt Page B

door, who's still fingering the trigger of a shotgun. "Have we got a sergeant here?"
     
    "Negative," the officer responds.
     
    "Well then how the hell did the coroner's office know how to respond? Did Clarence get on the radio or something? I want the Print Section down here first, before the coroner starts making things official. Who's in charge here?"
     
    "You are, Detective. If you want me to remove the coroner's people, I will."
     
    "Well no, let's- hold on. Clarence! Clarence?"
     
    Pitt is startled by the speed in which Clarence reappears; he's putting what has to be a phlegm-soaked handkerchief into his back pocket. "Yeah, I'm here."
     
    "Have you been on the phone with the sheriff's office yet?"
     
    "Yeah, I told 'em to bring the Prints Section and also told 'em to get ready to take a whole lot of blood samples. And Munsell's on his way- with his Nikon," Clarence says, already anticipating Pitt's next question.
     
    "Okay. Gentlemen, at this point I want you to fan out and search the immediate neighborhood," Pitt addresses the two armed officers at the door. "Clarence and I can take it from here and try to segregate the coroner from the prints guy when he gets here." The two would-be sentries give each other a quick glance, and depart.
     
    "Clarence. Show me."
     
    Both men cross the threshold of the front door. Immediately Pitt's nose fills with the stench coming from a litter box. Clarence takes three steps, stops right in front of Pitt and points to a frayed, gold tone fabric couch in the small, messy living room. A body lies crumpled on the cushions, its head slouched forward, the stains of what had apparently been a fountain of blood cascading down the front of its t-shirt. Pitt allows himself to take a breath through his nose and then exclaims the only thought that shoots through his mind and out of his mouth-
     
    "It's a middle-aged man! Good God!"
     
    ...A copycat? Pitt panics silently. He clenches his fists, then releases them.
     
    "Clarence, you didn't tell me-"
     
    "I know, man, I know! But does it really matter? I mean, it's him! " he shouts, pointing an accusing finger at the painting on the wall behind the body- the wizard, leering and staring, always as before.
     
    "Well of course it matters! It-" Pitt stops cold as he suddenly becomes aware of what he thinks is a crackling sound.
     
    After a quick beat, Clarence shouts back, his eyes bugging out imploringly, "What, man? What? "
     
    "Shhhhh!" Pitt hisses angrily, shaking a dismissive fist at him. His eyes dart around the room, and he's now unsure if he actually heard something. The cloud of confusion dissipates in an instant as he becomes suddenly aware- clearly aware- that yes, indeed, that is another painting of that freaky looking wizard on the wall. However, this time it seems to be more of a detail of the wizard's head and shoulders, his eyes apparently darkened and even given a ghoulish, green hue for emphasis while the star patterns remain the same.
     
    Pitt's mind is racing. "Why didn't you tell me the victim is male?"
     
    "I don't- I just-" Clarence is panting, stammering. "It didn't seem significant. What I first saw was the blood and then the paint."
     
    Pitt nervously rubs his mouth with his fingers. "This means it's expanding, it's exploding, it's..." He and Clarence immediately lock eyes as they simultaneously hear a deep thumping sound. He takes a few swift steps back to the front door and steps out of the house. To his utter amazement, the sound of a helicopter approaches as a TV crew from Los Angeles tries to film the scene from above. My God, we're all going to get entirely swallowed up by this thing, Pitt thinks to himself as he watches the chopper begin circling in the pale sky.
     
    "We need to lock this thing down," he mutters as he steps back into the house. "We need to figure out how to keep the press away and the neighborhood safe. Clarence..." He takes a deep breath as he tries to collect and focus himself.