Lord of Devil's NightbyMSTarot©
He nods and goes back to reading the chart.
As I walk away I feel my phone vibrates in my pocket. I sigh as I open it and bring it to my ear.
"This is Branson, it's your quarter."
"Hey Tom, it's Bill."
Good my partner not my captain.
"Tell me you got something for me?" I ask without much hope.
"Two things, Tom. Both related. The arson team fed the burn data into the national registry and got a hit. A guy in Detroit back in the nineties used something just like the residue they found in that bottle. He was one of those kooks that set fires on the night before Halloween. Even had a name for this one. The press out there called him, get this The Lord of Devil's Night."
"Great so we have a serial arsonist. Wonderful. What else?"
I hear him fumbling with papers on the other end.
"The DNA sample you sent to the labs came back with a hit on a Mr. Edward Mcguffin."
"So our victim has a name at least for his death certificate." I mutter under my breath. "Lovely. Okay thanks..."
"Tom! This Mcguffin was investigated back in ninety-seven as one of the possible arsonist. Tom what if this guy was this Lord of Devils Night?"
I stop and look back towards the burn ward. I swallow hearing him scream again. My pity starts to fade a little though.
"Good work Bill. Get on the horn with the guys out in Detroit. See if you can get who ever investigated him on the phone. Maybe they had a case file he can pull up. Call me."
"Okay. Oh yea the captain was asking about you. What you want me to tell him?"
I walk back towards my bench.
"Tell him I'm at the burn ward waiting to talk to the possible...suspect."
Sitting back down to wait I pick back up the paper. I feel a shiver as I sit down. I look up at the lights over head. For a second I swear they dimmed.
Triangle Shirtwaist Factory? That rings such a bell in my head. I start to read the story hoping to pick up anything that might help the profile I'm now building.
I look up and towards the door when the screams change.
My eyebrows come together.
If I didn't know better I would say those were orgasmic.
Shaking my head I go back to reading, trying to ignore the cries of pain.
They sound so much like pleasure though.
(In March 1911 a fire broke out in the Triangle Waist Shirt Factory on the top floor of what is now the Brown building in New York. 146 people mostly young women and children died in a fire that lasted barely thirty minutes. If you ever open a door in a public building and wonder why it opens outwards with a panic bar, now you know. You owe them your thanks.
In 2011 on the day before Halloween the students at N.Y.U. put on a play in the Washington Square Park. Called the cursed play they had the true courage to perform Macbeth, a play that actors fear even to speak the name of. It's called the Scottish play by the actors in every theater it's shown in. Bravo!
The Brown building did not suffer a fire in its labs that day, but it is a fact that students have reported the smell of smoke while working in the building. And a feeling of being watched. Happy Halloween)