“And I thought it would be hard to discover the truth after twelve years!” Katie said. “Now we’re looking at more than a hundred. You said her name was Mabel Greely? I’ll get to public records and see what I can find on her.”
“You’ve done that kind of research before?” Dan asked.
She grimaced. “Hey, I’m a guide. Licensed and all. We strive to tell the truth that goes along with our legends.”
“Who were the Axeman’s other victims?” Axel prompted.
“Okay, so next we have Joseph Romano, an elderly man. He survived the attack. His nieces came in when they heard a commotion, and like Anna Schneider, they could report on what they saw, a big man in a dark coat and slouched hat escaping as they arrived. Joseph survived the initial attack but died two days later because of the injuries he sustained. Then...”
She paused, wincing.
“Then...” Dan said in encouragement.
She shook her head. “The worst. He attacked Rosie and Charles Cortimiglia, and their daughter, Mary. Charles and Rosie survived, but Mary was found dead in her mother’s arms. Only two years old. Their lives were ruined. They had lost their baby daughter, and they divorced. Mary accused an old man, a neighbor, and his seventeen-year-old grandson. They were both arrested and did jail time, and the seventeen-year-old was sentenced to hang. Mary later recanted. And with good reason. The old man was too infirm to have committed the crimes, and the grandson was too big to have fit through the panel that had been chiseled away at the back.”
“Cortimiglia? No,” Dan muttered. Katie’s glance at him was hostile again. “Sorry, I’m sorry. Mabel Greely claimed her friend was a victim...”
He knew why Mabel had stuck around, why her passion to find justice had been so great that she’d stayed year after year. Her friend had been murdered by the man.
And he had gone on to kill again.
A child.
The Axeman had killed a baby.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “What was the surname of the first victims again? Maggio? I think Mabel said she knew a woman named Maggio, right, Axel?” He looked at the other man, who nodded. Dan went on. “She must have still been reeling from the loss of her friend when the monster struck again.”
“I know. It’s so hard to think about an innocent child. At least they think the baby died quickly, one blow to the back of the head or neck,” Katie said. “Anyway, a man named Steve Boca came next. He woke up to find a dark-clad man in a slouched hat standing above him and went to catch him only to discover he’d been bashed in the head. He survived. Next, Sarah Laumann. She survived the attack but could remember nothing about it. Then—in what is considered to be the last of the Axeman attacks—Mike Pepitone. He was killed, and his wife was left with six children. But there’s much more in between all that. Mrs. Pepitone wound up in Los Angeles where she purportedly shot and killed a man named Momfre—with various spellings. Some researchers claim they can find no such incident. I don’t know. In that theory, she claimed the man who broke in on her in Los Angeles was the same man who killed her husband. All in all, six were killed and six survived in the number of what most people accept to be the Axeman’s killings. There were incidents before about dark, shadowy men attacking people, back in 1910 and 1911, but in those cases, the killer wanted money. It was over a hundred years ago. It’s unlikely any more evidence will come to light, so no one can prove anything one way or the other. Researchers just go with what is out there and make their best educated guess. But the Axeman didn’t take things. He hacked, sliced and killed.”
“And it’s believed the letter sent to the Times-Picayune came from the real killer?”
“Yes, the letter was received on March 13, 1919, and in it he claimed he was more than a man, that he was a demon or a devil. He refers in it to a Satanic Majesty and claims he is the worst spirit in any realm of the real or fantasy. He claimed he was going to pass over New Orleans on the following Tuesday at twelve fifteen at night, and he would spare those who played jazz. People played jazz like their lives depended on it, and no one was killed that night. He taunted the police. And I guess he did. They couldn’t catch him. He removed panels often to get into homes, and he left bloody axes everywhere he went. He used a knife, an axe and anything he could to bash people. Maybe he was more than a man—he was a monster.”
“Today, he would have been caught. Forensic science has come so far,” Adam said.
“Really?” Katie said. “They never caught whoever killed my parents.”
“You’re right,” Adam said, looking apologetic. “But if we’re right, and this is the same killer, we will get him this time.” He smiled and reached out across the table to squeeze her hand. “We have more than forensic science on our side this time. We have tools others don’t. Katie, we’re going to get this guy. Now, there is one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You may be in danger.”
“Me?” she asked, surprised.
“The killer missed you once. You weren’t on the boat when your parents were killed. If we’re right, the killer might want to finish off what they were doing.”
She shook her head and smiled.
“Did you miss the fact that while the dogs aren’t mine, I basically live with three giant animals that would tear you to ribbons if you tried to hurt me?”
Dan looked at Adam. If there was one thing he had learned in his years in and out of law enforcement, it was that kind of killer was not working with a full deck. Any rationality, an agenda, anything... Such a killer could be obsessive.
Determined to carry out
