Billy Whistler

by Bill Thompson

  The documentary generated unprecedented ratings for the station. People across the country were enthralled as Landry told about how the cult leader kidnapped Junior Conreco, the subsequent battle and the death of an actual rougarou named Billy Whistler.

  What raised Joel Morin’s blood pressure wasn’t so much the revelations of that show, but the chance that Landry Drake knew even more. Things about the Conclave, for instance.

  Joel had been furious, and he called Junior the moment the show ended. He berated the man for five minutes, calling him a dimwitted idiot and warning him to be careful what he revealed to others. Junior was a part of the Conclave, like it or not. If he hurt them, he hurt himself.

  Junior didn’t speak during the call except to utter the word no. That had come when the chairman commanded him to appear before the Conclave and answer for his actions. Joel told the sheriff he would regret it if he shared any of the Conclave’s secrets. At that point, Junior hung up on him. No one ever hung up on Joel Morin.

  Joel called a meeting of the Conclave. It was ironic that this time would have been Junior’s turn to host the gathering.

  He called the governor’s private line first. His schedule was always hard to work around, but he agreed to meet the next afternoon at the mansion in Baton Rouge. He had a dinner that evening, but he carved out an hour at five.

  David Hebert accepted without hesitation. He was nervous and anxious to talk to the others, because things were getting out of control.

  At the governor’s mansion, the three men dispensed with the traditional drinks and small talk. There was little time and much to discuss. Joel called the meeting to order and said they had to decide what they would do about Junior.

  “I’m sure you all saw the episode on TV. Junior got his fifteen minutes of fame as the cult’s captive. That’s all over now. I called him after the show, and I assured him if he hurts any one of us, he hurts himself as well. As long as he keeps quiet, I say leave him alone.”

  Astounded, the governor said, “Are you serious? Junior gave the reporter information about us. You’re aware of that; all of our lawyers got the same call.”

  “I am aware of it. And you are aware our attorneys threatened to sue Channel Nine for tens of millions. They don’t dare broadcast a show about the Conclave. They’ll be out of business if they do.”

  Understanding now, Ferrara shook his head. “You don’t understand. You haven’t heard the news in the past hour because you were on the road driving up here.”

  Nervous, David said, “I was driving too. What was on the news? What happened?”

  “The second episode will run on Channel Nine a week from Thursday. It’s called ‘The Conclave: How four Louisiana families hid their horrific crimes for generations.’”

  “Holy shit,” David said.

  “We have to kill him,” Joel muttered. “I’ll hire someone.”

  The governor jumped to his feet and roared, “You imbecile! Killing him won’t help. He’s already told his story. Your money can’t fix things this time. You always made fun of the sheriff and David here for being stupid, but you’re the dimwitted one. After the show airs, things will never be the same for any of us, Junior included. This is where it all ends, my friends.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  The explosive Bayou Hauntings episode garnered the highest viewership in the station’s history. Landry was known as the ghost hunter, but this story proved he was a bona fide investigative reporter, Ultimately it would give him his first journalistic award.

  The four Conclave members’ lives were affected in different ways. Because he divulged the group’s secrets, some called Junior Conreco a hero. Others said he was a despicable excuse for a sheriff. He’d gone through enough hell, and he didn’t stand for reelection. He took a cushy job as the constable of the tiny resort town of Rosemary Beach, Florida, where nobody recognized him or cared about his past.

  Joel Morin’s wealth and timber business continued to prosper, but the undertaker David Hebert saw his business suffer. People in Abbeville whispered behind his back about how snooty he’d always acted, but in reality, he was hiding a dark family secret. Within a year he sold his funeral home to a national chain and moved to Georgia.

  Until the story broke, most considered Governor Ferrara’s second term to be a fait accompli. He faced no primary opponents and was expected to easily win his second term. But politics is full of opportunity-seekers willing to take advantage of the misfortune of others. Just weeks after Landry’s documentary aired, six candidates had announced for Ferrara’s seat. In November he would finish a distant second and leave office in disgrace.

  _____

  Elder Abner Savary struggled to keep the cult together, but the Sons of Jehovah faced a new problem when the TV show aired. The cult owned the old town of Asher, but when they moved, they had established their new home on a few of the thousands of acres owned by the state of Louisiana. People in Vermilion Parish learned there was a cult in the woods nearby, and they raised a stink with their legislators. The Sons of Jehovah received an eviction notice.

  Most of the cultists decided to leave, and they spread far and wide. With so many followers gone, Elder Abner’s cult fell apart within a year. All of them would need mental treatment, and the Strange Ones needed far more than that. The fortunate ones got help, but others resorted to begging or stealing and ended up in jail, the last place any of them should have been after the lives they had endured.

  Father Paul left the ministry. He had taken a human life, and as justifiable as it was, he couldn’t stay in the priesthood. He went to New Orleans and joined the staff of a parochial school. At nineteen, Em became the oldest first-grader in the school’s history, and she would continue to grow in social skills and her education. Father Paul would be her mentor and friend for the rest of her life.

  _____

  After a quiet lunch at Kingfish, Cate and Landry walked hand in hand through the back streets of the Quarter, talking once more about their future together. Things were even more uncertain now that Landry’s career had literally exploded. The only certainty was whatever lay ahead, there would be a future.

  They strolled over to the house on Dumaine Street. “Want to come in?” Landry asked, and she said yes. After all, the old man’s potion had saved her boyfriend’s life.

  They rang the doorbell and the same two eyes peeped from behind a curtain. A lock turned and the same old black man stood aside without saying a word as they entered.

  “It worked, mon,” he said almost to himself, and Landry asked if he’d seen the documentary on TV.

  “Ain’t got a TV. Don’t need a TV to know that it worked, ’cause here you stand.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The proprietor cackled and showed his yellowed, snaggled teeth. “I know lots of stuff. It’s my bidness. Good thing I reminded you to use the stuff, ain’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You was about to die out there. That rougarou woulda gotten you if I didn’t remind you to use the potion.”

  He remembered. He recalled seeing a familiar face — this face — when Billy Whistler was about to kill him.

  “It was you! How … how did you do that?”

  “That’s why the damn stuff cost so much. You gets technical support too.” He laughed and laughed, and so did they.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  May 26, 2020

  Remembering Day

  Asher

  Pete kept one hand on the tiller and guided his dad’s aluminum bass boat down the Vermilion River. He kept the motor throttled down to avoid noise; he and Misty weren’t supposed to be in the boat in the first place, and certainly not out on the river this late.

  They attended the same high school in Abbeville; they’d been dating six months and she promised him a special treat if he’d take her to a place they could be alone. The first place that came to mind was Asher. When he suggested it, she laughed and shivered.

  “It’s a
ghost town,” she said, and he nodded, saying no one had lived there in a very long time. They would be alone.

  He asked if she was afraid of ghosts, and she smiled. “Not if I’m with you, Pete. Let’s do it!”

  They hatched their plan and told their parents they were going to the movies. Instead, they drove to his dad’s boathouse, tossed a blanket and a six-pack of beer into the boat, and headed south. The weather couldn’t have been nicer on this late May evening — warm with a light breeze that helped propel the boat toward the abandoned town.

  “Give me a hint what my surprise is,” he said, and she turned around in the front of the boat until she was facing him. She undid the buttons on her shirt slowly, one by one until it was open. He was mesmerized. They’d messed around and he’d gotten to first base, but this seductive striptease was turning him on.

  She removed her shirt, reached behind her back, and undid her bra. “What a nice night. Do you think I should keep this on or not?”

  “Take it off,” he answered huskily.

  She did, and in the pale moonlight he watched her run her hands over her breasts.

  “You like?”

  He gulped and nodded. He could barely keep his attention on the river now.

  “Want to see more?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “I want to see more too, but right now you have to drive the boat. When we get to Asher, you can see everything!” She put her hands on her waistband, unbuttoned her shorts, and pulled down the zipper a little.

  Pete looked at the GPS on his phone and saw they were five minutes away. Thank God; he had a huge erection and couldn’t wait much longer. A few minutes later they pulled in, and he tied off the boat. Misty left her shirt and bra behind, and her half-naked body entranced him. He spread out the blanket in seconds and they lay together, entwined in each other’s arms, kissing and groping.

  Suddenly she pushed him away and sat up, covering her breasts with her hands. “Did you hear that sound?” she whispered.

  Given the situation, he wouldn’t have known if a cannon went off.

  “Listen! Someone’s whistling!”

  There came a warble, low and soft. It might have been from somewhere far away but maybe not. It was impossible to tell.

  “Is someone here?” he shouted as wind rustled through the branches and some animal crept through the woods. The whistling had stopped though, and Pete considered that a good thing. He tried to pull her down, but she jerked away.

  “I’m scared and I left my clothes in the boat! Get me out of here! I want to go home!”

  “Shit,” he muttered as he shook off the blanket and they walked thirty feet to the boat. He heard the animal again — behind them and closer now — and then there came an unearthly croaking growl as something tackled him from behind. Misty screamed and cried, her face a mask of terror as she watched.

  Pete was strong; he played right guard for the Vermilion Catholic Eagles, but he struggled to get whatever it was off his back. It had an overpowering stench — a rotten smell like something dead — and its sinewy bare arms wrapped around his neck like thick vines that slowly tightened, suffocating him.

  Whatever it was released its grip and Pete fell to the ground. Misty lay nearby on the sand, unconscious.

  Pete was close to passing out himself. His throat constricted and he gasped for breath. He stared at the creature that had attacked him — a hideous thing with bony arms and extremely long fingers. It walked like an ape, its arms almost dragging on the ground. It was all muscle and it might have been naked — it was so dirty and the light so poor that it was hard to see. It crouched over Misty’s body and began to whistle softly. Pete tried to cry out, but he couldn’t breathe. He sucked in air and fainted from hyperventilation.

  When he awoke, his throat hurt. He touched it and felt painful cuts. Misty was nowhere around. He called to her again and again, but there was no response. Then he called the sheriff.

  As he waited, it terrified him that if the thing returned, there was nothing he could do. He sat in the boat and held an oar as a weapon. There lay her shirt and bra. How stupid he had been to come here.

  Thirty minutes later there were bright lights on the river. Someone with a bullhorn shouted, “Sheriff deputies! Where are you?”

  Pete yelled and waved, and a cruiser pulled up alongside Pete’s boat. Inside were the new sheriff of Vermilion Parish and two deputies.

  Pete told them all that he knew. They questioned him over and over, although they knew from Landry Drake’s documentary that evil things happened here on May 26. Pete answered truthfully; his only fault had been bringing her here, something he would never forgive himself for.

  They searched when the sun rose. It wasn’t difficult because there was a trail in the dirt where something had been dragged. They walked through Asher and found Misty’s body in a graveyard deep in the woods. Her eyes had been gouged out.

  _____

  Landry hadn’t spoken to Father Paul and Em for over a month, but when he heard the news, he called and told the girl what had happened.

  He asked, “Em, how many Billy Whistlers are there?”

  “Just the two.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me there was more than one?”

  She replied in her usual simplistic way, apparently unsurprised that Billy Whistler had struck again. “I didn’t tell you because you never asked me.”

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  This is book 4 of The Bayou Hauntings Series. The first three (Callie, Forgotten Men and The Nursery) are also available in print or ebook editions.