The Cyber Exorcist

Part 1. Hadassah Sable

It was garish, that statue. It loomed over the ramshackle plastic houses that floated about the old city district. It didn't matter that it was half-sunk in the muddy water, the imitation Statue of Liberty still held her head high above everything around her. Back in the old days, it hadn't been that tall. What were a mere 6 stories to that golden age? But it's hard to build skyscrapers that float so as the water's rose and old buildings fell this pho-lady liberty seemed to rise with the waters. Instead of a torch, this lady carried an empty cross that cast its shadow on the network of homes and bridges below her. Her right arm carried a Bible that looked heavy even in her iron arms.

Detective Hadassah Sable scowled at it as her boat drew closer. A network of yellow police ribbon cordoned the base of it off from everyone but still, the parishioners crowded the water with their boats so that she had to blare her alarm a few dozen times to make her way through them. Even on the footbridges women and children crowded around, wearing their best-netted bonnets. It was Sunday morning after all.
A few women were wailing but for the most part, nobody was panicking, only staring at her with an eerie silence. Perhaps they didn't know yet. But she knew this congregation and she had never seen them so still. Not a single person swayed in rhythm to a hymn nor cried aloud in that holy gibberish that never let her forget she still deeply disliked things she couldn't understand.
Hadassah's boat drew level with the police rope and she hooked it to the barrier. Officer Xiuling Chan was there waiting for her, her own netting drawn tight around her uniform's collar. Besides the other cops, Hadassah didn't see anyone she recognized in the congregation but she still pulled her detective's hat low and made sure her mosquito netting was sealed before she opened the door to her boat.
Xiuling took her hand and helped her out.
Speaking sub-vocally, Hadassah shot her a message, "I take it they don't know yet?"
Xiuling shook her head.
"We've been keepin a tight lid on this as you asked," she sent back, her thick Mississippi drawl coming through even on an electronic channel. "But I don't know how much longer we can hold the press back."
Hadassah nodded. She could always rely on Xiuling to keep a lid on things.
"If you can keep them at bay until we've done our prelims that will be enough," she said. "Is there a deacon or some other leader you can speak to? If we can get the word out via some sort of leadership they might be able to keep their people from rioting."
Alarm flashed over Xiuling's face and Hadassah bit her tongue, even though she hadn't been speaking aloud. Why had she phrased it like that? It wouldn't be like this community to riot and she knew that. At worst they might start singing so loudly nobody could hear themselves think.
"I'll ask around," Xiuling sent. "You want to speak to them after your preliminary search?"
Hadassah grimaced.
"If I must. Though I'd rather you do it."
Xiuling pursed her lips. "All I have to do is open my mouth and they know I'm not a Memphis native. I don't want to be dealing with suspicion on a case like this."
"Ok, ok. I'll do it. If you think it has to be that way."
"This is going to be all over the news for the next few weeks Detective Sable," said Xiuling, vocally this time, albeit softly. "And it's the biggest congregation in River Country -- at least until you get down to New Orleans. If the church leadership can take a martyr's stand that the establishment isn't respecting them they will."
Hadassah grunted.
"You should have been in politics instead of the force, Detective Chan."
"Oh but I am, Detective Sable," sent Xiuling playfully, "And I get to carry my gun openly too."
Hadassah snorted but covered her mouth. It would not due to laugh at the door to a crime scene, especially with so many eyes on her.

Composing her features, she dropped her hand and gave Xiuling a small salute. The other officer returned it. A contingent of Assistant Investigators stood by to the side, awaiting her signal. She nodded.

Beyond the iron front doors built into Lady Liberty's base, a dark dank hallway extended down, water pumps echoing faintly behind the walls. It smelled exactly the same. A flickering ceiling light at the end of the hall revealed crayon drawings pinned to tack-board on the walls all hinting at some abstract 2-year-old Picasso interpretation of Jonah and the Whale. That had never seemed like an appropriate story for children to her.