The Exquisite Corpse, a deadly tale of Art

Siler City, April 9th, 7AM

Sergeant Forrester arrived at the Victorian home at the end of the cul-de-sac tired and in desperate need of coffee. It was his last week with the Siler City police department and he had hoped it would go quietly. It was not the first disappointment in his life. He was greeted outside the building by Deputy Danny Lake, a young officer in his twenties who seemed disturbingly chipper for 7AM.
"Hey Sarge," he said cheerfully, "everyone is inside."

"What's this about?" Forrester asked, "I thought this was just a break-in... Why all the commotion?"

"Don't ask me, I haven't been inside."

Forrester entered the house to see a flurry of activity. Forensic specialists were busy snapping pictures and dusting surfaces for fingerprints. He noticed Lieutenant Travers standing in the living room. This was not a good sign, the Lieutenant almost never left the office. He walked up to him.

"Lieutenant, what's going on?"

"It's quite the mess, George. Follow me."

He led Forrester to the basement door and motioned him in, "This way. The basement is sound-proofed."

"That's probably not good." George offered.

"You don't know the half of it," he led him down to the main room where more people were tagging evidence and taking pictures, "what do you think?"

"It's a fucking dungeon. Shit Phil, what's up?"

"A shit show supreme . We sprayed luminol and there's blood and body fluids everywhere... and I do mean everywhere. There's a furnace down here filled with charred bone fragments and teeth and an altar with photos and souvenirs."

"Jeez, a fucking serial killer? Who lives here?"

"That's even more messed up... Doctor Bennet."

"The Dentist? He did my fucking crowns!"

"Ain't life a bitch," Travers couldn't help from chuckling, "who would have thought it?"

George shook his head and chuckled, "Crazy white folks. Y'all do some weird shit."

"Hey," the Lieutenant protested lightly, "you're half white, that makes you half crazy."

"That explains why I became a cop."

"No argument here, George."

Forrester  became serious again, "Who called it in?"

"We don't know. It was an anonymous tip about a break-in. Patrol got here and the door was open. They looked around and got quite a surprise."

"Shit, I'll bet. Hell of a last case for me."

Travers smiled, "So it's definitely final? No changing your mind about staying here? You're really heading north?"

"I got a great offer from that security firm and since Emma passed, all being around here does is remind me of how much I miss her."

"I get it. You'll do great among the Yankees, teach 'em how we do it down here. I wouldn't worry too much about this case. It's a serial and the feds will almost certainly be taking lead when they find out."

George smiled, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but that is fine with me. Doc Bennet... un-fucking-believable. He never struck me as a psycho."

The Lieutenant shook his head, "They never do."