Page 45 of Gumbo, Ghosts, and Deadly Deception
Maggie's recording studio was in the converted garage behind her shotgun house in the Bywater, a space that had been transformed from automotive chaos to a workspace. Foam panels covered the walls in a geometric pattern, and multiple microphones hung from adjustable arms. Maggie was serious about sound quality.
There was a large desk that we usually sat on opposite ends of, facing each other, with multiple monitors to run all the sound and for us to read scripts as necessary.
"Okay, let's run through the intro one more time," she said, adjusting her headphones as she leaned into her microphone. "Remember, we're doing the Axeman episode first, then transitioning to our discussion of patterns in serial killer behavior."
I settled into my chair across from her, my own headphones snug over my ears. The familiar ritual of podcast recording usually calmed me, but today my mind kept wandering to Lucien's revelations about Ginger being Francine's sister and the lost envelope.
"Harper, you're breathing directly into the mic," Maggie said through the intercom. "Take it back about six inches."
"Sorry." I adjusted my position. "I'm a little distracted."
"By the fact that you lost what was potentially evidence of a murder?"
“Thank you, that makes me feel fantastic. There was no evidence of a murder. It was just financial records and maps." I took a sip from my water bottle. “That wasn’t going to prove anything on a forty-year-old cold case. We’d need DNA, which we don’t have, because Francine was never found.”
Maggie pulled up the script on her tablet and made a note. "Right. Speaking of which, let's get into character. You know how our listeners love it when we get properly Southern gothic about these cases."
"You mean when I get properly Southern gothic. You just make sarcastic comments when the two of us record together."
Three years ago, I had started out strictly as the marketing manager behind the scenes of the podcast, but we’d quickly learned that listeners like a duo bantering in the beginning of episodes. With one primary storyteller/host and one person to jump in and ask questions or offer opinions or a little bit of humor. It was time consuming to record, but now that we’d hired a researcher to assist Maggie and a college student to help with social media promotion, it gave me the freedom to enjoy recording a lot more.
"That's my brand." She grinned and hit record. "Okay, rolling in three, two, one..."
Maggie's voice shifted into her professional podcast tone, warm but authoritative. "Welcome back to Gumbo and Gris Gris: Crime in the Crescent City. I'm Murder Maggie."
"And I'm Harper Bergeron. Today we're diving into the twisted mind of one of New Orleans' most infamous killers, the Axeman, who terrorized the city from 1910 to 1919."
"Now Harper, what's particularly interesting about the Axeman case is how it demonstrates the evolution of serial killer methodology. Unlike more recent serial killers who often try to avoid detection, the Axeman seemed to revel in media attention. He wrote letters to the newspapers, taunted the police, even claimed he would spare anyone playing jazz music on a specific night. It was psychological warfare on an entire city."
"And the victims?" I asked.
"Primarily Italian grocers and their families, which is very specific. The attacks usually happened late at night, the killer breaking in through a door or window after removing a panel of glass. He used the victims' own axes, which he would leave at the scene." Maggie paused for effect. "But here's what's really chilling. The randomness wasn't actually random. There was a pattern, even if law enforcement at the time couldn't see it."
“So an intelligent killer,” I said. “Versus a chaotic or opportunistic one.”
Maggie nodded into her mic. "The victims were all connected to the city's Italian community, which was facing significant discrimination at the time. Some historians believe the Axeman was either targeting them because of ethnic hatred, or using that hatred as cover for more personal motives."
"Which brings us to something we've been discussing lately," I said, glancing at Maggie. "How killers exploit existing social tensions to hide their true patterns. Maybe the Axeman had zero opinion on Italians other than he knew they were on the outs socially."
"Exactly. If you're killing people that society already views as 'other' such as immigrants, sex workers, and people experiencing homelessness, then the investigations tend to be less thorough. The media coverage is different. The public pressure is minimal."
I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. "It's easier to disappear people that no one is looking for."
"And that's not just a historical problem. It's happening right now, in cities across America." Maggie's voice grew more intense. "Young women go missing from marginalized communities all the time. But if they're poor, or addicted, or working in the sex industry, their cases don't get the same resources."
"Speaking of missing women," I said. "I've been thinking about how killers choose their victims. With the Axeman, he targeted people in their own homes. The very place where they should have felt safest."
"That violation of sanctuary," Maggie agreed. "It's particularly cruel. Your home is supposed to be your refuge."
I thought about Delia, dead in my bathtub. Ginger’s poisoning. It made me shudder a little.
"Harper, tell our listeners about the infamous letter the Axeman sent to the Times-Picayune."
I consulted my notes. "In March 1919, the Axeman wrote to the newspaper claiming he was a demon from hell who had been in New Orleans for years. But the really creepy part was when he announced that on the night of March 19th, he would spare anyone who was playing jazz music in their home. Talk about an odd request, right?"
"The man clearly loved jazz.”
“And the city's response?"
