While the driver got their suitcases out of the van, she looked up at the three-story mansion. It epitomized the French Quarter style, brick with green painted shutters, balconies running the length of the mansion on each floor, intricate wrought iron railings overall, and baskets and planters spilling over with flowers. It was one of the most beautiful homes Liz had ever seen. The brochure said that although the home had been modernized, many of the original features remained.
“Liz, this may be the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe we’re actually going to stay here. This may be the best vacation I’ve ever had.” The awe in Judy’s voice was reflected in Liz’s thoughts.
Liz tipped the driver and pounded the brass door knocker twice. The door was immediately opened by a large black woman wearing a maid’s uniform and a white apron.
“Come in, come in, ladies,” the maid said with a wide smile. “You two are the last to arrive.” She nodded at each of them in turn. “One of you must be Liz Lucas and the other must be Judy Rasmussen. Just follow me, and I’ll take you to your room.”
Liz and Judy stared at the entryway in front of them which contained a large round mahogany table in the center, on which was a huge vase filled with freshly cut flowers. Old oil portraits hung on the high-ceilinged walls. Reluctantly, they followed the maid up the highly polished wooden stairs, holding on to the ornate wrought iron handrail. Halfway down the hall, the maid opened the door to a large room.
“This is your room. The bedroom is through that door. It’s got two queen size beds in it, and the bathroom is next to it. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know. You can press 1 on the telephone to reach one of the staff. Wine will be served in the main living room at 5:00 this evening, and dinner will follow. That’s when you’ll be given suggestions about things you can do during the time you’ll be staying with us, plus you’ll also be told about the cooking school schedule.”
As Liz and Judy started to unpack, there was a knock on the door. When Liz opened it, a younger maid was standing there with a plate of cookies and a jug in her hand. “Miss Lawson tol’ me to bring you these pralines and southern sweet iced tea.” She walked over to the mahogany coffee table and put them on it, beside some glasses which were already there. As she turned to walk back to the door, she saw Liz’s open suitcase just inside the bedroom and the three voodoo dolls along with the note with the skull and cross bones on it. Her face blanched, and she stumbled while she quickly tried to leave the room.
“Wait,” Liz said, calling her back. “What’s wrong? Can you tell me something about these voodoo dolls?”
“Ma’am, what you doin’ with them things?” The maid spoke in a whisper. “That’s black magic. Who gave you those?”
“It’s a long story. What do you know about them?”
“Nothin’, Ms. Lucas, nothin’. Don’ know nothin’ ‘bout those things.” She turned and hurried out the door.
Liz bit into one of the decadent pralines and took a long drink of iced tea, noticing that Judy was doing the same. Judy looked like she was waiting to see what Liz was going to say about the conversation with the maid.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Liz said as she turned to face Judy. “We’ve been here for five minutes, and these voodoo dolls have already scared the help. Swell. She knew a lot more than she was saying, that’s for sure.”
“I agree,” Judy said. “But I have to say, this is getting a bit scary.”
“Liz,” the little voice in her head said with a tone of urgency, “Doesn’t that tell you something? Leave those things alone. They can only hurt you.”
CHAPTER 11
Liz and Judy woke up to the sounds of the French Quarter. Delivery trucks, a clarinet, horns beeping, and Southern accents blended together, creating a true Southern feel. Liz lay in bed, savoring the richness of their surroundings. She thought about the breakfast they’d been told about the night before, looked over at Judy and said, “I’m going to shower and then you’re up. After that fabulous dinner last night, I can’t wait to see what’s being served for breakfast, and I don’t want to miss a thing.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Judy said, sitting up.
The cooking school operated at the Desiree Richarde mansion had a fixed schedule for its students, twelve in total, who were from all over the United States. They were to prepare lunch and do the prep work for dinner from 10:00 to 12:30 for the next four days. Lunch would be served at 1:00 and they were free in the afternoon to explore and experience New Orleans. There were a number of suggested activities and the cooking school provided guides if anyone was interested. Each student was expected to help serve food at either one lunch or one dinner. Other than that, the only thing required was simply to immerse oneself in food. Wine would be served at 5:00 in the evening with dinner following.
Liz and Judy went downstairs to the continental breakfast which Celia Brisson, the head of the cooking school, had promised the night before would be worth getting up for. She hadn’t exaggerated. Several small tables had been set up for breakfast in the garden room. A long table had been placed against the back wall with the breakfast offerings displayed on it.
Good grief, last night was incredible, but this is every bit as unbelievable, Liz thought, examining the offerings on the table: fresh fruit; grilled shrimp and cheese grits; poached eggs served on crab cakes; thick ham slices with red-eye gravy; homemade biscuits; onion flatbread; beignets sprinkled with powdered sugar; hot cocoa with whipped cream; and coffee.
Judy looked at Liz and said, “If every meal is like this, we might as well charter a plane to go home ‘cuz I sure won’t be able to get a commercial seat belt around my waist.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Liz said, wondering where to start. She decided on a little bit of everything.
The morning was spent preparing lunch and prepping for dinner. The chef of the day instructed them in the basics of Cajun Creole cooking. Liz had been nervous about attending, worried that the others would be real professional chefs and being self-taught, she’d look foolish next to them. She needn’t have worried. There was only one chef in the group. The rest were people who just enjoyed food and cooking. Judy began to look relaxed with the same realization and rolled up her sleeves with the rest of them.
The staples of Southern cooking were well represented as they prepared dirty rice with black beans, catfish, sweet potato bread pudding, braised greens, and pecan praline bites. Liz noticed that a lot of the ingredients of the luncheon dishes were reinvented for dinner. Liz and Judy volunteered to be luncheon servers, wanting to get it out of the way early on. When lunch was over, they walked into the large kitchen with the last plates from the table, glad they’d finished their serving duties for the time they’d be at the school.
Liz looked at Judy and said, “Judy, we might as well go to that museum and get that over with. It’s only a couple of blocks from here, then we’ll have the other three days to do what we want. Let’s go up to our room and change clothes.”
The students had been instructed to leave their cell phones in their rooms. The chefs didn’t want cell phones interrupting the flow of the food preparation. When Liz and Judy walked into their room, Liz noticed she had a message from Cody. She called him back.
“I’m so glad you called, Liz. I decided to go home during my lunch break, and I found a box wrapped like a present on my front porch. I opened it and Liz, inside was a small cloth pouch. I pulled the drawstring open and there were feathers, wood, ashes, and a bunch of other natural things in it. I’ve never seen anything like it and given what happened to Nicole, I have to say that I’m spooked. I have no idea why someone would give me such a thing. I’m beginning to wonder if someone wants me dead as well. I know you just got there yesterday, but have you found out anything yet?”
“No, in fact I was on my way to the Voodoo Museum when I noticed that you’d called. I’m going to take the voodoo dolls and the note over there and see if anyone kn
ows anything about them. I’ll also tell them about the pouch. I’ll call you or text you if I find out anything. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Someone is probably just having a lot of fun, unfortunately at your expense. Try and forget about it.”
“I sure hope that’s all it is. I really don’t know how much more I can take right now. I’ll wait to hear from you.”
Liz told Judy what Cody had said and hoped they could find something out at the museum they were going to.
Judy jumped up. “Let’s go. I’m ready. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
CHAPTER 12
Half an hour later, after walking along Dumaine Street, the two of them entered the brightly colored New Orleans Historic Voodoo Museum and paid the $7.00 admission fee. The attendant who collected the fee wore a yellow turban, a bright red blouse, and a long yellow and red skirt. Several bracelets and necklaces adorned her arms and neck. “Feel free to walk around in the display rooms and please, don’t miss the gift shop. Let me know if I can help you with anything. Actually, everyone who works here is very knowledgeable about voodoo, so we can answer most questions you might have.”
Liz and Judy spent the next hour walking from one display to another, amazed at what they were seeing. Liz felt like she’d stepped into a different world – a very vivid world, but one where spells were cast, and evil invoked. She didn’t know who was behind the things that had been deposited on Nicole’s doorstep, but she couldn’t help but shiver thinking that, based on what they’d seen in the last hour, there was a good chance they were involved in Nicole’s death.
Liz walked over to the young man behind the counter in the gift shop. “Excuse me, sir. I wonder if you could help me.”
“Sure, can. What do ya’ need?” he asked, smiling broadly.
Liz opened her purse and took out the dolls and the piece of paper. She looked up at the man. His smile was gone and in its place was the unmistakable look of fear.
“Ma’am, where did you get these?”
She told him about Nicole and then about the pouch Cody had found on his doorstep a few hours earlier. She ended by saying, “I don’t know anything more than what I’ve told you, but since I was coming to New Orleans, I thought maybe I could find out something.”
“Them dolls are voodoo dolls. Fact someone pinned a name on one of ‘em tells me they wanted to harm the person who got it, and from what ya’ told me, looks like they did. The pouch ya’ described with them things in it is a symbol of black magic we call gris-gris. The word bacalou with the skull and crossbones is normally used when someone’s tryin’ to break up a love relationship. Kinda’ like a voodoo curse. Does that help ya’?” he asked.
“Somewhat. I know very little about the relationships of the lady who was killed. And since she was murdered, I’m concerned about the man who found the pouch I told you about on his doorstep. I really don’t know where to go from here. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Lemme’ tell ya’, if’n a friend of mine showed me them things and tol’ me about the gris-gris, I’d be goin’ to a gris-gris doctor fast as I could. One of ‘em might be able to help ya.”
“I wouldn’t have a clue where to find one,” Liz said, “and even if I could find one, I wouldn’t know what to tell them. Can you help me?”
“Sorry, ma’am, ain’t allowed to recommend anyone. Manager tol’ me it’s got somethin’ to do with liability. Guess if somethin’ happens to someone and they say we referred somebody, we could be sued. Jes’ ask around. Lotsa’ people go to gris-gris doctors. Bet someone where you’re stayin’ might know ‘bout one. Been popular here in the local Creole communities forever. All ya’ need to do is find a Creole person. They can get ya’ one.”
Liz started to put the dolls back in her purse, along with her phone which had fallen out of it. When she touched the phone to put it back in her purse, the screen lit up and she noticed the young man staring intently at it. Liz looked down and saw it was the photo of Maddie, Judy, and her that Gertie had taken when they were at the diner having lunch the day before they’d left.
“This is just a photo that was taken yesterday of my friend over there and a woman we were having lunch with,” Liz said as he continued to stare intently at the photo. After a moment, she asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Dunno’. Jes’ thinkin’ it’s kind of weird.”
“I’m sorry,” Liz said. “I’m not following you. What’s weird?”
“Weird is that woman was in here ‘bout a week-and-a-half ago. She was askin’ all kinds of question about spells and mojo, things like that. Had a bad feelin’ ‘bout her, so I tol’ her we were getting ready to take inventory, and I couldn’t sell any of the voodoo dolls we have here. ‘Bout then some people came into the shop, and I excused myself. She was gone when I finished up with them.”
“You must be mistaken,” Liz said. “I’m sure Maddie wasn’t in New Orleans. She probably just looks like the woman you’re talking about.”
“No, ma’am. That be her,” he said, pointing at the image on the phone, “I’ll tell you that. I never forget a face. People ‘round here know me for that. Some kind of thing I got from mother. She never forgets a face either. That’s her, all right. With everythin’ you just told me ‘bout, you might wanna’ be careful, yerself’.”
“See, what was I telling you?” the voice in her head piped up.
“I gotta’ go.” He turned to the man who had walked up to the counter and said, “Help you, sir?”
“Liz, what are you going to do now?” Judy asked as she and Liz started to walk back to the cooking school.
“About Maddie or the gris-gris doctor?”
“Either one. That guy must be mistaken, although it does make me nervous that Maddie told me it would have to be a short lunch, because she’d just gotten back from her vacation, and she was way behind at work.”
Liz looked at her. “I can’t believe Maddie had anything to do with this. She seemed very sincere about everything. Surely, the man back at the museum made a mistake. If he didn’t, that means Maddie could be a suspect, and I find that too hard to believe.”
“Stranger things have happened. Things aren’t always what they seem,” the little voice said.
Judy stopped and motioned across the street. “Look, Liz, there’s Marie Leveau’s House of Voodoo. Let’s go in and look around. Might be something different than what we’ve just seen.” They spent the next twenty minutes looking around but didn’t find it to be much different than the voodoo museum.
When they were on the sidewalk and headed back to the mansion, Liz said, “Anyway, as to the gris-gris doctor, I have no idea. I brought my iPad here, but I don’t think there would be a number of them listed on the internet, and even if I could find one there, I’m not sure they’d be very trustworthy. I guess if I’m meant to go to one it will happen.”
Liz opened the front door of the mansion and had only taken a couple of steps up the stairs when she saw the maid who had brought them the pralines and sweet tea the evening before. She was dusting the furniture in the large living room. Liz stepped back down the stairs so quickly she almost ran into Judy.
She walked over to the maid and said, “Good afternoon. I wanted to thank you again for bringing us the pralines and tea yesterday. They were wonderful. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”
“Afternoon, Ms. Lucas, Ms. Rasmussen. My name’s Martine.” She continued to dust.
“Martine, may I ask you something?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“Are you Creole?”
“Yes, ma’am. My whole family is. Come from the Cane River area up in Natchitoches Parish. Why?”
“Well, you saw some things in my room last night that caused me to go to the Voodoo Museum. I showed them to a young man who worked there, and he advised me to find a gris-gris doctor. It’s against the museum’s policy to give referrals. He suggested that I find a Creole person and see if they could refer one to me. Can you?”
Martine’s eyes widened. “Ms. Lucas, this be powerful stuff. Don’t think you know what you’re messin’ with. My uncle’s one of the most powerful gris-gris doctors alive, but it’s a long way up there, ‘bout four hours.”
Liz had a feeling she was supposed to meet Martine’s uncle, whatever it took. “I guess I could miss dinner tomorrow night and drive up there. I’d have to rent a car, but that’s not a problem. Do you think he could see me?”
“Ain’t got no idea. I’ll call him and find out. You go on up to your room, and I’ll call him when I’m done in here.”
Less than an hour later there was a knock on Liz and Judy’s door. Liz walked over and opened it. “Come in, Martine. I hope you have good news to tell me.”
“Ms. Lucas, you must be lucky. My uncle has a meetin’ with a ‘portant businessman in New Orleans tomorrow afternoon. He said he can meet with you about 4:00 at Café Due Monde. It be world famous.” She gave a shy smile. “We got good beignets here at the Richarde House, but they got better. I tol’ him you’d be there. Also tol’ him what you looked like.”
“Thank you so much for arranging this. Martine, can you tell me what to do? I’ve never done anything like this. What does he charge? What should I ask him? Do I take the things to him or just tell him about them? I feel like a babe in the woods.”
“Everybody ‘round here calls my uncle Jean Baptiste. He gots a last name, but no one knows it. You jes’ call him that. Take the things I saw last night in your room to him and tell him about the gris-gris. He’ll probably do some chantin’ and might even give you somethin’ to give to the man. What he charges? Don’t really know. I hear he gives it away if the people are poor. But a rich person like you? Probably ‘bout $50 or so. That help?”
“Yes, very much, and here’s something for helping me. I really appreciate what you’ve done.” Liz said as she handed her an envelope with cash in it.
Murdered by Superstition Page 6
