by Eric Wilder
Before Mama had time to quiz Taj about Sam, the cab pulled up in front of an old brick building. It was easy to see from the floor to ceiling windows that someone had lovingly renovated it. Mama waited beneath the canopy over the front door until Taj had paid the cabbie and then hurried to join her.
“Does it ever quit raining around here?” he asked as they entered the bistro.
“Most places have sunshine punctuated by a day or so of rain. New Orleans is the opposite.”
“Ever thought about moving to Florida or California?” he asked.
“Though I love both places, I’d never leave New Orleans. This is my home.”
A woman in a colorful, floor-length dress met Mama with a hug when they entered Musique Azul.
“Mama,” she said. “Where you been?”
“Busy semester,” Mama said. “Sarah, this is Taj. . .”
“Davis,” Sarah said releasing her grip on Mama and shaking Taj’s hand. “The most handsome man in the NBA.”
“I’ll take handsome, though I wish it were the most valuable player in the NBA. Are you two sisters?”
Sarah was as tall as Mama, her hair just as long. They could have passed as sisters except. . .
“Sarah’s my daughter,” Mama said. “I had her when I was ten.”
“Well, Sarah’s just as beautiful as you are,” Taj said.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Mama said. “We’re here for the music, and we also need to talk. Do you have a table away from the stage?”
Sarah’s long hair flowed when she shook her head. “Even with the rain, it’s more crowded tonight than usual. People in town to see the Pels. There are a couple of seats at the bar, and that’s about it.”
“Even for your mother?” Mama said.
“Sorry, Mom,” Sarah said, giving her mother another hug. “You taught me never to kick someone out in the rain.”
Sarah grinned and shook her head when Mama said, “You could make an exception, you know.”
“Have fun, you two.”
Music aficionados packed the main room, the tattooed blues guitarist crashing out a powerful solo as the smiling drummer and shirtless bass player watched. The music grew fainter when they reached an adjacent area of the remodeled old warehouse.
“Sarah is lovely,” Taj said.
“Guess I shouldn’t have been so tough on her when she was growing up,” Mama said.
“I don’t believe a word of it,” Taj said.
Though the inside of the old warehouse had undergone an extensive renovation, its high ceilings, plank floors, exposed brick, and massive I-beams remained and added to its charm. The antique bar was around the corner from the main stage. Though they could still hear the performance, it was muffled enough to allow for conversation. The people occupying the half-dozen tables were doing just that. Mama took a stool at the bar as the young bartender gave her a wink.
“Why Professor Mulate, it’s so good to see you again. Are you here for the music, or to hear some of my poetry?”
Seeing the young man, Mama reached across the bar and gave him an enthusiastic hug.
“Cray Toussaint. When did you start bartending here?”
The handsome young man was dressed in black pleated pants and a black silk shirt. Someone had skillfully braided his dark hair into cornrows, the copper bands on his wrists his only concession to jewelry.
“This past summer,” he said.
“Good Lord, has it been that long since I’ve been here?”
“Sarah said you’ve only been in once since last spring.”
“You know Sarah?”
“We’re dating.”
Mama’s mouth gaped open. Her smile returned when she remembered she was with Taj.
“Cray Toussaint, I’d like you to meet Taj Davis.”
Cray beamed as he reached across the bar to shake Taj’s hand.
“I can’t believe this,” he said. “I’ve looked up to you ever since I played college ball at Tulane.”
“Glad to meet you, Cray,” Taj said. “Any friend of Mama’s is a friend of mine. Just let me know if you ever need tickets to a game.”
“You mean it?”
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” Taj said.
“I’m so starstruck I forgot I’m your bartender. I know what Mama wants. What can I get you, Mr. Davis?”
“You can’t get Mr. Davis anything. Taj will take a glass of cabernet.”
“You bet, Taj,” Cray said.
Cray mixed Mama’s martini and waited for her reaction. “Wonderful,” she said. “You’re still one of the best bartenders in town.”
“I thought you’d like it. I have a special bottle of cabernet in back, Taj. I’ll get it for you.”
“What a nice young man,” Taj said when they were alone.
“Yes, he is.”
“You don’t look particularly happy.”
“How would you like it if your son was dating one of your exes?”
“You shitting me?” he said. “I’ve never been married, and I have no children. Is Cray an ex?”
“More like a short fling,” Mama said. “I don’t usually date men that much younger than me.”
“Hey, I’m not judging you,” Taj said. “I’ve dated younger women.”
When Cray returned, he opened the wine and made a production of pouring it for Taj. The band had resumed, as had the noise of the appreciative audience in the other part of the old building. Mama was still not smiling as she sipped her martini.
“Does Sarah know we dated?” she finally asked.
“We began dating before I knew who she was. I told her about us as soon as I learned she was your daughter.”
“And?”
“She wasn’t happy about it, and neither am I. We were enamored with each other long before either of us knew the situation.”
“Then you two are serious?”
“Very,” he said.
Mama’s smile returned, and she leaned across the bar, giving Cray a kiss.
“I’m happy for you. My daughter couldn’t have picked a nicer, smarter, and harder-working man than you. I’d be jealous if you weren’t so damn young.”
“Thank you, Mama. You can’t imagine how long I’ve been dreading this moment.”
“Dread no longer. I’m okay with it. That table in the corner is empty, now. Taj and I have some things to discuss in private. Do you mind if we sit over there?”
“Heavens no,” he said. “Go have a seat and I’ll bring your drinks. I’ll keep them coming as the tab tonight is on me.”
Mama was still glum after Cray had brought her martini and Taj’s bottle of wine. Taj topped up his wine glass.
“Earth to Mama,” he finally said.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “This is just so awkward.”
“Not for me it isn’t,” he said, reaching across the little table and resting his big hand on hers. “Your daughter and that young man make a handsome couple. What could be wrong?”
“Just that I never intended to sleep with my future son-in-law. I feel like a pervert.”
When Mama glanced up into Taj’s smiling face, her own smile returned.
“I already know you’re not a pervert or even close. Things always find a way of working out. They always do. Let’s finish our drinks and go someplace else where you’ll feel more comfortable.”
“You’re a sweetheart,” she said. “I’m so sorry you got involved in something so personal. It certainly wasn’t my intention.”
“That young man didn’t seem to mind, and apparently neither does your beautiful daughter. I feel something special for you right now. Please don’t let this little blip in our relationship affect it.”
Mama sipped her martini. “We’re only supposed to be having a business conversation.”
“Is that all it is?” Taj asked.
“For now, even though I’m strongly attracted to you, that’s all it can be. Unless you want me to return your retainer.”
“You mentioned Sam again,” Mama said. “I’ve been to St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 many times. I don’t recall ever seeing a caretaker named Sam.”
“He was there, I promise you. It was pouring rain, and he called me into the little building where he lived.”
“What did he look like?” Mama asked.
“Short, five foot eight, or so. The little building had no electricity, our only light coming from the candles he was burning. Didn’t seem to matter to him because he had a pair of dark glasses he kept perched on his forehead.”
“Then he wasn’t wearing a hat?”
“No, but there was a top hat on the rack by the door.”
“Was he smoking a cigar?” Mama asked.
“Yes, he was. Then you do know him.”
“There’s someplace else we need to visit.”
“Another Warehouse District hot spot?”
“No,” she said. “We’re going to see Sam.”
They were halfway out the door when Mama hurried back to the table and grabbed the half-empty bottle of wine.
“Still thirsty?” he asked.
“Trust me,” she said. “We’ll need this before the night is over.”
Chapter 12
The rain had stopped as Mama and Taj left the Musique Azul. Even at this late hour, cabs were lined up on the sidewalk to transport happy music fans back to wherever they had come from. Lightning crackled across the darkened sky, signaling the possible return of more wet weather. Taj clutched Mama’s hand as he tapped on the window of a cab.
“Where you going?” the cabbie asked.
“The entrance to St. Louis Cemetery No. 1,” Mama said.
“It ain’t open this time of night.”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it and just take us there,” she said.
The driver wasn’t used to being chastised by a woman. He saw Taj when he turned to see who he was dealing with.
“You’re Taj Davis,” he said.
“I am,” Taj said, shaking the driver’s hand.
“I’m Wink. Take one of my cards. Lots of people on the team call me when they need a ride. I got the best cab in town.”
Wink was probably fifty-something with thinning hair, bushy gray sideburns, and a caterpillar mustache. He had the stub of a pencil resting on his ear which he used to write something in the notepad he kept in the front passenger seat.
“Pleased to meet you, Wink,” Taj said. “This beautiful lady with me is Mama Mulate.”
Wink smiled and nodded in Mama’s direction. “You’re new to the Big Easy. Sure you want me to take you to the cemetery this time of night?”
“Let’s hail another cab,” Mama said. “This man apparently has more important things to do than take us to where we want to go.”
Wink started the cab and pulled away from the curb before Mama could open the door.
“Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am,” he said.
Mama smiled as she crossed her arms and leaned back into the seat.
“What do you expect to see at the cemetery that won’t be there tomorrow morning?” Taj asked.
“Spirits of the night,” Mama said.
“Robbers, murderers, and rapists are more like it,” Taj said.
“If you’re frightened, I can have Wink, your new buddy, drop you off at your hotel.”
“I don’t like it,” he said. “Where you go, I go. By the way, he’s not my buddy.”
“I was hoping you would say that. Spirits don’t frighten me. Robbers, murderers, and rapists do. I’ll feel much better with a strong man beside me.”
“The gate will be locked,” Taj said. “How will we get in?”
“I’ll get us in. I need to talk with this man, Sam.”
“He’s probably not awake. Even if he is, what do you expect him to tell you?”
“Maybe a bunch.”
“Who do you think he is?”
“In Vodoun, we call our deities loa. It’s possible Sam is a loa named Baron Samedi. And Taj, don’t tell me you think voodoo is a bunch of crap. If you do, I’m going to give you your money back and then get out and walk.”
“If you believe in voodoo, so do I,” he said.
“Good answer.”
“What if Sam isn’t Baron Samedi?”
“Then at least we’ll know. Do you carry a gun?”
“No,” he said.
“Good. Firearms scare me to death.”
“I’ll do my best to protect us. I’m not a boxer, but I can brawl with the best of them.”
Mama rested her head on Taj’s big shoulder and patted his knee. “You saw a demon your first night in town and dealt with it. I already know you are a brave man. One thing I don’t know about you. Have you ever seen a ghost?”
“Can’t say as I have.”
“Then prepare yourself. Cemeteries are rife with spirits, especially at night. Like the other cities of the dead in New Orleans, the St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 is no ordinary cemetery.”
It wasn’t far from the Warehouse District to the cemetery. Wink pulled the cab to a stop in front of the iron gate marking its entrance. Unlike the Musique Azul, Wink stayed in the car behind the wheel, refusing to get out and open the door for them. Taj handed him a twenty through the window and told him to keep the change.
“Will you wait for us until we return?” he asked.
“Are you crazy?” Wink said. “We shouldn’t even be here.”
“Maybe this will change your mind,” Taj said, producing a hundred dollar bill.
“I don’t like it, and I don’t have bullet-proof windows,” Wink said. “But I’ll be waiting.”
“Good,” Taj said. “If you’re still here when we return, I’ll have another one of those for you. If you aren’t, I’m going to check the address on the card you gave me, look you up and kick your ass.”
“Yes sir,” Wink said with a smart salute.
A single streetlamp illuminated the entrance to the cemetery. Taj watched as Mama fumbled with the lock of the old iron gate. When it opened with a metallic clunk, she slipped into the walled cemetery. Taj followed her.
“How did you do that?” he asked.
“Magic,” she said. “Would you really kick his ass if he leaves us here?”
“I’m a baller, and I don’t make idle threats. What now?”
“Wait a moment until our eyes adjust to the darkness.”
“I have pretty good eyes, but I’m not a cat,” he said.
“Like I said, just wait a moment.”
Mama was correct. Electricity wasn’t needed, as their eyes began dilating. Bioluminescence lighted the ornate crypts and sparks danced over their heads. Taj did a doubletake.
“Amazing. I can see more detail now than I did the day I was here. Where does the light come from?”
“I’m sure that scientists have some formal explanation, though I can tell you some of it is caused by spirits of the dead.”
“How do you know?”
“Check out those glowing orbs moving around us. It’s what spirit investigators call paranormal activity. Believe me, when I tell you, there are spirits all around us at this very moment. They are as curious about us as we are of them.”
“You’re scaring me,” he said.
“Don’t be frightened. Unlike your demon the other night, most spirits are benevolent.”
The dancing lights had coalesced around Taj, illuminating him for a moment. When he brushed his arms, a thousand tiny points of light moved away from him like sparkling fairy dust. When he took a step, the lights moved with him.
“I hope you’re right about that. This place is beginning to spook me.”
“Don’t panic, they’re just checking you out. Forget about the lights and take me to where you met Sam.”
“I could have sworn it was right here,
though I don’t see his little building anywhere.”
“Sure it wasn’t around the corner? St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 is quite large.”
“We had barely moved from the entrance when it started to rain. Sam’s little house was here. He stuck his head out the door and invited me in. I swear this is where it was.”
“What you saw wasn’t real. He’s here because Baron Samedi is the keeper of souls and cemeteries.”
“Funny, because when we met, that’s what he called himself,” Taj said.
“There you have it,” Mama said.
“Was what I saw just an illusion?”
“Not at all. When you met Sam, you and he were at a spiritual crossroads. To recreate the crossroads we must summon him,” Mama said. “Can you chant?”
“What is it you want me to chant?”
“Papa Legba,” she said. “You must do it with passion and rhythm, or it won’t work.”
“Show me,” he said.
“Pa-pa Leg-ba, Pa-pa Leg-ba. Try it.”
Taj felt a bit self-conscious as he began chanting, Pa-pa Leg-ba, Pa-pa Leg-ba. As he got into the performance, his deep voice began resonating through the cemetery, echoing off the old crypts and exciting the dancing lights that started moving to the rhythmic chant. Mama began to dance.
“Don’t stop,” she said.
Taj lost track of time and grew excited as Mama’s dance became even more sensuous.
The dancing lights had grown brighter, his vision dimmer. Finally, he began to see a faint shadow bordered by a bright aura. The shadow moved closer to Mama. When it was no more than a few feet away, it transformed into a short man wearing a dark cape and top hat. The stub of a cigar in his mouth glowed red, reflected by the dark glasses he wore. Taj could see it was Sam.
“Why you summon Baron Samedi, mambo?”
“We have questions for you and pray you will answer them for us.”
“Then show proper respect and dance for me.”
Mama’s reaction was instant as she began swaying, as if to a musical accompaniment. Her movement was sultry, a thin film of sweat, despite the December chill, coating her forehead and neck. Taj began chanting again. He noticed the bottle of wine in Mama’s hand.
As Mama’s movements became increasingly frenetic, she touched herself in a totally sexual manner and danced ever closer to Baron Samedi, rubbing herself against him, chest to chest and nose to nose, licking his neck with her tongue and fondling the crotch of his baggy pants
