Levi snatches one of my pickles. “How’s it going with contacting the woman? Is that what you were doing when the tree branch grabbed you? Or wait, was it Kylee reaching out to tell you who killed her? Sure would be nice if you could get her to tell us who shot her in the back. Of course, she probably didn’t see it coming.” Levi reclines his seat and stares at the jeep’s roof.
“It was a living, breathing person who took hold of my hair. My hair. Like in a clump of hair, Mr. PI.”
“Hair, huh. Interesting. They get a fist full?”
“No, I ran too fast.”
“Wolf go after anyone?”
I ignore the question. The fact that he didn’t has not escaped me. I don’t even think black magic could get by Mojo, but I may be giving him more credit than is realistic.
“Have you or the police considered that this wasn’t anything more than an accident?” I ask. “I’m talking about Kylee’s death. Everyone in this town owns a firearm. What if someone was out here shooting squirrels or rabbits or skunks?”
“Nobody eats skunks. Do they? That’s just nasty. I didn’t ask. You’d have a point if it wasn’t for the hair in the woman’s hand. Unless there’s some sort of hair grabbing monster in these woods who’s leaving evidence behind. You smell a sasquatch out there?”
“Yeah, that’s hilarious. Now that you mention it, I think I smelled cookies.”
“What kind?”
“Chocolate chip. Why were those rednecks out here the other day? Why was someone watching me tonight? If it isn’t black magic, my bet is so their secret doesn’t get discovered. Maybe the hair was a plant.”
“A bush? Did you hit your head or something when you were out there?”
“No, a false clue, Mr. PI. Planted by someone like Silas or the rednecks.”
“You’re getting worked up again. Eat some pie. After talking to the police, I think the rednecks were just out drinking and driving. You’re confusing me with all your clueless ideas, and don’t be bringing up skunks again. I can’t get that out of my head now.”
Levi sits up and drinks what is left in the ice cream container. I roll down the window and sniff for cookies.
“Like I was saying, so far I’ve got the Noger brothers and probably the off again husband who may also have a money motive. Finally, there’s Gail Joubert, a woman scorned.”
I finish my third pickle and feel it burning a hole in my stomach. “I’m going to walk around awhile. I don’t think the ecto-mist is coming to me. I need to do this alone. I can’t seem to get a good read on this place. There’re too many distractions with this other stuff in my head. You can go back in the trailer.”
“You’re not afraid?”
“Not of the spirits, and I’m too mad now at whoever pulled my hair to be afraid.”
Levi grunts and says he’ll listen for my screams. I strap on my backpack and head to the place where somebody snuck up on me.
Maybelle taught me to meet my fears right in the eye so they don’t live inside my head where they can do more damage. I’m trying to believe that as I step into the brush and shine my flashlight through the trees.
I’m more confused as to how someone got that close to me without my sixth sense kicking in. Granted, I was distracted by the ghost light at the road… dang. That wasn’t a ghost light. It was some hillfolk magic trick so Silas could sneak up on me. I fell face down for that stupid trick.
I’m almost buying that idea, but it doesn’t explain why Mojo took off in the direction of the light. He doesn’t have to rely on a sixth sense, he’s got wolf sense.
I shine the light looking for footprints or signs that someone was in the area with me. Silas probably knows how to walk through these woods without leaving a single track. My guess is that snapping the twig was to get me to stop walking. After finding nothing to prove my theory, I give up and go in search of the ecto-mist.
I find the place where Dexter claims he had his experience and sprinkle out a circle with the rock salt and light my sage. I’m tired and my mind goes silent until I hear Maybelle’s words again: Those who practice ‘iiniziin. Maybe African voodoo.
Pritchard’s slaves could have practiced a little African voodoo, or a lot of it.
“Morowa why don’t you have a last name? Don’t you know it or don’t you want it? I think it’s Pritchard, and I don’t blame you a bit for not wanting to use it. Just don’t let its chains continue to hold you here.”
I sprinkle more rock salt, say a prayer, whisper Morowa three times, and listen to the frogs and the hoot owls answer. Mojo lays his chin on my bent leg and snorts.
“Morowa. I’m here to help you crossover. To release you from the burdens that keep you wandering this land and this earth plane. Please come forth and honor me with your presence and speak what truth you have left unsaid.” Not even the frogs and owls answer this time.
“Morowa Pritchard, please make your presence known.”
Chapter Twenty One
§
“Jack. Jack.”
It’s barely light out and Levi’s trying to pick me up off the ground. “Stop. I’m fine. What time is it?”
“It’s six-thirty. I woke up and you weren’t in the trailer. I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing sleeping out here? The trailer’s not all that bad and it’s warmer.”
Honestly, I don’t know why I’m still in the woods. The last thing I remember is calling Morowa and hearing what sounded like a bunch of owls hooting in all directions. Mojo is at my side looking as confused as me.
“I need caffeine,” I say, and try to stand but I’m dizzy and my legs feel like wet noodles. Levi helps me to the trailer and makes coffee.
“I can’t believe you were out there all night and didn’t freeze to death,” he says.
“Does seem to defy logic, doesn’t it?”
Despite the coffee, I fall back asleep. When I wake up, Levi is sitting next to me staring like a lunatic. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“We have to get going. Our appointment with Emma is in less than an hour. After that, we’re meeting Gail at the Waffle Griddle.”
“I’m not going,” I say, ducking inside my sleeping bag.”
“Okay then, I’ll do the negotiations on the new agreement with Dexter myself.”
“I’ll meet you in the jeep in fifteen minutes.”
I check myself and Mojo from head to toe. No scratches or cuts or black magic branding. No clumps of hair or fur missing. No voodoo dolls with pins stuck in them tied around our necks.
Before going to the jeep, I call Maybelle and get her voicemail. She doesn’t like phones; doesn’t like to be available when she might be doing personal things. I don’t bother to leave a message. I already know what she would say: Be authentic and ask the bound spirit for a vision to help you release it. Doubt and fear lock the door to their manifestation.
Yeah, but what does black magic do?
The Navajo don’t practice traditional witchcraft but the ways enlist many of the same methods such as chants, herbal medicines, and the powers of good and evil. The elders say that vision questing is for men, but Maybelle says the Great Spirit created man, learned from mistakes, then created woman. Ask the spirit for a vision.
But what about black magic, Maybelle? Those visions could have me jumping off a cliff.
We ride to town in silence, or I do anyway. Levi wants to know what happened in the woods, and he isn’t taking being ignored quietly. I don’t have an answer for him. Either Silas paid me another visit or Morowa made her presence known in a way I didn’t intend. I sense it was the latter and decide not to call her Pritchard again. Plus, I may be a little guilty, not a lot, for blaming everything on Silas.
I’m feeling over my head, and my mind is filled with monkey chatter. It was below thirty degrees last night and Levi is right, I should have frozen to death or woke up with head to toe frostbite. That I survived both thrills and scares the crap out of me. Fear locks the door to wisdom, Maybelle whispers
in my head.
Easy for you to say, I answer.
“We should stop and get Emma something,” Levi says, as soon as we get into town.
“Like what, flowers? You’re not sweet on her are you?”
“You jealous again? You are, aren’t you? No, I’m thinking pie. You know, just a friendly gesture. I need her on our side, and she looks like someone who enjoys pie, a lot.”
“Fine, but don’t get me anymore pickles. I’m swearing off and I need your support.”
Ten minutes later, Levi walks out of the Waffle Griddle with a sheet cake size box. “They have donuts today too,” he says, waving one in my face just before I snatch it.
Ask for protection then for a vision. Meditate, pray, chant, fast.
Thanks Maybelle, but I’m going to have a tough time in this town with that last one.
Emma Weaver is in the same black suit she was wearing last time, or she has a whole closet full of the things. It’s clear that Levi’s worked his own brand of magic on the woman, though I don’t think she’s flipping teams anytime too soon. She’s already talked to Dexter about tripling my fee and has a four page contract ready for my signature.
Levi’s giving me an I told you so smirk that reminds me of our time together in the third grade. Doubt has never been the man’s problem.
The contract, which is way too long and wordy, is clear enough and secured with Dexter’s real estate holdings, which for some reason doesn’t include the supermall property.
The agreement is that I, meaning Levi, find out who killed Kylee Price twenty four hours before the start of Dexter’s murder trial. Since that should be a good year from now, it’s not an issue because there’s no chance in Hades I’ll still be in this town.
The only thing that Dexter renegotiated on his own is my expenses, which he put a middle-of-the-road cap on. That’s okay with me seeing as I’m living free of charge in his corroded tin palace. I figure Levi’s earnings will all be going to the Waffle Griddle, but right now, he’s as happy as a skunk who got out of the pot– an attitude which I plan to tell him later does nothing to strengthen negotiations.
I sign on the multiple dotted lines while Levi’s grinning from ear to pie, the latter of which both he and Emma are enjoying. What do I have to lose? Having to listen to Levi and his junior varsity legal theories aside, I’m doubling my dwindling earnings. Plus, it will give him something to do so I can finally get down to meeting Morowa, minus the voodoo blackout.
Emma hands over most of her file, and Levi flirts with the secretary while the woman makes him copies. When they’re finally done, we have just enough time to get back to the Waffle Griddle in time to meet Gail.
If you think Southern people are friendly, just wait until they get to know you. Those at the Waffle Griddle clearly know Levi. We have coffee and a plate of donuts in front of us before we have a chance to order. I’m resisting the urge to have a third donut when the waitress slides a plate of fried pickles to me with a wink as she passes by.
“These people are trying to kill me,” I say.
“This place will put some padding on your bones. You lost some weight while I was gone. Were you too sad to eat?”
Levi’s hand is saved from my fork by the waitress when she returns with a woman who has the biggest hair I’ve ever seen– short of Dolly Parton. Levi’s already up doing his new and improved PI spiel while still managing to do nothing that’s impressing Mrs. Gail Joubert.
After introductions, she slides into the booth and Levi knocks me to the corner getting in beside me.
“I have an appointment in thirty minutes, so let’s keep this brief,” she says, eyeing the donuts but keeping her rosy taloned fingers at the edge of the table. The scent of gardenia, ginger, and something mossy assaults my sinuses.
Levi starts by saying we met with Emma Weaver and have been officially retained to investigate Dexter’s wrongful and greatly unjust arrest and incarceration. He goes on for a good five minutes about his theories, which have expanded significantly since yesterday and probably five minutes ago. He’s having a glory moment times ten.
I’m watching Gail while trying not to stare at the woman. Besides the fact that she’s probably in her fifties without a single wrinkle and her facial muscles haven’t moved once, there is something else about her that seems more than just contrived. Finally, Levi shuts up and lets the woman have her say.
“My husband has been under the sheets with half the women in the county including Kylee Price. So quit singing his praises or lamenting his woes because not even Jesus is listening to you.” She almost manages to raise an eyebrow then cocks her head before going on.
“I hope my husband isn’t paying you too much because I’m going to need what money he hasn’t already blown through. That is unless you can keep his good for nothing hind end out of the electric chair, which I seriously doubt is possible. Keep your expenses to a minimum, or I’ll have my lawyer contest them.”
My jaw has dropped and now all I can do is stare.
Without skipping a beat, Levi does some weird twirl with a fork and spears a donut onto a plate before pushing it to the tips of Gail’s talons.
When he gives her a wink, I swear her stiff as brick nostrils fight to flare.
Chapter Twenty Two
§
Now here’s something you’ve got to respect about Arkansas women: even when they can’t move a muscle in their face, they still don’t mince words. After she made her position clear, Gail grabbed the donut and left Levi to ponder a lesson given in short order by a bona fide scorned Southern wife.
“I’m taking her off the top of my suspect list,” Levi says. “She’s definitely more interested in the man’s money than the man. Seems logical she would have put the bullet in his backside instead of Kylee’s. Divorcing him would only have given her half what he’s got. If he’s in prison, she can have it all. No benefit to killing the girlfriend though if he gets off, and if I don’t prove him innocent, Emma will.”
Levi’s theories aren’t for my benefit. He bought a leather journal and is lost in writing notes to sort his suspects. I’d share my impressions of the woman, but I’m sure it would just confuse him more.
Actually, they’re confusing me, but anger does have a tendency to muddle a person’s energy. Reading auras is almost as distracting and intrusive as listening to people’s thoughts. I try not to do either out of respect for their privacy and mostly my own sanity. Gail’s energy field didn’t give me that option, and I have to admit I was curious.
She has what I call the holy light. You can’t help but look at people who have it. Most think they’re looking because the person is attractive. Not so. Even ugly people can have the light. Still, having it has nothing to do with being holy. It has to do with getting and holding your attention.
Gail had nice pumpkin orange energy around her; a clear sign of self-confidence, which was obvious, aura aside. She also had some dirty red– anger– that was sticking tight. I don’t blame her for that one bit.
Not surprisingly, she had a good dose of pink too that was tattling on her over inflated ego, and indicating that her latest botox injection won’t be her last. She also had some nice sparkly silver. Despite her threat about our expenses, I doubt money is one of the woman’s problems.
What was so troubling was how the colors changed shades as she listened to Levi; a most untrustworthy condition. While troubling, we’re all prone to see our own version of the truth especially when confronted by people we don’t know.
What really got me was that there wasn’t a speck of forest in her smidgen of green glow; meaning despite man-slapping words, she wasn’t feeling an ounce of jealousy.
Levi closes his PI journal and grabs a menu. Since we’ve already fattened up on sugar, I agree we should order lunch. I fight all urges to order anything fried and get the fruit plate, which sadly and deliciously comes deep fried with gluten free corn and bacon muffins and a big scoop of muscadine jelly.
At m
y sincere pleading, Levi foregoes trying out pork brains and scrambled eggs or bacon-wrapped crow’s breast and orders pulled pork nachos with jalapenos and chocolate covered bacon instead. Now I know why the mosquitoes don’t bite the locals.
“I’m going to the library in town to see if they have any information that isn’t on their website,” I say. “Google can’t find a thing on Morowa. I’m hoping someone there can tell me more about her.”
I’ve already asked a few people if they know of the woman. About a quarter said they didn’t and I believed them. The majority said nothing and hurried away.
“I have more people to interview, and I’ve got a call into Roland Price,” Levi says. “The man’s avoiding me so I have to track down someone who knows him. I’m going to need the jeep.”
“You need to rent a car. You’re slowing me down waiting on you. Once I’m done at the library, and I don’t know when that’ll be, I’m going out to talk to Silas.”
“You know that’s not a good idea. The police said to leave the man alone. Common sense should tell you the same thing. Your superpowers aren’t going to help you where he’s concerned. In fact, I’ve been thinking we need to move back to the Belladonna. My guess is he had something to do with what happened to you last night.”
“I’m not so sure anymore, and that’s another reason I have to talk to him.”
After much bargaining and pathetic pleading on his part for the use of my jeep, Levi drives me to the library with the agreement that he’ll keep his phone on for my pick-up call. On the way, he gets a call from Roland Price.
The whole time they’re talking, I’m getting a sick feeling. While listening to Levi confirm directions, I’m tapping his arm and shaking my head no. Beside my gut’s aching, the place sounds like it’s too far out in the sticks for an out-of-stater to venture alone.
As soon as he disconnects, Levi points his finger at me. “I dealt with murderers, rapist, and gang bangers in the pen. I’m not afraid of a country boy who’s mourning the loss of his wife.”
The Cathville Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 2) Page 10
