The Seer Renee

by C. R. Daems

  "I've some crawfish étouffée heating on the stove."

  "If it isn't too much trouble. What I have to say will take time," I said, still not sure what I was going to say, only knowing she had to know she would die unless... While we ate, Monique made small talk about Vodou and the balance between being a priestess and having to support one's self. After we finished and she made some tea, I knew it was time.

  "Yes, I have Mambo Eshe's gift for seeing the future of anyone I come in physical contact with. She died because of that gift. An unknown group was trying to force her to do something. I don't know what they wanted her to do." My eyes misted and my heart sped up at the thought of her having to die because of someone's attempt to play God.

  "She was a great Mambo Asogwe, and a true Voodoo Queen," Monique said, her voice cracking. "So, when I grabbed your hands..."

  "Yes, I saw you burned to death."

  "There are worse ways to go, Renee. I assume it's related to the people who offered to buy me out and want us all gone. But is that related to Eshe?" She seemed resigned to her fate. I had told her what would happen, so that was that. "What are you going to do?"

  "You don't have to die!" I screamed. Now tears flowed freely.

  "I see," she said quietly. "That is why Eshe had to die. She could change the future, and that is why they stalk you. To find out if you can. Yes, both a gift and a curse from the Loa. What do you intend to do?"

  "Save you!"

  "Dangerous, is it not?"

  "I don't care. Granny trusted me with the gift. I will not dishonor her or her memory."

  "Ah, passed along the female bloodline. The Loa chose well." She nodded as if agreeing with herself or the Loa. "Again, what do you want to do?"

  "I know when and how but not who. If possible, I would like to be able to catch whoever is behind the treachery, without them knowing how we did it. But stopping them is more important than keeping my secret."

  "No, keeping your secret is more important than my life." She held up her hand to stop me from replying. "Let us not waste the Loa's gift unnecessarily. Let us see what we can work on over the next...?"

  "Eleven days."

  "Good, we have time and need not rush to a hasty decision. If I'm not the first, maybe the police will get involved and give us a chance to help them in their investigation." She smiled and patted my hand. "Age teaches patience, my child. Maybe the Loa will decide to help." This time she laughed.

  * * *

  I woke with a start, realizing today was the day Ms. Jeffery was scheduled to meet with me. I laughed, careful what you wish for, you may get it. I had wanted a distraction to stop worrying about Ellen and what would happen, got it, and wished I hadn't. It was the trouble with my gift. I could cause the future to change, but did it result in a better future for everyone? I could see some of the consequences but certainly not the entire ripple effect.

  Fortunately, it was another busy day and time passed quickly. When Ellen was late, I began to worry that something had gone wrong. Ellen had taken some unexpected action that changed the future I had seen—like not wearing the ring when her stalker arrived, or...

  Fifteen minutes later there was a knock at the door, and to my relief, it was Ellen.

  "You knew," she said, almost angrily as I stepped aside to let her pass. She walked directly in my back room and sat. "I never suspected Allen was the one stalking me. We were both being considered for the same position, a promotion, but he never did anything for me to suspect he was undermining me or talking behind my back... Why didn't you tell me!" Her voice rose with the sudden question.

  "Assuming I knew who he was, what would you have done?"

  "Confronted him!"

  "And accused him of what? With what proof? A fortuneteller?" I asked. It sounded amusing to me as I said it. Oh, my fortuneteller said Allen was stalking me and intended to kill me. Ellen didn't reply as I poured her tea and set the glass in front of her.

  "You're right of course. I'm assuming you knew who he was and exactly what he would do. My boss and the police would have thought me insane. His stalking already had me acting strangely." She played with the ring as she talked. "Did you?"

  "I knew you were being stalked and that it was driving you crazy. It felt like it was escalating. You needed something to help you feel safe. The rings have always worked for me, so I thought they might for you. And if it did escalate, the ring would help," I lied. A pretty good one, I thought. Ellen stared at me and reluctantly removed the ring.

  "I don't guess you'd like to sell me this ring?"

  "I'm sorry, but no. The drug in the ring will evaporate and needs to be replaced periodically. Mixing your own could result in someone's death or in having no effect depending upon what you put in it. Besides, it could become a disabling crutch. You're a strong, independent woman, Ellen, and don't need or want that."

  She hesitantly handed me the ring. "Thank you, Mambo Renee. You saved my life. Allen would have raped me and then killed me, except for the ring. I took your advice and hit him in the head with a glass paperweight afterward. I don't think the police would have been receptive to poison. Allen might have been able to convince them I lured him to my apartment for sex and then claimed rape to get the promotion. As it was, they had lots of provocative questions when I claimed he was stalking me. They searched his apartment and found evidence he had, so he's facing a number of charges and has been suspended at work."

  "I'm glad it worked out for you."

  "There were times when I thought you were a fake and playing an elaborate scam on me, but fakes don't refuse money. They get as much as they can get up front. I know you didn't help me for the money, but I owe you. And I'm sure you can use the money," she said, scanning the room. Then she took out an envelope, wrote something on a piece of paper, placed it inside, and slid the envelope across the table to me. "I'd like to schedule a regular fortunetelling session with you—weekly?"

  "Not necessary, Ellen. Every two or three weeks is more than sufficient. And you must understand, I can't foresee everything that will happen to you and then only generalities."

  "And if my friends want a fortunetelling?"

  "Only for their amusement and only generalities."

  "As you wish. I think I understand," she said while staring at me like my face held the secret. We spent another hour talking about her life growing up and in college. There was no attempt to withhold information I might use in further sessions. I liked her.

  After she left, I opened the envelope. It contained two thousand dollars and a small hand-written note. "For caring and helping me. Ellen."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  FBI involvement

  The next several days were a continuation of the agony I suffered with Ellen. Now it was Monique and the firebomb, not that Ken and Sheila and their mystery employers hadn't gone away. I doubted it, but the two could be related in some way. Even if they weren't, one could impact the other—without my help Monique would die and the wrong help for Monique could result in providing them with the proof they needed to know I had my grandmother's ability. The ideal solution would be to solve the question of who, but I would need proof for the police to arrest the people responsible.

  It was midday and my headache was reaching epic proportions, when Grace, Ron's wife, and another man entered my shop. He was about her age, straight brown hair, and wore Raeburn sunglasses.

  "Good morning, Ms. Mathur," Grace said with a smile, "I'm Agent Casey, and my partner is Agent Percy."

  "Why so formal, Grace?" I asked.

  "I'm on the job, and I don't want to set a bad example for my new partner." She winked. "Mike, this is Mambo Renee, a friend of Ron and mine. Renee, this is Mike. He's new to the bureau."

  "Nice to meet you. Grace, are you here to buy something or just looking," I quipped.

  "I guess you haven't heard about Mr. Bolade. He was killed two days ago during a break-in and robbery. That normally isn't our responsibility; however, we've heard that several of the
Voodoo shop owners have had offers to buy their buildings and are looking into whether the two are related. Have you had any offers lately?"

  "Mr. Bolade was a houngan, a Vodou priest, in addition to a Voodoo shop owner in case you weren't aware. And yes, two million dollars."

  "Wow. Are you going to take it?"

  "No. Even if there weren't strings attached. It was made on the condition I refrain from selling Voodoo material or practicing Vodou in the City of New Orleans."

  "I can understand the condition not to sell Voodoo related products. They wouldn't want the competition if they intended to open a Voodoo-like store. But asking you to stop practicing your religion does seem strange," Grace said. Mike raised his eyebrows at her. "Yes, Mike. Voodoo is a religion practiced by tens of millions of people, who believe in one God. Renee, any threats?"

  "No. But I got the feeling from his reactions that it didn't end the discussion, or rather, negotiations."

  "He might want to offer you more?" Mike asked.

  "No. More like it didn't matter what I said." I shrugged. "I couldn't prove that. It was more his reaction. It wasn't like a threat so much as a private joke." Some joke. Killing Houngan Bolade and firebombing Mambo Monique. Oh, and what do they have planned for me? Shit, it could be sooner than that planned for Monique, since I can't tell my own fortune.

  "You look pale, Renee," Grace said. "Did you think of something?"

  "Someone wants us out of N’Orleans. This isn't going to stop until you catch them or we've all gone."

  "I wouldn't worry. The two incidents are most likely a coincidence, although a convenient one for whoever is trying to buy up property," Mike said, with a wave of his hand. All right for him not to worry.

  "Renee, do you know who offered you the buyout?"

  I nodded and retrieved from behind the counter the card Harold had given me and handed it to her. She frowned at the card, then dialed the number. "They aren't answering. I'll have the number checked. I don't understand why there is no company name on the card, or a secretary, or recording answering." She handed the card to Mike who took out his cell and began dialing. "I hope you aren't right, Renee. If they wanted to buy the building, we would at least have people we could investigate. If they just want you out, no one will buy the property because they aren't interested in it."

  "The number is from a disposable cell phone."

  "That exceeds coincidence, Mike. Renee, I'll kick this up the chain of command. I think you may be right. You're welcome to stay at our place if you want. It may not be safe here alone," Grace said, concern evident in her voice.

  "Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather stay here. This shop is all I have, and I'd rather not leave it empty. I feel better knowing the FBI is taking an interest. That alone may help scare the hired help away."

  "The offer stands, just give me a call." She wrote a number on her agent's card and handed it to me. "Day or night."

  "Thank you, Grace, that's very kind." They left discussing what they should do next. My list of things to worry about was getting too long to concentrate on. I hadn't heard from or about Ken and Sheila, which didn't mean they had gone away. In fact, it probably meant they were up to something I wouldn't like—kidnapping maybe. Would the people who wanted us gone attack Monique or me first? Oh, I had forgotten about the Locos. They had been far too quiet lately. My head spun, and I had to sit down. My peacock tickled. "Yes, Loa. You're right. Monique is the priority, not me. I walked into my back room and removed several jars from my shelf of herbs and returned to the counter in the shop. There, I mixed a liquid solution of yew and another of moonseeds. Neither dose was diluted. The yew would result in cardiac failure and moonseeds paralysis and possible death, depending upon the person's physical condition. I put the yew liquid into my onyx ring and slipped it onto my right hand, and the moonseeds liquid into a ring with a jasper stone. In my opinion, the rings were better than a gun since I didn't appear to be a threat and accuracy wasn't an issue. A finger was as good a place as any.

  * * *

  I planned to go see Monique after my Sunday evening ceremony, but to my surprise she showed up for my service.

  "Good evening, Mambo Renee. I hope you don't mind me attending your service."

  "I'm honored, Mambo Asogwe Monique. I'm glad you came. I had planned on visiting you after the service, so we could talk. I've talked to Grace Casey from the FBI, and I think I've convinced them Houngan Bolade wasn't a robbery gone bad, but rather a murder. Even if they agree, that doesn't solve the more immediate problem, but maybe we can use their participation to our advantage."

  "That's a possibility. Go on with your service. We will talk afterward," she said, waving me off to my makeshift temple. I spent some time talking with my present congregation and was introduced to several new people who were interested in observing and maybe joining.

  While everyone was milling around, I began by drawing the symbol for Legba-Papa Labas with cornmeal to open the gates of the guardian of the crossroads. I only had one drummer at present, on the Maman, the tallest of the traditional three drums, but hoped eventually to have my own three drummers. I began singing a prayer in the traditional Haitian Creole to Bon Dieu while the drum beat the distinctive rhythm of the Asagwe. Soon everyone was dancing and singing. The serpent on my arm felt like it was moving, and I was consumed by the Danh-Gbwe, the great serpent and intermediary of focus of divine power, and lost myself in the beauty of Asagwe. I could somehow feel each of the congregation's wants and needs and prayed to each Loa in their name and was rewarded by their presence: Anaisa Pye, love and happiness, Ghede, miracles and healing, Erzulie, protector of women and children, and others. I felt alive beyond anything I had ever felt before as the Maman beat faster, and I spun, dipped, and undulated in prayer with the Loa.

  I woke on the floor with my head resting on Monique's lap and a cool rag on my head.

  "That was beautiful, Mambo Renee. I don't think I've witnessed a more powerful connection with the divinity and the Loa. Everyone here experienced a Loa of their need. I felt the love of Erzulie during your dance." She carefully stroked the python tattoo that covered the Ohene rune on my forearm. "It seemed to come alive as you danced in prayer."

  I felt weak as a new born kitten as Monique walked with me back to her house. Inside, she made tea.

  "Monique, I need to see your future again, so we can try and come up with something to do rather than just keep you from being killed. I don't want to see your home destroyed," I said hoping to find a solution in what I could see. She said nothing as she put her hands on the table. I reluctantly placed my hands over hers, dreading what I would see. Before closing my eyes, my eyes wandered over the tattoo on my forearm. The serpent tattoo looked different—more real, almost alive. I closed my eyes and watched Monique's future like one would watch a movie. But it felt different this time, and I began to realize I could control the movie like one could a DVD—fast, slow, reverse, stop. I stop just before the bottle hit the floor, not wanting to see Monique burned to death again, and backed up prior to the window being smashed. After reviewing the scene several times, I realized they were on motorcycles. One smashed the window with a bat and the second one tossed in the bottle. And the time was close to closing, around six o'clock. I opened my eyes.

  "Well?" Monique asked. I explained what I had seen and my conclusions.

  "What if the FBI got a tip from an anonymous person? If they could be convinced to set a trap for the motorcycles, that would stop... what I saw and possibly get them a step closer to the person or persons behind the scheme."

  "Can we count on them responding to an anonymous 'tip,' catching the ones on the motorcycles, and getting relevant information from them?" Monique asked with a grin. "I think I should buy a very expensive fire extinguisher, effective against gasoline, just in case."

  "You're not planning on being here when it happens?" I said in disbelief.

  "Would you leave your home if you knew it would be fire-bombed?"

&nbs
p; "No," I said shuddering at the image of my home being destroyed with its memories and irreplaceable objects of Granny. "Of course not, buy two extinguishers. I'll help."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Revised plans

  Sheila quietly strode down the Windsor Court Hotel hallway and stopped at the door marked 1201. She gave the hallway one last look and knocked. A few seconds later, Tony answered the door and smiled.

  "Right on time, Ms. Sheila. Come in." He stepped back, and she entered the room, which looked exactly the same as the previous time. Mr. Willis even sat in the same looking chair with a cigar.

  "Sheila, get whatever you want from the bar and join me. I'm interested in what you have to say. She walked to the small bar, poured herself a ginger ale, and returned to the couch.

  "As I told you the other day, if Renee is a seer, then Ken has been compromised along with you and me. We don't know how far out she can see, or if she can hear us, but we have to assume she could have seen everything Ken saw and did. Consequently, our plan to test her has to be changed. It can't have our fingerprints on it, or she will most likely let it happen."

  "I agree. You and I have come to the same conclusion. We must assume she can see into the future and act accordingly. Therefore, the object is to prove she has her grandmother's ability. Given that, what do you suggest?"

  "I have a contact who fronts for an anonymous assassin. This assassin is expensive but one hundred percent reliable. He's an artist and can make the killing look like whatever the client wants—accident, revenge, road rage, mugger, stalker..."

  "Yes, and I can send you and Ken on separate assignments, just in case Renee could see this far ahead. Give the illusion you're still snooping." He took a deep drag on his cigar and exhaled with obvious pleasure. "How long?"

  "I'd think at least three weeks. One to arrange a contract with his intermediate and one or two weeks for him to scout the person, their environment, and decide on when and where."