by C. R. Daems
"I hope she didn't suffer too much."
"I think it helped being with her daughter, and I think Mary is more at peace with her death knowing her mother died among family." He sat and put his hands on the table. "I've never had much belief in fortunetelling, but you're different. You not only saw the problem but helped me see what needed to be done. So if you don't mind, I'd like to stop in on a regular basis."
"I'm glad what I saw helped. I'll set you up with a regular appointment. Monthly or every couple of months?"
"Monthly, I think."
"Before you leave," I said, placing my hands on his, and the weeks flowed by. I actually stopped it around two months. I was stunned. I had never reached two months before, and this time I knew I could have gone further, but I chose to stop. "You look happy, Mr. Bishop, and I see nothing to disturb that."
He laughed. "I like that. No sugar coated stories. Thank you, Mambo Renee," he said, standing. When he reached into his pocket, I shook my head.
"You don't owe me anything. You overpaid me last time."
He left smiling. I was smiling too. My fortunetelling was not only helping people but bringing in extra money.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
An impossible situation
I started early the next morning removing the fire-sale signs as the new window was being delivered and installed today. The sale had been a good idea, and I had made three months’ worth of profit, and my website was beginning to get some attention, although I was still working with the developer to understand how to manage it: add, delete, and change prices. It looked like it would take several hours work a week but could increase my income by as much as twenty percent. My needs were small, and I could manage on what I was earning, but it would be nice to have money in the bank for a rainy day. As they had promised, the glass people arrived at eight a.m. and had the window installed in twenty minutes.
I was standing outside admiring my new window when a police officer I didn't recognize approached.
"That's a mighty nice window, Mambo Renee. I'm Officer Banks. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions about the incident last week."
"Are you new to the French Quarter?” I asked as I led him into the shop. I thought it a bit strange when he closed the door behind him and knew it wasn't going to be a good day when he locked it. I went directly to the counter and sat. As he opened the door to my private quarters, I reached into the drawer and grabbed two rings, promising myself I was never again going without one night or day. I slipped the rings on, not sure what I selected.
"I see you live alone," he said as he drew his gun and waved it towards my room. I got up and preceded him into my living area. "Open the back door." When I did, two men wearing Halloween masks slipped inside.
"Hold out your hands," the policeman said. When I did he handcuffed me.
"Am I under arrest?" I asked. A silly question since the policeman was accompanied by two men in masks. But the policeman looked real—a uniform complete with badge and NOPD arm patch, gun, radio, and baton.
"Yes. We are taking you in for questioning." The two men grabbed me by the arms and led me out the back and into a black Chrysler sedan. They dragged me into the back with one sitting on either side of me. The police officer entered the passenger side. Another man was already in the driver’s seat. As they closed the doors, one of the men holding me shoved a rag in my mouth and the other dragged a cloth bag over my head.
I had no idea where we went. It seemed to take at least an hour, and the vehicle must have made fifty turns. For all I knew, they might have been driving in circles. Eventually we stopped, and I was pulled out of the car. Judging by the relative lack of traffic noise we must have been in the suburbs or the country. I was half-carried and half-dragged downstairs, probably into a basement from the musty smell. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, someone handcuffed my ankles. Then a rope or something was attached to the chain linking the handcuffs, and my arms were hoisted over my head. I screamed as pain shot through my shoulders as my feet left the ground.
"Not so tight," a man's gravelly voice said.
"They aren't going to like this, Bea—They wanted us to stop. They didn't want her hurt," a woman’s voice murmured, barely above a whisper.
"Why would we hurt Ms. Mathur? I sure she intends to cooperate, in which case she can leave here financially secure and in fine health."
"They won't like it if she disappears," the same woman said again, her soprano voice louder.
"I don't give a damn what they like or don't like. This is my turf. Besides, whoever leaked the firebombing plans to her is a threat to us all. A loose end we can't afford." He stopped talking and approached close enough that I could smell his cigarette breath. Then his hand touched my neck, slowly slid down my chest, lingered at my breasts, and continued to my groin, which he patted. "This can be over in minutes, Renee," he whispered. "Tell me the name of the person who told you Monique would be firebombed and that you would be. Please don't deny it. I know about the stakeout, the phony rumors, and that you were prepared. After that, you sign over your shop, I give you a half million dollars, and you can leave."
"Someone else offered me two million," I said, trying to shake the fear that had me trembling. Staying quiet had me thinking too much. I'm not sure what I hoped to learn, or how it was going to get me clear of this situation. My options seemed rather limited at the moment.
"You refused that offer. I'm afraid that group is no longer interested. You also have to realize the value of your property has dropped, what with murders and firebombing. The neighborhood is no longer safe. In fact, I fear for your safety, which is why this is such a good offer."
"No one told me anything, I have a lot of friends—" A shock convulsed my whole body. I tried to scream as every muscle contracted and agony exploded through me, but every muscle was locked. My bowels released as shit and urine gushed into my pants and dripped down my legs. I hung there jerking as spasms racked my body again and again.
"Not only will lying not work but each time the value of your property decreases, since you are obviously hiding things from me. The offer is now four hundred fifty thousand," the man said, his voice tinged with amusement. The bastard was enjoying himself.
"I'm not lying—" I started to say just before my whole body contracted like a giant hand had closed around me and squeezed tight. Mercifully, I passed out. When I woke, the room was quiet. I wanted to curl into a fetal position, but I still hung like a side of beef. I couldn't see anything as the bag still covered my head, making it hard to breathe. My entire body throbbed with pain, and my shoulders felt like they had been dislocated. I must have thrown up because my mouth had a sour taste, and I smelled puke in addition to piss and shit. God, if you or one of the Loa isn’t too busy, I could use a little help...please...even a little, I prayed. I didn't expect God or a Loa to interfere, but it brought a small sense of comfort to think they saw and maybe felt sorry for me, even if He or they chose not to intercede. I was hot, probably feverish, and hallucinating, but I thought I could feel the python tattoo moving. Whether it did or not, it felt comforting, and I passed out.
* * *
"Well, Renee, have you had a nice rest? I hope it's helped you realize that resisting giving me the name is not only painful but costing you a great deal of money." The man's voice jerked me awake. Yes, I had time to think and decided I was in a no-win situation. I couldn't give him what he wanted even if I wanted and couldn't convince him I wasn't lying, so the pain would continue. I also decided he was using a Taser of some kind. The electrodes were probably still attached, since I hadn't felt him press anything against me. Perhaps my reprieve was so he could charge the batteries.
"Y’all might as well kill me. I don't have the answer you want, and if I did, I doubt you are the kind of people I could trust to do what you say."
"I can see your point of view, so let's restate the argument. Wouldn't you rather die quickly or endure a week or two more of this agony?"
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"As I said, I don't have the answer you want. I'd like to live longer to help those in need and bring them closer to God—"
"The devil, you mean," an older sounding man shouted. A short laugh exploded from me, which I regretted immediately as I jerked and my body jerked and thrashed from the jolts of pain.
"Before you kill me, your uninformed friend will want to perform an exorcism. I'm afraid neither of you are going to get what you want."
"You may be right, but I have to try," he said, but the amusement was gone. The cycle continued: body-racking pain, blackout, quiet, body-racking pain...
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Recovery
I woke slowly, my head fuzzy and my body numb, which was a huge relief. I wondered if God gave us new bodies. Since I was lying in a bed, perhaps God had reclaimed the old ones. Maybe He was fixing the old one; it had certainly been misused. Then I felt someone holding my hand. I squeezed to make sure.
"Renee, you're awake," Monique's voice sounded far away, but when I opened my eyes, she stood holding my hand and looking down at me.
"You're safe," Grace said from the other side of the bed. She looked tired. Just then a gray-haired nurse entered the room.
"I know you want to question her, but she's heavily sedated right now. She’ll be more coherent after she's rested. Besides, the doctor wants to examine her." She nodded to a young looking man in a white doctor's jacket and a stethoscope hanging around his neck. Monique gave me a kiss on the cheek and left with Grace following.
"Well... Ms. Mathur," he said after looking at the clip-board in his hand. "The good news is the emergency team didn't find any indication of rape." He proceeded to conduct a thorough examination of me from head to foot.
"Those look like Taser electrodes wounds on your chest," he said when he finished.
"I think so. They had my head covered, so I couldn't see, and my hands were strung over my head, so I couldn't be sure."
"That explains the bruising on your wrists and discomfort in your shoulders. I don't think you will suffer any permanent physical damage, but it will take time to recover. Right now your body needs rest. I'm prescribing a drip to reduce the pain and help you to sleep. I'll check back tomorrow." He smiled and left. I noticed a police officer at the door and almost screamed in terror. I lay shaking for some time before I managed to fall asleep.
The next two days were a blur. I had visitors, Monique, Ron, Grace, and others, but I don't remember what they or I said, if anything. The third morning, the nurse helped me to have a sponge bath, and I had the first meal I fed myself. Afterward, the doctor appeared.
"Good morning, Mambo Renee," he said with a smile. "Your friends have told me a bit about you. You're rather young for a mambo, aren't you?"
"You're rather young for a doctor, aren't you?" I smiled back. "Doctor…?"
"Douglas. Touché."
"My grandmother was a high priestess and began teaching me about Vodou when I was quite young. I'd bet I've spent at least as many years studying herbs and Vodou as you did studying to be a doctor."
"Your visitors are very impressed with you," he said as he drew the curtain around the bed and began his examination. "I'll want some x-rays of your wrist and shoulders just to be on the safe side. I think it's only torn muscle and maybe tendons, both will heal without surgery. I'd think we should keep you for a few more days. You will get more rest here than at home."
"I agree." It was true, and in truth, I wasn't anxious to be alone. When he left I turned on the television and lay clicking through the stations. I stopped at the local news broadcast, deciding to catch up on what had been happening for the past several days. The big story was the murder of the New Orleans chief of police. He had been found in his home, yesterday. They went on for some time talking about his distinguished career and his no-nonsense approach. His assistant talked for a few minutes about him, saying, he considered New Orleans "his turf." My chaotic thoughts were interrupted when Grace appeared at the door.
"How are you feeling, Renee?" she asked as she neared the bed and took my hand. "You look better."
"Who found me and where?" I asked. "I didn't think my abductor intended to let me go with or without the name he sought."
"Off Terry Parkway near the Belle Chasse Highway intersection. 9-1-1 got a call saying there was a girl lying on the side of the road, who looked like she had been beaten. The person sounded like a man and hung up immediately afterward. The call came from a disposable cellphone." Grace paused, waiting for me to say something, judging by her look. I shrugged. I didn't have a clue how I got there. "What do you remember?"
"Far too much," I said, shutting my eyes, which was the wrong thing to do as it made me feel like I was back in that room. "I was standing outside my shop admiring my new window when..." I went on to explain what I remembered. She had a thousand questions I couldn't answer. "I'm sorry, Grace. I had a bag over my head, and the man wasn't a big talker. He wanted a name. If you want me to guess, he was part of the group who killed Houngan Bolade and firebombed my shop. He thought someone from his group had warned me and wanted the name."
"Did someone?"
"No. So I couldn't give him a name, and he wouldn't accept that as an answer."
"Why did he let you go then?"
"I don't think he did. I think he was the Chief of Police."
"But he was just found murdered... Oh, but why?" she said and sat, eyes downcast, and deep in thought.
Because I'm the golden goose.
"If I'm right, you have a tip which may lead you to the other members of the group. Maybe they have the answer," I said to avoid any more questions. Grace sat there for a long time saying nothing. Fortunately, Monique arrived not too long afterward.
"How are you feeling. You look better," she said as she held my chin and looked into my eyes. "Seek the Loa's help, my child. They will give you strength." I knew she wasn't talking about my physical injuries. It was the memories and what I should do. "And I'm always available should you need anything."
"Thank you, Mambo Monique. I feel lost," I said as tears trickled down my face. Maybe Granny’s solution was my only choice. They wouldn’t leave me alone and eventually they would get desperate and resort to more torture.
* * *
I returned to my home two days later. The sign on the door said: Closed until March 7, which ironically was today's date. Obviously, my abductor thought the issue would be resolved within a week. I opened the door and stared, for the first time in my life afraid of entering my home—Hector, Ken and Sheila, and the policeman had desecrated it. As I stood frozen, I felt the python tattoo move, easing all my fears. Then a searing pain on my left arm. When I pulled back my sleeve the rune Mpuannum—the symbol of priestly office—appeared. Five circles or tufts, the traditional hairstyle of a priestess. The message from the Loa was clear—they acknowledged my service to God's people and their support for my loyalty. As I watched, the beautiful tattoo of a horse's head began to cover it.
Feeling better, I walked around and found nothing out of place or missing. It was midafternoon and too late to open for business. Besides, I felt too weak. I needed food and rest, so I heated up some leftovers and went to bed.
* * *
I opened the shop on time the next day. I was still weak, but I couldn't afford to keep the shop closed since bills didn't stop coming. Besides, light exercise would probably help speed up my recovery. There were few customers; however, a lot of people who knew me stopped in either because they had heard I was in the hospital or because I left without letting them know.
"I thought it strange you left without canceling our biweekly session," Oatha said. "It's strange you can't tell your own fortune. You could have avoided... Are you all right? What happened?"
"Maybe the Loa don't want me to know my future. It would distract me from what's important—my work as a mambo. And yes, I'm fine, but I'm afraid I can't tell you anything. The police don't want me talking about it as it's part of a larger on
going investigation." Since talking about what happened would raise more questions than I could answer, it was best to avoid the topic entirely. That seemed to appease her. She confirmed an appointment for next week and left. To my relief, none of the Locos stopped in to wish me well.
The next few days were slow, and I had plenty of time to think. I came to the conclusion that the Chief of Police and his group had nothing to do with Ken and Sheila's group. The woman who was present when the chief first talked to me had said "they aren't going to like this." At the time, I thought it was the group he was associated with. But I think she was referring to the Ken and Sheila group. They want me alive and within reach. The chief didn't care. He wanted the name of the person who he felt was a danger to him. So the ordeal hadn't solved the real problem—Granny's killers were still interested in me.
On Saturday, Grace called to invite me to dinner on Sunday. Although it was partly business, I felt we were friends, and they were concerned about me, so I accepted. I arrived a little after one p.m., and Ron answered the door and gave me a gentle hug.
"You had us scared, Renee. You didn't look good in the hospital."
"Actually, I felt a lot better lying in bed than hanging from the ceiling like a side of beef."
"You were lucky," Ron said, leading me into the kitchen where Grace was busy putting together snacks and drinks.
"Hi. What would you like to drink?"
"I'll have a glass of wine, whatever you're drinking," I said.
Ron poured me a glass of wine as Grace carried a tray of crackers and spreads into the living room.
"Ron's right. You look much better, but how are you feeling? I want to update you on the case and hopefully assure you that you don't have to worry about those people anymore. You were right about the Chief of Police. Based on what you said, I obtained a warrant and searched his house. We found emails on his personal computer and other documents in his home office linking him to several other influential people and a plot to clean up the city. We are still gathering information, but they know they’re under investigation and will be lying low."
