by C. R. Daems
"Grace has gotten a promotion and major recognition, thanks to you, Renee. But we would prefer you led a less active life. No more firebombs or abductions." Ron gave me a wry smile.
"Ron's right. I'm hoping this case will stop the troubles you've been having," Grace said. I couldn't help an involuntary laugh, which I instantly regretted. Ron misinterpreted the laugh, but Grace gave me an inquiring look.
"Grace will get them all, Renee. She's a pit-bull...a beautiful one," he amended with a loving look at her.
"I won't press you, Renee, but I'm here if you need me—officially or unofficially," Grace said and changed the topic to Ron's new responsibilities. He had been given a high-profile client to defend in a criminal liability case.
It was a pleasant evening with friends who cared.
* * *
The next few days were busy. I entertained customers during the day, and spent the evenings reviewing my inventory, analyzing what was and wasn't selling well, making out orders, and reviewing my website. The latter turned out to be interesting. I found the items that sold well in the shop weren't the best sellers online. Herbal remedies were particularly popular, and I decided to expand the number of prepackaged compounds to address a variety of aliments—ones reputable herbalists have been treating for centuries. I kept busy and relegated my problems to the back seat.
I was preparing to close for the week, when a good looking man entered and wandered around the shop appearing interested in everything. He dressed casually in beige slacks, a short-sleeved polo sport-shirt, and loafers. When he reached the counter, he smiled.
"A very interesting shop, Mambo Renee, especially your collection of herbs," he said as our eyes met. He looked familiar.
I breathed a soft laugh. "Doctor Douglas?" I realized how mentally disoriented I must have been after my ordeal. He was tall, good-looking, and had a warm expression, someone I would normally have noticed and remembered.
"Yes. Jim, please," he said. “Although many of those herbs are probably much better to treat a lot of ailments, I have to admit I came here to see you. I hope you don't mind."
"No, I don't, but it wasn't necessary. I'm doing well."
"I'm glad to hear that, but to be honest, I was hoping to talk you into having dinner with me if you aren't already seeing someone. It wasn't appropriate to ask while you were a patient." He seemed a bit nervous and ready to run. "Just say 'No' and I'll leave, or I'll give you my number if you want to think about it. After your experience, you may want to run a background check on every man you meet."
I laughed. "Jim, I'd love to have dinner with you. I think I can skip the background check, as the hospital probably has your history back to grammar school. Tonight?" I almost blushed. Talk about being forward.
"Yes, that would be perfect. I waited until I had a few days off, just in case you might be interested. Any place special?"
"No. You pick," I said. I suddenly felt tired of worrying and making decisions. "Tell me what time you want me ready."
He stood speechless for a moment, then a huge grin appeared. "Eight o'clock, here?"
"I'll be ready," I said, smiling. Watching him leave, I wasn't sure what I had in common with a doctor, but he was just the diversion I needed.
* * *
Exactly at eight, there was a knock at the door. When I opened it, Jim stood there with a small bouquet of purple irises and a puppy-dog look.
"Thank you. Come in while I find a vase to put these in. They're beautiful."
He followed me into my back room when I waved, and I found a vase Granny used to keep fresh flowers. After arranging them to my satisfaction, I placed them in the center of my table.
"A very comfortable room," he said while looking around.
"It was my grandmother's home and where I was raised." I shut off the lights and locked the door as we left. He was driving a two or three year old silver Acura, which looked like new inside and out. I was pleasantly surprised when he stopped in front of the Court of Two Sisters restaurant, which was only a few blocks away on Royal Street. He had reservations, and the hostess led us to a table in the courtyard. It was beautiful with the green canopy of leaves from the trees, fairy lights twisted around the trunks and branches, the tables covered with white tablecloths, and well separated from each other.
"It's lovely," I said surveying the courtyard. For hors d'oeuvres, we shared an order of corn-fried Louisiana oysters, while he talked about growing up in a small town in Texas. He came from a middle-class family, who owned a small grocery store, and had to work his way through college. He was the youngest child and had two sisters. They tended to be tomboys, and he kept me laughing with stories about them.
For dinner, I had a seafood-stuffed filet of trout; Jim had a beef filet with mashed potatoes. Afterward, we lingered over coffee and shared an order of bananas Foster. By the end of the evening, I felt my age again instead of a thousand years old.
When he pulled up in front of the shop, he slid his arm around me and pressed a light kiss on my mouth that I was happy to return. He pulled back for a moment and smiled into my eyes before we kissed again, this time deeper, our lips and tongues exploring and tasting. After a few more kisses, he sat back. “You’re a lovely woman.”
"Thank you. This has been a wonderful evening. It's been a while since I'd been out on a date." I smiled at him over my shoulder as I opened the car door.
"I've enjoyed myself. You're wonderful company. Working my way through med school and internship did kill my social life, but that’s behind me. I'd like to see you again if you're interested," he said, looking like an expectant father.
"Yes, I'd like that." To my relief he didn't push to see me into the house. I had enjoyed his company but wanted to take it a bit slow for now. I wasn't sure if that were for his or my sake. "Call when you get free time."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The committee
Willis sat relaxing in an oversized, leather office chair with his feet resting on a double pedestal desk as he waited for the clock to strike ten. Smoke from his La Corona filled the air. He smiled. Smokers thought the price of cigarettes was expensive. One puff of his 1937 La Corona cost more than a carton. He liked expensive things, and acting as a go-between for the wealthy and the crime world was how he afforded them. His clients had the money, and he had the connections.
As the hour hand ticked onto the twelve, a Big Ben chime from the antique clock began to sound the hour, and the monitor on the desk lit. One by one, colored boxes with smiley faces began to appear. When all six were lit, the Blue smiley face spoke.
"Well, Mr. Willis, have you set up the test case that will determine if Renee Mathur has her grandmother’s talent?"
"I had it set up for next week, but had to cancel when Ms. Mathur disappeared." Mr. Bishop was lucky Sheila had been able to cancel the contract. "Those kinds of arrangements may not work twice and are expensive to cancel. Professionals don't like dealing with amateurs who don't know what they want."
"That was unfortunate timing, and we will pay you whatever is necessary to ensure the person is well compensated for his inconvenience. The issue has been resolved, and you should continue with the test," Blue said.
"I'd like to wait for four or five weeks. I think a new development may provide a more reliable test than the previous one we had arranged. But it needs time to develop." The money the committee was offering would keep him in luxuries for life, and he wanted no mistakes. A botched test could alert the Renee woman and blow his chances of earning the commission. Worse yet, it could make him a loose end for Black.
"I think that is a wise decision. Time is running out, so we don't have time to experiment. Besides, this Renee isn't stupid. If she figures out we are testing her, she may leave town," Orange's smiley face said.
"I agree," Blue said, sounding determined. "You will have a definitive answer for us in five weeks."
"What if there is another—"
"Mr. Black will be available each night at ten.
He will assist you in the event you need help, and he will keep us advised of your progress," Blue’s smiley face interrupted. "Mr. Black is adept at solving problems." Blue sounded amused. Mr. Willis wasn't. The message was clear. He would have a solution in five weeks, or he would become Mr. Black’s problem.
"I'm sure the situation will be resolved in five weeks, especially with Mr. Black's help if an unforeseen problem like the sheriff arises," he said, smiling a smile he didn't feel. The damn delays weren't his fault. The committee had screwed up with Mambo Eshe, and the yokels had been responsible for the latest problems. But of course that didn't matter. They would see failure as his fault, and he would be the target of their disappointment. As he watched, the colored boxes disappeared one by one, except for Black.
"Tomorrow at ten, Mr. Willis," Black’s smiley face said and then blinked out. Willis sat sweating for a long time. Mr. Black’s message seemed clear. He could replace him if necessary.
* * *
Sheila had been up for some time. She had woken early in anticipation of Willis's call. She knew his masters would be pressuring him to take action, although the latest delay wasn't his fault. But that wouldn't matter. He was paid help so delays were his problem to solve. She had gone to breakfast when the hotel dining room opened at six a.m., and now she sat in her room drinking coffee. She smiled when her disposable cell rang.
"Good morning, Mr. Willis. You're up early," she said cheerfully.
"We need to meet, this afternoon. The situation has changed."
"I hope you were able to resolve the problem with my contact." Sheila frowned. She had arranged for Mr. Bishop to be killed during the course of a robbery of his nightclub after it closed. The details had been worked out and everything set when Ms. Mathur disappeared. Sheila had called her contact, but he was unable to contact his operative once the details had been arranged. Her only alternative was to intervene personally, which was a lousy idea. She would have to stake out the nightclub and intercept the operative in person. The worse situation she could imagine—she would learn his identity, and he was unlikely to be happy. Even if she didn't get killed, he would know her identity. With little choice, she staked out the nightclub's back entrance, hoping he wasn't going to use the front. The club closed around one a.m., and around one thirty she noticed a man wearing dark clothes enter the alley. When he reached the dumpster she stood behind, she stepped out, gun drawn.
"I'm afraid our date for tonight has been called off. I'll make sure you get everything you were expecting plus extra for disappointing you." They stood eyes locked, evaluating each other. He wasn't happy, and she was sure he was debating trying to kill her. Although she stood ready to kill him, she actually didn't blame him. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want another date, but it will be worth your while, I promise."
She—Sheila suddenly realized it was a woman—stood deathly still while she evaluated Sheila and the surrounding area. After several minutes, she nodded, turned, and exited the alley. Sheila didn't relax until she was in her car and driving away. The operative had felt as cold as ice and had dead-eyes devoid of emotion—a scary woman.
"Yes. We will make things right with him. But the situation has changed, and we need to meet today. I'll have Tony call you with a time and location."
* * *
Tony called thirty minutes later. "Sheila, one o'clock at the Maison Dupuy hotel, room 201."
"I know where it is. One o'clock," I confirmed and hung up. Since Willis wanted to meet so quickly, she knew his employers were putting pressure on him, which meant pressure on her. She'd have to be careful as it was likely his employers would consider the same fate for her as him if things didn't go right.
* * *
Exactly at one o'clock she knocked on the door tagged 201, and seconds later Tony opened the door. He nodded and waved her in. The room was smaller than the last one, more a junior suite. Willis sat at a small table looking uncomfortable.
"Sheila, what do we need to make it right with your contact?"
"And me," Sheila said. "I had to stop the contract personally. People like that prize their anonymity. They are not happy with me."
"Pay whatever will put you and him on good terms again. I've had Harold watching the Renee woman. She's friendly with that FBI woman who saved her shop from that firebomb, and her husband, Ron. Harold did some checking and found Renee and Ron are friends from their college days. And she has begun dating a doctor. If it gets serious over the next couple of weeks, I think that he may be the ideal target. If not, then her college friend." Willis paused to get a cigar from his pocket. He looked at it for a while like he was considering lighting it but returned it to his pocket reluctantly. "We're only going to get one chance at this, and it has to be decisive. Our bonus and reputation will hang on it."
The meaning was clear. If this deal gets blown, powerful people were going to be terribly unhappy, and that unhappiness would spill over onto Willis and her.
"Work with Harold. Let's determine who Ms. Mathur will miss the most and what kind of scenario we can create to test her ability to see the future. We may not be able to give your contact a lot of advance notice so you might have to help with the details—time, location, environment, etc."
Willis arranged for an every-other-day status update, which drove home his nervousness and the seriousness of the assignment. She sighed—big rewards involved big risks. The question in Sheila's mind was how the Mathur woman was going to know the future of the three people they were watching if they didn't request a fortunetelling. They didn't appear to be the kind of individuals who believed in fortunetelling, and Renee certainly wasn't advertising she could see the future. According to Ken, Renee placed her hands over his. Maybe she needed substantial contact for a period of time. How long did she need it and how far into the future could she see? And could she turn it on or off at will—like during love making? Necessary answers to determine who would be the ideal lab rat. Renee wasn't going to stop a killing if she didn't know it was going to happen.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Conflicting thoughts
"Renee, it's Jim. If you aren't busy Saturday night, I have some time off. We could have dinner or go to a show or both," he said in a rush.
I smiled at the image of him holding his cell and his breath and with his fingers crossed. In truth, I had my fingers crossed for the past few days hoping he would call for another date. Besides his being handsome, I had enjoyed his company. He was a good conversationalist and had a great sense of humor. He seemed interested in my life, but I didn't get the feeling he was rushing me.
"I'd like that. Eight o'clock?" I said, wanting him to decide where to go and what to do.
"I guess that means you made enough decisions for the week." He gave a short laugh.
"Good guess. I'm looking forward to a night out. It doesn't matter where."
"See you tomorrow evening at eight."
When he hung up, I smiled. I was a modern woman, running my own business, and a priestess, but every now and then it felt good to let someone pamper me. Just the thought of seeing Jim and a night out made my life feel a little normal, and I found myself quietly humming and singing throughout the day.
* * *
Jim was right on time and came bearing flowers—a bouquet of red alstroemerias, purple asters, yellow tulips, and sunflowers.
"They’re beautiful. Come in while I get them into water," I said, waving him into the back where I retrieved Granny's vase. I felt like a young girl going to her first prom, and it felt fantastic. When I finished I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you. If you are trying to spoil me, you're succeeding."
"Good. That's the plan. If you're ready for dinner, your carriage awaits you." We drove in a relaxed silence. I imagined he was savoring my reaction, and his surprise restaurant, while I sat pleased with being pampered and looking forward to being surprised. He had again picked a restaurant in the French Quarter and ironically another one I hadn't visited—Café Amelie.
> "Jim, it's beautiful," I said, as the hostess led us into the Princess of Monaco courtyard with its sculptured spiral spruce, shrubs, ferns, and six-foot, two-tiered water fountain. The nice part was the tables weren't crammed together as too often happens inside even good restaurants. We started with a glass of Riesling, shared a plate of the café's specialty, Satsuma pepper-glazed shrimp, for an appetizer, and we both ordered the oven-roasted chicken breast.
"Are you free tomorrow? I'm new to New Orleans, and there looks like there’s a lot to do and see," Jim said, as we sat sipping our wine after finishing the shrimp.
"Yes and no," I said, a little apprehensive about the "No" part. There were many differences couples could compromise around, but politics, sex, and religion were usually show stoppers. "I'm free in the morning and most of the afternoon, but I'm scheduled to conduct services in the evening from six to around eight."
"Where?"
"Someday I hope I can have a dedicated place of my own like Mambo Monique, but for now, I use Woldenberg Park on the river."
"Would you mind if I attended?" he asked. "I'd be interested in watching a service and having the advantage of someone to explain the ceremony. I was raised a Catholic, sort of. I went to public school, but I attended church and received instruction. I can just imagine attending a Mass without someone to explain what's going on. Our priest was very old-school. He even occasionally celebrated the Mass in Latin."
I couldn't help but laugh. "I'd love for you to attend. Vodou has been heavily influenced by Catholicism, and they have much in common. For one thing, we don't try to convert people to our religion. Like Catholics, we don't believe our religion is the only path to God."
"I think I'm like many individuals in scientific fields. I believe in God but I’m not sure He's as interested in our daily lives as most religions preach." He gave a wry smile.
