by C. R. Daems
* * *
I opened the shop a half-hour early for something to do. Of course, it didn't help as no customers came in. The good news was I had two fortunes scheduled: Oatha and Ellen. The morning was slow, but the afternoon was busy and the sales good. Oatha showed right on time that night.
"Good evening, Oatha. Would you like some tea?"
"That would be nice, Thank you," she said as she followed me into the back room and took a seat at my table. "I think someone has been watching me."
"A man or a woman?" Was it Ken or Sheila and, if so, what could they want?
"A man, but I couldn't describe him. I only know because I didn't recognize him from the neighborhood. Kind of nondescript, if you know what I mean," she said, looking off blankly as if trying to remember what he looked like. After a minute, she updated me on her children's school and sports activities, her husband’s fishing, and her own daily activities since I'd seen her last. I didn't mind. She was part of my congregation, and it gave me a chance to know her better and help with any concerns she was having. Finally, she rose and walked out in the shop and sat at the table we used for fortunetelling. "Thank you. You’re a good listener, and I value your advice."
"I'm here for you anytime you need someone to talk to," I said, placing my hands over hers. For several minutes, I watched her next few weeks scroll by, stopping, and rewinding. She was right. The man was easy to miss. He appeared as average as it was possible to look. The only way to describe him was average looking. But it was clear he was in her area too much to be a coincidence. "Looks like a pretty normal week in paradise." I smiled, which elicited a giggle. "I wouldn't concern yourself about being followed since I don't see any one bothering you."
"That's a relief," she said as she prepared to leave. "I'm glad you're back safe. You're well liked, and a lot of people have come to depend on you with Mambo Eshe gone." She gave me a hug and left.
* * *
The next day business seemed to oscillate between dead and hectic. Around closing time a young woman walked in and came directly to me.
"Are you Mambo Renee?" She looked to be in her late twenties, five foot eight, good figure, and dressed provocatively in tight, white shorts and t-shirt with Miss Fabulous in red script on the front, and sandals.
"Yes. How can I help you?"
"I'm here on a sort of business-vacation. While I was at the Blue Sax last night, someone said you were a real fortuneteller. I would kind of like to know how my business was going to turn out." She grinned. I occasionally got tourists asking for a telling, but after Ken and Sheila, non-locals raised alarm-bells. What she said sounded reasonable since Mr. Bishop was a client, and the people at his club would have heard of me.
"I'm free tonight and Friday night."
"Tonight would be great. I'm only planning on being in town for the next three to four weeks."
"Is seven or eight convenient? Miss…?"
"Angel...Angela. Let's make it seven. It's the early bird who gets the worm if you know what I mean." She winked, and her smile left little doubt as to what she meant—she was here to party. Not unusual for New Orleans.
"I'll see you at seven, Angela. The shop will be closed. Just knock on the door, I'll be here." I watched as she swayed out the door. I'd wager her future was going to be XXX rated.
* * *
I closed the shop at five, made myself a corn maque coux, a spicy corn and tomato staple, added crawfish and served it over rice, washed, and was dressed by six-forty-five. I assumed "Angel" wanted to be entertained, so I dressed in traditional mambo attire with a purple tignon. Angela knocked right on time. She had changed into a red silk sleeveless blouse which showed her unrestrained nipples clearly, a very short white skirt, and red shoes with stiletto heels. With her long wavy blond hair, she would have men walking into walls.
"Come in and have a seat at the table. You look dressed to kill," I said and received a killer smile.
"The first rule in business is to get the customer's attention." She laughed and sat.
"I’m sure you’ll be successful at that.” I grinned. “Is there anything specific you would like to know?"
She pursed her lips for a second then laughed.
"Whether it's going to be a great vacation or a fantastic one. I don't often get the chance to mix business and pleasure."
"All right. Let's look. Place your hands on the table, palms down." I mimicked the position I wanted. When she did, I placed mine over hers. I was confused as to what she considered vacation, pleasure, and business after just a few days. As I had suspected, she had frequent sex—two and occasionally three times a night—for money. During the day, she did a little sightseeing, ate at good restaurants, had her hair and nails done, and had a massage twice during the week. Good to her word, she left four weeks later. The only strange part was she was staying at the Canal Street condos where Jim, Ron, and Grace lived. Probably a friend's condo, but I never saw anyone there when she was there with a customer or alone. "Well, it looks like you are going to party long and hard, relax in the day, win a few bucks at Harrah's, and overall have a really good time. I don't see you meeting anyone you'd want to bring home to mother," I said absently mindedly. She choked, then roared with laughter.
"Fat chance. The ones worth having are already taken; the ones available aren't worth having." She laughed again and dropped two twenties and a ten on the table. I couldn't help but like her. Besides her stunning figure, I could see why men would be instantly attracted.
"Can I have another appointment for the next couple of Tuesdays?" she asked as she was getting ready to leave. "This was fun."
"Sure. Same time next week and the week after if you want." I wasn't sure why she wanted another telling. It hardly seemed worth the fifty dollars, but if she thought it worthwhile, who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth—strange saying.
* * *
Wednesday and Thursday dragged by as there were few customers. Fortunately, my website was doing well with the new packaged herbal remedies I had added. I sat pushing my sausage gumbo dinner around the plate, hoping Jim would call and then that he wouldn't. If I hadn't become fond of him, I would have ended it cleanly. But I was fond of him, too fond, and had taken the coward's way out by pushing the decision onto him. It was a good thing that Ellen had a seven o'clock appointment tonight because I had to drag myself out of my swamp of self-pity and get ready for her.
She arrived a few minutes early and looked in good spirits, dressed in expensive looking beige slacks, an orange silk blouse, and sandals, when I opened the door for her.
"Good evening, Mambo Renee. You look well. I heard some rumors about trouble in the French Quarters, involving some of the Voodoo shop owners and someone being kidnapped. Were you involved?"
"Yes. Do you have time for something to drink? You look like you're headed somewhere."
"I am, but I have time and would like to hear what happened. Coffee, if you don't mind," she said following me back into my living area.
"Apparently, there was a group who decided the Voodoo shops were not the image they wanted for the French Quarter and hired some bikers to cause trouble..." I went on to tell her about the murder and firebombing and kidnapping, although I left out a lot of the details. I normally wouldn't have told her anything except what she could have found in the newspapers, but I felt a strange connection with her.
"It's funny. Before meeting you, I would have sympathized with that group thinking Voodoo a lot of cult fantasy. But I've done a lot of reading. You’re actually a misunderstood minority that has been slandered by the movie industry. And I got to know you, who I would stake up against any clergy of any religion."
"Thank you. That is very kind. And thank you for the money you left me. It wasn't necessary, but thank you."
"You got me a promotion. I'm now a vice-president and in charge of marketing," she quipped. "You saved my life. I don't totally understand, but I think it involved great risk on your part. If you ever need anything—mon
ey, connections, help—don't hesitate to call me. If it's within my power, it's yours."
"Thank you again. Well, let's see what good things are in store for you in the future, although a promotion to Vice-president is going to be hard to top," I said as I cleared the table, and she repositioned her hands, palms down. I covered them and watched the days fly by. She enjoyed her new position and went on several trips out of state. She looked like her bosses were pleased with her trips. She went out a couple of time with girlfriends, but seemed to be avoiding dates she could easily have had. "Looks like you are doing well in your new job, your bosses seem pleased, and you’re traveling more out of state. And the opera tonight looks like fun."
"Simple and straightforward." She smiled. "I'll bet you could describe the women I'm going to the opera with down to what they will be wearing." She held up a hand. "I prefer not to know the details. I don't really want to know about the future, unless it is something bad I can avoid. Can you see your future?"
"No. Not one minute ahead."
"A dangerous gift from the Loa...God, Mambo Renee," she said as she rose. I nodded.
* * *
Thankfully, Friday was a reasonably busy day and I didn't bother closing for lunch. I had just locked the door at five o'clock, when the phone rang.
"Mambo Eshe's," I answered.
"You asked I not call you for at least three to four days. It has been four days eight hours and ten minutes, but who's counting?” His voice seemed to mix laughter with a little insecurity. “Having demonstrated super-human will power in not calling sooner, I was hoping you’d like to reward me with your presence when you're free."
"Well, I've learned something about the crazy man who is interested in marrying me—he has super-human will power, and you learned something about me—I'm selfish and have no will power. I should have told you never to call me again. But to answer your question, I'm free tonight and tomorrow after five, and all day Sunday and Monday."
"I'll be right over," he said, and the phone connection ended with a click.
I sat looking at the phone trying to decide whether I was ecstatic or depressed now that he had decided to keep pursuing me. I decided I would make the most of whatever time I had left. Maybe it was a good thing I couldn't see my future. For now, I would enjoy Jim and my friends' company and continue to help those I could. That decided, I washed and dressed, although that turned out unnecessary, as we spent the evening in bed making love—several times.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sheila's plan.
"Good evening, Mr. Willis," Sheila said, sounding pleased. She felt like a cat with a fat mouse under her paw.
"Well, what is the latest on the people you and Harold are watching? We have to make a decision within the next couple of weeks. The client is getting...anxious. That could force us to act prematurely and—"
"And that could have unpleasant consequences. Yes, I understand. I have taken some rather expensive steps to preclude that undesirable outcome," Sheila said, enjoying the intrigue. Necessary, if she were to increase her reward for her participation.
"What kind of steps?" Willis asked hesitantly.
"I've had Harold watching Oatha and Bishop, although her new boyfriend, and old friend Ron and his wife, are potentially better targets. Especially, Jim Douglas, who has become her lover. The problem is the target must be someone whose future she is likely to know. Oatha and Bishop qualify as they have regular fortunetelling sessions with her. Oatha is a good candidate as Renee has known her for a long time, and she's a member of her congregation. But they don't see her every week, so it could take a month or more to set something up." Sheila intentionally paused, awaiting a reaction.
"Yes, I understand the problem that our time constraints are causing."
"And of course, there are the unknowns," Sheila said. "We believe she has to have physical contact to see the person's future. Can she control that reaction? For example, while Jim is fucking her can she see his future? Can she see her own? The answer to those questions could determine the success or failure of the test."
"And you have a solution?" Willis's voice held a slight hint of amusement. "For which you would like to be compensated."
"Yes. I've hired a woman who is paying Mambo Renee to tell her fortune once each week—"
"Won't Renee get suspicious, especially if she sees this woman talking to you? She knows you."
"I'm not stupid, Mr. Willis. I hired the woman through a friend. The woman is pretending to be in town on a business vacation, which she is. She's being paid to be in New Orleans explicitly to have Mambo Renee tell her fortune and is otherwise free to do whatever she wants on a very generous expense account."
"I don't see how that helps us."
"The first two sessions, Renee will only see her activities, which, knowing this woman, will be XXX rated. The third week she will witness three murders on consecutive days: Jim Douglas, Ron Casey, and Grace Casey." Sheila smiled at the silence on the other end. Eventually Willis spoke.
"Yes. That is very creative and a test only a psychopath could ignore. You've earned a bonus. How does three million plus expenses sound?"
"Like someone who appreciates good help. I’ll make the necessary arrangements."
"Call me when you have them made."
* * *
Willis sat back feeling relaxed for the first time in weeks. Nightly calls from Mr. Black were stressful, especially since he had more questions than answers until tonight. He had to pretend the situation was under control, but he hadn't fooled Black. He was looking forward to tonight's call. In anticipation, he opened a three thousand dollar bottle of Vosne Romanee and lit a five and a half La Corona cigar. Taking a long satisfying drag, he could imagine himself on one of the Hawaii islands, maybe Oahu, sitting on a lanai with a private beach but close to the city nightlife. Or maybe... His thoughts were interrupted when his monitor lit with a smiley face inside a black square.
"Good evening, Mr. Willis. You appear to have good news. That's good. I'm afraid this venture is like Evel Knievel jumping the Snake River Canyon. A one-time proposition—success or failure.
Willis shuddered. As he recollected, Evel failed to make the jump. Although he survived, Willis was sure that didn't apply to this one time proposition. "Yes, my agent has designed a test that will provide the absolute proof we are looking for."
"Which one of her friends have you selected?"
"That is the beauty of it, Mr. Black. Jim's her lover," Willis said and intentionally paused savoring the exchange.
"What if she chooses to ignore the threat?"
"Then her college friend, Ron Casey."
"And?" Black laughed.
"His FBI wife, Grace, who is also a friend of Renee."
"That is creative, Mr. Willis. But how are you going to ensure she knows they are in danger without alerting her to our involvement? You’re not grasping at straws, hoping she will know one of their futures."
"Renee has a fortunetelling session with the witness to all three murders." Willis gave Black a brief salute with his glass before taking a satisfying sniff and a drink. Black was quiet for several minutes.
"Clever, but... Once she realizes all three are going to die if she chooses to do nothing, she will realize we are involved. A simple solution is to kill herself, which is not a successful conclusion for us." Black's voice held a dangerous tone.
"No. Her three friends will die in that event. Given she can see the future, she will know suicide won't save her friends. She must take action to stop us and provide you with an opportunity to...talk to her."
"For her friends' sake, let's hope she can see the future." Black laughed. "I congratulate you and your people. The plan sounds workable. I want you and your people to allow her to stop each of the attempts on her friends’ lives, but under no circumstances are you to approach her. She will be my responsibility."
"What if she attempts to commit suicide afterward?"
"The fools took the wrong approach w
ith her grandmother. Your involvement will end after she has passed or failed the test. The sheriff has given me a unique insight into Mambo Renee." Black's smiley face disappeared.
Willis sat for a long time thinking about the exchange with Black. He shuddered at the thought of Black tasked with getting information from him. He pitied Renee and her friends.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Impossible decisions.
I woke to a kiss on the cheek, then the neck, then the breast...then passionate love making...then a joint shower and more kisses...
"I have a shop to open for business and don't you have patients or rounds, or..." I asked as we dressed.
"Unfortunately, I do. But time with you is more important than breakfast—"
"You mean sex—"
"Wasn't that spending time with you?" He laughed. "I'll eat a big lunch. When can I see you again?" he asked as he buttoned his shirt and buckled his belt.
"Call or come over anytime you want," I said. Why pretend? My noble intentions had gone out the window. He wasn't interested in leaving, and I had given up trying to push him away.
"I want to see a lot of you, Renee, but I'll give you all the space you need." He kissed my nose and hurried out the door. I stood shaking my head, hoping my selfishness didn't bring harm to him. He was a kind, gentle man and deserved a good life. I wanted to scream, break things, stick pins in one of my dolls. Of course, I didn't have any essences of the people who were causing my problems, and if I did, I doubted the Loa would approve. I sat, emptying my mind in quiet prayer. When I opened my eyes, I felt better, made a cup of coffee, and sat with a bowl of cereal. I couldn't control the actions of the men after me; I could only control my actions—and those would not help them achieve their goal.
* * *
It was a good day, with a fair number of customers to keep me busy and provide sufficient sales to justify opening for business. Around four, my cell rang. I smiled, thinking it Jim, but was surprised to see it was Ellen's number.
