“Because there is a war between you two. You want control over this house. Over the Huntingtons. Over their money and their estate.”
Variola smiled. “My, you have us pegged as real go-getters. So, help me to understand. You come to me looking for talismans or potions to break this spell? You offer yourself as my ally if I will undo the spell I have placed on your lover? Is that it?”
“That about sums it up.”
Variola turned from her in disgust. “I have placed no spell on Mr. Huntington. He operates of his own free will.”
“Then Mrs. Hoffman has done so,” Rita said. “It is Mrs. Hoffman who cast the spell.” She took a step closer to Variola. “And I will help you destroy her. I know you want her gone. I can help you make that happen, in exchange for what you can give me.”
“How can you help make such a thing happen?”
“I know things about Mrs. Hoffman. Things that could remove her from this house for good.”
Variola smirked. “You think Variola doesn’t know such things as well? You think Variola does not know things about everyone in this house, including yourself, that would destroy them? You promise me things that I do not need.”
“But you’re intrigued, nonetheless,” Rita said. “You want to know what I know.”
Variola’s smile disappeared. “You come back this afternoon. I will give you what you want. But remember, Rita. I am giving this to you on two conditions. One, that whatever it is that you go after, you shall get it only if it is supposed to come to you, only if it is right.”
“Oh, it’s right, believe me,” Rita said. “Nothing has ever been more right.”
“And two,” Variola went on, “that you are, as you proclaim, on my side.”
“I understand.”
No more words were exchanged between the two women. Mrs. Martinez waited until Rita had left the kitchen. Then she stepped out of the shadows.
“After hearing all that, I’m more afraid than ever,” she said in a tiny voice. “Is she right? Is there some sort of contest brewing between you and Mrs. Hoffman? What is this talk of sides? Will we be asked to choose?”
Variola didn’t even bother looking over at her. She opened the refrigerator, took out some apples and pears, and placed them on the chopping board beside her. “You have got to stop being so afraid, Maria,” she said over her shoulder. “Fear gets in the way.”
“I have children,” Mrs. Martinez said. “And grandchildren.”
She thought of little Marisol and Luis. How sweet and innocent. These sorts of things could ricochet. Mrs. Martinez knew that. Variola had taught her that. If the powers in this house were ever turned against her, no one in her family would be safe.
“Your family will be fine,” Variola assured her. “There was no trouble before, was there?”
“But there might have been. You told me yourself. We were all in danger . . .”
Variola looked up at her, black eyes flashing. “But nothing happened, did it? We were fine! And we will be fine now, too.”
Mrs. Martinez clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling. “You are going through with it? You will use the girl’s silly fantasy about Mr. Huntington for your own purposes.”
“She will learn.”
Mrs. Martinez was about to reply when they both heard a step. They fell silent, busying themselves in the kitchen.
In an instant, Mrs. Hoffman presented herself at the kitchen door.
“She will eat lunch in the dining room today,” the head housekeeper announced.
“Oh, really now?” Variola asked. “She gifts us with her presence more these days.”
“She is coming out of her shell, it seems.”
Variola smiled slyly. “Will Mr. Roger be coming for dinner?”
“No.” Hoffman’s face turned dark. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“I just thought, since they had gotten on so well yesterday. . .”
“I have not heard from Roger.”
“I’ll make a little extra just in case.”
Mrs. Hoffman stiffened. “There’s no need to do so.”
Variola looked up at her. “You don’t trust Variola’s instincts? Even still, after all this time, you don’t think I can know these things, that I can’t sniff them out?”
“It would seem to me that you should hope Roger stayed far away from here. He is trouble for all of us. You know that all too well. You remember what happened before.” She shuddered. “If Mr. Huntington knew that his brother was coming around again . . .”
“Maybe he does know.”
“Why do you say that?”
Variola laughed. “Instinct, Mrs. Hoffman. Why will you not trust me?”
Mrs. Hoffman pursed her lips tightly. “All I know is, she has called for lunch in the dining room.”
“I appreciate the information,” Variola said.
Mrs. Hoffman turned on her heel and strode out of the room.
Once the housekeeper’s footsteps had faded off down the hall, Mrs. Martinez returned to Variola’s side. “I cannot help it,” she said, her face pale and drawn. “I am frightened.”
This time Variola made no reply.
22
Liz tapped lightly on the open door of the servants’ sitting room in the back of the kitchen, just behind the back stairs. This was where they came to take their breaks, to eat their lunches. The caretaker, Thad, his bandaged foot in a slipper, sat at the table, eating a sandwich he’d brought from home. His long legs were stretched out in front of him.
“I can’t believe you came into work, Thad,” Liz said, entering the room. “I told Mrs. Hoffman you could stay home until the cast came off. You’ll receive all your pay . . .”
“No, ma’am, I can still get around,” Thad said, his craggy face creasing into a small smile. “It was just a bad sprain. I just walk a little more slowly than usual. The doc said I’ll be fine in a day or two. But I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” He looked up at her. “Really, I do.”
Liz sat down beside him. Thad’s sandwich was tuna fish on white bread, and a baggie filled with Oreos was waiting for his dessert. For some reason this big, burly man’s simple little lunch made Liz feel even worse for him, and all the more guilty. “I’m so sorry for what happened to your foot, Thad,” she told him. “I feel responsible.”
“Oh, no, ma’am, it’s not your fault.”
“I know the lightning startled you, but if I hadn’t asked you to—”
“It wasn’t the lightning either,” Thad said plainly.
“What do you mean?”
“It was her.”
Liz felt her blood run cold.
“Dominique,” Thad said. “She didn’t want her portrait taken down.”
“Oh, Thad,” Liz said, but her admonition was weak.
He took a bite of his tuna fish, chewed a while, swallowed, and then continued. “She’s never left this house, you know. Ever since she was washed off that boat, her spirit has been stuck here. I shouldn’t say such things perhaps. But while I was stretched out in the emergency room, waiting for the doctor to come in and bandage up my foot, I knew I had to speak plainly about this. After all, that poor kid got killed.”
“You mean . . . Audra?”
“Well, I was thinking of Jamison, but Audra, too.”
“Surely you can’t be saying . . .”
“But I am, ma’am. Dominique killed both of them.”
Liz stiffened. “That’s ludicrous, Thad.”
“You’re a kind lady, Mrs. Huntington. That’s the truth. You coming in here and checking on me like this. That proves you have a good heart and soul. She would never have done such a thing.”
“You mean, you didn’t like Dominique? I thought . . .”
“You thought what, ma’am?”
“I thought you did like her, given how resistant you were to taking down her portrait.”
“That wasn’t because I liked her, ma’am. Not at all. It was because I didn’t want to touch
her.”
Liz wanted to hear more. “So she wasn’t friendly to you?”
Thad grinned. “Oh, she tried to be. She tried to be real friendly with all the men in the house. She thought every man would fall in love with her. But I was immune to her charms.”
“How so?”
Thad wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, having finished his sandwich. “I’m gay, ma’am.”
“Oh, I see.” Liz tried to hide the surprise on her face.
“It’s okay, ma’am, no one thinks I’m gay at first. I don’t fit the stereotype. And that took Dominique by surprise, too. But you see, because of that fact, I could discern the truth about her. I could see right through her phony charms.” Thad laughed. “She didn’t quite get the same sort of response from me that she got from other men.”
Liz was unable to suppress a small smile.
Thad opened the baggie with the Oreos. “Would you like one, ma’am?”
“No, thank you, Thad.”
He popped an Oreo into his mouth. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t be saying all this,” he said, his mouth full, “but the first Mrs. Huntington was a terrible flirt. She was very vain.”
“Was she?”
“She and Mrs. Hoffman were always going off to have more plastic surgery. Faces stretched, lips plumped, breasts filled out.”
“She had . . . breast implants?”
“They seemed to get bigger every year.”
“And what did Dav—Mr. Huntington say?”
“Oh, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.”
Liz was getting far more than she had expected when she’d come in, out of courtesy, to check on Thad. Suddenly she had some brand-new insights into her predecessor’s character—and to David’s relationship with her.
“I may be talking out of turn,” Thad said. “But that little fall down the stairs seems to have woken me up.” He gazed at her intently. “I love this place. I love this family. Your husband’s mother and father hired me when I was just a kid, and I owe them everything. I can’t keep quiet when I realize there’s danger lurking around. There are forces at work in this house, and I can’t be silent about them. Not anymore.”
“Well, Thad, I must say that . . .” Liz hesitated, not sure if she was being truthful in what she was about to say. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“You will.” He finished his last Oreo. “Dominique was a bad woman in life, and she’s an even worse one in death. She’s not giving up her control of this house just because you’re here.”
“If she’s that powerful,” Liz asked, “aren’t you afraid of her? Aren’t you afraid that, if what you say is true, her spirit will take revenge on you next?”
Thad shook his head. “Not afraid. Not anymore. After that tumble I took, I knew I needed some protection.” He reached inside his open shirt collar and withdrew a pendant on a chain. It was a small green stone. It looked like jade. “Variola gave it to me. Protects against the undead. She promised it was so.”
“Variola gave this to you because you told her what you believed?”
“Sure did.” He grinned. “Had to pay her fifty bucks, but it was worth it.”
Liz smiled sadly. The poor man had been taken for a ride, she thought. “Well, if it makes you feel better to wear it,” she said.
Thad replaced the pendant under his shirt. “It does. And you need to get one, too, Mrs. Huntington. I was planning on telling you so. Everyone here should wear one. I expect Variola won’t charge you or Mr. Huntington like she charged me.”
Liz stood. “Thanks. I think I’ll pop in and have a word with Variola.”
“Good idea.” He smiled up at her. “You’re a fine lady, Mrs. Huntington. I’m glad you’re here. Your good, strong energy will help to drive away any of the bad forces.”
“Thank you, Thad. I hope so.”
Liz headed out into the hall. It seemed it was time she had a conversation with their enterprising chef.
23
“What do you have for me?” Rita whispered to Variola, who took hold of her wrist and motioned for her to step into the pantry.
Variola motioned for her to be quiet.
“You told me to come back! You told me you’d have something for me!”
“You speak too openly, girl,” the chef cautioned her. “There are ears everywhere in this house.”
Rita sneered. “Everyone talks, everyone hears. Everyone knows you’re a witch. Give me a pendant like you gave Thad. He believes it will keep him from any more accidents like falling down the stairs.”
Variola smiled indulgently. “Poor, sweet, simple Thad. Of course he believes that.”
“You’re saying his pendant has no power?”
“If he imbues it with power, then it has.”
Rita frowned. “I don’t want something like that then. You told me you could help me. I want something that really works.”
Variola’s black eyes danced. “Oh, for you, dear Rita, I have something special.”
She opened a cabinet and withdrew a small wooden rectangular box about six inches long and four inches wide. A tiny gold padlock secured the lid of the box.
“And here is the key,” Variola said, producing a small gold key from her apron pocket.
“What’s in the box? And why do you keep it locked?”
Variola handed it over to Rita, who accepted it with a little apprehension. Then she held up the key for her to take.
“Go ahead,” the chef said. “Open it and see for yourself.”
Rita took the key. Her hands were trembling.
“Why do you fear Variola?” the woman with the dancing dark eyes asked her. “You came to Variola for help. Why do you fear that help is not what I am giving you?”
“Because I don’t know yet what kind of payment you’ll be asking for.”
“Your friendship is all,” Variola insisted.
“You want me on your side when the time comes,” Rita said.
Variola nodded.
“What will happen?” Rita asked. “When—”
Variola laughed, a small tinkle. “You’ll learn all in good time. We all will. Now go ahead, dear Rita. Open the box.”
Rita gingerly fit the key into the lock and turned. The padlock sprung open.
“Lift the lid,” Variola instructed.
Rita obeyed. And there, lying in the box as if it were a tiny coffin, was a wooden doll about five inches long. The doll was painted beige, with crude red dots to indicate eyes, nose and mouth, and loosely wrapped in fabric of some kind. Rita recognized what it was.
“That’s one of David’s neckties,” she said softly.
“He has so many. He won’t miss one.”
Rita fingered the silk of the tie. It was a pattern of blue, white, and green stripes. She had seen him wearing it several times. She had once unknotted it at his throat, then slid it out from under his collar before unbuttoning his shirt.
“Is this what’s commonly referred to as a vodou doll?” she asked Variola.
The other woman shrugged. “You can call it what you want. But so long as you possess it, you can make your wishes come true. But your wishes must be pure, Rita. This is not some black magic granted us by the devil. Do you understand? Whatever you ask for, it comes to you only if it’s meant to come to you.”
“If it’s meant to come to me,” Rita asked, “why do I need a vodou doll?”
“Even fate sometimes needs a little shove, as you described it.”
A woman’s voice suddenly interrupted them.
“What’s all this talk about fate?”
Rita turned her head quickly. Standing in the kitchen, glaring at them, was David’s wife. Little Liz.
24
Liz noticed that Rita quickly closed the lid of the box that Variola had just given to her. The maid seemed mortified to be caught in the pantry, though Liz couldn’t imagine why. Variola, on the other hand, just smiled sweetly when she noticed Liz standing there.
“I’ve just gi
ven Rita some island medicine to cure her menstrual cramps,” the chef explained. “She doesn’t have much faith in my medicines, but I told it was sometimes better to take action instead of just leaving things up to fate.”
“I’m sorry,” Liz said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It is all right,” Variola replied, coming out of the pantry, Rita following. “You are the mistress of this house. We can have no secrets from you.”
“I’ll . . . I’ll be getting back to work now,” Rita said. She smiled awkwardly at Liz. Liz returned her smile.
Once she was gone, Variola asked, “And what may I do for you, ma’am? I trust your meals have all been satisfactory. I’m happy to accommodate any dietary requests you have.”
“Every meal has been superb, Variola. Truly. You’ve spoiled me.”
“That is my job, ma’am.”
“Well, I’m deeply grateful.” Liz paused. “But that’s not what I’ve come to talk to you about.”
“Oh, no? Then tell me what it is, ma’am.”
Liz sighed. “I know I’ve been a bit of a recluse since I came here. It’s not because I didn’t want to get to know all of you. It’s because I haven’t had an easy adjustment to moving here, what with Mr. Huntington leaving so soon after we arrived, and then the disturbing news about Jamison, and also learning about the young woman who was killed here a while back.”
Variola gave her a sympathetic face. “Oh, I am sure that has made the transition terribly difficult for you, ma’am. What can I do to help you?”
“Well, maybe you can start by helping me understand the culture of the house.”
Variola lifted her elegantly shaped eyebrows. “The culture of the house, ma’am?”
“I must admit . . . there are all sorts of stories swirling around.”
“What sorts of stories, pray tell?”
“Ghosts. Witchcraft.”
Variola laughed, and Liz thought it sounded like the ringing of chimes. “You’ve probably heard some of them call me a witch. Is that why you’re here?”
“I just spoke with Thad. He told me about his pendant. . .”
“Oh, yes. It’s a sacred tradition where I come from. In the islands, there is the belief that one can imbue certain talismans with power. If you believe it strongly enough, it will do what you wish it to do. It’s really all about the power of suggestion.”
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