Deadly Charm

by Claudia Mair Burney

  “Huh?” He looked afraid. “I—I, uh, just used it, ma’am, and then I left.”

  Zeke began to cry. “Mrs. Bell, Zeekie must have fallen down or something after I left the bathroom.”

  I spoke softly. “You would have told your sister you were out of the bathroom, and she probably would have known when you came out of the bathroom, anyway, if she was giving him a bath in the first place. None of it happened. Zekia didn’t give Zeekie the bath, and you didn’t let him drown after you got out of the bathroom, did you?”

  Both kids started wailing. Zeke jumped into his father’s arms, and Joy nearly toppled me over to get to Zekia.

  “I’m sorry, Ezekiel. I don’t want her to get away with it because they’re protecting her. They don’t know any better.”

  Ezekiel’s eyes had filled with his children’s pain. “Of course they wouldn’t want to get their auntie in trouble. She’s a sick woman. You see she’s in the hospital.”

  I raised my voice. “Ezekiel! Sister Lou isn’t the sick woman little Zeke is protecting. In fact, the woman he’s protecting isn’t sick at all. She’s a psychopath, and I believe she’s one of the most dangerous people I’ve ever met.”

  I tried to calm myself. By now I hurt badly. I needed to get out of there. I lowered my voice. “Look, I don’t know what you were thinking when you got with Nikki, but I can imagine. We all make mistakes. God knows I have. I have no right to judge you for your sins when I need to go to the desert for forty-seven years myself. Maybe fifty.

  “Ezekiel, I think she wanted the glory you lost. Do you remember that woman at the funeral who Nikki said she didn’t know? Nikki knew her. They used to be partners in crime. She said Nikki had two babies before you met her, starting when she was fourteen years old. Both babies died of SIDS, but I think she suffocated them when they were no longer useful to her.”

  Ezekiel violently swiped at his tears. The anger on his face chilled me. I thought he’d have come after me if his boy wasn’t in his arms. “That can’t be true.”

  “I think she killed four children; four that I know of, two of them your own. She’s a serial killer. I think she may have killed your wife, and I think she’s done something to Rocky. She threatened me at lunch—a very subtle threat, but she made good on it. I need to know what she could have given Rocky, because he’s fighting for his life. And what’s next? Now that she’s a media darling, she won’t need any of you anymore. Who else is going to have an accident?”

  It felt like the pain would slice me in half.

  I made one more appeal to Thunder. “If you are as smart as I think you are…if you really want to make it up to God, even though you can’t, I’d take Joy and these children promptly to the Ann Arbor police. I can’t get Zekia and Zeke to talk, but you can. See, I think she threatened to do something to you, and these kids would rather take the blame for Zeekie’s death than lose their only remaining parent.”

  Joy’s shoulders convulsed and she dissolved in tears. “Lord, I shoulda known what was going on.”

  Zekia burst out with, “They gave him a bath in water and miracle prosperity oil. They said he was possessed because he always got into stuff. They said they were going to baptize him in the tub.”

  That was all I needed to hear. “I’m confident Nikki intended for him to die and then threatened the kids.”

  “She told us that Daddy would go to jail if anybody found out. She said it was an accident, but we would all get in trouble because we believed in deliverance and sometimes bad stuff happens when you try to set somebody free, like what happened with Auntie Lou a long time ago.”

  I squeezed that sweet girl. “It’s okay, baby. You tell the police what you know. Tell them everything.”

  I said to Thunder, “Go to the police and ask for Jeff Winslow. I know this will be hard, but you should have Toni’s body exhumed. Killers often use the same method if they were successful. You need to have your late wife’s body checked for poison. Arsenic in particular. Then you and Joy—the woman you know you’re in love with—need to have that little skank put away before she kills anybody else. Get out of here like a ghost. Leave right now.”

  I stood. “Pray for me. I need to get home.”

  I shot out the door, not bothering to hug them good-bye. I fumbled with my keys and got into the Love Bug. I tore out of the parking lot, praying like my life—and my babies lives—depended on it. I could feel my faith diminishing as my womb twisted inside me.

  Jesus, I’m so stupid, always trying to help somebody else. I put my own babies at risk trying to save somebody else’s family.

  The small, still voice within: Rocky is your family.

  Yes, Lord, he is.

  I needed more than mustard-seed-sized faith—if I even had that now.

  I believe you can help me. Can’t you?

  I could scarcely think anymore, my own thoughts battered by the thought of losing not just one baby, but two—along with my best friend. And that Dream. In my God Dream, Jazz was at risk. Where is he?

  I clung to the scripture.

  Lord, I believe. I believe you can save them all. All things are possible to those who believe, and I believe.

  Keep telling yourself that, Bell.

  I believe in miracles. I know you can do it! Please, Jesus. I’m sorry for all my sins. I’ll obey my husband. I’ll be a good wife. Please help them all.

  I wiped my eyes. I couldn’t very well get me and the babies killed because I couldn’t see to drive. I thought of what Dr. McLogan had told me once before. He’d said that if I was having a miscarriage, nothing I did could stop it. I thought of the directions he gave me. Go home and lie down if I was in pain. Stay off my feet. Take the painkillers. If it gets worse, call him, and we’d go from there.

  But my God Dream!

  Dr. McLogan said the babies were perfect. Please, God, I believe.

  Mostly, I believe.

  My faith wavered to and fro, and I didn’t want it to. I felt scared that if I doubted even a little bit, everything would fall apart. Help my unbelief. I fumbled in my purse to find my cell phone. I punched in Jazz’s cell phone number. He answered, his voice filled with anxiety.

  “Baby? I’m glad you called. I need to talk to you. I’m—”

  “Jazz, listen to me. I’m in a lot of pain.”

  “Is it the tumor?”

  “Probably. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Go home and get in bed. I was on my way to your apartment. I’ve been thinking about some things, but we’ll talk about that later.”

  “I lost my job today.”

  “Aw, baby.” A pause. “I’ll take care of you. Bell, I’ll take care of you.”

  “Okay, Jazz.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, baby,” I sobbed into the phone. “Jazz, there’s one more thing.”

  “What’s that, Columbo?”

  “Rocky is in the hospital. He may be dying. She poisoned him, Jazz. She threatened to hurt someone I care about, and she did it.”

  A torrent of curses exploded out of him. “I told you she was dangerous. I told you. Where is Nikki now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “She may be lying in wait. Go somewhere safe, Bell. Don’t go home.”

  “I have to get in bed. Ezekiel said she just went out for a bit. She doesn’t know where I live.”

  “Anybody can find out where you live.”

  “I need to take my medicine. I promise I’ll be careful.”

  “You don’t know careful, Bell. You can’t even say ‘careful.’ Can’t spell it. Can’t sound it out phonetically. You don’t grasp the concept of careful.”

  “Jazz, please. I just want to go home.”

  “Fine. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Stay safe. Do you hear me, woman?”

  “I hear you. God is with me.”

  “That’s all good, baby, but I’m Catholic. I grew up hearing martyr stories of people dying terrible deaths when God was with them. Excuse me, but
I’m not feeling the comfort here.”

  “He’ll keep me safe. I need a break. I’ve gotta get a break this time around. I can’t get hurt every time I help somebody, can I? I’m having babies. I’m trying to keep Nikki Thunder from victimizing someone else. God will keep me safe. Won’t He?”

  I hoped so. Jazz didn’t answer me.

  chapter twenty-six

  I GOT TO MY APARTMENT, hoisted myself up those endless steps, weeping profusely I hurt so badly. I wiped my eyes when I finally saw apartment 3B. I don’t think I could have been happier if I’d made it to the promised land.

  As soon as I got inside, I called Dr. McLogan. Told him what was going on and got his medical advice. It was as he said before: Get to bed. Take the pain reliever, and if I wasn’t feeling better within an hour, have Jazz take me to the emergency room.

  I quickly obeyed. I took comfort in knowing Jazz was on his way. He’d make me a bath maybe. Climb in bed with me. Hold me. Maybe he wouldn’t be intoxicated. Maybe I’d tell him how I missed him. How I wasn’t going to let the youthful, Adam-damaged me be in control. Inner child therapy had become popular, but inner grown-ups—when they weren’t tormenting you, like, say, Sasha—were so much better at the helm of your heart.

  I climbed into bed. Waited for my husband until a few minutes later I heard him knocking.

  Knocking? Why didn’t he use his key?

  I thought about that. The last time he’d left me, he threw his keys at me. Maybe he’d left them somewhere in the apartment when he moved out. But that wasn’t like Jazz. He had an uncanny ability to have my keys on his person.

  Still. I got up and went to the door. Jazz said he’d be along promptly. I opened those stupid three locks to let him in.

  Only it wasn’t Jazz.

  Nikki Thunder pushed me away from my door and let herself in. She locked the three locks behind her, and she was smart enough to put on the chain.

  All I could think was how many times Jazz had told me not to open the door without finding out who was there. And about all the times he had told me to put the chain lock on the door when I was home.

  “What do you want, Nikki?”

  “I want to know why my family isn’t at the Rock House.”

  “What makes you think I know?”

  “Because you seem to know a little too much, Amanda.”

  I backed away from her. Slowly.

  Easy, girl. Just keep her talking. Jazz is on his way. “I don’t know much at all. For example, I don’t know why you killed your two babies in Philly.”

  “I didn’t need them anymore.”

  “What about the boyfriend? And the woman you took care of? The one Neicy told me about.”

  “Again. No longer needed them.” She took a menacing step toward me. I took another step back.

  “I guess you didn’t need Toni anymore, either.”

  “Nope.”

  “Where’d you get the arsenic?”

  Her cold, dead gaze locked with mine. She shrugged. “Hardware store. You have to admit, it’s clever. Nobody looks for arsenic anymore, especially when you’ve got a hypochondriac like Toni.”

  “Why did you do it, Nikki?”

  “Because. She was stupid. They all are. Look at Joyce Meyer’s ministry. She reaches millions. He could have kept doing that, too, the old fool. But me, I could take it further than he did. I could be bigger than Joyce Meyer.”

  “Impossible,” I said.

  “What makes you think so?”

  “People like Joyce Meyer. But you, your sickness doesn’t take long to see. You’ve deluded yourself, Nikki.”

  “I’m going to be on the Good News Network. They ate up that tragic story I gave them.”

  “No, you’re not going to be on the Good News Network. You’re going to be on truTV. Maybe the GNN was impressed with you, but anybody who spends more than a few hours with you can see the ugly between the cracks. You’re crazy, Nikki. Worse than crazy. You’re a psychopath, and your family knows it.”

  “They don’t know anything. They don’t have the good sense God gave them.”

  “Maybe not, but I gave them a whole lot to work with. It’s over, Nikki.”

  “It’s over, all right,” she said, as she pulled a gun from her purse. She’d gotten a Saturday Night Special. I’d seen them before. The .38 caliber weapon would give her six to ten shots, depending. I may be resilient, but I didn’t happen to be bullet-proof. Those martyr stories Jazz spoke about suddenly made me wish I’d gone through a Catholic catechism. I’d missed all those saint and martyr stories as a Protestant.

  She bared her teeth at me in a frigid grin. “Say hi to Jesus for me, okay?”

  “I will, especially since you’ll probably never see Him.”

  “You should have left it alone. I would have been famous.”

  “You still will be,” I said.

  I could hear Jazz turning his key in the locks. She turned. I could have lunged at her, but honestly, I didn’t know what to do.

  Jazz tried to open the door and the chain caught it.

  “Bell,” he said, “open up.”

  “Jazz, Nikki is here.”

  For a second—just a moment!—she looked at me, gun poised at my head, and then just as suddenly, she spun toward the door and fired.

  The sound echoed in my head. Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Five shots like firecrackers. Silence. A scream lodged in my mouth. Stuck. Horror washed over me. She killed my husband.

  Nikki Thunder killed my Jazz.

  I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Just felt like there was nothing left to me. I had to be dying. God, please let me die. Moisture trickled between my legs. Slow and steady like blood. I smelled gun powder rising from her weapon toward the ceiling, like some profane incense.

  My voice returned with a single-word prayer. “Nooooooo.”

  She laughed. Her hollow voice spoke to me in mocking tones. “I’ve got one more. I saved it for you.”

  And I didn’t mind it. I closed my eyes and waited for her to fire. The Browns were going to meet Jesus on the family plan. And I didn’t mind.

  chapter twenty-seven

  BANG!

  One big sound, but I felt nothing. And then more sounds. My door blasted open. Jazz’s voice shouting, “Drop your weapon.” Nikki Thunder gasping.

  Holy guacamole! He was alive! My husband was alive. I could hardly process it, but Nikki snapped me back to reality. She waved the gun wildly between Jazz and me. And finally settled on me.

  “You drop yours, Jazz.”

  He repeated, his voice as cold as hers, “Drop it, Nikki. I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

  “I’ll blow her away first. If you want your wife and babies, drop your gun, Jazz.”

  “You may have killed your babies. But you won’t kill mine. Last chance, Nikki. Drop your weapon.”

  This was their stand-off. Every second seemed to last a year. I held my breath. If she’s going to kill somebody, let it be me not him. He can meet us in heaven.

  Finally, with a snicker, Nikki said, “I’m going to make sure you remember Nikki Thunder for the rest of your life.”

  She moved the gun so that it pointed to her own head.

  “Drop it, Nikki,” Jazz said. But she didn’t look like she was about to squeeze the trigger. She was up to something. In a flash it dawned on me that she was trying to fake him out.

  Fear incapacitated me. All I could think was, Lord, no.

  “Jazz!” I cried out.

  His attention went to me and in an instant Nikki fired her gun, striking my sweet husband in the chest.

  Jazz clutched his heart. Fell on his back outside my apartment door.

  I screamed.

  Jazz tried to speak, blood spurted out of his mouth.

  Nikki laughed. Like a Southern belle she said, “Don’t y’all forget me now.”

  Everything seemed to go in slow motion. I flew to my husband. Laid my body on top of his.

  He managed to choke out the words, �
��I told you I’d die for you.” Then he closed his eyes.

  I wished I could have climbed inside his body and stayed there. My head completely shut down. I had been plunged into some surreal nightmare. My husband was dead, my babies were dying, and there was nothing I could do. I heard someone screaming, “Kill me, too! Kill me, too!”

  I didn’t realize it was me.

  Nikki must have changed her mind about me. As blood trickled down my legs and pain wrenched my belly, I felt a bullet burn its way through my back.

  At least we’d go together. The last thing I heard was Nikki Thunder laughing.

  chapter twenty-eight

  I REMEMBER WAKING UP FROM SURGERY, my mother and Carly by my bedside. I didn’t care about a thing in life. All my desire to live died with my husband and babies.

  My eyes fluttered open, and I saw my mother and sister. They tried to speak to me, but I tuned them out. I started singing to myself.

  “Hush-a-bye don’t you cry

  Go to sleepy little baby

  When you wake you shall have. all the pretty little horses.”

  I shouted the words to drown out Sasha and Carly. Screamed them. When they tried to stop me, I did my best—even in my weakened state—to fight them, and I’d never in my life raised a hand to my mother. I didn’t need her to tell me my husband and babies were gone.

  And I had to go with them.

  I was determined to be with Jazz. In a frenzy I pulled whatever tubes the doctors had put in me right out of my body, ignoring my pain.

  And nobody but Jesus would stop me.

  Blessed sleep overtook me. I didn’t dream of anything, just floated on a sweet wave of euphoria. Also known as morphine.

  I slept a long time. And even when I awoke, I didn’t open my eyes. Just lay there thinking of my man. Some grace from heaven put a montage of him in my mind. I remembered all the good things, and we did have good things sometimes. I should have cherished them instead of giving him so much grief.

  And, Jesus, we were so happy.

  He died for me.

  God bless you and keep you, Jazz.