I shook my head. “Not this time.” I took his hand and put it on my abdomen. “I’ll figure this out. I’m not going anywhere.”
Reyes gazed at his hand. “I can feel her,” he said. “She spoke to me.”
“Seriously?” I pushed his hand aside and replaced it with my own. “She’s never said anything to me. What the heck, Beep? Talk to me, baby.”
He laughed softly, then said, “Inept?”
Embarrassed, I said, “That’s what I felt.”
“Then you suck at interpreting other people’s emotions.”
“No, only yours.” I lifted my gaze to his. “You confound me.”
A set of charming dimples appeared at the corners of his mouth. “Then you know exactly how I feel. But he’s still a crime boss.” He turned back to Navarra.
“Hey,” the man said, raising his hands in surrender, “I don’t have any issues with you, Farrow. You know that.”
“Then we have an understanding, but just in case you’re thinking of somehow repeating history and trying to control me through her,” he said, arching a brow in warning, “do you remember how fast I am? How deadly?”
Navarra nodded without hesitation.
Reyes leaned toward him and raised his own hand to cover part of his mouth as though telling a secret. “She’s faster.”
13
Help someone when they’re in trouble,
and they’ll remember you when they’re in trouble again.
— FORTUNE COOKIE
We left the clubhouse with a bottle of fine scotch and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. It made me happy. “Navarra is so nice,” I said, and Reyes laughed.
“You see people very differently than I do.”
“Word. So, can I risk my life one more time today?”
He raised a brow. “Where to now?”
He walked me to my driver’s side door and I turned to him. “I thought we could enjoy the afternoon, maybe go play laser tag or something.”
“Laser tag?”
“Wait.” I looked around. “How did you get here?”
“I ran.”
I reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Scrolling through his menu, I said, “You called a cab.”
“But I ran to the cab when it got to the cemetery.”
I giggled at the thought. “How did you know where Navarra would be?”
“I keep tabs on everyone who’s tried to kill me in the past.”
“Ah. That’s a good habit to get into.”
“I think so. But laser tag?”
My phone rang before I could give him my sales pitch. The allure wasn’t the laser tag itself, but the cool uniforms and dark corners involved in playing the game.
“It’s Swopes,” I said, then answered with a “’Sup?”
“She’s here.”
“Oh, man, that sucks. Well, tell her hey for me.”
I’d almost hung up to go macking on my affianced when Garrett said, “Marika. She’s outside my house. Just sitting there.”
“Go talk to her.”
“I can’t go talk to her. She has a boyfriend.”
“Oh, my gawd, you’re such a girl. Want me to pass her a note before gym class?”
“Get over here and do your thing.”
“Are you kidding me? Reyes and I were going to take the afternoon off and play laser tag.”
“Do people still play that?”
“’Parently.”
“Dark corners, huh?”
“What is it about them?”
“I don’t know, but it’s creepy. There are kids everywhere. Get over here instead and figure out what she wants. This is your chance to get close to her. To go undercover, pretend to be her friend, and figure out what’s going on.”
“While she’s sitting outside your house? Don’t you think that’s a little obvious?”
“Come on, Charles. I’ve done a lot of shit for you. It’s your turn to repay the favor.”
He did go to hell when I got him shot. I did owe him.
“Fine,” I said, “but you can deal with Reyes later. He had his heart set on laser tag.”
Reyes didn’t really seem to mind missing laser tag. Or that I was risking my life to play go-between for Garrett and his ex sex kitten. It’s all about communication. Laundering the dirty air or airing the dirty minds. Something like that. If the look he was giving me was any indication, however, we might have to find one of those dark corners ay-sap. God, the man had bedroom eyes to die for.
I called Cookie. “Did you ever find anything out about that woman Swopes was banging who may or may not have had his kid?”
She sighed. “Did you look at the memo?”
“What memo? We’re getting memos now?”
“I sent a memo a week ago. I’ve been sending you a memo every week with a list of all the updates and my notes on all our cases for weeks now.”
Holy cow. Missed the boat on that one. “Oh, those memos. I totally knew that.”
“You’re not even reading them, are you?”
“I thought they were optional.” Note to self: Stop making paper airplanes out of Cookie’s memos.
“You’re using them as paper airplanes, aren’t you?”
“What? No way, José. But I kind of just skimmed the last one.” Skimmed the top of my ceiling fan. Stealth fighter: best design yet. I was hoping to master the F-14, but… “What did it say about Marika?”
While Cookie told me what she’d found out, I grew more and more in awe. “And, Garrett? For real?”
“For real. There are parts of the world where he’d be considered royalty. And now this? If this baby is who I think it is, we could write a book.”
“Dude, this is the coolest thing ever,” I said, pulling up to Garrett’s.
“Tell me about it. No, really, take notes or something. I want to know everything.”
“You got it.” I hung up and pasted on a smile. “Sometimes the world is a really cool place.”
“It’s even cooler without hellhounds,” said Reyes.
“True. Killjoy.”
He grinned. “I call ’em like I see ’em. This is his house?”
“This is it.”
He raised his brows either in approval or distaste. His brows were mumbling. The message wasn’t quite clear. Garrett’s house wasn’t anything to write home about, but it was cozy and comfortable, with lots of plants and greenery outside and beer on the inside.
“Rife,” I said as we walked up to the door.
“Rife?”
“I need to use more complex words. Beep will be able to hear soon. No time like the present to incorporate a more colorful vocabulary. And I definitely need to use the word rife more.”
He laughed softly as Garrett opened the door.
“Is she still there?” he asked, craning his neck.
Since his shirt was unbuttoned, I first took in the lovely sight of his manly chest and abs. He must unbutton his shirt the moment he comes home every day. Every single time I’d come over, it hung open, exposing his six-pack. Not that I was complaining.
I finally turned to see where he was looking. A maroon sedan sat down the street about half a block away. “Are you sure that’s her?”
“I’m sure. She hasn’t been back in months. Why now?”
“Maybe she wants to introduce you to your son?”
He ushered us in and went for a beer, grabbing one for Reyes, too. They had become quite chummy over the past few weeks. I loved it. Of course, it could be Osh’s influence and Swopes was the lesser of two evils. Whatever worked.
“So, what are you going to do?” I asked as he handed me a diet orange soda, a drink he stocked just for me.
“I’m not going to do anything. You’re going to go talk to her.”
“Why me? She doesn’t even know me, Swopes. And did you ever figure out if she’s actually married to that guy I saw her with before?”
“No. I thought they were, but they aren’t.”
“He looked a lot like you,” I said. “I’m telling you, it’s weird.” I used to think that had everything to do with her getting pregtastic until Cookie’s report, but I wasn’t going to tell Garrett that. Marika needed to spill the beans on that one herself.
I sat on his sofa. Just like the last time I’d visited, he had old books and documents scattered about the place. “Are you still trying to figure out that prophecy?”
“Sure am. That’s why Dr. von Holstein is coming in. He was supposed to be here already.” He checked his watch. “He’s going to text me when his plane lands so I can pick him up.”
“Cool. It’s all very rife with mystery.”
Reyes grinned as he sat down and started picking through the stacks of papers.
“Okay,” I said, “what are we doing again?”
Garrett took a swig and went to look out his window. “Just go talk to her.”
“You do realize how odd it’s going to be when I just walk over there and knock on her car window.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want her boyfriend seeing us talk, just in case.”
“Fine. I’ll be back.” I swung my legs to give me enough momentum to get out of the chair. It was a really comfortable chair.
After achieving enough escape velocity for success, I walked out and marched directly up to Marika’s car. Reyes followed me to Garrett’s front door, but let me go to her vehicle alone. It took a while. She was half a block away. The walk was awkward, especially after she spotted me. Should I make it clear that I was walking right up to her or pretend I was just out for a stroll instead and surprise-attack her at the last minute? So many decisions. I was just beginning to feel the pressure when her gaze locked onto mine like a laser-guided missile. Marika had dark blond hair and beautiful hazel eyes that rounded the closer I got.
I waved and knocked on her window. When she rolled it down warily, I said, “Come inside. We need to talk.”
“I can’t,” she said. “I have the baby.” She had a soft French accent that seemed very appropriate, given her background.
Her son was asleep in the backseat, and Betty White leapt in her chest cavity. “He’s so adorable. Just pull up to the house and bring him in. It’ll be fine.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Marika,” I said, and she was surprised I knew her name. “He’s driving me crazy, and I think I know why you did what you did.” When she raised her brows in question, I said, “I know your heritage. I know Swopes’s, too.”
She nodded, acquiescing, and started the car. I followed behind her, wishing I’d hitched a ride. Half a block was half a block, and I’d had a tiring week thus far.
After she grabbed the baby and his diaper bag, I took the bag from her and we walked up to the door. Garrett, thankfully, had buttoned and tucked in his shirt.
“Marika,” he said, offering a congenial nod.
“This is Reyes,” I said, introducing them. “And I’m Charley.”
“This is Zaire.”
I smiled, knowing exactly where she’d gotten the name from; Cookie was that good. And Marika had a blog, so that helped. Zaire was waking up in his carrier, so I knelt beside him when she placed him on the floor next to the chair Garrett led her to. I could hardly wait to have one of my own. There was something about babies few women could resist, but I had never in a million years seen myself as a mother. Until I had no choice. Odd, that.
Garrett took a seat across from her, and with all the hubbub about not being able to talk to her, he went for the jugular the minute he settled in. “Is he mine?” he asked.
She lowered her head. It took her a moment to answer, and when she did, she did so quietly. “He is. But not for the reason you may think.”
Garrett took another swig, then said, “Because you lied to me when you said you were on the pill?”
“Holy crap, Swopes,” I said. “You fell for that? When will men learn?” I turned back to Zaire and was busy cooing about the gullibility of men since the dawn of man when Marika answered him.
“I did lie to you. Yes.”
Garrett began a rant that could have scalded the ears of a nun, but he didn’t get very far.
“He’ll be powerful,” she said, interrupting him. “Our son. He will be very powerful.”
“What do you mean?”
I nodded encouragingly, knowing where she was going.
“You are the descendant of a very powerful voodoo queen. Probably the most famous in history: Marie Laveau.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said before gulping the last of his beer.
“I am the descendant of Sefu Zaire, a very powerful Haitian houngan, a vodou priest. Voodoo and vodou are not the same thing, but they’re related. They were both born out of slavery and poor conditions. They both originated from the traditional ways of African diaspora. And they both weave Christian elements and symbolism into their beliefs and ceremonies. There are many differences as well, but I believe they are much more alike than vice versa.”
“Okay,” Garrett said, opening his arms in question. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Both of our ancestors were very powerful. And I believe that by combining our bloodlines, our son will be just as powerful as they, if not more so.”
“That’s it?” he asked. “That’s what all of this is about?”
“It is.”
“You do realize that’s all a crock of shit.”
I jumped to cover Zaire’s ears. “Language, Swopes. I can reach your shins from here.”
He was hurt. He’d been played like a violin at a symphony, and I understood his bitterness, but he was the one having unprotected sex. I decided to have the talk with Zaire while I had the chance. “Can you say STD?”
“I come from a long line of con artists,” Garrett said, “most of whom spent half their lives in prison.”
“Garrett,” I said in my best scolding tone, “we are talking about religions here, not con artists.”
“Right.” He stood to get another beer. “How brash of me. So, bottom line, what’s this going to cost me?” he asked.
“I’m not here for money. I just – I felt I could not be right with Bondye until I told you the truth.”
“Bondye?” he asked, strolling back in with a fresh brew.
“God,” Reyes said, listening in while he perused an old manuscript.
“Of course.”
“And I don’t think this says what you think it says.”
We all turned toward Reyes as he studied a copy of an ancient document, probably part of the prophecies that were supposedly about yours truly.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You can read that?”
“Not really, but I do recognize a few words, and according to this, it’s not the Twelve that is going to be the undoing of the Daughter of Light, but the Thirteenth Warrior.”
“Antonio Banderas is going to be my undoing? I’m rife with anticipation.”
Since Reyes didn’t really know what he was reading and was picking up only bits and pieces, I took that as a sign Antonio Banderas was probably not going to be my undoing, though he was certainly welcome to try.
We got the answers Garrett had been wanting, and still the guy brooded. It was never enough. I left Zaire’s parents to their discussions, and they had a lot to discuss. But Garrett was all bark and no bite. I felt the pride in him when his gaze wandered toward Zaire. And who wouldn’t be proud of the little butterball?
Reyes and I headed back to the apartment building and I promised him I’d stay in while he went to check on things at the grill. I went home and had planned on doing research on the suicide-note victims, but Cookie was on top of that. If she had yet to find a connection between them, I sure wouldn’t. So, I did a different type of research. After meeting Zaire, I was so caught up in the whole baby thing, I decided to see how it all worked.
I mean, I knew the basics just like everybody else, but I figured I should learn more of what was involved. It was the biggest mistake I’d made
in a long time, minus that whole orange fur-lined sweater catastrophe.
Cookie came in as I sat glued to my computer screen, horrified and slightly intrigued.
“How’s it going?” she asked, starting a pot of coffee.
“Everyone and their dog is mad or has been mad at me at some point today,” I said absently.
“Way to stir the hornet’s nest.”
I didn’t answer. The video I was watching was just getting good.
“They’re from different parts of the country,” she said, washing a couple of mugs. “The suicide victims. Two are native New Mexicans and two aren’t. But I found something rather interesting.” She walked over and handed me a news article. “The identical case two months ago in Los Angeles? Another note. No body found.”
I tried to nod but couldn’t quite manage it. What the hell were they doing to that woman?
Cookie went back to the kitchen. “Her name was Phoebe Durant, and guess where she was from?”
“Uh —”
“Exactly. Right here in Albuquerque. And guess what I did. Go ahead.”
“Um —”
“You guessed it. I went to talk to Phoebe’s aunt before picking up Amber from school.”
That got my attention. “You did what?”
“It was in the same area, so I thought, ‘Hey.’ She still lives here. Works at a nursing home. Oh, this really nice elderly man wants me to smuggle Viagra to his roomie and gin in to him. He said we could start a smuggling ring. He’s going to cut me in for twenty-five percent. What do you think?”
“Sounds legit. You went on an interview?”
She flashed me a nuclear smile. “I knew you were busy almost getting killed by the crime boss and playing paternity lawyer, so I thought, ‘Hey.’”
“You think that a lot. But look at you. Miss Private Investigator. Now that you have a concealed carry permit, we might have to get you a fedora and a trench coat. The whole nine yards.”
She shrugged sheepishly. “It was nothing. Like literally. The woman knew nothing. She and her niece were fairly close, but she said they hadn’t talked much since Phoebe’s move to Californ-eye-ay. That’s actually how she said it. And what the hell are you watching?”
Seventh Grave and No Body Page 20
