Vieux Carré Voodoo

by Greg Herren

  I was refilling my cup again when it hit me. He was looking for information. He came down here and told me that whole story to see how I’d react to it. It was obvious I knew nothing about what he was talking about.

  And once he knew that, he cleared out.

  But why did he leave the gate open?

  Duh. He didn’t need to leave the gate open. He had a key.

  I felt nauseous. Someone without a key left the gate open so they could get back in again.

  And that didn’t bode well for Levi.

  But I was also assuming Colin was telling me the truth.

  I sat back down at my computer. I wrote down, What if Colin is lying about the Eye of Kali?

  Outside of the mugger, Colin was my only source that this was about a Pleshiwarian holy jewel. Correct that—the man who’d mugged me had simply asked me about an eye, and I was also assuming he was a subcontinental Asian. For all I knew, he could have just been some lunatic high on crack.

  For that matter, how did I know he wasn’t working with Colin and this whole thing was some kind of crazy set-up?

  Try not to let your emotions get involved. Look at this rationally and logically.

  Okay, point one: Colin was more than capable of staging some incredibly elaborate story to cover up whatever he was really up to. Point Two: he didn’t want to say who had supposedly hired him, and hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with information. Point Three: his first loyalty was always going to be to whoever was paying him. If it was in his best interests to screw me over to achieve whatever his final goal was, he certainly would do so without batting an eye. Point Three: it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility Levi was working for Colin.

  I took a deep breath. Along those same lines, I also had to consider the possibility that it was Colin who’d killed Doc. Even if I could put aside our jaded history, he was a killer. He’d confessed that to me. He’d been a trained Mossad agent, going out and killing enemies of Israel, infiltrating terrorist cells and killing their leaders. He claimed he’d left all that behind him when he’d gone to work for Angela Blackledge…and come to think of it, she hadn’t called me back.

  And his reassurances to the contrary, I still wasn’t convinced he hadn’t killed my uncles. He’d convinced Mom, but she loved him and would pretty much believe anything he told her, regardless of how preposterous it might be. So, if that were indeed the case, he would probably kill again if it were necessary for whatever his endgame might be.

  Okay, Scotty, just go by facts, not what you’ve been told. For all you know, Marty Gretsch could be alive and well and living in Ohio, blissfully unaware someone is in New Orleans claiming to be his grandson. Scratch that: he might not know what someone who may or may not be his grandson is up to in New Orleans.

  Easy enough to check—I typed Martin Gretsch into the search engine. This time, there were only two results—one in Idaho, another in Ohio. The one in Idaho was the wrong age. I clicked on the Ohio one, and his information came up.

  He had died a month ago.

  Okay, so that checks out. Score one for Colin’s honesty.

  To be on the safe side, I went to a generic search engine, and typed his name and added the word murder. Only one link, from the Carthage, Ohio, Courant seemed to be the right one. I clicked and scanned the article quickly.

  Martin Gretsch had been brutally tortured and murdered, his home torn to shreds. Survivors were listed as a son, Matthew, and a grandson, Levi.

  Okay, that too was true. But why hadn’t Colin mentioned the son?

  Whoever had killed Doc had been looking for something. Doc was definitely the guy in the picture called Moonie—but that didn’t mean his real name had been Larry Moon. Moonie could have just been a nickname his friends called him. I didn’t have any proof other than Colin’s word. And if I was going to not count his word as fact, maybe Doc was who he’d always said he was.

  I reached for the file folder marked Levi Gretsch and knew as soon I put my hands on it that it was empty.

  The picture was also gone.

  Wait a minute. They were here when Venus and I came looking for him. So if he stole them, it was AFTER that. So he was in the building, waiting for me to leave again, so he could use the keys and get back in here.

  Or he’d come in while I was sleeping—no, Colin was standing guard out in the courtyard. He would have seen him. Therefore, after I’d gotten the call from Mom, Levi had come in here and helped himself.

  Nice try, Levi, I grinned to myself. I’d scanned them and e-mailed them to Venus. But as I looked over the icons on my desktop, my smile turned into a scowl.

  The files weren’t on my desktop.

  Someone had deleted them.

  I opened my e-mail program and clicked on “sent mail.” I laughed out loud in triumph. The e-mail to Venus was there, and I opened it and downloaded the attachments.

  Gotcha, Levi. I thought to myself as I opened them. I read the letter again and frowned. It wasn’t the kind of letter someone would write to a twelve-year-old. Go to New Orleans and find Moonie.

  No one would tell a twelve-year-old that!

  Maybe it was a forgery Levi had doctored up to show me. Maybe that was why he’d needed to get it back.

  I was pretty sure now Levi, or whoever he was, was long gone.

  My head was starting to hurt. None of it made sense. I only had Colin’s word for any of it. There were no facts.

  I turned the page in my notebook and wrote FACTS across the top of a new page and underlined it. Underneath I wrote:

  Doc was murdered and his apartment searched.

  I was hired by someone to find Doc. That person left a letter and a photo with me.

  The person who hired me tied up Millie and Velma and stole a set of their spare keys.

  That person stole the letter and photo back, and deleted the scans I did of them off my computer.

  Someone stabbed me in the neck, wanting to know where “the eye” was.

  Someone shot Colin in the arm.

  Someone claiming to be Angela Blackledge left a message for me on my machine. I called back and left a message.

  I scowled at the list. I crossed out “that person” on Number 4, and wrote “someone.” I didn’t know that Levi had done that. For all I knew, it could have been Colin.

  It wasn’t very helpful.

  I leaned back in my chair and pondered for a moment. Okay, let’s approach this from the premise that Colin is telling the truth.

  Some dangerous people were looking for a holy relic that Doc and his buddies stole during the Vietnam War. They’d killed Marty Gretsch and Doc, looking for it. They hadn’t found it. One of them had attacked me on the street, held a knife to my neck—

  It hit me like a lightning bolt in the forehead.

  Why did he come after me?

  Sure, by then Levi had already “hired” me, but no one could possibly know about that if Levi hadn’t told them. And Levi, if he was after the Eye, had to know that I knew nothing about it. I hadn’t responded to his story in any way other than curiosity. I hadn’t recognized any of the men in the picture when he showed it to me. So, it couldn’t have been Levi who sent the mugger after me.

  So if Levi wasn’t who he said he was, he wasn’t working with the Pleshiwarians or whoever they were.

  It came to me in a bolt from the blue. Someone knew Larry Moon and Doc were the same person. They were watching his apartment, had it staked out. And they saw me not only go in there, but come out with something.

  Mr. Bunny.

  If whatever it was they were looking for wasn’t in his apartment, they would think he’d gotten rid of it. And it was entirely possible the only thing carried out of his apartment yesterday was Mr. Bunny.

  He’d gotten that phone call that had upset him so much, and when he’d come back from taking it he had Mr. Bunny with him.

  I felt really cold.

  I gave the damned thing to Mom.

  And coincidentally, Colin had shown up
and wound up inside Mom’s apartment, telling some cock-and-bull story about being shot. He wasn’t above shooting himself if it helped him achieve his objective.

  Surely, though, he wouldn’t hurt Mom or put her in danger.

  Or would he? He’d pretended to love all of us once before. He’d pretended we’d mattered, when all along he was just using all of us. He’d been able to just walk away without saying good-bye, without any word.

  I glanced at the clock. Wow, it was already past eight! Mom and Dad were night owls, and usually stayed up until dawn, sleeping in until about one every day. I picked up my cell phone and dialed their number.

  It went straight to voicemail.

  They always turned the phones off when they went to bed, so that didn’t mean anything. Their sleep time wasn’t to be interrupted. How many times had Mom lectured me about the importance of unbroken sleep?

  Maybe I should just go over there, get the stupid rabbit, and give it to Venus.

  There was a lot going on here I wasn’t aware of, and that didn’t help my mindset at all.

  I wished Frank were here.

  “But he isn’t here,” I said aloud, shaking off the gloomy mood. “And if he were here, he wouldn’t put up with this negativity.” I walked into the kitchen and got another cup of coffee. I sipped it as I sat back down again and stared at the pad of paper. I wrote down, Who knew they stole the Eye of Kali?

  I tried to put myself into their mindsets. Three young men from Mississippi, from relatively poor backgrounds who volunteered for service to their country—

  I wrote down, Check into their backgrounds. They may still have relatives who could answer some of these questions.

  One of them, according to Colin, had been killed—butchered—in a back alley of Saigon. Matt Hooper, that was his name. I sat down at the computer. I typed in Matt Hooper murder Saigon into the search engine and waited.

  A link popped up; it was not to a Biloxi newspaper, but rather the Fresno Bee. I clicked on it, and swore when a pop-up window informed me that “archived articles cost $3.95.” I grabbed my wallet and filled out a lot of ridiculous personal information, including the credit card number, and hit Enter.

  The article, which was a scan of the original newspaper page, downloaded as a PDF file, and once it was finished, the file opened.

  I started reading. Matt Hooper wasn’t from Biloxi, he’d been from a little town outside Fresno called Hanford. He’d been killed in a random crime in a back alley, stabbed to death, and his killer had cut his eyes out.

  Well, Colin hadn’t been lying about that.

  I stood up and stretched, my back cracking. I went into the kitchen and got another cup of coffee. I sipped it. Something was nagging at me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch.

  I glanced at my coffee table.

  Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to do a reading.

  If the gift was coming back, maybe I’d be able to get some hints as to what the hell was going on. Besides, my mind was all jumbled—doing a reading used to help clear my mind.

  I got up and walked to my front door. I eased it open and looked out into the courtyard. In the dim light just before dawn, I could make out Colin sitting at one of the garden tables. The light from my hall caught his eye, and he looked up and waved at me. I waved back and shut the door.

  I wanted to believe him.

  I sat down at the coffee table and pulled my cards out from under the couch. I lit the white candles, and said a prayer as I shuffled the cards. I laid the cards out and started flipping them over.

  Certain danger on the pathway ahead.

  Lies will be uncovered by the shining light of truth.

  The past continues to influence the future.

  I sighed. That wasn’t particularly helpful.

  I swept the cards back into a pile and put them back in the box.

  My phone started ringing. “Hello?”

  “Scotty, this is Angela Blackledge.” I recognized the voice as the same from the message she’d left earlier. “I’m sorry it took me so long to return your call. It’s imperative that we talk.”

  “Thank you for returning my call, Angela Blackledge,” I replied. “No offense, but I was really hoping I’d never hear your name again. Too many bad memories.”

  She let out a low laugh. “Yes, I’m sure there are. I am truly sorry for everything that happened three years ago, Scotty. It was never my intent to cause you pain.” She cleared her throat. “I understand you’ve already made contact with Abram?”

  “If you mean Colin, yes,” I replied. I’d known Colin wasn’t his real name for years, but I would always think of him that way. “He told me a bunch of stuff I suppose I am supposed to take on face value? Because of course he’s never lied to me before. For that matter, I could say the same about you.” As I talked I was typing Doc’s name into a search engine. I hit Enter, and a list of links popped up. They were mostly links to papers and articles he’d written; some were links to talks at conferences. I started scrolling through them.

  “Scotty, this case is very important,” Angela went on. “I am prepared to wire fifty thousand dollars into your business account for you and Frank to work with Abram on this. Is that sufficient?”

  “That’s a lot of money—and Frank’s not available. He’s out of town,” I replied, trying to keep my voice level. This woman was even less trustworthy than Colin. I went on, “Tempting as that is, Angela, I don’t need the money. And I am tired of being lied to.”

  “Scotty, the case is the most important thing right now. I can’t stress how important this is. The Eye of Kali has to be found, and it has to be found quickly.”

  “Why is it so important? Why now, when it was stolen forty years ago? You’re not making sense, Angela.”

  “This is highly sensitive information, Scotty. You cannot share it with the police, or anyone in your family.” She took a deep breath. “They’ve discovered uranium in Pleshiwar. Are you familiar with the political situation there?”

  “No.”

  “The country was a theocracy, ruled by a renegade cult of the Hindu goddess Kali. I am not going to go into all the background—you can research that just as easily as I can tell you, and I don’t want to waste any time. Suffice it to say that many governments and groups hostile to the Free World are very interested in a new source of uranium. The ruler of Pleshiwar right now is friendly to the Free World, and to your own government. However, there are those in Pleshiwar who believe the old ways of the theocracy were best—and they want to return to power. They are being funded by many enemies of the West—enemies who are interested in access to that uranium. That uranium is of a particular geological purity, and can easily be enriched. Do you know what that means?”

  “Weapons of mass destruction.”

  “So you can understand how vital it is that that uranium is controlled by friendly hands.”

  “And what does the Eye of Kali have to do with that?”

  “It is their most holy relic, Scotty, and it’s been gone for forty years. Whoever finds it and returns it to them is going to be viewed very favorably by their people. A number of people are looking for it…there’s also a power struggle going on over there behind the scenes. I understand you were attacked last night by someone of Indian descent?”

  “Yes.”

  “It cannot fall into their hands. The man looking to overthrow their leader is being funded by al-Qaeda. Do I have to explain to you what it would mean to world stability and security if al-Qaeda suddenly had access to an almost endless supply of uranium?”

  “No, you don’t.” I, like every other American, had very vivid memories of 9/11, the day our country came under attack and the Twin Towers fell. Al-Qaeda was dedicated to the complete destruction of our country. If they had a source of uranium—and wasn’t that one of the reasons we invaded Iraq? To supposedly keep uranium out of the hands of terrorists?

  “Say the word and I’ll
send the funds. They’ll show up in your account in a matter of moments.”

  I considered. Fifty thousand dollars was a lot of money, but how could I be sure I was being told the truth? But the best way to find out the truth was from the inside. “Okay, Angela, I will. On one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “If I catch him in another lie, I am going to the police.”

  “Fair enough.” There was a pause, and she said, “Check your bank account.”

  I pulled up my bank’s Web site and signed in. I pulled up the business account. There was a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit sitting there, pending.

  “Okay, the money’s there.”

  “I am sure I don’t need to tell you to be very careful. These people we are dealing with—they have absolutely no problem with killing. As your friend Dr. Garrett found out.” She hung up the phone.

  I sat there for a moment, and placed the phone back into its cradle. Working with Colin again.

  I was in the kitchen getting another cup of coffee when there was a crash that shook the entire building. “What the hell was that?” I almost dropped the cup, but grabbed it in time—still, coffee splashed all over my counter.

  The crash had come from my gallery.

  I crept over to the French doors leading out there. There was no roof on my gallery—Levi’s apartment didn’t have a gallery. I pulled the curtains aside and looked out.

  The sun was coming up in the east, and the gloom of the night was burning off. There was a man lying in the middle of the balcony, face down.

  He wasn’t moving.

  I opened the doors and cautiously walked out there. I reached for his wrist. No pulse, and his skin was cold.

  I looked at the face, and my blood ran cold.

  It was Levi.

  Chapter Eight

  THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE, REVERSED

  Luck has deserted the seeker for the moment