She stared at me for a heartbeat. "I'll check the computer."
"Can we take the charm with us?"
"Why?"
"Because if I'm right, she had a charm bracelet with a bow and arrow and little hearts on it, and this came from the bracelet." I held the gold charm up to the light. It sparkled merrily as if it didn't know its owner was dead.
30
DEATH TURNS YOU grey before any other color. Oh, a body that loses a lot of blood will look white or bluish. But once a body starts to decay, not rot, not yet, it looks greyish.
The woman looked grey. Her neck wound had been cleaned and searched. The wound looked puckered like a second giant mouth below her chin.
Dr. Saville pulled her head back casually. "The cut was very deep. It severed the muscles in the neck and the carotid artery. Death was fairly quick."
"Professionally done," I said.
"Well, yes, whoever cut her throat knew what they were doing. There are a dozen different ways to injure the neck that won't kill or won't kill quickly."
John Burke said, "Are you saying that my brother had practice?"
"I don't know," I said. "Do you have her personal effects?"
"Right here." Marian unfastened a much smaller bag and spilled it out on an empty table. The golden charm bracelet sparkled under the fluorescent lights.
I picked the bracelet up in my still gloved hand. A tiny strung bow complete with arrow, a different musical note, two entwined hearts. Everything Evans had said.
"How did you know about the charm and the dead woman?" John Burke asked.
"I took some evidence to a clairvoyant. He saw the woman's death and the bracelet."
"What's that got to do with Peter?"
"I believe a voodoo priestess had Peter raise a zombie. It got away from him. It's been killing people. To hide what she's done, she killed Peter."
"Who did it?"
"I have no proof unless the gris-gris will be proof enough."
"A vision and a gris-gris." John shook his head. "Hard sell to a jury."
"I know. That's why we need more proof."
Dr. Saville just watched us talk, like an eager spectator.
"A name, Anita, give me a name."
"Only if you swear not to go after her until the law has its chance. Only if the law fails, promise me."
"I give you my word."
I studied his face for a minute. The dark eyes stared back, clear and certain. Bet he could lie with a clear conscience. "I don't trust just anybody's word." I stared at him a moment longer. He never flinched. I guess my hard-as-nails look has faded a little. Or maybe he meant to keep his word. It happens sometimes.
"Alright, I'll take your word. Don't make me regret it."
"I won't," he said. "Now give me the name."
I turned to Dr. Saville. "Excuse us, Marian. The less you know about all this, the greater your chances of never waking to a zombie crawling through your window." An exaggeration, sort of, but it made my point.
She looked like she wanted to protest but finally nodded. "Very well, but I would dearly love to hear the complete story someday, if it's safe."
"If I can tell it, it's yours," I said.
She nodded again, shut the drawer the Jane Doe lay on, and left. "Yell when you're finished. I've got work to do," she said and the door closed behind her.
She left us with the evidence still clutched in our hands. Guess she trusted me. Or us?
"Dominga Salvador," I said.
He drew a sharp breath. "I know that name. She is a frightening force if all the stories are true."
"They're true," I said.
"You've met her?"
"I've had the misfortune."
There was a look on his face that I didn't much like. "You swore no revenge."
"The police will not get her. She is too crafty for that," he said.
"We can get her legally. I believe that."
"You aren't sure," he said.
What could I say? He was right. "I'm almost sure."
"Almost is not good enough for killing my brother."
"That zombie has killed a lot more people than just your brother. I want her, too. But we're going to get her legally, through the court system."
"There are other ways to get her," he said.
"If the law fails us, feel free to use voodoo. Just don't tell me about it."
He looked amused, puzzled. "No outrage about me using black magic?"
"The woman tried to kill me once. I don't think she'll give up."
"You survived an attack by the Senora?" he asked. He looked amazed.
I didn't like him looking amazed. "I can take care of myself, Mr. Burke."
"I don't doubt that, Ms. Blake." He smiled. "I've bruised your ego. You don't like me being so surprised, do you?"
"Keep your observations to yourself, okay?"
"If you have survived a head-on confrontation with what Dominga Salvador would send to you, then I should have believed some of the stories I heard of you. The Executioner, the animator who can raise anything no matter how old."
"I don't know about that last, but I'm just trying to stay alive, that's all."
"If Dominga Salvador wants you dead that won't be easy."
"Damn near impossible," I said.
"So let us get her first," he said.
"Legally," I said.
"Anita, you are being naive."
"The offer to come on a raid of her house still stands."
"You're sure you can arrange that?"
"I think so."
His eyes had a sort of dark light to them, a sparkling blackness. He smiled, tight-lipped, and very unpleasant, as if he were contemplating tortures for one Dominga Salvador. The private vision seemed to fill him with pleasure.
The skin between my shoulders crept with that look. I hoped John never turned those dark eyes on me. Something told me he would make a bad enemy. Almost as bad as Dominga Salvador. Almost as bad, but not quite.
31
DOMINGA SALVADOR SAT in her living room smiling. The little girl who had been riding her tricycle on my last trip here was sitting in her grandma's lap. The child was as relaxed and languorous as a kitten. Two older boys sat at Dominga's feet. She was the picture of maternal bliss. I wanted to throw up.
Of course, just because she was the most dangerous voodoo priestess I'd ever met didn't mean she wasn't a grandma, too. People are seldom just one thing. Hitler liked dogs.
"You are more than welcome to search, Sergeant. My house is your house," she said in a candy-coated voice that had already offered us lemonade, or perhaps iced tea.
John Burke and I were standing to one side, letting the police do their job. Dominga was making them feel silly for their suspicions. Just a nice old lady. Right.
Antonio and Enzo were also standing to one side. They didn't quite fit this picture of grandmotherly bliss, but evidently she wanted witnesses. Or maybe a shootout wasn't out of the question.
"Mrs. Salvador, do you understand the possible implications of this search?" Dolph said.
"There are no implications because I have nothing to hide." She smiled sweetly. Damn her.
"Anita, Mr. Burke," Dolph said.
We came forward like props in a magic show. Which wasn't far off. A tall police officer had the video camera ready to go.
"I believe you know Ms. Blake," Dolph said.
"I have had the pleasure," Dominga said.
Butter wouldn't have melted in her lying mouth.
"This is John Burke."
Her eyes widened just a little. The first slip in her perfect camouflage. Had she heard of John Burke? Did the name worry her? I hoped so.
"So glad to meet you at last, Mr. John Burke," she said finally.
"Always good to meet another practitioner of the art," he said.
She bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment. At least she wasn't trying to pretend complete innocence. She admitted to being a voodoo priestess. Progress.
&
nbsp; It was obscene for the godmother of voodoo to be playing the innocent.
"Do it, Anita," Dolph said. No preliminaries, no sense of theater, just do it. That was Dolph for you.
I took a plastic bag out of my pocket. Dominga looked puzzled. I pulled out the gris-gris. Her face became very still, like a mask. A funny little smile curled her lips. "What is that?"
"Come now, Senora," John said, "do not play the fool. You know very well what it is."
"I know that it is a charm of some kind, of course. But do the police now threaten old women with voodoo?"
"Whatever works," I said.
"Anita," Dolph said.
"Sorry." I glanced at John, and he nodded. I sat the gris-gris on the carpet about six feet from Dominga Salvador. I had had to take John's word on a lot of this. I had checked some of it over the phone with Manny. If this worked and if we could get it admitted into court, and if we could explain it to the jury, then we might have a case. How many ifs was that?
The gris-gris just sat there for a moment, then the finger bones rippled as if an invisible finger had ruffled them.
Dominga lifted her granddaughter from her lap and shooed the boys over to Enzo. She sat alone on the couch and waited. The strange little smile was still on her face, but it looked sickly now.
The charm began to ooze towards her like a slug, pushing and struggling with muscles it did not have. The hairs on my arms stood to attention.
"You recording this, Bobby?" Dolph asked.
The cop with the video camera said, "I'm getting it. I don't fucking believe it, but I'm getting it."
"Please, do not use such words in front of the children," Dominga said.
The cop said, "Sorry, ma'am."
"You are forgiven." She was still trying to play the perfect hostess while that thing crawled towards her feet. She had nerve. I'd give her that.
Antonio didn't. He broke. He strode forward as if he meant to pluck the thing from the rug.
"Don't touch it," Dolph said.
"You are frightening my grandmother with your tricks," he said.
"Don't touch it," Dolph said again. This time he stood. His bulk seemed to fill the room. Antonio looked suddenly small and frail beside him.
"Please, you are frightening her." But it was his face that was pale and covered with a sheen of sweat. What was ol' Tony in such a fret about? It wasn't his ass going to jail.
"Stand over there," Dolph said, "now, or do we have to cuff you?"
Antonio shook his head. "No, I . . . I will go back." He did, but he glanced at Dominga as he moved. A quick, fearful glance. When she met his eyes, there was nothing but rage in them. Her black eyes glittered with rage. Her face was suddenly contorted with it. What had happened to strip the act away? What was going on?
The gris-gris made its painful way to her. It fawned at her feet like a dog, rolling on the toes of her shoes in abandon like a cat who wants its belly rubbed.
She tried to ignore it, to pretend.
"Would you refuse your returned power?" John asked.
"I don't know what you mean." Her face was under control again. She looked puzzled. Gosh, she was good. "You are a powerful voodoo priest. You are doing this to trap me."
"If you don't want the charm, I will take it," he said. "I will add your magic to mine. I will be the most powerful practitioner in the States." For the first time, John's power flowed across my skin. It was a breath of magic that was frightening. I had begun to think of John as ordinary, or as ordinary as any of us get. My mistake.
She just shook her head.
John strode forward and knelt, reaching for the writhing gris-gris. His power moved with him like an invisible hand.
"No!" She grabbed it, cradling it in her hands.
John smiled up at her. "Do you acknowledge that you made this charm? If not, I can take it and use it as I see fit. It was found in my brother's effects. It's legally mine, correct, Sergeant Storr?"
"Correct," Dolph said.
"No, you cannot."
"I can and I will, unless you look into that camera and admit making it."
She snarled at him. "You will regret this."
"You will regret having killed my brother."
She stared at the video camera. "Very well, I made this charm, but I admit nothing else. I made the charm for your brother, but that is all."
"You performed human sacrifice to make this charm," John said.
She shook her head. "The charm is mine. I made it for your brother, that is all. You have the charm but nothing else."
"Senora, forgive me," Antonio said. He looked pale and shaken and very, very scared.
"Calenta," she said, "shut up!"
"Zerbrowski, take our friend here into the kitchen and take his statement," Dolph said.
Dominga stood at that. "You fool, you miserable fool. Tell them anything more, and I will rot the tongue out of your mouth."
"Get him out of here, Zerbrowski."
Zerbrowski led a nearly weeping Antonio from the room. I had a feeling that ol' Tony had been responsible for getting the charm back. He failed, and he was going to pay the consequences. The police were the least of his problems. If I were him, I'd make damn sure grandma was locked up tonight. I wouldn't want her near her voodoo paraphernalia. Ever.
"We're going to search now, Mrs. Salvador."
"Help yourself, Sergeant. You will find nothing else to help you."
She was very calm when she said it. "Even the stuff behind the doors?" I asked.
"They are gone, Anita. You will find nothing that is not legal and . . . wholesome." She made that last sound like a bad word.
Dolph glanced my way. I shrugged. She seemed awfully sure.
"Okay, boys, take the place apart." Uniforms and detectives moved like they had a purpose. I started to follow Dolph out. He stopped me.
"No, Anita, you and Burke stay up here."
"Why?"
"You're civilians."
A civilian, me? "Was I a civilian when I walked the cemetery for you?"
"If one of my people could have done it, I wouldn't have let you do that either."
"Let me?"
He frowned. "You know what I mean."
"No, I don't think I do."
"You may be a bad ass, you may even be as good as you think you are, but you aren't police. This is a job for cops. You stay in the living room with the civies just this once. When it's all clear, you can come down and identify the bogeymen for us."
"Don't do me any favors, Dolph."
"I didn't peg you for a pouter, Blake."
"I am not pouting," I said.
"Whining?" he said.
"Cut it out. You've made your point. I'll stay behind, but I don't have to like it."
"Most of the time you're ass deep in alligators. Enjoy being out of the line of fire for once, Anita." With that he led the way towards the basement.
I hadn't really wanted to go down into the darkness again. I certainly didn't want to see the creature that had chased Manny and I up the stairs. And yet . . . I felt left out. Dolph was right. I was pouting. Great.
John Burke and I sat on the couch. Dominga sat in the recliner where she had been since we hit the door. The children had been shooed out to play, with Enzo to watch them. He looked relieved. I almost volunteered to go with them. Anything was better than just sitting here straining to hear the first screams.
If the monster, and that was the only word that matched the noises, was down there, there would be screaming. The police were great with bad guys, but monsters were new to them. It had been simpler, in a way, when all this shit was taken care of by a few experts. A few lone people fighting the good fight. Staking vampires. Turning zombies. Burning witches. Though there is some debate whether I might have ended up on the receiving end of some fire a few years back. Say, the 1950s.
What I did was undeniably magic. Before we got all the bogeymen out in the open, supernatural was supernatural. Destroy it before it destroys you. Simp
ler times. But now the police were expected to deal with zombies, vampires, the occasional demon. Police were really bad with demons. But then who isn't?
Dominga sat in her chair and stared at me. The two uniforms left in the living room stood like all police stand, blank-faced, bored, but let anyone move and the cops saw it. The boredom was just a mask. Cops always saw everything. Occupational hazard.
Dominga wasn't looking at the police. She wasn't even paying attention to John Burke, who was much closer to her equal. She was staring at little old me.
I met her black gaze and said, "You got a problem?"
The cop's eyes flicked to us. John shifted on the couch. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"She's staring at me."
"I will do a great deal more than stare at you, chica." Her voice crawled low. The hairs at the nape of my neck tried to crawl down my shirt.
"A threat." I smiled. "I don't think you're going to be hurting anybody anymore."
"You mean this." She held out the charm. It writhed in her hand as if thrilled that she had noticed it. She crushed it in her hand. It made futile movements as if pushing against her. Her hand covered it completely. She stared straight at me, as she brought her hand slowly to her chest.
The air was suddenly heavy, hard to breathe. Every hair on my body was creeping down my skin.
"Stop her!" John said. He stood.
The policeman nearest her hesitated for only an instant, but it was enough. When he pried her fingers open, they were empty.
"Sleight of hand, Dominga. I thought better of you than that."
John was pale. "It isn't a trick." His voice was shaky. He sat down heavily on the couch beside me. His dark face looked pale. His power seemed to have shriveled up. He looked tired.
"What is it? What did she do?" I asked.
"You have to bring back the charm, ma'am," the uniform said.
"I cannot," she said.
"John, what the hell did she do?"
"Something she shouldn't have been able to do."
I was beginning to know how Dolph must feel having to depend on me for information. It was like pulling fucking teeth. "What did she do?"
"She absorbed her power back into herself," he said.
"What does that mean?"
"She absorbed the gris-gris into her body. Didn't you feel it?"
I had felt something. The air was clearer now, but it was still heavy. My skin was tingling with the nearness of something. "I felt something, but I still don't understand."
"Without ceremony, without help from the loa, she absorbed it back into her soul. We won't find a trace of it. No evidence."
"So all we have is the tape?"
The Laughing Corpse Page 24
