by Ward Parker
“No. Too late. You said you didn’t need an attorney. Now answer my question,” he said, switching the recorder back on.
“I got to work at the usual time, around 5:45 p.m. Talked to Philomena, but she ignored me. Took over the post at six. I worked twelve hours until Philomena relieved me. And still wouldn’t talk to me.”
“You surely weren’t in the booth the entire twelve hours?”
“I left a few times to go to the bathroom. It was the only reason I left. I bring my dinner with me every night. We have a little fridge and microwave in the gatehouse, so I don’t have to leave for food.”
“A resident reported hearing strange sounds from the gatehouse early in the morning,” Smallquist said.
“Um, well, I’m a musician. When things are slow, I play music on my tablet and sing. Do you want to hear some songs? I wrote a new one last night, as a matter of fact. You could call it Frank Sinatra meets Ozzy Osbourne.”
“No,” Affird said.
“You never left your post to patrol the grounds?” Smallquist asked.
“No. I’m supposed to stay in the gatehouse at all times to let cars in. We do a quick walk-around at shift changes. The HOA is too cheap to hire security guards.”
Awkward silence while Smallquist scrawled notes on a legal pad and Affird stared at Bernie with a stone face. Bernie glanced at the wall. Another poster consisted of the famous black-and-white photo of the airship The Hindenburg going down in flames. The headline said, “If you’re afraid to fail you’ll never win.” He didn’t get it.
“Tell me more about Schwartz,” Affird said. “He sounds like a really antisocial guy.”
“You’re telling me?” Bernie said before pulling back on his own reins. “He’s on the board of directors. And very particular about things.”
“What did you mean when he said he wanted to kill you?”
“It was just an expression, Detective Affird. I simply meant he was mad as hell.”
“Stop swinging your chair back and forth,” Smallquist said.
Bernie stopped. “Sorry.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Smallquist asked.
“What? Why are you asking?”
“Answer my question!”
“No, not really,” Bernie said, scratching his ear.
“What does ‘not really’ mean? Do you play around with hookers?”
“God no! It didn’t mean anything. The thing is, I almost had a girlfriend, but it wasn’t meant to be.”
“Because you killed her?”
“No! Because I had a bowel explosion. And between us guys, she was a little too old and weathered, if you know what I mean.”
“So you prefer young women?” Smallquist asked.
“Yeah, generally. Who doesn’t?”
“So Taylor Donovan is more your type,” Smallquist said.
Bernie realized he’d walked into a trap. “I don’t know what she looks like. I mean, looked like.”
“Because it was too dark to see her face clearly,” Smallquist said.
“No. Because I’ve never seen her at all. Not on that night and not ever.”
“I know that’s your story, but I don’t believe it. Any of those times you left the guardhouse to allegedly use the bathroom you could have gone to the beach instead. Found Ms. Donovan there, intoxicated on drugs with her defenses down, and tried to have your way with her. When she resisted, you stabbed her in the neck.”
“You’re totally wrong,” Bernie insisted. “We have security cameras. Didn’t you check the recordings? When I went to the bathroom, I just went to the bathroom. I always need to hurry to get back to my post.”
“At three in the morning? How busy can it be at that time?”
“Um, it just takes one person to complain.”
“But there would actually be more than one person complaining, right Bernie?” Affird said. “Squid Towers is pretty busy in the middle of the night.”
Bernie didn’t know what he was getting tricked into. So he stayed silent.
“If you haven’t figured it out yet, Detective Smallquist is certain you’re the murderer,” Affird said. “Me, I’m not so sure. I think the perp is one of the residents there. Do you really want to take a fall for some old geezer?”
“No.”
“A geezer who might not even be human?”
“Fred, lay off the loony conspiracy crap,” Smallquist said.
“Sometimes you have to take evidence at face value. The homicides looked like they were committed by vampires. I’m just saying.”
“I don’t believe in vampires,” Bernie lied.
“If Schwartz gets you fired are you going to continue to run interference for them?” Affird asked.
Bernie didn’t answer. The detective did have a point.
“Do you know where Schwartz was around three that morning?”
“No.”
“Does he stay inside his condo all night?”
“No. He goes out sometimes.”
“Does he like young women?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Why are you protecting him?” Affird asked, frustrated. “The guy wants to kill you.”
Bernie didn’t answer. He stared at the conference room wall. His eyes roved over the team portrait of the small police force, a photo of a K-9 German Shepherd posing with the chief, and then another poster.
It was a beautiful photo of a sunrise. The headline said, “Time to wake up.”
Someone knocked at the door. Affird got up and opened the door a crack. He spoke to someone not visible in a low voice.
Affird picked up his coffee cup from the table. “I’ve got some new evidence to look at. You can wait here, Burdine, until we bring you to the county lockup.”
“Lockup? Have I been charged with a crime?”
“You will be,” Smallquist said. “We’re going to nail you, Burdine. I guarantee it. Are you ready to tell me the truth now?”
“I already did.”
Smallquist turned off the audio recorder.
“A few hours in the county jail will change your mind,” the detective said before he ignored Bernie and began playing a game on his phone. Bernie couldn’t tell what it was, but there were plenty of barnyard animal sounds.
31
Obeah Man
The obeah man’s name was Carriacou Jack. (His realtor name was Jack Wilson of Trident Realty, call anytime for his latest listings.) He was an African-Caribbean man of late middle age, dark complexion, and short white hair. He wore rough brown work clothes and several amulets around his neck. Missy was pretty sure he didn’t dress like this at home showings.
He and Missy were guests at the emergency board meeting at Squid Tower at 10:30 p.m. Matt was not allowed to attend because he wasn’t a resident and, even worse, was a reporter. Missy and Carriacou Jack sat in folding chairs, the only two chairs set up where the homeowners usually sat. They faced the long table where the stern-faced board members presided with post-meal, ruddy glows.
“We have a quorum. Do we have a motion to proceed?” Agnes asked in her raspy voice.
“Move to proceed,” said Schwartz.
“Seconded,” said Bill.
“This emergency owners’ association board meeting has come to order,” Agnes said. “The reason we are here is because our beloved healthcare partner, Missy Mindle, came to me with information that the murderer who has put us all at risk might not be a human or vampire or werewolf pretending to be a vampire. It might be a different kind of supernatural creature I admit I was not familiar with.”
“I told you jerks it wasn’t me,” Schwartz said.
“My money is still on you, you ornery S.O.B.,” said the director of the landscaping committee.
“Order, please,” Agnes said. “The creature Missy suspects is called a soucouyant—”
“I knew it!” Bill exclaimed. “I mentioned that before. From the Caribbean. Yet another immigrant here in Florida.”
“May I remind you w
e’re all immigrants,” Agnes said, “regardless of whether your family was here for more than one generation before you were turned.”
“Get to the point,” someone said over all the talking that was breaking out.
Agnes rapped a piece of wood on the table. Rather than use a gavel, she had a piece of a stake that had killed a resident many years ago, a vampire who had flaunted all the rules, not only killing prey on the property but, even worse, hanging non-approved holiday decorations on her front door. The stake fragment was meant to intimidate and it did its job. The room fell quiet.
“The gentleman here with Missy is an obeah man and has experience with soucouyants,” Agnes said.
Carriacou Jack stood and bowed to the board members. “What this lady says is true. I have killed two soucouyants in my lifetime.”
“What the hell is an obeah man?” Schwartz said.
“Obeah is what we call magic in my country. I am a master at it. I come from a long line of obeah men. I learned from my papa who learned from his papa and so on.”
“So you’re like a wizard?”
“I am an obeah man. I can make your livestock die or your legs shrivel up and become covered in sores. I can make people fall in love or become more virile. I can make your crops fail or riches come your way.”
“You can make people more virile?” Schwartz asked. “Even old guys?”
Carriacou Jack nodded. “I know the spells and can make the potions to do so.”
“Sounds like superstitious nonsense,” Bill said.
“If you believe, the power will flow.”
Someone growled disdainfully.
“And I have no fear of you vampires,” Carriacou Jack said, clutching a cloth amulet hanging from his neck on a leather cord.
“How will you find and destroy the soucouyant?” Agnes asked.
“That is a secret of my trade I cannot share. Obeah men and women are very competitive, so we don’t share our techniques. Sometimes we try to kill one another. And I don’t want the soucouyant to know, either.”
“You’re not suggesting one of us is the soucouyant, are you?” Agnes appeared annoyed.
“No. I’m saying the soucouyants hunt close to home, so it might be around here often and could overhear conversations.”
“Where would it live?” Agnes asked.
“Back in St. Vincent’s, they were easier to find. You looked for an old person living on the edge of the village by the forest. Here, everyone is old and there is no forest. But I have spells that will help me. I might need to live here, though, until I find it.”
“I don’t have any room for company,” Schwartz said.
“I have a blanket. I can sleep in here,” Carriacou Jack said.
“You can stay in the party lounge,” Agnes said. “At least there’s a couch in there. Is there anything else you need?”
“Someone to show me where the killings took place.”
“I’ll do it,” Missy said.
“Motion to adjourn?” Agnes asked.
“I move to adjourn.”
“Seconded.”
“Hey, Mr. Jack, can I have one of your cards?” Schwartz asked. “I want to order a potion from you.”
“I don’t believe that man,” Agnes said. “How much is he charging?”
“Five hundred a day,” Henrietta said, stacking the folding chairs. “But he knows we’ll pay it because we want to believe more than anything that the killer is not one of us.”
“It’s about time we faced the hard truth,” Agnes said.
“We’ll have to hold an inquisition. We can’t keep our heads stuck in the sand any longer.”
“Poor Leo. If he’s actually innocent, this will cause a lot of suffering he doesn’t deserve.”
“But at least we’ll know for sure then,” Henrietta said. “And he’s not the only one deserving scrutiny.”
“Who else could there be?”
“Remember, we have many residents here who still hunt for their sustenance. Sometimes they get lazy and bend the rules. Sometimes they come upon prey that’s easy pickings but a little too close to the neighborhood. I hear things, you know.”
“Come now, Henrietta. We can’t put someone through an inquisition based only on rumors.”
“That’s not what I’m suggesting. But there has to be some form of discipline that is appropriate. We should issue fines at the least.”
“Vampires get very upset at fines.”
“Here’s another situation: A vampire I will not name has mild dementia and occasionally gets lost when out hunting. This vampire has been caught by other residents at least once feeding too close to home. It was an honest mistake, but it could have serious consequences. What do we do about her?”
“I never considered that scenario.”
“I’m not saying this individual killed the mayor’s daughter or any of the other victims, but we need to be vigilant with everyone who hunts.”
“I’ll send out another letter to all the residents reminding them to participate in our neighborhood watch program and issue strict warnings to the vampires you’re talking about.”
“Is that enough?”
“What else can we do?” Agnes asked. “I personally patrol the grounds and adjacent areas whenever I can.”
“We need to begin an inquisition of Schwartz. It will set an example.”
Missy and the obeah man stood on the beach not far from the dune crossover.
“The victims were found in other locations as well, but always near this spot. As if the soucouyant wanted to implicate one of the residents here,” she said.
“Ah, I see,” said Carriacou Jack. “This feels like a good place. A peaceful place. I sense no evil spirits anywhere near here. The victims did not have to be led here. No, they came willingly. They were enjoying a beautiful night on the beach when the soucouyant found them and attacked. The fiend likes to find victims who are asleep or relaxing, but not always.”
“Someone who is drunk or on drugs?” Missy asked.
“Yes. Perfect. More difficult to defend themselves.”
“What is your plan to stop it? I hear you have to burn it?”
“Yes. You can’t kill it at night in its monster form. But since it takes its human skin off before it goes out to hunt, you cover the skin with salt. This shrinks it so it no longer fits and it burns when the soucouyant tries to put it back on. Once dawn comes, the monster is defenseless. You douse it with hot tar, or sometimes the sunlight is enough to kill it when it is not wearing its skin.”
“Do you have to kill this one?”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “How else are you going to stop it?”
“With magic?”
“If you know a way, you tell me. There ain’t an obeah man or woman I’ve ever heard of who knows magic powerful enough to stop one of these evil creatures.”
“Okay,” Missy said. “How will you find this one’s skin?”
“As I said before, I have spells that will assist me. And I have a good instinct for these things. You will help me, too.”
“What can I do?”
“You will guard the beach tomorrow night. When you see the soucouyant, we will know its home is empty and the skin is unguarded. Then I will take care of it. Look for a potential victim here on the beach. Or maybe the soucouyant will come for you.”
“I don’t know about this.”
He took a cloth pouch on a cord from his pocket. “Wear this. It will protect you. I see you already wear an amulet.”
“To protect me from vampires, in case one of them is a little hangry and wants to take a bite of me.”
He laughed and handed her the pouch. “Now you will be doubly protected.”
“How do I let you know the soucouyant is here?”
“This obeah man has a magical tool for everything.” He showed her his phone. “You call me on this.”
32
From Frying Pan to Fire
Bernie got into Rudy’s BMW outs
ide the police department around 4:30 a.m. He was tired and dirty, and felt like he’d just passed through the intestinal tract of a goose that was under the influence of Missy’s laxative spell.
“The security camera footage did the trick, eh?” Rudy asked as he put the car into gear. “You know, you smell like crap. You are killing my vampire’s olfactory sensitivity.”
“I mentioned there was video but the cops didn’t say anything about it. I was getting really worried. They were about to take me to the county jail. Thank God they looked at the footage.”
“You should thank me for getting it to them promptly.”
“Thank you. The detective said he couldn’t believe you let me go to the men’s room so often during my shift, but the footage proved it was the only place I went when I wasn’t in the gatehouse.”
“How often do you go to the men’s room? We pay you to guard the gate.”
“I’ve been having irritable bowel syndrome lately. Cut me some slack,” Bernie said.
“Okay. But don’t expect to get paid for tonight.”
“Are you serious?”
“I had to pay someone else to replace you,” Rudy said, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“Who took my shift?”
“My brother-in-law. He wasn’t happy about it.”
“I want to know who put the credit card in the booth,” Bernie said. “It had to have been Schwartz. A great way to get rid of me without killing me.”
“You can’t let anyone hear you accuse him of that. He’s on the board and could make me fire you. Or he’ll break the contract and fire my company.”
“You never stand up for me,” Bernie said.
“Have you noticed what car you’re riding in right now? The one that belongs to the man who gave the security footage to the police.”
“Yeah, I know, thank you. But how come you’ve never taken me seriously about Schwartz?”
“None of my people have been attacked by a vampire or werewolf,” Rudy said. “At least not on the job. Aside from that one time the guard had a bloody nose and the vampire couldn’t help himself.”
