Case of the Ragin' Cajun

by Jeffrey Poole

  “To make it resemble the person it’s supposed to be mimicking,” Jillian guessed.

  Brittany nodded. “That’s right. So, this picture? You can’t really see where the pins stuck. Chest? Shoulders? Maybe on the ’ead? Can’t tell.”

  “Do you think there’s a chance this isn’t legit?” Vance asked.

  Brittany was shaking her head. “Voodoo dolls come in many shapes and sizes. The question I’d be asking is, these pins ’ere?”

  “What about them?” Vance asked.

  “I’d want to know where they ’ad been inserted. Was there anything pinned with ’em? Were they ’olding something in place on the doll? Scrap of clothing? Piece of ’air?”

  Vance pulled out his phone. “I can check with Detective Martins.”

  “You have his number?” I quietly asked. “Should you be bothering him? We’re not officially on the case, you know.”

  Vance produced a business card. “If he didn’t want me bothering him, then he shouldn’t have given me his number.”

  “Take it outside,” Tori softly told him.

  Vance nodded and headed for the door.

  “Are gris-gris’s … gris-grisses … is a gris-gris … do you know what a gris-gris is?”

  Brittany nodded. “Voodoo talisman. Most are good luck charms, or used to ward off evil.”

  “Do you sell them here?” I asked.

  Brittany turned and, holding out her hand, swung it in an arch directly behind her. “We have them, yes we do. Int’rested?”

  I nodded. “I’m finding this stuff fascinating. Sure, I’ll take one. Jillian? Would you like a good luck charm?”

  Jillian smiled. “I never turn down good luck charms.”

  I then heard a very distinctive noise: the shaking of a collar. Looking down, I saw Sherlock slowly looking around the store. His eyes had locked on something and he had started moving toward it. Looking over at Jillian, I shrugged, and held out the leashes. My fiancée took possession of both dogs and wandered off while I made my purchases.

  “Ah! Oya!”

  I had just slipped my phone into my pocket and was in the process of turning around when Brittany had called out the strange word. Turning, I could see she was pointing at my pocket.

  “What was that?”

  “You carry the mark of Oya, only you don’t seem the type.”

  “I don’t know what Oya is, but I can tell you I certainly am not carrying his or her mark.”

  “I saw it on your telephone. Do you mind? May I see it again?”

  “What, my phone? Yeah, sure. What is an oyo, anyway?”

  I unlocked my phone and placed it on the counter. There, on the screen, was a picture. Fumble-fingers here must have held something down a little too long, because somehow, my photos app had been loaded and a picture was displayed. This one was of the veve Jillian had spotted on our mystery man’s neck. I had forgotten the symbol was sitting on my phone.

  “Oya,” Brittany corrected, throwing some emphasis behind the word. “Warrior-goddess. She who ’as the power to unleash the storms. She ’as the power to sweep all injustice, dis’onesty, and deceit from her path.”

  “Umm, is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I asked. “That could almost be taken either way.”

  Brittany was nodding. “She be impulsive. She can be benevolent mother or unpredictable warrior. You don’t disrespect Oya.”

  “And that’s her symbol?” I asked, as I pointed at my phone and the close-up of the veve on the skull tattoo.

  “Aye. Oya she is called the Mother of Nine. She be most powerful of orishas.”

  “Orishas?” I asked. I had pulled the mini notebook I kept with me at all times and was scribbling notes. “What are they?”

  “Orishas be representatives of Olodumare, the Supreme Being,” Brittany explained, as she rang me up for the two amulets I had chosen. “Olodumare placed orishas on Earth to supervise and ’elp mankind.”

  “As far as us humans are concerned, these orishas? They’re essentially gods?”

  Brittany nodded. “More like demi-gods, but aye. Oya brings rapid change.”

  I finished writing my notes and nodded. Vance was going to want to hear this. Brittany handed me my purchases and I nodded my thanks. Spotting Jillian and the dogs standing near Tori at the back of the store, I headed their way. I was eager to tell them the veve Jillian had spotted in the video footage had been identified, but before I could say anything, my own phone started to ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Anderson?” a strange voice asked.

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “You’re Zachary Anderson, the writer?”

  “You’re two for two,” I told the voice. “You know about me. Do I know you?”

  “Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry. This is Gregory Plinth. We met earlier today, at the expo center? Do you remember me?”

  “Well, it was only a couple of hours ago, Mr. Plinth. Of course I remember you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Anderson. You can call me Greg.”

  “If we’re dropping formalities, then you can call me Zack.”

  “Zack … got it. Listen, Zack, I have what might be an unusual request for you.”

  “Hey, isn’t Vance talking to Detective Martins right now?” I curiously asked. “Last I heard, he had some questions about the voodoo doll we found.”

  “I’m not with Detective Martins at the moment,” Greg confessed. “I was actually meeting with Captain Donnelly.”

  “How long have you been a consultant?” I wanted to know.

  “A few years. Why do you want to know?”

  “As it turns out, I’m one, too.”

  “You are? Have you applied to the police academy, too? They keep rejecting me. Flat feet. Go figure, huh?”

  “I’m not trying to become a full-time cop,” I said, shaking my head. “No desires there. Consider yourself fortunate. You’re here because they value your opinion. Whenever I’m called out on a case, it’s because they want me to hold a couple of leashes.”

  Greg laughed. “So, there’s something you need to know about Captain Donnelly.”

  “I don’t know who that is,” I admitted.

  “He’s Detective Martins’ boss. Well, he’d be my boss, too, if they ever paid me for my time here. Anyway, the captain was curious about the work you do for Pomme Valley and did some research.”

  I chuckled. “He learned about Sherlock and Watson’s previous cases, didn’t he?”

  “He got on the phone with one Chief Nelson.”

  “Chief Nelson,” I repeated. “I know him well.”

  “He spoke very highly of you and your dogs,” Gregory said.

  I wonder what he would say if he knew Chief Nelson once suspected me of murder.

  “So, your captain talked to my captain. Did Captain Donnelly learn what he wanted to know?”

  “That and more,” Gregory confirmed. “He’d like your help, Zack.”

  “Say again?” I asked, certain I had misheard. “Why would your police captain want my help? New Orleans is a huge city. I’m sure you have plenty of detectives and investigators to do this sort of thing.”

  “You and your dogs wouldn’t be officially working the case,” Gregory clarified. “Everything will be done without anyone knowing about it, but with the full cooperation of the NOPD. What do you say?”

  “I’d say that you guys are all crazy. I’m an author. I’m here for a book convention.”

  “I’m sorry to say that the convention has been put on hold,” Gregory sadly informed me. “That means you’ll have some free time on your hands, doesn’t it?”

  “Then, I’d much rather look around and make like a tourist. I’m here with some friends of mine, along with my fiancée and my dogs. The last thing they’re gonna want to hear is that I’m working a case.”

  “I have a message from Chief Nelson,” Gregory suddenly announced.

  Oh, swell.

  “Great. Let’s hear it.”

  “Mr
. Anderson, I have a lot of faith in you. Check with Vance. I think you’ll find that there’s a lot riding on this. Make us proud.”

  “There’s a lot riding on this?” I repeated.

  “Captain Donnelly and Chief Nelson might have made a, uh, wager regarding the outcome of this case.”

  My eyes widened. “They bet on us. Let me guess. Chief Nelson is betting we can solve it before you guys do.”

  Gregory laughed. “That is the gist of the wager, yes.”

  “And the stakes?”

  “They wouldn’t tell me.”

  Vance suddenly strode back in the store, with a look of incredulity on his face. “Dude, you’re not going to believe this. I just heard from … oh, my bad. I didn’t see you were on the phone.”

  I held up a finger, signaling my friend to wait. “I’ve got the consultant on the phone. He was just telling me something about a bet.”

  Vance nodded. “That’s right. Zack? We’re on the case. We’ve got to solve this thing before they do!”

  FOUR

  “You have to explain this to me,” I was saying. “Here we are, walking down world-famous Bourbon Street in New Orleans, and somehow, we’ve been corralled into working a case?”

  “Call it a collaboration between our two police departments,” Vance suggested.

  Shaking my head, I frowned. “We’re here because of the Ireland book, remember? We’re on MCU’s dime.”

  “But, there’s nothing going on right now,” Vance protested. “You said so yourself.”

  “Yeah, I did,” I confirmed. “But, what happens when they call up and say, all right, instead of attending a panel there, we’re going to need you to come over here? I’m not sure I feel comfortable doing this.”

  “Let’s look at it this way,” Vance began. “If MCU calls up and wants you to attend some other function, then no worries. We’ll drop what we’re doing and rush over.”

  We navigated our way around a group of street vendors, who immediately swarmed us as they tried to persuade us to buy their merchandise. Vance flashed them his badge and they immediately scattered.

  “You shouldn’t be doing that,” Tori scolded. “They’re just trying to make a living.”

  “I hate salesmen,” Vance grumbled.

  Tori nodded. “I know. Let it go, okay?”

  “Can you tell us about this wager?” Jillian asked. “How is it the captain of the local police department here happens to know Chief Nelson back home?”

  “He doesn’t,” Vance reported. “But, he was curious about Zack and the dogs. So, they looked up Pomme Valley and, seeing how our town isn’t that big, were easily able to pull up a phone number. The two of them got to talking and someone—and I don’t know who—said this has the makings of a spectacular wager.”

  “How did they convince you to get on board?” I asked. “I mean, you took time off to come here, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” Vance said. “Chief Nelson said he’ll make it up to me in some fashion.”

  “Tell him what else he promised,” Tori urged.

  “Oh. The captain also said …”

  “Just a minute,” I interrupted. “I’ve heard you call him Chief Nelson, and just now, captain. Which is it?”

  “Technically, he’s Captain Nelson,” Vance answered. “But, he prefers Chief Nelson. It’s a preference, I guess. Just go with it. I always do.”

  “Right. So, what did Chief Nelson promise you if we solve this case before the New Orleans cops do?”

  “About thirty grand.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Wow, are you serious?”

  Vance shrugged. “There might be a change in job title, too.”

  Jillian smiled and nodded. “He’s offering you a promotion, isn’t he?”

  “If we can get this case solved before the locals, then yes, I will become Senior Detective,” Vance confirmed.

  I gave my friend a congratulatory slap on the back. “Dude, nice! Although, if you ask me, I think you should have been awarded that title years ago.”

  “Seconded,” Tori quietly added.

  “What about Zachary?” Jillian asked, as she turned back to Vance. “You get a job promotion, but Zachary is only a civilian. He’s a consultant. There’s not much the chief can do for him, is there?”

  Vance groaned. “I knew we were gonna get around to this sooner or later. Yes, there are some incentives for you, too, Zack. Since he’s not here, I can simply say Chief Nelson is one evil son of a … oof!”

  Tori had punched him in the stomach.

  “Don’t finish that statement. Your language is already foul enough. Besides, you promised the girls you’d try and refrain from using all profanity.”

  “Fine,” Vance grumbled. My friend looked back at me. “Chief Nelson said that if you were to play along, and actually get Sherlock and Watson to solve this thing before the locals, then … oh, man. I can’t make myself say it.”

  Tori brightened. “But I can. Guys? Apparently Chief Nelson is a huge fan of YouTube. He loves watching all those funny videos. Well, he admitted to finding Vance’s Peter Pan video, and wants to see him do something else.”

  My scowl was gone in a flash.

  “Oh, really? You have my attention. If I cooperate, what does Vance have to do?”

  “Oh, nothing much, just shave his head and perform a very popular song from a Disney movie. While being recorded, of course.”

  I snatched up the dogs’ leashes. “Done. Let’s go solve this thing, shall we?”

  “You didn’t hear what song he has to sing!” Tori protested.

  “Does it matter?” I returned. I looked at my friend. “How in the world did the chief get you to go along with this?”

  “By dangling the promotion in front of him,” Jillian guessed.

  Vance sulked and stared at the floor.

  “Is this sort of thing ethical?” I inquired. “I mean, can the chief really push Vance to do this?”

  Vance scowled again. “Not really. Then again, he made a show of pointing out everything was voluntary. If I choose to do this, and earn fame and accolade for PV, then I would be rewarded by earning a new title.”

  “Are you totally willing to do this?” I quietly asked.

  “Dude, did you hear the part about the pay raise?” Vance quietly reminded me.

  “I did, but are you forgetting the royalty checks the book keeps bringing in?”

  “Not at all. Do we know how much longer the book will continue to sell? It’s an uncertainty. This promotion isn’t. So, if all goes well, then I’ll be sporting a new do, and looking up the lyrics to some song called Let it Go.”

  “You haven’t seen Frozen?” Jillian asked, dumbfounded. “You have two adorable little girls. I thought for certain you would have watched that movie with them.”

  “The two princesses who are sisters?” Vance asked. “Sure, I remember that one. Isn’t one an ice queen? In fact, I … oh, no! Why on earth didn’t I remember that blasted song? Omigod, I have to sing that? On video?”

  “I think reality has just set in,” I reported. I pulled out my phone and waggled it. “Oh, I hope I’m the one who gets to be behind the camera.” As if the sudden exposure to the sun would cause it to light up, my cell chose that time to start ringing. Looking at the display, I groaned. “It’s MCU. Damn. No, don’t stop walking. I can multi-task. Hello?”

  “Mr. Anderson? It’s Isabella Murphy.”

  “Yes, Isabella. What can I do for you?” Our friendly MCU representative hesitated on the phone, as if she had suddenly become shy. “Bella? Still with me?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Anderson. I’m here. It’s just that … I’ve been tasked with asking you something, and I’m not sure how you’re going to react.”

  This bit of news brought me to a stop. Concerned, Jillian took my hand.

  “Is everything all right?” she whispered.

  “I think so. Bella? Just come right out and say it. What does MCU want you to ask me to do?”

 
I heard Bella sigh into the phone. “MCU has received word that you will be working with the New Orleans Police Department, in an attempt to solve the attack at the Expo. Is this true?”

  Holy crap on a cracker. How did my publisher find out about this? It was, what, only decided a scant fifteen minutes ago. Someone at the police department must have forwarded the information to my publisher. As for the why of the matter, I honestly had no idea.

  “As a matter of fact, it is true. Bella, it’s my turn to ask you something. How did you know I agreed to help them out with this case?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve been forbidden from saying,” Bella said. “So, it’s true. You’ll be attempting to figure out who’s responsible. We, that is to say, MCU would like to send along a videographer to document your progress. What do you think?”

  There was no need to consider. “Absolutely not.”

  Apparently, it wasn’t the answer my representative was expecting to hear.

  “Oh, er, may I ask why not?”

  “The last thing I need is to have someone shadowing us while we try to figure out what is going on, and who is responsible. It’s no offense to you, Bella, but this is something that is literally not going to happen.”

  “Not even if you are paid a stipend on your next advance?”

  “I don’t need your stipends, nor do I need an advance on my next book. In fact, I haven’t asked about advances in years. Why should I start now? Besides, Bella, there’s no way the police are going to allow a video crew along while we’re working this case. So, if you want to get angry with someone, it’ll have to be them.”

  There was a silence on the phone. It was then that I realized that either Isabella had someone standing behind her, feeding her information on what to say, or else there was a third person on the line, and he was in secret communication with her. After a few more seconds had elapsed, I cleared my throat.

  “Bella? Go ahead and put him on.”

  “I-I’m sorry?”

  “I just realized you’re talking to Richard. Put him through, please.”

  “Umm …”