Ghost Witching

by Ally Shields

  Maggie pictured the swamp shacks and the rugged people she’d seen on her trips deep into the bayou. They wouldn’t talk with outsiders, but what about Selena? Would they see her as one of them?

  “Anything else you need?” he asked. “I have a student conference in an hour.”

  “I think that’s about it.” Josh looked at Maggie.

  “What do you know about black widow spiders?” she asked.

  Colby cocked his head in surprise. “Enough to stay away from them. Why?”

  “Are breeders of snakes likely to have other exotic creatures, like poisonous spiders?”

  “Can’t imagine why, unless they just like venomous creatures. No money value. They’re too plentiful. Anyone can find spiders and capture them. Is this the same case?”

  “Connected,” Josh said, standing to shake hands as Colby rose to go. “Appreciate your help, especially meeting with us on a Saturday.”

  “No problem. Glad to do it.” He stopped in the doorway and grinned back at them. “Gotta love New Orleans. Where else would a murder involve poisonous snakes and spiders?”

  Not to mention witches and ghosts, Maggie thought.

  Josh chuckled at Colby’s departing figure. “I like him. If I’m not mistaken, he’d love where you want to go next. The swamp, right? To see if Selena knows a likely swamp hunter.”

  “We could be back early enough not to interfere with your evening plans.” The moment she said it, Maggie cringed. It sounded like she was fishing for information.

  If Josh thought so, he ignored it. “I’m game, but I’m not driving a car into the swamp. We’ll take the truck.”

  Josh kept his prized man-truck tucked away in a garage, a scarce commodity in the French Quarter. The vehicle was big and black, a full-sized Ram with crew cab, lots of shiny chrome, and customized hubcaps. A monster on wheels, sufficient to take on the swamp or maybe an alien army if necessary.

  Maggie ran her hands over the leather seat and drew in the musky scent. She’d missed the truck almost as much as Josh. She stole a glance at his sexy profile. Well, maybe that was a big exaggeration. But she liked his truck.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “Nope, just admiring your truck for the thousandth time.”

  His lips curved up, as if sensing she’d admired more than the truck, and she switched the topic to work. They rehashed the interview with Colby. It seemed likely a swamp hunter had not only supplied the snake but participated in Preston’s murder. If so, he’d have a strong incentive to avoid cops, and tracking him down in his own territory would be tricky.

  As they rounded the last curve on the unpaved swamp road, Maggie spotted Selena outside her shack. A purple muumuu fluttered around the old woman as she talked with a slender lad in a camouflage shirt, khaki pants, and heavy boots, his brown hair ruffled by the hot wind.

  Josh pulled the truck up beside them, killed the engine, and they got out. When Selena and her companion turned toward them, Maggie was surprised to discover the young man was actually a slim woman in her thirties or forties. Her weather-roughened skin made it hard to estimate her actual age.

  Selena hugged Maggie, then Josh, before introducing the other woman. “This is Sammy Mae, best swamp hunter in these parts.”

  “Swamp hunter?” Maggie repeated. Surely not. They hadn’t called Selena to say they were coming, much less the reason for their trip. In fact, to Maggie’s knowledge her cousin didn’t even own a phone. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise. Call me Sam.” Sammy stuck out a hand that was rough and calloused, her arms like slender bands of steel. Her greenish-brown eyes were friendly enough but taking her own measure of Maggie.

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” Selena asked. “To talk about the snakes?” The old woman shook her head slowly. “You continue to underestimate me, Maggie.”

  “Yes, I do. But after today, I won’t do it again. We’re looking for someone who’d sell a cottonmouth without a permit. We believe snake and handler were both involved in a woman’s murder.”

  “There are bad people everywhere, even here among nature,” Selena said sadly. “We’ve been waiting for you, and you must not delay. I sense…a bad undercurrent. Something has happened, and…well, go on, Sammy. You tell them.”

  Sam wet her lips with her tongue. “If Selena weren’t my friend, I wouldn’t be here. But I know a man like you describe. A big swampman with a bushy beard. Big Roy Bunjer. He’d sell anything to anyone.” She scuffed one booted foot in the dirt. “What Big Roy does isn’t right. It’s trouble…for his customers and the swamp. He has no respect for what was here before us. That’s not how we live.”

  Maggie understood. The guy had violated the swamp’s unwritten code. Every community had one. Anyone wanting to fit in had better learn it and abide by it.

  “So what’s happened?” Maggie prompted.

  “Big Roy has regular rounds, traps. He hasn’t checked them in two days. I opened some this morning and released the gators before they starved. He doesn’t welcome visitors, so I haven’t been to his boat, but I can show you where it is.”

  Maggie gave Josh a nod.

  “Are we riding or walking?” he asked.

  “Both. Ride first.” Sam turned, patted the Ram’s shiny roof, and opened the back door. “Nice truck.”

  Maggie noted Josh’s flash of pride as she slid into the front passenger seat. Sam had just made a friend.

  After driving a half hour and walking another fifteen minutes, they approached Roy Bunjer’s home, a beat-up old swamp boat, rocking gently in the bayou waters shaded by moss-draped Cypress trees. When they were within ten feet, Maggie wrinkled her nose. They wouldn’t be talking with Big Roy today. The boat appeared deserted, but the unmistakable stench of death brought them to a halt.

  Josh gestured to Sam and drew his Beretta. “Stay here.”

  Maggie followed him on board with her SIG ready. The foul odor came from a makeshift canopy of old tent material at the far end of the flat boat. Josh pulled the flap aside.

  A rotting gator carcass and cages of snakes…but no human body. Many of the vipers were dead. Buzzing insects covered the remains.

  “He had some unfriendly company.” Maggie pointed at four fresh bullet holes in the side of the boat.

  “Yeah. The gator and some of the snakes were shot. But where’s Bunjer?” He knelt to examine a dark spot. “Could be blood, but it’s not much. Not even sure it’s human.”

  Maggie peered over the side at the murky water. Surface scum, dark shadows, occasional bubbles. “His body could be down there…or eaten by gators.”

  “I’m happy to say it will be the sheriff’s job to find out,” Josh said.

  “Is he dead?” Sam called from her spot on shore.

  “No one’s here…except snakes and a dead gator. There’s been a shooting of some kind, probably a day or two ago.” Maggie moved away from the smell and skirted the chicken wire enclosures that still held live snakes.

  Sam’s voice came back again. “He must have took off. Big Roy could hide forever in the swamp. I’m going to release his other gator traps. No need for the critters to die or be confiscated by authorities.”

  Maggie didn’t object. Live and let live. But the live snakes on board stayed just where they were…behind the wire.

  Josh called the local sheriff’s office, explained what they’d found, and that he and Maggie would wait for a deputy to arrive. Maggie jumped off the boat and met Sam returning from springing the traps. “Detective Brandt’s reported the shooting and Bunjer’s disappearance. The authorities should be here soon.”

  “The sheriff’s coming?” Sam stirred uneasily. “I gotta go before he and his deputies get here.”

  “Are you wanted?” Maggie asked.

  “No, not that I know of. But we’re not real social down here, and they don’t like us much.”

  By us she meant swamp people. Maggie sympathized with Sam’s reluctance, and she didn’t want the sheriff question
ing Selena either…for a multitude of reasons. If Sam’s involvement was minimized, Selena needn’t be mentioned at all.

  She turned to her partner as Josh stepped off the boat. “Sam wants to leave. It would keep things cleaner, simpler.” She gave him a pointed look. “We were the only ones on the boat. We can explain we ran into Sam somewhere else, asked her about a snake man, and she gave us directions to Big Roy’s boat.”

  “And where did we have this conversation?”

  “Not at Selena’s. Near the bridge turnout?”

  Josh’s gaze swept past Maggie to Sam. “Can you handle that? Someone may ask.”

  “That’s easy, because I was there earlier. I’d been to the Bait Shack to pick up money owed me, and I crossed the bridge on the way to Selena’s.”

  Josh gave a careless wave. “Then go.”

  In less than a minute, Sam had blended into the swamp. Josh joined Maggie, and they retreated from the boat to keep from further contamination of the crime scene.

  “You don’t suppose Sam disposed of him, do you?” Josh jerked his chin toward the boat. “She doesn’t like him much and had plenty of time to still meet with us at Selena’s.”

  “Why would she? For breaking the swamp code? Seems a big stretch. Selena trusts her, and Sam didn’t have to bring us here. It isn’t like we aren’t giving the sheriff her name. He may still check her out, but that’s her problem.”

  Josh’s indifferent shrug said he agreed with her. “You see Big Roy’s ghost hanging around?” he asked instead.

  Maggie’s jaw tightened. “Oh, God. I hadn’t even thought of that.” She looked around warily, hoping she wouldn’t see a bearded giant watching them. “I don’t see him or even sense anything. That may mean he’s alive. We should put out a BOLO, even if the sheriff doesn’t.”

  “I’ll take care of it. We want him more than they do…and in a condition to talk to us. Our killer has tried to silence him once. If he did get away, we have to find him first.”

  “Good point.” She turned at the sound of two uniformed officers coming through the reeds and swamp grass. She stole a side-glance at Josh. “We’ll have to tell them the details of Preston’s murder to explain why we suspect this swamp guy. That could keep us here a while. If you have plans…”

  “Already postponed,” he said briefly.

  Maggie turned away. Not cancelled, postponed. But what did she expect?

  Three long, tedious hours later, Josh and Maggie headed back to New Orleans. Explaining the circumstances of the three earlier cases while avoiding any mention of the ghosts or Maggie’s relatives had been complicated, especially to a sheriff who was already suspicious of cops from the city who hadn’t notified him before they came into his jurisdiction. Still, it hadn’t gone badly, and they carried a sealed evidence bag with one of the bullets dug out of the boat. Maggie was eager to see a comparison with the bullet from the Gundermann shooting. In exchange for sharing their ballistics results, the sheriff’s deputy in charge of records had agreed to forward copies of all their reports, including the possible bloodstain, and updates on their search for Big Roy or his remains.

  The caged snakes had been a source of contention for a while. The deputies had wanted to dispose of them but agreed to turn them over to the Dept. of Wildlife. NOLA PD could then pursue inquiries about DNA comparisons with the snake from the Preston crime scene. It turned out to be a wasted argument when Maggie called Dr. Colby on the drive home.

  “I wish our snake studies were that advanced,” he said. “We can identify the species from DNA left around a bite mark, but families within a species? A long way off.”

  “So now what?” Maggie asked Josh after disconnecting.

  He seemed undeterred. “Keep digging. We’ll find another lead.”

  Would they? So far every step forward had been followed by one back. Not exactly promising.

  * * *

  Her optimism hadn’t improved by morning. Even though it was Sunday, she wanted to get a start on paperwork and continue her pursuit of former ball attendees. However, when she walked into District 13 at 7:45, Captain Jenson was there and motioned her into his office. Her mood took a sharp downturn at the gravity on his face.

  Even on a weekend, her boss looked like a cop in a NOPD polo shirt. “Sit down, Maggie. We need to talk about this Preston case.”

  “Shouldn’t we include Brandt?”

  The captain’s eyes narrowed. “He isn’t available. He flew to Boston overnight on an emergency and may be away a few days.”

  Maggie stared at him, speechless. Without a word to her?

  “Yeah, I was surprised he asked me to tell you. Raised all kinds of red flags, I might add.” He took his customary seat behind the desk. “I’m not interested in your private life, Maggie, except as it affects this office. If there’s a problem, even a serious strain, between you and Brandt, why haven’t I heard about it? When I allowed this partnership, you promised—”

  “Yes, we did. And it hasn’t come to that. We’re working out some…adjustments. Nothing has interfered with the case.”

  Yet.

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “Absolutely, Captain. Is that all you wanted?” She was eager to get out of there, to avoid Jenson’s pointed questions and have a chance to absorb why Josh was in Boston and who he was with.

  Jenson scowled at her obvious attempt to hurry the conversation. “I’ll accept your reassurance for now, but I want to revisit this when Brandt returns—and we both find the time. Meanwhile, I realize the investigation has spread into other cases, and now into the sheriff’s jurisdiction. Do you need a temporary partner to help with the load?”

  Maggie stilled. Was this simply an offer of help or a sign of the future based on something Josh had said? Was Jenson already thinking about reassigning one of them?

  “I’m fine for now. The swamp hunter was our best lead on the Preston case. Until he’s located, I’ll be following up on other angles and yesterday’s interviews. Basically busywork. If anything surfaces where I need backup, I’ll snag someone or let you know.”

  “Fair enough. Keep me posted.”

  Maggie marched straight from the captain’s office to the ladies’ room, locked the door, and called Annie. “Why’s Josh in Boston?”

  “What? What time is it? Eight fifteen.” Annie groaned and yawned loudly. “I was up until four writing an article on sports groupies. What’s this about Josh?”

  “He’s in Boston with Ellie,” Maggie blurted, a bite in her voice. “At least I assume he’s with her, but I don’t know why. He dropped me off at my car last night about nine o’clock. Said nothing about a trip, and he didn’t call to say he was leaving. The captain just informed me he’s in Boston on an emergency.”

  “Whoa, calm down, Mags. If he said it was an emergency, it must be.”

  “Then why didn’t he tell me?”

  “I guess it came up in the middle of the night.”

  “While he was in bed with Ellie?”

  “Now you’re jumping to conclusions. You don’t know it has anything to do with Ellie, and from what Harry has said, I doubt he was sleeping with her.”

  “Call Harry and ask him.”

  “If they’re sleeping together?” Annie squeaked. “I don’t think—”

  Maggie snorted. “Of course not. Find out why Josh is in Boston.”

  “Oh.” Annie giggled. “I guess I’m still half asleep. Can I get my coffee first?”

  “If you must. But call right away. I can wait on the other line.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. I need a chance to wake up. And a shower.” Maggie heard covers rustling, and something hit the floor with a thump. Annie swore. “I’ll call him. But don’t expect a call back for fifteen or twenty minutes. You want me awake enough to get the full story, don’t you?”

  “Yes. OK.” Maggie caught her breath. “I guess I’m being a bit pushy.”

  “Ya think? Have some coffee, maybe a doughnut. I’ll call you when I know any
thing.”

  Maggie ran her fingers through both sides of her hair and shook it out. Had she driven Josh into the arms of another woman? Faced with the possibility, could she let him go? Did she have a choice?

  She splashed cold water on her face, patted it dry with a paper towel, and returned to her desk. She made it through half her notes from the previous day’s interviews before Annie called. But she had no idea what she’d read.

  “Finally. What did he say?”

  “Harry didn’t know much. Josh and Ellie flew home together, but she has some kind of serious problem that he’s trying to settle before her family or the press finds out. Harry didn’t know why Josh didn’t call you, except Josh knows you hate Ellie.”

  “I don’t hate her. I don’t even know her,” Maggie protested.

  “You don’t like her,” Annie said firmly.

  “OK, I don’t like her.” Maggie was silent for a moment. “I thought it’d be better to keep my distance from Josh—better for both of us—but it’s only made things worse. And now… Ellie’s got to be awfully important for him to drop our case and fly to Boston. And whatever they’re doing, they’re together.”

  Annie grew impatient. “It’s not too late. Do you trust Harry’s judgment?”

  “Depends. Why?”

  “He said not to worry. Sounds like great advice to me. But when Josh gets back, make your move, girlfriend. Before you drive us crazy.”

  “Yeah, OK. Uh-oh, I should go. Captain Jenson just came out of his office, and I promised him the situation between Josh and me wouldn’t interfere with my work. Thanks, Annie. Sorry I got you up so early. We’ll get together soon.”

  Maggie spent the next two hours combing through ten years of newspaper articles for former contestants of the Masquerade Ball’s competition. If she had time, she’d search for earlier years, but finding anything pre-Katrina was a daunting task. So many records had been destroyed.