Murder, Ye Bones

by Rachael Stapleton

  “Where is everyone?” I said out loud.

  The overhead lights dimmed to a soft glow, flickering in eerie pulses that reminded me of a beating heart. Electrical problem… or did the cabin just try to answer me.

  Thankfully Danior knocked on my cabin’s door exactly two minutes later and I gladly escaped to Li Grand Zomb with her.

  Chapter Twelve

  _____________

  “W

  raith. That name sure rings true, doesn’t it?” Yasmin’s cousin, Carlos said.

  Izzy cleared her throat while the others shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.

  Daemon had just walked into Li Grand Zomb when Carlos spun around, realizing he’d been overheard and blushed. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, “but you have to admit it’s true. You attract dead bodies.”

  Daemon saw an open chair next to Penny and didn’t hesitate to take it. He peeled his leather jacket off and rubbed the stubble on his face. Hopefully, he didn’t look as drained as he felt. He’d spent the last few hours on the beach as the Inspector and his crew barricaded the area with yellow tape, then the crime scene unit had arrived, quickly followed by the M.E, Wesley Strypes, not to be confused with Wesley Snipes though there was some resemblance—perhaps an older, less energetic version.

  “Was it…do they think it was Bianca Santos?” Penny asked him.

  Apparently, the news of his find had preceded him.

  “No,” he said.

  “No?” Izzy said, surprised.

  “It was a young woman, though, right?” Danior asked, hesitant and yet intrigued.

  “Yes,” Daemon told them. There was no reason to lie. No matter how much Oliviera might have wanted to keep it quiet, word was going to spread.

  “So, who was it?” Penny asked.

  “Not a clue. The body was in pretty bad shape.” He turned away, motioning to the waitress for a beer.

  “This is going to be terrible for business. The whole city will start to empty out,” Izzy said. “And of course, those poor, poor women…”

  Emilion put his arm around Danior. “I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he told her.

  “I think you and Izzy should dye your hair,” Carlos told Danior.

  “No way,” Danior retorted. “Do you know how long it took me to go blonde. My hair is jet black normally.”

  The waitress set Daemon’s beer down, and he waited for her to leave before speaking.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions. For all we know it was a boating accident. Maybe it has nothing to do with anything else that’s going on.” He didn’t believe it, though. The corpse had been in such an advanced state of decomposition that it was impossible to tell how the woman had died, but no boaters had been reported missing, so violence seemed likely. The M.E had refused to say much of anything until he could get the body to the morgue and do a full autopsy. All he’d been willing to commit to was the fact that she appeared to have been dead for some time, although he’d then contradicted himself by saying that if she had been dead that long, more of her should have been lost to the salt water—and the creatures whose home it was. Daemon suspected that she’d been dead for a while before her body had been consigned to the ocean, but he would leave it to Wesley to figure that out. “Oliveira wants it kept quiet for now.”

  “Why?” Penny asked.

  “I guess he wants to have something more to say before he makes a statement,” Daemon said. “But with or without more information, he’s going to have to call the papers quickly. It’s better to have what facts there are out in the media than have a pack of half-truths floating around.”

  “How did you discover the body?” Danior asked him.

  He looked down at his beer and winced. Hadn’t she been listening to Carlos?

  “I’d gone to the beach—I was trying to get a sense of the layout where Bianca Santos disappeared,” he said. “The body had washed up on shore. It had been there several hours, by the look of things. I really don’t think I attract dead bodies.” He stared at Carlos.

  “Yeah, he wasn’t even in the Plantation when those bones showed up,” Penny said, trying to be helpful. “She might have washed up from anywhere. It could simply be a case of domestic violence. A husband up in Sao Paulo or down in Rio de Janeiro, out on a boat, getting into a fight with his wife. Maybe it was accidental. He didn’t mean to kill her, and then he panicked and threw her overboard. Or something else we haven’t even thought of might have happened. Or…”

  Carlos looked down at the table. “Maybe it’s another in a long line of disappearances. Just like Maman’s daughter.”

  “Oh, come on, that’s just a ghost story we use on the tourists. The mortician who supposedly abducted and murdered women,” Izzy told him. “It’s just entertainment, Carlos. You should know that.”

  “I don’t know about that. I’m thinking the same thing. I’ve read a number of references lately to women who disappeared—including the mortician’s daughter,” Penny said.

  “Maybe it’s Oliviera or one of his men.” Izzy pointed out, “I mean, who can get away with murder better than a cop?”

  Emilion, who was directly facing the door, let out a soft whistle. “Don’t look now.”

  “Hey, it’s the InstaModel,” Izzy said. “And surprise, surprise, she’s showing an alarming amount of bosom.

  “And look who’s right behind her,” Carlos added.

  Inspector Oliveira was walking into the bar, perhaps five feet behind. An alarming smear of hot pink lipstick on his cheek.

  “Well, I guess we know what the cat dragged in. Ba dum ching.” Penny laughed at her own joke.

  Daemon found himself reflecting that if Oliveira was having an affair with the woman, it wouldn’t be the most startling thing in the world. He was a good-looking man, and married men often developed a roving eye. Which made him think of Mallory back home. They’d had a nice conversation today and she’d reassured him that Bones was just a friend but still his gut was telling him things were not right between them.

  “His wife is such a sweetie,” Izzy said sadly.

  “They suck at being discreet,” Danior said.

  “Hello, all,” Cat greeted them. She had on hip-hugging jeans and a tailored shirt that, admittedly, emphasized her narrow waist and ample curves.

  “How are you?” Penny asked. “Want to join us?”

  “Thanks,” Cat said. “But I’m just going to grab a quick drink at the bar and take off—I’m pretty tired tonight.”

  “How is Maman?” Penny asked her.

  “She’s been kind of upset lately, which is part of why I need to get back. But I will join you one of these nights, now that I see you’re always here,” Cat said.

  “Not really,” Izzy said, then flushed and admitted, “Though we have been here an awful lot this week, haven’t we?”

  Daemon noted that Oliveira was watching their table closely from his seat at the bar, and he didn’t look pleased. He nodded in Daemon’s direction when he noticed he was being observed in turn, then swallowed the last of his drink and exited the bar.

  Cat was only pretending not to notice the Inspector leaving, Daemon thought. She quickly said her goodbyes to them, went to the bar and sucked down her Mai Tai in two gulps, and then she, too, left.

  “Interesting,” Izzy said as her eyes followed Cat out the door.

  “It’s really none of our business,” Penny commented.

  “But his wife is a doll,” Izzy argued.

  “Apparently, she’s not a sex doll.” Carlos joked, which earned him a stern look from Izzy.

  Daemon still couldn’t figure out if the two—Carlos and Izzy were a couple. Sometimes, they acted like it but they didn’t live together and they both flirted with other people.

  “So, what are you suggesting?” Danior asked. “That we should call her? Ask, ‘Do you know where your husband is at night?’ For one thing, he’s a cop, so he could be anywhere, and for another, we don’t actually know that anything is going on betwee
n them.”

  Carlos stared across the table at Danior and grinned. “You have a bit of a naive side.”

  “I’m not naive—I’m sensible. We don’t want to start any rumors, and that’s all we’d be doing,” Danior said firmly.

  “Anyway,” Carlos said, turning back to Daemon, “So far you’ve found a woman in a sunken car and a girl dead on the beach. But…neither were Lise?” he asked.

  “No, definitely not,” Daemon said. He’d thought at first that she might be. But the woman on the beach had brown hair—Wesley had pointed that out. She was also petite, maybe five feet even, and Lise Trix had been taller, around five foot seven with bleached blonde hair and pink highlights.

  “So, do you still think everything’s connected?” Carlos asked.

  “I do,” Daemon said.

  “Do you think you’ll ever be able to prove it?” Danior shivered.

  “All killers mess up eventually,” Daemon said.

  “But we all know that killers get away with it all the time,” Emilion said, shaking his head. “It’s terrible, but it’s true. There are tons of unsolved murders.”

  “Let’s get off the subject of murder, okay?” Izzy asked.

  Daemon’s phone rang. He checked the caller ID and was surprised to see that it was a number he had just entered that afternoon: Wesley’s cell.

  He answered quickly, then excused himself and went outside.

  “Where are you?” Wesley asked him.

  “At Li Grand Zomb,” Daemon said.

  “Well, I just thought that you guys might want to know what I found out right away,” Wesley told him. “Are you with Oliveira? He hasn’t answered his text.”

  It wasn’t Daemon’s place to comment, so he simply said, “I just saw him. I’ll try and catch up to him,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “I think this girl was buried—and then dug up and thrown into the water.”

  “What?” He hadn’t been expecting that.

  “She’s been dead five or six months. She’d have been chewed to ribbons if she were in the water that long. Just look at what the fish did to the other woman’s soft tissue. Come by tomorrow and you can see for yourself.”

  “Penny and I’ll be there first thing,”

  Chapter Thirteen

  _____________

  “H

  ope you two didn’t just eat breakfast,” Wesley commented, drawing the sheet back from the corpse.

  “Damn!” I groaned. It was truly horrific what nature did to human flesh.

  The M.E wiped a handkerchief across his bald scalp, glittering with moisture and nodded. “First the worms, flies and maggots went to work, and then the sea creatures got her.”

  “Poor girl,” Daemon said, holding a cloth to his nose despite the surgical mask he already donned.

  Her face—which was mostly protruding bone—seemed to have petrified into a death mask.

  “How did she die, Wesley? Have you figured that out yet?” I asked.

  Wesley produced a magnifying glass from the table of tools at the side of the gurney. “If you look closely, you can see damage to the fingernails. I couldn’t swear an oath in court and say for sure …” Wesley paused and took a deep breath. “But basically, she was buried alive.”

  “What?” Daemon asked, frowning.

  “She was given the coup padre.”

  “What is that?”

  “It’s a powder that Bokors from the Voodoo religion use to make zombies. The primary ingredient is tetrodotoxin, from puffer fish. It slows the heart rate enough to convince people that their loved one has died. Once buried, the Bokors dig them up. Of course, the oxygen deprivation leaves them in a zombie like state, and if it doesn’t then they administer a cocktail of psychedelic drugs. In this case, something must have prevented them from getting back to her.”

  The knowledge crawled like bugs across my skin, which was a startling thought given what I was looking at.

  Daemon and I were both silent. Buried alive? That was definitely an unexpected twist. Were these women being abducted and murdered ritualistically in a failed attempt to make zombies?

  “You said this is performed by a specialized individual. You think we have someone on the Island pretending to be a Bokor?”

  “I’m the M.E.—you’re the investigators,” Wesley said, shrugging. “But…honestly? It wouldn’t be that big of a stretch. Every religion has its extremists and we do have a big Voodoo following here. All I know is that is a hell of a way to die.”

  “Thanks, Wesley. I appreciate you bringing us in on this,” Daemon said.

  Wesley nodded. “Oliveira wants you to keep this close to the vest.”

  “Private investigators don’t tend to wear vests but you can count on us. We won’t say a word.”

  Daemon nodded, “Yes, it’s nice to know we’re heading in the right direction.”

  “How so?”

  “Both Lise Trix and Bianca Santos were fascinated and seeking out someone in the occult. I think they found whoever they were looking for.”

  “Well, whatever the two of you do, find this guy quickly. He’s sick.”

  Penny found herself looking down at what remained of the dead woman, “Sick…yes, that’s just how I feel.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  _____________

  I absolutely despise her, Nellie Rigdon had written in her diary. The woman is a monster, no, a witch! Yet no one else sees it. The fools keep coming to her for love potions and healing remedies. Will they ever understand her true nature? Maybe, if they’d seen her hovering over corpses the way I have, they would think twice about accepting her ground up potions and salves.

  I’d wandered into the main plantation looking for Yasmin. I had questions about the previous owners, and I knew she’d been here earlier working on putting the place back together. Also, I’d secretly been a little sketched out reading in my cabin. Right before I’d left, a chill had exhaled throughout the room which could have been blamed on air conditioning, except that the cabin didn’t have any.

  Unfortunately, for me Yasmin had stepped out, perhaps to collect guests. From the looks of things, the corpses had all been removed, and the wall had even been repaired.

  Now waiting for her while reading in the main plantation’s library, I found myself once again fascinated by Nellie’s stories.

  My father. He’s a monster, too. He told me we came to Ilhabela, so he could find work—but it wasn’t the truth at all. They’re always whispering and telling secrets. We came here because there was a terrible scandal about him. I know the truth because I came upon my father and that priestess witch, the Voodoo Queen. She was telling him that he was indebted to her, that if it hadn’t been for her, we would have been ruined, so he had to do as she told him.

  I paused in my reading to answer an incoming call from the newspaper back home.

  “Hello? Penny speaking.”

  “Trubble! How’s Club Dead treating ya?” Eve said, smacking her gum like a high school girl. I pictured her simultaneously twirling her thick brownish-red hair with a pencil. Eve Banter was a sixty-year-old teenager, she’ d also been a peripheral player in the last few adventures I’d been swept up in.

  Last summer, she’d wormed her way into an assistant position at my dad’s newspaper and private investigations firm. Surprisingly, she’d turned out to be a pretty good employee, namely, because her friends all lived in the Bohemian Lake Retirement Community. Who knew the old folk’s home was such a hot bed for spies? Despite a randy streak that often found her hitting on clients and wearing see-through blouses, I was pretty glad I’d hired her. She was a tough, loyal street-smart old broad—her words, not mine.

  “So, you ready for your sidekick to join you? Just say the word and I’ll have my airfare booked on your dad’s credit card. First class all the way.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks Eve. I miss you and Dad, but things are good. It’s probably best that you’re not here to get me into hot water.”

 
“Oh, hush up. You know you love hot water—cold water causes shrinkage. Speaking of which, your Dad says hello.”

  “Ewe. Could you not—”

  “What? He just moseyed on by and waved. I can’t help the comedic timing. Hot dang it! Would ya look at that, he just nabbed his credit card back. Thanks a lot. Well, that’s the last time I wave it in the air. Good thing I stole his Visa last week.”

  “Dear lord. You’re a degenerate klepto.”

  “Oh, that gives me a great idea for my blog post this week on how to achieve your goals and dreams.”

  “I can’t believe people follow you… but that reminds me. Can you go on Lise’s blog and nose around? Let me know if you come up with anything interesting. Namely, let me know if she reached out to any of the island’s Bokors before she left.”

  “Why? You think she was buying property down there?”

  “No, sorry not brokers. Bokors. You know, like a voodoo sorcerer who serves the loa with both hands.”

  “Oooh, that reminds me of a dirty joke I just heard from Mabel.

  “Nope. Gonna stop you right there, Eve. Not in the mood.”

  “That’s what she said!” Eve repeated herself twice and howled.

  “Oh, my goodness, dealing with you is like dealing with a monkey in a banana factory.”

  “What do you mean? Bananas don’t come from factories, dear.”

  “Just let me know what you find, okay? Anyway, how’s the paper? You got everything under control.”

  “You know, Trubble. Sometimes, it feels as if you just don’t trust me.”

  “Eve? That wasn’t an answer.”

  “Now you listen here, girly, I’m twice your age. I think I can handle it.”

  “You’re more than twice my age, Eve. Now answer me. Are you causing fires or putting them out?”

  “Suck it, youngin’. Geeze, you pull one fire alarm to see the male dancers do their thing and you’re branded for life.”

  “First of all, it wasn’t just once, and secondly those are real fireman, not entertainers.”