Murder, Ye Bones

Home > Other > Murder, Ye Bones > Page 7
Murder, Ye Bones Page 7

by Rachael Stapleton


  “Well, la-dee-frickin-da. Anyway, what do you want? If I don’t get back to the retirement center by four, I’ll miss my afternoon snack.”

  “You called me. Not to mention you work until five and you don’t even live there, why would you…you know what... never mind. I don’t want to know. Enjoy your juice and cookie. I’m going to get back to reading.”

  “Okay, love you too sweetie. We’ll talk again soon. Thanks for calling.” She said and hung up.

  I laughed at the absurdity that was Eve and went back to Nellie’s journal.

  The authorities refuse to take me seriously, Nellie Rigdon had written in her diary, but my father and the witch were and are such liars. I know the truth. Because I saw the bodies, including Frannie and my own twin sister whom they killed in a satanic ritual. There were others too. They’ve made a zombie of my sister, Dora. I see her sometimes. I think they keep her chained in the witch’s cabin. She’s a shadow of her former self. She never speaks—she can’t—she has no tongue. She can’t tell me what they did to her but I know. I know.

  I set down the book, disturbed by the dead girl’s words, and picked up my phone. If what Nellie wrote was true, then Maman Brigette was right about her daughter possibly being buried somewhere on the property. For some reason the authorities around here were not taking Maman seriously. I punched in Cody’s number. It would be good to get advice, and better yet, maybe he’d help me look into the missing girls. Somebody must have reported them missing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  _____________

  M inus the sticky fingerprints from somebody’s well behaved kid, the display in the window of the Sugary Bean Café was stacked with mouth-watering cupcakes, muffins and other delectable, single served desserts.

  Daemon tried not to stare while he waited for Aline Silva, a pretty, slim brunette with large dark eyes, to get out of her ballet class next door. Smart setting up a bakery next to a fitness studio. Although Daemon preferred burritos after slinging weights.

  The girl’s schedule had been in the case file and he’d been waiting outside the place for twenty minutes now.

  He glanced back through the glass to see what was taking so long and furrowed his brows. She’d gathered her things to leave but she seemed in no hurry to come out. Shoot! She probably thought he was some sort of pervert, watching the teenaged girls through the glass. He really should have brought Penny.

  Finally, though, as the students for the next class started arriving—winking and giggling at him no less—Aline came out.

  “You undercover or something?” she asked him, stopping to zip up her bag.

  “No.”

  “But you’re looking for me, right?” she asked warily.

  “Yes. My name is Daemon Wraith. I’m a private investigator.”

  “You got bad news, huh?” she said miserably. “You found Bianca’s body. Did her parents ask you to tell me?”

  “Actually. No,” he said. “I’m trying to find another young woman who disappeared about a week ago now, I think she’s connected to Bianca. And the woman in the water…we need to find out what happened to her, too, and whether she’s part of this. Can you think of anything from that night that might help me out?”

  She shook her head. “We went through everything with the cops so many times….” She hesitated, staring at the sweet treats in the window. “Bianca was there, and then she wasn’t. Where she went, if she left with somebody…I don’t know how. If I did, I swear I would tell you.”

  “Listen, are you hungry? We can go inside? My treat. I’ll talk and you just let me know if it sparks anything. You never know, right?”

  The minute they were seated with their order, she started inhaling her cookie.

  “So, what is it you know?” she asked him, washing down the gingerbread with a big gulp of her pumpkin spiced latte.

  “You guys built a bonfire—and then a woman came out of the woods. Can you tell me about her?”

  She finally smiled at him. “You wanna know about that weird Voodoo Queen lady? I forgot all about her ’til Breno reminded me.”

  “How old was she?”

  “I don’t know. She had face paint on and a snake. It kind of drew all my attention, but she could have been thirty?”

  Aline took another bite, then looked at him, glowering. “She was thin, I remember that. I don’t see how it could have been her. Bianca could have taken her. She told us she was a Voodoo Queen. That was right up Bianca’s alley. I remember at one point the woman said something to her, right into her ear….” She stopped speaking, frowning in concentration. “I couldn’t hear what they said, and then Breno handed me a joint and I stopped paying attention.”

  “You’re sure she said she was the Voodoo Queen?”

  “Positive.”

  He glanced at his watch. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to find someone who went by the Voodoo Queen on the Island, but he was determined to try.

  Chapter Sixteen

  _____________

  C ody wasn’t answering so I left him a long-winded message about the case and went back to Nellie’s journal. I jumped when I heard a bang. I tensed, my heart thundering. What the hell?

  Had the sound come from inside the house—or outside?

  I set down my phone and walked down the corridor. Then I went from room to room, through the parlor, the dining room, even checking the restaurant and bar area. There was no one and nothing was amiss… except the basement door was standing ajar. I didn’t think it was open before. Could someone have come back?

  “Yasmin?”

  I walked over to the open door and looked warily down the stairs.

  A lone naked bulb shone brightly from the ceiling. As a mortuary back in the day, I’d read the basement had been used to store the dead. No bodies now. Still it gave me the heebie jeebies.

  “Hello?” I said again, cursing the shakiness of my voice.

  I decided to go down, just a few steps to check things out. I didn’t intimidate easily. If someone was there-someone who didn’t belong—I would kick their behind and hightail it back up.

  I started down the steps, but all I could see were shadows cast by the stark light of the naked bulb.

  Okay, that was it. I’d been determined not to be spooked out, but I wasn’t about to be an idiot, either. Real people I could fight, shadows—not so much. Time to go. Later, when the house was full, I would come back.

  I was about to ascend when I heard the door behind me creaking.

  I looked up just as it slammed shut.

  At the same time, that single glowing lightbulb below me flickered and went out, turning the place to black.

  Chapter Seventeen

  _____________

  D aemon found the Voodoo Queen’s house without difficulty, a charming whitewashed farmhouse. He shut his car door, and realized with an inner smile that it would have fit right into Bohemian Lake—the porch boasted a swing, beautiful flowers in planters and vines twining through the railings.

  As he approached the wooden frame of the screen door, he smelled fresh-baked oatmeal raisin cookies and found himself trying to imagine the woman who lived here as a serial killer.

  “Good day, Mr. Wraith?” The door swung open, and the Voodoo Queen smiled at him in welcome. “Come. Tell me what you need, and you shall have it.”

  His immediate thought was that this tiny, white haired woman was more likely to be a grandmother than a kidnapper.

  She couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds soaking wet and her eyes were bright blue and flanked by wrinkles.

  “I’m Daemon Wraith,” he said, thinking that this was a complete waste of time. She clearly wasn’t the woman he was looking for. “I’m awfully sorry,” he began.

  She cut him off pleasantly. “Come in, come in. You’ve come this far, young man. If you’ve changed your mind about the love spell, that’s just fine. Have some cookies and tea, anyway.”

  As she steered him to a seat on a quilt-strewn sofa,
he told her, “I should start by being honest with—”

  “This has to do with all the terrible troubles on Ilhabela?” She said, cutting him off.

  “Yes, I’m a private investigator. I’m here because your name was given to me by a young woman when I was questioning her about the disappearance of another girl. I believe someone is impersonating you.”

  “My Goddess.” She touched her heart. “Why would anyone want to do a crazy thing like that?”

  “That’s what I’m here to try and figure out. Several girls are missing, Ms…?”

  “Please, call me Maxine,” the woman said. “I know it’s silly—Maxine-the-Voodoo-Queen—but it’s good for advertising.” She was heading for the kitchen. “What is your pleasure, young man? Coffee, tea? I’m fond of tea myself, and I’ve just brewed a pot, but don’t let that stop you from asking for something else.”

  “Tea is fine.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen but returned quickly with a tray holding two kinds of cookies—not just oatmeal raisin, but shortbread cookies, as well—and an old teapot with a cozy wrapped around it, along with cups and saucers. She set the tea tray down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, took a seat in a huge wingback chair and began to pour the tea.

  “It’s nice to have company,” she told him. “In our world today, everyone is always busy. It’s nice just to take time in the afternoon to sit down with a pot of brewed tea. Sugar? Milk?”

  “Just a drop of milk, please,” he told her, leaning forward, anxious to waste as little time as possible.

  And she seemed to be aware of it. Though her eyes were on the tea service, she was wearing a small, patient smile.

  She handed him his cup and said, “So now you’re worried that someone’s using my name.” She leaned back and sipped her tea. “You must have a fresh-baked cookies,” she told him, her patient smile more obvious.

  To his own surprise, he blushed. “I’m sorry. I don’t intend to be rude, but several girls are missing, as you know, and yesterday we found a body. I’m not sure how much you know, though there’s been a fair bit written in the papers and on the news.”

  “I read about it on the Internet first, actually,” she told him, then added, when his eyes widened, “even we old folks have discovered the Internet, you know.” She chuckled to herself. “Let me tell you what I know, and then you can tell me if you think I can help you.”

  “I don’t think this is a matter for voodoo,” he said.

  “I didn’t intend to do voodoo. And I didn’t suggest that my help would be of the spiritual kind.”

  “I’m sorry,” he assured her. “I don’t know why I—”

  He broke off, startled, when she took his teacup and set it down, and studied his eyes.

  “All right let’s start with what’s going on. Are you here because of Bianca Santos or the woman whose body was found this week?” She must have seen something in his face, because she suddenly said, “You found the body, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I found two bodies, actually. I came down here to look for a girl who disappeared more recently—Lise Trix. The police aren’t officially connecting her disappearance to Bianca Santos’s—but my gut is telling me there’s a link.”

  She nodded knowingly.

  “We haven’t identified the most recent girl yet but what I’ve discovered so far about the other two girls who are still missing is that they were both fascinated by the occult. So far, I have no idea where Lise Trix, the girl I’m looking for, was when she went missing, but Bianca Santos disappeared from a beach. No one saw her leave. The only possible suspect I’ve discovered so far is a woman calling herself the Voodoo Queen who was talking to Bianca earlier in the evening.”

  “And you thought that was me?”

  He cast her an apologetic smile. “Not anymore.”

  “I’m eighty-two,” she said, smiling. “I’m doing alright but not quite well enough to kidnap anything that weighs more than a bag of flour.”

  “I understand,” Daemon said. “Do you have any children living here? That woman was using your name.”

  “No children, Mr. Wraith. And names are easy to use. Anyway, I don’t quite think I’m the Voodoo Queen they were referring to.” When he looked at her curiously, Maxine gave a decisive nod and explained. “My name is the same as that of the ‘priestess witch’ who lived in Ilhabela forty-six years ago. I borrowed it from the local lore. She didn’t call herself the Voodoo Queen or a priestess of course. In fact, I don’t think she called herself anything at all but her reputation is well known because she was lynched for murdering some local girls in satanic rituals.”

  “Really? That’s a hell of a name to borrow. I’ll look into that angle,” Daemon said, finishing his tea and dusting cookie crumbs from his fingers.

  She smiled, then surprised him by turning his hand over to look at his palm. “Yes, well, in my line of business, any supernatural reputation is good, even if people are afraid of you—sometimes all the better. Would you like a palm reading?” she asked.

  “You don’t have to… ”

  She looked closely at his hand. “You’re involved with someone.”

  “Sort of,” he said lightly. He didn’t pull his hand away. Her grasp was unexpectedly strong for a woman her age, he realized.

  She looked up into his eyes and smiled. “You have much in common with her. You’re drawn to her but you don’t love her. No, no—don’t get defensive,” she said when he started to object. She cupped his cheeks between her palms. “You’d risk your life for her. What you’re afraid of is risking your heart, and that’s good. She is not the one for you. The reason you’re drawn to her is business related. She will make an excellent partner in business but not in love. Let her go and the right one will come along.”

  “Thank you, I think. That’s not what I wanted to hear but it’s good advice,” he said.

  “It’s only good advice if you take it,” she told him, then frowned suddenly, and her grip on his hand tightened.

  Her eyes drifted closed for a moment before a frustrated growl parted her lips. “I thought perhaps I could divine the future for your killer and seek your answers there, but he or she flew too close to your sun and has been burned from my psychic eye.” She tapped the side of her head. “Sometimes I glimpse the future from the corner of another’s destiny but not this time.”

  “It’s all right.” He took her papery hands in his. “Don’t strain yourself trying.”

  “I have a theory, if it helps.” Her fingers tightened around his. “Someone you know is…in danger. She’s very close to the situation. Too close. And you need to stay near her. Everything is connected. She’s treading too close to the truth, and…you need her if you’re to see this situation through.”

  He pulled his hand away, startled by the wave of electricity shooting between them as she spoke.

  “Who, Maxine, is it Danior or Penny? I work for Nana Vianu, who—”

  “Nana Vianu?” she said, clearly delighted. “I don’t know her myself, but I have friends who speak very highly of her.”

  “Good. Well, both of the women I mentioned are extremely important to her. So—”

  “I see copper so I’m going to assume it’s Penny unless the Danior girl has copper colored hair,” Maxine said.

  “No, that sounds like Penny, alright. Both the name and the hair.”

  “Alright, then. The Voodoo Queen was the housekeeper at a mortuary. Yasmin Donazan owns the old place now. I’ve seen it on the news—they found skeletons in the walls,” she said. “Your friend is staying there, right?”

  “Yes.”

  The old seer inclined her head, eyes distant. “We are limited to what the goddess reveals to us, but I believe that there’s some bad juju sweeping over the Island right now.” Maxine patted his cheek. “Be vigilant.”

  She stood, and he realized that she was ready for him to leave.

  He rose, as well, glad that he had come if only to solidify that she
wasn’t the woman who’d been on the beach that night.

  “Maxine, it was a true pleasure to meet you,” he said. “Thank you. Now what do I owe you?”

  “I appreciate the sentiment,” she said. “But there’s no price on helping stop an evil.”

  As he drove away, he realized that he needed to call Oliveira; he had promised to keep the Inspector up-to-date on what was going on with his investigation, which was only fair, since the police had given him every bit of assistance possible.

  But when he picked up his cell phone, he felt a strange chill shoot along his spine.

  Penny.

  Penny was in danger. He was sure of it.

  He punched in Penny’s number but she didn’t answer, and the chill came back, more powerful than before.

  The Voodoo Queen’s words haunted him.

  Someone you know is in danger.

  He told himself it was probably nothing, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to make sure she was all right. Why wasn’t she answering her phone?

  Maybe she had already gone to Li Grand Zomb, and she couldn’t hear the phone over the noise in the bar. Maybe she’d forgotten to plug in her phone, and her battery had died.

  There were a dozen perfectly logical—and perfectly safe—maybes, and he told himself he was being ridiculous to panic because of the words of a medium he’d never even met before today.

  He called Inspector Oliveira, who was out of the office on personal time, though he could be contacted if there was an emergency. Daemon passed and tried Adriano.

  But Adriano hadn’t heard from Penny yet.

  “Can you try to find her?” Daemon asked.

  “Sure, but, where are you?”

  “On the way back, but still a ways away.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “I’ll explain later. I’m just uncomfortable, not knowing where she is.”

  “Does she usually give you her schedule?” Adriano asked.

  Daemon almost smiled at Adriano’s protective alpha male persona, then said seriously, “Adriano, I can’t reach her, and I’m worried.”

 

‹ Prev