by Eric Wilder
“What the hell are you looking at?” she asked.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s not every night I see a beautiful half-naked girl emerge from the sea. Good thing for you I’m not a rapist.”
“If you were, your balls would be rolling in the sand right about now.”
“Uncle,” he said. “Sorry, I’m staring. What I need is a shot of scotch to get my mind back on track. Wouldn’t happen to have one, would you?”
Odette reached into her duffel again, tossing a silver flask to him she’d fished out.
“You’re a ballsy sort, even for a lawyer. This isn’t scotch, but it’s all I have.”
Eddie unscrewed the cap of the flask and took a drink.
“Bet I know where you got this,” he said.
“Bet you don’t,” she said.
“From Jack Wiesinski. I’ve never tasted better rum.”
“Might have come from the same liquor store,” she said.
Good prosecutors always seemed to know when someone was lying. Eddie wasn’t just good, he’d been among the best. Odette was lying. He decided not to worry about it.
“That’s a mighty big backpack for a little bitty girl,” he said.
“Everything I own in the world,” she said.
“Where did you park your car?”
“I don’t own a car.”
“Then how did you get here?”
“Walked and hitchhiked. I may be little. I’m not weak.”
Goosebumps had begun popping up on Odette’s arms and legs. Once again rummaging through the backpack, she fished out a pair of sweatpants, sweatshirt and down jacket. After pulling off her bikini bottoms without bothering to turn around, she slipped on the sweatpants, then the sweatshirt and finally the jacket.
“Sorry for staring,” Eddie said. “I’m not used to having attractive females I just met taking their clothes off in front of me.”
“Sorry about that. It’s become a habit. I was a stripper on Bourbon Street for a while. So many men have seen me naked, I don’t even think about it.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining,” he said. “You from New Orleans?”
“Breaux Bridge,” she said. “I lived in New Orleans for the past two years. Until yesterday.”
“You’re not on vacation?”
“Nope, this is my home now.”
Before Eddie could speak, something inside the tent began scratching on the canvas, trying to get out. Odette unzipped the door, grabbed a scrawny puppy with a wagging tail to her breast and squeezed it. Eddie moved closer and rubbed the small dog’s head.
“What a cute little dog. What’s her name?”
“I call her Mudbug because I found her in a ditch, sealed in a plastic bag. She’d managed to tear a hole in the plastic, or else she would have smothered to death.”
“Good grief!” Eddie said. “The things people are capable of doing to helpless creatures never ceases to amaze me.”
“I know.”
“Mudbug, huh? Good name for the dog of a Cajun girl. How do you intend to live here? There are no toilets and no running water.”
“Yes, there is. This was a public beach in the thirties. The WPA drilled a well and installed a bathhouse about a hundred yards from here. The well still works, and so does the bathrooms. No hot water, but there are even working shower stalls.”
“You’re welcome to use mine anytime you want,” Eddie said. “What about food? You’ll get tired of a steady diet of fish after a while.”
“I have enough freeze-dried food for a week, though I didn’t account for Mudbug.”
“I just got here today myself. Someone had stocked my pantry and refrigerator with more food than I can ever eat. Come up to the restaurant with me. I’ll fill a shopping bag for you.” Odette didn’t bother replying. “Well?” he said.
“I just met you. I’m still not sure about your intentions.”
“My intentions, I assure you, are honorable. And Mudbug looks hungry.”
“Sorry. Even a sack of food isn’t worth taking a risk for.”
“I didn’t know I look so predatory,” Eddie said. “I’ll run to the restaurant and bring a sack of supplies with me when I return.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’ll be back,” he said, heading into the darkness, toward the restaurant.
As Eddie walked up the stairs to his new digs, he wondered about his decision to take on a new way of life. Outside, the wind had begun blowing, creating all manner of creepy noises in the old building. He tried not to worry about it as he opened the door to his new abode and went straight to the cupboard.
A half-hour had passed before Eddie returned to the blanket on the beach. Odette had gathered a stack of driftwood, her little fire glowing brightly. He found her lying on her back on the blanket, playing with her new puppy. She stiffened when she heard him approaching.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.
“Not scared, just startled.”
“Whatever. I brought you two bags of food. I kept finding things I thought you’d like.”
“Anything for Mudbug?”
“Little Miss Mudbug hit the jackpot. Whoever stocked my cupboard threw in a little of everything, including both cat and dog food. Hard, dry, moist and soft. Take your pick. I was hungry myself, so I made us a couple of bologna sandwiches.”
Mudbugs little belly was soon full, and she fell asleep in Odette’s lap. Odette smacked her lips and whisked away non-existent crumbs off her hands.
“Thank you,” she said. “You didn’t have to do that for us.”
“I’ve only been here one day, and I’ve already learned how lonely that old building is. Sure you and Mudbug won’t accept my offer of a room for the night?”
“Sorry. I’m starting to like you. I still don’t trust you. You’ll have to deal with your loneliness on your own.”
Eddie sipped rum from Odette’s flask. “You were in the water when I came to the beach. What were you doing out there in the dark?”
“Looking for something,” she said.
“Couldn’t it have waited until tomorrow?”
“You find things out there after a storm. There’s another storm coming tomorrow. I wanted to get into the water before then.”
“What did you expect to find?”
The object Odette pulled from her pocket glimmered in the light of the fire.
“This,” she said.
Odette’s open hand revealed what looked like a piece of a Spanish doubloon. Eddie took it from her, trying to catch the light as he turned it in his palm.
“This has to be gold,” he said. “Where did you find it?”
“In about ten feet of water, just beyond the breakers. Last night’s storm stirred up the sand and uncovered this piece of Spanish gold.”
“Is there more out there like this?”
“Probably, though that’s not what I’m looking for.”
“What exactly are you looking for?” Eddie asked.
“A sunken Spanish treasure ship laden with a fortune in gold and emeralds.”
“What makes you think such a shipwreck exists near here?” Eddie asked.
“It’s late, and I’ve already told you too much,” Odette said. “Mudbug and I are headed for the tent before it starts raining again. Thanks for the supplies and we’ll see you later, Eddie.”
Chapter 16
Mama’s irritated glare remained as Bertram poured himself another shot of rum and waited for me to begin.
“No matter what it looked like, I would never try to bed one of my clients. Though I don’t remember how I ended up there, I do remember why.”
“Then don’t keep us in suspense,” Mama said.
“My story is going to sound incredulous. I’m not sure it isn’t a dream.”
“Tell the damn story and let me and Mama figure it out,” Bertram said.
“Adela was quite drunk when we left the Riverfront. She fell in love with your little car and wanted to d
rive it. I agreed because I figured she was a better driver than I am.”
“Wait a minute,” Bertram said. “Who’s Adela? Bring me up to speed here.”
“Mama and I met new clients. They gave us front row seats to see the Pels and then treated us to dinner at the Riverfront.”
“Sweet,” Bertram said.
“Taj Davis is one of our new clients and Adela the other,” Mama said. “They both just arrived in New Orleans. They wanted to talk with Wyatt and me because we have the knowledge they seek.”
“Like what?” Bertram asked.
“They had just met and learned that both have identical voodoo veves on their chests. Someone told Taj I could answer his questions.”
“Taj Davis, the basketball player?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Think he can get me some tickets?” Bertram asked.
“That’s not what we’re here to discuss,” Mama said before turning her attention back to me. “You let Adela drive my car?”
“Sorry. It was pouring rain when we drove past Jackson Square. Adela was enthralled and insisted on parking and getting out. We were wringing wet by the time we made it back to the car.”
“I can’t believe you,” Mama said. “The seats got so wet, I don’t know if she’ll ever be the same.”
“I said I’m sorry.”
Bertram poured Mama another shot of rum. “Go on with the story,” he said.
“Adela and I were both in the same condition as your car when we reached her room. It was then I got my first real surprise of the night.”
“Like what?” Bertram asked.
“She stripped off her clothes in front of me and insisted I stay.”
“Whoa!” Bertram said. “A nice surprise.”
“It put me in a compromising position I didn’t want to be in,” I said.
Mama wasn’t smiling. “And you just stood there ogling the poor girl when you could tell she was drunk? Why didn’t you just leave?”
“Because she informed me I worked for her, and we had more business to discuss.”
“She was naked, and you just stood there, dripping on the carpet?”
“Shut up, Bertram,” I said. “You’re not helping matters.”
“What did you do?” Mama asked.
“Adela was only naked for a moment before going to the bathroom and changing into a bathrobe. I tried again to leave. She said she had something very important to tell me. Something she’d never told anyone.”
“And you just kept standing there, dripping wet?” Mama said.
“I removed my clothes in the bathroom, draping them over a chair to dry. Adela had ordered a bottle of wine while I was in the bathroom. She offered me a glass when I returned.”
“You fell off the wagon?” Bertram said.
“No, at least not at that moment.”
“Then you got drunk, just like you used to, and took advantage of our client,” Mama said.
I’d maintained my sobriety for some years, and Mama’s reprimand was like a slap in the face.
“No, I didn’t. Stop with your accusations and let me finish.”
“What were you wearing?” Bertram asked.
“I wasn’t naked if that’s what you’re getting at. I found a robe in the bathroom, and it covered me quite nicely, thank you. I declined the glass of wine, but. . .”
“But what?” Mama said.
“Adela had marijuana and offered me a puff. When I declined she let her robe drop to the floor, sat in my lap and began blowing in my ear.”
“Good God Almighty!” Bertram said. “What does this woman look like?”
“Shut up, Bertram,” Mama said, smiling for the first time. “So you’re saying she seduced you and not the other way around?”
“I’m not a saint, and I probably wouldn’t have had the wherewithal to put on my wet clothes and go. I never found out because she used a shotgun on me.”
“What the hell?” Bertram said.
“She put the lit end of the joint in her mouth and blew smoke up my nose. It wasn’t only pot she was smoking. There was something hallucinogenic in the joint as well. That’s when I started drinking wine.”
“Damn!” Bertram said. “We may run out of this great rum before you finish this story.”
“I think we’ve heard enough,” Mama said. “You succumbed to your baser instincts and bedded our client.”
“No, I didn’t,” I said. “There’s lots more to this story if you’ll just shut the hell up and let me finish telling it.”
Mama looked no happier when she flicked her wrist and eyed her empty glass. Bertram shook his head and poured her more rum. Outside, the winter storm had returned with a vengeance, rain pelleting the window. Bertram refilled my lemonade glass.
“Don’t want you to get so dry you can’t finish talking,” he said.
“Adela told me she has powers.”
Suddenly attentive, Mama turned on her stool until our knees were touching.
“What kind of powers?”
“Magic,” I said.
“Magic, or just illusion?” Mama asked.
“Real magic. At least as best I could tell. Keep in mind I was under the influence of some psychotropic drug and wasn’t sure what I was witnessing. I’m still not sure.”
“Tell us what you think you saw,” she said.
“Adela used mind control to cause the candle on the serving tray to melt down. She also made objects levitate off the table. Then she began to levitate and float around the room.”
“Was she still naked?” Bertram asked.
“When was the last time you had a date?” Mama said.
“Just asking a simple question,” Bertram said.
“The answer is yes,” I said. “Adela was definitely naked.”
“A naked woman was floating around the room? You making this shit up?” Bertram asked.
“I’m just telling you what happened. It could have been an induced fantasy. I don’t know. What I do know is, it’s not where the fantasy ended, and it only got darker from that moment on.”
“I’m listening,” Mama said.
“Adela took my hand. We levitated and then flew through the window. As we hovered over New Orleans, I realized we were both naked.”
“Wait a minute,” Bertram said. “You flew through a closed window?”
“We passed through the glass as if it wasn’t there.”
“Man, you were more screwed up than I thought you was,” he said.
“It didn’t feel like a dream. I was cold, and when we floated through a damp cloud, I got a chill. And that’s not to mention a sudden fear of heights had kicked in, and I was terrified I was going to fall to my death.”
“You right,” Bertram said. “You were smoking something bad.”
“Real bad. We finally returned to the hotel but not to the room we had left from. It was on the thirteenth floor and smelled of dust and mold. The sheets on the bed were mussed and warm. The bathroom door was open. I could hear someone splashing water in the tub. We went in to see.”
“Another naked woman?” Bertram said.
“A naked woman with a missing head, jerking around as if she were still alive and with blood spewing out of her neck. The body sank into the water as Adela and I watched. It was then we realized the killer was standing behind us in the little bathroom.”
A clap of thunder shook the windows and Bertram jumped. Filling his glass, he drained it in a single swallow. Mama reached for the bottle and poured herself another.
“Go on,” she said.
“A demon was blocking the bathroom door. I don’t know if it was the same demon Taj told us about or a nightmare induced by memories of his story. Adela grabbed my wrist and levitated us over him, out the bathroom door and then back outside. It was the last thing I remember until you and Taj found us in bed. Except. . .”
“Except for what?” Mama said.
“The demon spoke to us as we were leaving.”
“I�
��ll bite. What the hell did it say?” Bertram said.
“The demon had the head of the disembodied woman, holding it by its long red hair and dragging it across the tile. It was Adela’s head.”
“Get out of here,” Bertram said.
“What did the demon say?” Mama asked.
“I will have you, Aisling.”
“Who the hell is Aisling?” Bertram asked.
“An Irish witch,” Mama said before I could answer. Bertram and I both stared at Mama, waiting for her to explain. “Taj and I also had a paranormal experience tonight.”
Bertram tipped the bottle of rum, watching as the last drop dribbled into his glass.
“Damn!” he said. “Guess I’m going back to Cuervo.”
“Then will you make me a martini?” Mama asked.
When Bertram went behind the bar to find Mama’s favorite vodka, Mama handed me an envelope from her purse.
“I was going to keep the entire retainer and tell you I was no longer your business partner. Your story convinced me you did nothing out of line. Deposit this in your bank and then write me a check for my half.”
“Twenty grand is a lot of money,” I said.
“I tried to give it back. Taj was having none of it. He even offered to give us more.”
“Sounds like my kind of client.”
Bertram returned as I was stuffing the envelope into the pocket of my jacket. He made a production of handing Mama a chilled glass with an olive in the vodka.
“Voila. Guess you know who mixes the finest martinis in the Quarter.”
Mama smiled after sipping the concoction. “I can’t argue with that, Bertram. Your martini is definitely the best in all of New Orleans.”
“Good, now let’s hear your story.”
“The reason Taj came to me was the cemetery keeper at St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 gave him my name. From the way Taj described the man, I was suspicious. We took a cab to the cemetery to talk to him.”
“After dark?” Bertram asked.
“Just a few hours ago,” Mama said.
“You about a brave one,” Bertram said. “That’s a good way to get your throat cut.”
“Taj was with me, and he’s a giant of a man. As I had thought, there was no ground’s keeper living on the premises. I used my powers to summon Baron Samedi, the keeper of souls and cemeteries.”