Tonton

by Billy Kring

  “Alone?” Hunter asked.

  “You were the only one who saw the ship come into the New River and then run aground. Agents Redus and Benton arrived while people departed the ship.”

  Redus and Benton left the room a half-hour later, and the attorney said to Hunter, “Your testimony will be key, since you saw Jean Claude Villard on the ship. Would you go through events for us again?”

  “Sure,” Hunter said, and she told them what happened. The four attorneys took notes and recorded her, but didn’t ask many questions. When she finished, the lead attorney said, “Excellent. We’ll call you when things begin.”

  Hunter met Andre in the hall. He said, “You ready to get out of here?”

  “I’ll meet you at my hotel.” They took their personal cars and once there, found Ariel in the lobby. Hunter led them to her room, where Ariel told them of the vodou ritual she witnessed, and of the chase afterwards.

  Everyone was silent with their own thoughts, then Hunter said, “You didn’t see them kill the woman.”

  “No. They stopped when I knocked people down while getting out the door. Then the two bokors, the two sorcerers, came outside to watch me leave.” She shivered at the memory.

  Andre said, “I’m not sure what they did to the goat is illegal, either, because it was a religious rite. I’ll have to do some digging. Otherwise we have zilch to have law enforcement arrest them. We sure can’t because none of it is an immigration crime.”

  Hunter said, “We can go check some things tomorrow.”

  Andre nodded, then walked to the door, “Later, dude.”

  After he left, Hunter said, “You can stay here tonight with me. I’ve got these two beds, so one is yours. Tomorrow I’ll help you check out your home, make sure you’re safe there.”

  Ariel said, “Thank you.”

  They talked about other things after that, and watched television until midnight. Both slept well.

  Ringo Bazin sat in his Mercedes across the parking lot from Hunter’s car and watched the man in the hoodie near Agent Kincaid’s car trot away into the deeper shadows under the trees. Ringo saw the lights in Kincaid’s room go off. He made a call on his phone while starting the Mercedes. When a voice answered, he said in Creole, “Li se fè,” he smiled, “It is done.” Ringo slid the phone in his pocket, turned the steering wheel and drove out of the hotel parking lot.

  At three different locations, other men turned off their phones and left at the same time.

  Hunter and Ariel were up early and walked to the car as every leaf and branch dripped water in the morning’s sticky tropical humidity. Clicking the button on her key to unlock the car, Hunter reached for the handle.

  Ariel stopped her, “Wait.” She pointed at a white powder on the handle, “This is nowhere else on your car. Don’t touch it.”

  Hunter said, “You think that’s poison?”

  “Maybe, I’m not sure.” She rubbed her forehead and said, “This is bad magic.”

  Hunter still wasn’t a believer, but she knew there were potions and ingredients in the world that could do people harm. “If I wash it off, will that take care of it?”

  “Do you have any rum?”

  “In the pantry.”

  Ariel held out her hand, “Give me your keys.” Hunter gave them to her, and Ariel hurried to the room, returning fast with a bottle of Appleton’s, a bottle of water, and two hand towels. She poured the alcohol over the handle, rinsed it with water, then did the same thing two more times.

  Hunter watched the liquid run off the pavement, forming a plate-sized pool at the edge of the lot. A glossy black, boat-tailed grackle landed on the grass and walked to it, then dipped its beak to drink.

  Ariel dried the handle with the second towel. “I believe it is clean.”

  Hunter looked at her, “Make sure you have nine-one-one ready on your phone it this goes south.” She grabbed the handle and opened the car door. She looked at her hand, then said to Ariel, “We’re good. Let’s go.”

  As Hunter backed out of the parking space, she looked over her shoulder and saw the grackle lying on its back, with its wings open to the sides and all loose looking. She stopped the car and both women exited.

  Ariel used a small twig to move the bird’s body. One foot curled a fraction. “It is alive.” She pointed at the small puddle and said, “That’s diluted. I’m glad you didn’t touch the powder.”

  “Me, too. Now I want to find these bastards. We’ll stop by the office and check their security cameras from last night.” She checked the rest of the car’s exterior, but found no more powder. When they drove to the front of the hotel, Ariel could tell that Hunter was mad, and not just a little bit, but like she was ready to throttle someone.

  Hunter talked to the manager and showed her badge, explaining what happened and that she needed to see the security video. A minute later, she and Ariel sat at a table and punched the Play button to watch the tape. A man wearing a hoodie that shielded his face emerged from out of the shadows, walked straight to Hunter’s car and took out a small bag from his pocket, and then he put something on the handle. He replaced the bag in his pocket and left the way he came. His face was never visible, and he wore thin gloves of some sort.

  Ariel said, “He is one of those who tried to kidnap me.”

  “How can you be sure? His face is covered. So are his hands. I can’t even tell if he’s black or white.”

  “I am sure. His movements, and he is left-handed.”

  Hunter ran the video back and replayed it. He was left-handed. “I’ll get you with a police sketch artist today and we’ll see if we can’t catch him. Good work, Ariel.”

  “I’m calling the police, too, and report this. Let’s go outside and wait for them. Maybe they can take the bird and figure out what was used.”

  The bird was gone.

  They looked around and under the bushes and flowers, but couldn’t locate it. No grackles in the trees, either. They stood beside the car and thought of other places to look, but none came to mind.

  At that moment, Ariel’s eyes widened. She said, “This one was with the others, and John and Randall stopped them.”

  Hunter realized where she was going and pulled her phone. It rang in her hand before she dialed.

  She answered and Randall said, “Don’t touch your car.”

  “I was going to call and tell you and John the same thing.”

  “I called John just now. How about your partner?”

  “Call you back.” Hunter said and cut off their call to dial Andre.

  He answered, “What’s up?”

  “Don’t touch your car.” She told him what happened; that she had called the police, and that he should, call and report it, too.

  An hour later, after talks to the police, their supervisors, and two FBI Agents, John, Randall, Hunter, Andre, and Ariel sat down together for the first time since it happened.

  John said to Ariel, “The men pursuing you, that started when you ran away from the ceremony?”

  “I didn’t see them behind me, but yes, that is what I think. Someone recognized my car, and maybe me, too.”

  “And you drove to Dania Beach and hid under the pier all night.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see anyone, or any unusual activity?”

  “No.”

  Randall said, “Your car was already burning when you saw it the next morning.”

  “Yes.”

  “How long had it been burning, do you think?”

  “Not long, because the paint on the doors wasn’t scorched.”

  “So, minutes.”

  “I think so, yes. And then I walked along the shore down to Hollywood and the boardwalk. I saw no one following me, and didn’t see any trouble until I saw the groups of black men in Hollywood.”

  Hunter said, “I want you to think back to the ceremony, and see if you remember any of the men being at it.”

  Ariel was silent as she thought about that night. She rose and walked to R
andall, then sat close beside him, leaning her body against his side from hip to shoulder, like a boyfriend and girlfriend sometimes did. Randall felt her body sandwiching the izze-cloth and the tzi-daltai between them. He knew she felt the objects, but Ariel didn’t mention it. She said, “Being here helps me. There’s an aura around you.” She looked at Randall’s face, “Plus, you’re nice looking.” Then she winked.

  Randall looked at the others, “If this works, I’m not gonna knock it. I can do my part for hours if need be.”

  Ariel closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them, she said, “They were there, all of them. On the far side near the three djab, the three devils.”

  Andre said, “The woman and two men?”

  “Yes.”

  Hunter asked, “Did you recognize any of those three?”

  “No. Their faces were made up, and they wore robes and loose clothes.”

  John’s phone rang. He answered, “Detective Quick.” After listening for almost a minute, he gave Randall the let’s go hand sign and turned off the cell. “We’ve got a homicide.” He looked at Hunter, “We’ll touch base with you this evening.”

  Randall seemed hesitant to leave Ariel’s side and said, “You know, if it’s only one little old body, I could stay here and be more valuable to the American people.”

  Ariel moved away from him, a somber look on her face, “Go, I feel this is a bad one.” The others looked at her, then Randall stood and the two homicide detectives left.

  Hunter said, “What did you mean, ‘a bad one’?”

  Ariel said, “I hope I’m wrong, so no more will be said until we hear from them.”

  Hunter glanced at Andre, who said, “Let’s do what we need to do and catch up with John and Randall later.”

  Andre said, “We need to see the warehouse where the ceremony took place. We can check for evidence they might have left.”

  Ariel shivered. “I’ll show you.”

  Traffic was light, and they reached the area in forty minutes. Ariel directed Andre where to turn at the different intersections and soon they were at the warehouse. It appeared abandoned, with nothing showing activity. A half-collapsed cyclone fence circled the grounds and a dual entrance gate hung half open, with one side bent at an angle like a leaning drunk. They went through the gate to the warehouse door, and Hunter turned the knob. It opened, and the first thing they noticed was the smell of bleach.

  The warehouse was empty. Andre and Hunter snapped photos with their cell phones as they checked the space. No chairs, no tables, no furniture of any kind. Someone had swept the concrete floor so that not even a grain of sand was evident. Ariel pointed at a place on the floor, “That is where the goat died.”

  The chlorine smell was stronger there, but nothing tangible stood out. Andre said, “Think luminal might show something?”

  “They sprayed down every square inch in this place with bleach, and probably more than once. I’m not sure any traces are left.”

  Ariel walked the floor, remembering that night. She angled to the back of the building where the three djab had emerged from another room. The smell was very strong there, and a sense of dread made the fine hairs on her forearms prickle. She left the room to join Hunter and Andre.

  They walked the entire warehouse until Hunter said, “Let’s go outside, breathing this is giving me a headache.” The others didn’t argue and followed Hunter out the door. Several minutes in the open air cleared her head and the headache lessened but did not go away.

  Andre said, “One car passed by twice while we’ve been standing here.”

  Hunter said, “We can keep an eye out for it.” She looked at the area around the warehouse, “I’m going to walk the perimeter, see what shows up.”

  Andre said, “I’ll watch for that car, see if I can catch a license plate.” Ariel didn’t speak, but followed Hunter.

  The front of the building showed nothing but a few indistinct disturbances on the parking area. When Hunter walked around the corner and moved toward the rear of the warehouse, things started showing in the uncut grass and weeds. She said to Ariel, “Looks like six or eight people stomped around back here. Let’s keep going.”

  A single back door centered the back wall and Hunter found more sign there, plus clear impressions in the grass of a vehicle that drove to, and then from the back door. There was no dirt to obtain a tread impression of the tire, or of anyone’s shoes. Hunter took her time, looked close, and there it was.

  She bent lower over three long, red hairs, partially hidden in the trampled grass. “You said the woman was red headed?”

  Ariel stood beside her and pointed at the hairs, “This color. These are hers.”

  Hunter nodded, pulled her phone and took photos of the hairs and the area to show perspective and distance from the back door. She pulled a small, clear evidence bag from her back pocket, then found a pencil-sized twig and used it and her ballpoint pen together as if they were chopsticks to lift the hairs and place them inside. She closed it, wrote the date, time, location and her name on the bag in black ink, and put the bag in her front pocket.

  Turning her attention to the vehicle impressions, she followed the tire paths across the bruised grass and flattened weeds to where it passed through a gap in the back fence. The tracks continued through several more overgrown lots to come out on a narrow, paved street. Ariel said, “The red-haired woman was in the vehicle.”

  “I think so, too.”

  The two women returned to the front of the warehouse, where Hunter showed Andre the hairs and told him about the tire tracks. He said, “That car passed by one more time, and the plates come back to Jean Claude Villard, of all people.”

  Hunter said, “We know one thing, he’s not driving it from jail.”

  Andre said, “Gives us someone to talk to, though.”

  “It surely does. Now let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 7

  John and Randall cruised to the far west side of the city near Highway 27 and drove through an open ranch gate into an overgrown field. They followed the trail to a large grove of trees where a small wisp of white smoke emanated from its center like a finger pointed at the sky.

  A single police vehicle was there, and John parked beside it, then the two detectives walked the rest of the way on foot into the cluster of trees.

  The shade was dense under the heavy tree canopy, but there was little undergrowth and that made progress to the fire easy enough.

  Randall sniffed and said, “You get a whiff of that?”

  John said, “Yeah. Smells like pork.” Thirty yards further, they reached a clearing the size of a large room. A police officer stood to one side, with two big-eyed boys about twelve or thirteen years old.

  Randall said, “You seeing this?” He indicated the area in front of them. Tree trunks surrounding the clearing showed crude paintings done in red, black, and white. Dozens of human-shaped stick figures and effigies made of tied-together twigs hung from low limbs. A live rattlesnake, its head painted red, was nailed through its body to a stump. A smoldering campfire was centered in the clearing, which was blanketed several inches deep with dead leaves.

  The policeman pointed at a large aluminum cooking pot, like those used to cook crayfish, which sat some six feet from the fire. Faint steam rose from it, and the policeman said, “You need to see that. I took it off the fire.” Randall and John crossed the leaf-covered ground and looked in the open pot.

  A human head floated just below the foam-laced surface of oily water the color of weak tea. Most of the flesh was gone, lying dissolved like soft sediment in the bottom of the pot. The eyes bulged slightly from their sockets and were entirely white, resembling poached eggs. Some flesh still remained on the skull and clung to it like tiny shreds of raw fish on a fishbone.

  A palm-sized portion of the scalp was attached, and long red hair wafted back and forth in the water on slow, invisible currents. John imagined crimson seaweed in a murky ocean.

  John’s phon
e rang. Hunter. He said, “Hey.”

  Hunter said, “Are you somewhere we can meet?”

  “At a crime scene, but you can come out here if you want.”

  “Andre and Ariel are with me.”

  “Bring ‘em.” He gave Hunter the location and hung up, then looked in the pot one more time before joining the others at the perimeter.

  Randall said, “I’ll call Handley.”

  John looked around at the markings on the trees and the effigies hanging from limbs, “Call the Haitian priest, Young Anson, too. We’ll see what he thinks about this.”

  They made the calls, then marked the area and photographed everything in situ for the record. When they finished, John and Randall joined the officer, a man named Johnson, and the young boys. One of them, the boy with dark hair said, “We’re not under arrest, are we? The policeman said we weren’t.”

  John said, “We need to take your statements, and then we’ll see.”

  The other boy, the blond one said, “We were just out here looking at this place again.” He pointed at the hanging figures and the paint on the trees. “We saw these things about a week ago and thought it looked like the Blair Witch Project, so we came back to check it out.”

  “How’d you get here?” Randall asked.

  “On our bikes.” The blond boy said, and pointed through the trees, “Back over there on that side. We left them and walked the rest.”

  John asked, “Did you see anybody here?”

  They both shook their heads, and the black-headed boy said, “There was a car that left fast, that was all. I think they heard us coming through the trees, because we were talking and laughing. I guess it was those men who did this with the fire.”

  Randall said, “Can you describe them?”

  “They were black, that’s about all. I only saw their faces from the sides and then the backs of their heads while they drove away.”

  “How many?”

  “Two.”