Love Power

by Martha Reed

  Clutching the hoodoo doll, Jane ran downstairs as her mind flipped through the possibilities. Who would do this to me? Aunt Babette? Why would she? What have I done to her? Scrambling down the stairs, she skidded to a stop as her detective training kicked in. First rule of any crime scene secure the site. Is the apartment secure? Taking a deep breath, she trotted into the kitchen, pulling the dotted curtain aside. The six panes of wavy glass and the patinated brass bolt were intact. Check. They didn’t gain access through the kitchen.

  Marching back into the living room, she checked the side window. No sign of forced entry here, either. Nodding grimly, Jane admitted the unspoken truth. The intruder used the front door and they used a key. Piddles let them in and they searched through my things.

  Gooseflesh crawled up her arms like an army of tiny biting ants as they searched through my things fully registered. Piddles whined uncertainly as Jane dumped the hoodoo doll on top of her crumpled jacket.

  She crossed the room on leaden feet. In spite of her public scorning of superstition, she muttered a quick prayer to St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes, wanting to know and to not know at the same time as she reached for the hollowed out book on the middle shelf. It’s been a week since I checked my cash. Rule Six says I’m not allowed to touch my stash unless it’s payday or a genuine emergency. The book felt roughly the same weight as she remembered. Squeezing her eyes tight, Jane blindly thumbed it open, using her fingertips to search the secret inner cavity. Her questing fingers scrabbled around all four corners and then checked them again as she vainly hoped against hope. A sick thud hit the pit of her stomach. She suddenly felt as hollow as the empty book. She fatalistically opened her eyes. Every cent she had in the world was gone.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Jane burst into the Big House without knocking.

  “What on earth!” Leslie almost dropped the free-range brown egg carton in her hands. “Jane! You nearly startled me to death!”

  “Who has keys to my place?” Jane demanded as black spots pulsed before her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Ken stood frozen by the sink, his fingers knuckle deep in the yellowy brine of a sweet butter pickle jar.

  Gee sat kicked back at the kitchen table, her chair resting against the wall, her right ankle propped on her opposite knee. She sat forward with a thump, narrowly avoiding Piddle’s paws. “Why?”

  “Someone stole my money and left this on my bed.” Jane shook the hoodoo doll. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

  Gee stretched out her hand. “Let me see that.”

  “No, Gee! Don’t touch it!” Leslie shrieked. “Don’t put that curse on my house!”

  “Fuck, Jane. This is real.” Gee slowly turned the twiggy doll over between her ringed fingers. “Someone’s practicing red magic against you.”

  “None of you did this? You didn’t leave that doll on my bed?”

  “Of course not!” Leslie stared in open-mouthed horror.

  “I don’t mess with that voodoo shit,” Ken added.

  Gee handed the doll back. “I was with you all morning.”

  “What about Babette? Could she have done this?”

  “She left for her church meeting before we did,” Leslie said. “She won’t get back until suppertime.”

  “Does she have a key to my place?”

  “I don’t think so.” Leslie looked confused. “Why would she?”

  “There’s no sign of forced entry. The windows and the door are secure. The thief came through the door and they used a key.” Jane stated. “Have you seen anyone in the courtyard?”

  “Not me,” Ken stated slowly, “but we only just got back from Publix.”

  “Are you sure you locked the door, Jane?” Leslie worriedly wrung her hands. “I hate thinking some stranger was trespassing on the property, but maybe you left the door open and someone from the street walked in?”

  “I locked it. I know I did.” You don’t know my level of career OCD. I checked that the door was bolted twice before I left to meet Gee. “Here’s another thing: Piddles let them in.”

  “Sweetheart?” Ken asked. “What about Cheryl? Did you ever give her a spare set of keys?”

  “I may have, Ken.” Leslie suddenly looked frail and uncertain. She raised her hand to her throat. “If I did, it was so long ago I honestly don’t remember.”

  “That’s it.” Jane pulled out her phone. “I’m calling the cops.”

  “The police?” Leslie’s pupils dilated until her eyes were almost black. “You’re calling the police over a hoodoo doll?”

  “I’m calling the police because someone stole my money. That’s a felony and I’m filing a report.”

  Ken placed his monstrously huge hand over Jane’s phone. “Wait a second. How much money was it? How much are we talking about?”

  “3,600 bucks!”

  “Holy fuck.” He paled. “$3,600 dollars? You kept that much cash in your place? That’s the most dumbass thing I ever heard.”

  “I had it hidden.” Jane snapped. I don’t need to justify my actions. With a flash she recalled Gee texting in front of the police station that morning. “Gee? Did you text anyone that I had cash at my place?”

  “Me?” Gee squeaked as her shock flashed into anger. “Fuck you! You think I’m a thief?”

  “Everyone, please.” Leslie pleaded. “Calm down. Seeing this much anger scares me.”

  She’s right. Jane scanned the Pascoe family. I’ve handled this wrong. I shouldn’t have dropped it on them like this. She sucked in a long breath. “You’re right, Leslie. I’m sorry.”

  Resettling her spinning brain, Jane dropped the hoodoo doll to her side and tried for a steadier gear. “This crazy shit’s got me rattled. I spoke before I thought things through.” Wow. These last few years have really fucked me up. My knee jerks into paranoia are turning me into something I’m not. “I’m sorry, Gee. I didn’t mean to say that about the money earlier. I know you didn’t take it. I’m sorry I even said that. It just popped out of me.”

  “At least now I know where I really stand with you,” Gee stated bitterly. “Some friend you are. I would never talk to any of my friends the way you just talked to me, with suspicion.”

  “Gee, please.” Jane gripped the doll. “Forget I said that. It’s the kind of stupid shit I’m still working through from before. Don’t let it ruin our friendship. I’m trying to do better, but it’s gonna take time.”

  “Oh, Leslie.” Ken sighed tiredly. “Look what you’ve done now. I thought we were through with that.”

  Leslie shrank back against the sink, her face stricken.

  “Sweetheart?” His voice softened further. “Did you take Jane’s money?”

  “Ken! How could you even say such a thing?”

  “Leslie, please.” He searched her eyes. “Sweetheart? I can tell when you’re lying. It’ll be fine, but I need to know so we can pay Jane back. Did you already spend it?”

  She straightened to her full height. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Maman?” Gee extended both arms. “You need to give Jane her money. It doesn’t belong to you.”

  “You’ve turned against me, too?” Leslie cried. “You, traitor! You, ingrate! After all I’ve done for you?”

  “Maman, please.” Gee begged. “Don’t do this to me right now. I can’t take much more.”

  “Fine.” Leslie’s eyes flashed fiercely before her defenses collapsed. Striding to the dishwasher, she flung it open. “Here. Take it! Take it all!”

  Reaching in she pulled out a Ziploc baggie filled with cash. Marching stiffly across the floor, she thrust the plastic bag at Jane. “I was only keeping it safe. That much money should be in the bank.”

  Jane folded her fingers around the bag. “Leslie? You went through my things?”

  “I have the right to inspect my property as your landlord.” She defiantly met Jane’s eyes. “I do have that right.”

  “Why did you leave the doll on my bed?”r />
  “That wasn’t me.” She stepped back, shaking a finger, still defiant. “I didn’t do that.”

  “So, someone else does have a key,” Jane stated slowly as another realization dawned. “That’s why Babette bolts her door. It’s not to keep the neighborhood kids out, it’s because of you.” She glanced at the dishwasher. “What else have you got hidden in there?”

  “Take it. Take it all!” Leslie snatched Tyler Shank’s missing security badge, angrily adding it to the baggie in Jane’s hand. “I don’t want any of it anymore!”

  Jane studied the laminated Delta Electric badge. “Tyler’s been looking for this since your birthday party. Why did you keep it?”

  “Lost things need to stay safe.” Leslie folded and refolded a dishtowel. She began to tremble as her eyes darted around the cabinetry and the cupboards. “Like Ken, like Gigi, like -”

  “That’s enough!” Ken shouted. “Let her alone!”

  “Jane?” Nervously linking her thin fingers, Leslie tested a winsome smile. “Are you still calling the police?”

  Jane studied the items clutched in her hands. “No, but I am calling a locksmith. And I’m installing a deadbolt on my door like Aunt Babette did.” Firming her lips, she nodded repeatedly. “I’ll trust Ken with the new set of keys as my landlord, but Leslie not you.” She released her pent-up breath. “The next time you want to check your property, it is your right, you’ll need to let me know ahead of time so I can be home.” She glanced at Ken. “That’s the best I can do, or else I’m leaving.”

  “We can work with that,” he inserted quickly. “Sweetheart? Sound good?”

  Ducking her chin to avoid meeting Ken’s eyes, Leslie silently nodded her agreement. Holding her fist to her mouth, she started sobbing, a bitter soul deep cry that crushed Jane’s heart. Ken took a step toward her, reaching out his hand, but she waved him off, shoving the swinging door open and bolting for the living room.

  “Maman!” Gee shoved the kitchen chair out of her way. “Wait!”

  Ken caught her arm. “Give her a minute, Gee. She’ll be okay, she just needs a minute to herself.” He swiped his mouth. “When Leslie gets back, it’s best if we don’t mention this again.” He circled his finger in the air. “We’ll all be fine if we just let this move on.”

  “Poor Maman.” Gee plopped onto the chair. Reaching for Piddles, she absently stroked his ears. “It’s not her fault. It’s something mental. She can’t help it when she hides things.”

  “She’s not a bad person.” Ken listlessly started tidying up, brushing breadcrumbs off the cutting board onto his palm before tossing them into the trash. “She has the most generous heart of anyone you’ll ever meet. She just can’t stop doing this crazy hiding shit. She’s done it for years,” he emphasized, dropping a butter knife into an empty mayonnaise jar with a clank. Setting the jar in the sink, he stared into the courtyard. “God knows what we’d find if we ever searched these cupboards.”

  “Listen.” He turned back. “I’ll call Walt, a friend of mine. Ask him to set you a new lock. He’ll come right over. I’ll eat the cost.” He worriedly combed his fingers through his thick hair. “Probably should’ve done that when you first moved in.” Extending his hand, he flicked his fingers. “Give me your phone, Gee. I’ll do it now. Okay, Jane? Are we good?”

  We’re all working through something. Jane set her jaw. We all get to test the deep end where the monsters swim. The only safe way back to the shore is if we help each other. “Yes, Ken. I can work with that.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Jane headed home through the courtyard with her money, the twiggy hoodoo doll and Tyler’s security badge grasped in her hands and Piddles trotting by her side. Funny how things look different once you start connecting with people. She scanned Leslie’s raised organic vegetable beds and the rebuilt shed that Ryan had fixed up for her bike and the patch of tainted soil where the old chicken coop used to be. It’s only been two weeks since I moved in. Two weeks! And look how much more I know now about the Embrys and the Pascoes and even Aunt Babette. I never really knew Fancy or Dee, she admitted sadly. Not really. They were like shadows that passed through my life, but their loss still stings.

  Stooping, she flicked a desiccated pecan to play a quick game of fetch with Mr. P. Gee must feel lost without her BFFs. I need to be a better friend. She needs me. Shame heated Jane’s face when she remembered irrationally calling Gee a thief. I need to get a better grip on this case. Catch the killer and remove the threat. That’s the best way to help Gee.

  She felt the fluttering edges of fatigue closing in. “Hope that locksmith is as quick as Ken said, Mr. P. I need my nap.”

  Locking the door behind them and checking it twice, she set the hoodoo doll and Tyler’s badge on a stack of security manuals and studied the cash filled baggie. Where do I stash this now? My bookcase cache got blown. The perfect solution popped into her mind. She trotted upstairs, humming Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds as she headed for the bathroom.

  Pawing through her makeup bag, she dug out her metal nail file and returned to the bedroom, dropping to her knees between the mattress and the wall and using the nail file to pry up the thumbtacks keeping the Dollar Store rag rug in place, carefully placing the tacks in a neat pile by her knee. Piddles started whining from his vantage point on the bed.

  “First things first, Mr. P. Be right with you.”

  Sliding the nail file into a crack between two floorboards, she leveraged the shorter board up and popped it loose. Sliding her fingertips into the slim gap, she set the board aside. Reaching in between two floor joists, Jane sighed happily as her hand closed around the familiar microfiber cloth bundle. Crouching on her heels, she cradled the bundle in both hands.

  “Hello, Lucy. I’ve missed you.”

  Carefully unfolding the cloth, Jane examined the black polymer frame and the blued steel barrel and slide of her Ruger LC9. ‘Lucy’ was a compact weapon, only 6 inches long and 4.5 inches tall. Smiling, Jane paused for a moment of quiet reflection to remember rule number one: Protect yourself and defend your family and friends as she enjoyed the heft of the semi-automatic pistol in her hand. She loved how neatly Lucy fit into her palm. Recoil operated, double action with a locked breech, Lucy had defaulted to a seven-round magazine. Jane had purchased an independent nine-round extended magazine as a backup, just in case. Sixteen rounds total plus one in the chamber if I need it. She smiled grimly. Never needed more than six rounds to fix the problem before.

  Tucking the cash baggie into the floor cavity, she pulled out her appendix carry holster and the box of 9MM steel jacketed rounds. Holding the ammo box against her ear, she gave it a shake until it rattled, sighing with satisfaction. No worries. Plenty left. Folding Lucy back into the cloth, she resettled the floorboard, tacked the rug in place and stood, recalling rule number four as she headed downstairs. Girl power: Ignore the fuckers when they say you can’t do something.

  Halfway down the stairs, she stopped to consider the statements she had made about owning a gun. Sorry, Leslie and Ken. Sorry, Gee. Sorry, not sorry, FBI. She continued on. Technically, I didn’t lie. I said I surrendered my service weapon as a condition of my probation and I did. She felt zero guilt. You never asked me about my backup piece.

  Piddles gazed curiously as she set the bundle on the kitchen counter. Opening the box of 9MM rounds, she loaded both magazines, nimbly snapping cartridges into each clip. An immense muscle memory satisfaction began to spread as her fingers flew and she picked up her pace. Nothing wrong with me remembering how to do this! She recalled her shock at finding the hoodoo doll on her pillow. That was way too personal, too damn close. Bed space is sacred. It’s supposed to be safe.

  Ducking her head, she glanced out the kitchen window. My spidey sense is tingling like mad and I never ignore that feeling. Never. She felt the tension ease from between her shoulders with each satisfying metallic snick. Preparation is the key. Whatever it is, bring it. I’ll be ready.

  She jumped a
t a sudden rapping on her door. Piddles raced through the living room, barking sharply.

  Jane laughed nervously. “Hold on, Mr. P.” So much for staying present and alert, ding-dong. Forgot about the locksmith coming over. Snapping open a dishtowel, she modestly covered her project. “Thanks, Ken. That was quick. Let’s get this done.”

  Unlocking the door, she staggered back as Cheryl Embry shoved her way in. Cheryl didn’t stop until she stood in the center of the room. Piddles waggled his tail uncertainly before settling onto his dog bed next to the chair.

  “Cheryl?” Jane sputtered. “What’s up?”

  “Saw you come in just now.” She stuck her index finger in Jane’s face. “I wanted to talk to you!”

  “Okay. What’s this about?”

  “You know what this is about! The police took my boy to jail.”

  “Hold on.” Jane raised her hands. “They only picked him up for questioning. I saw him leave.”

  “And why would they do that, unless they thought Ryan did something wrong? Now he’s got to talk to the FBI.” Her beady eyes blazed. “There’s nothing wrong with my son. This is going to cost him his job.”

  “Cheryl, slow down. The FBI interviewed me and Gee, too. You were at Leslie’s party. They’ll probably call you in next.”

  “Is that what this is about?” Her voice quavered. “A fight at a birthday party?”

  “No, it’s about catching the scumbag who’s murdered three people.”

  “We didn’t have nothing to do with that!” Her shoulders hunched, and she wrung her hands. “I’m worried sick. Ryan hasn’t slept in days. Comes home all hours of the night, stumbling around like a dead man. Won’t talk to me or tell me what’s going on.” She stared at the floor, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think he’s started day drinking the way his father did.”

  She looked up suddenly. “You are breaking my son’s heart!”