“Well, this customer wanted a soul totem. Harlem wouldn’t sell him one.”
“I don’t sell those, dears,” she informed them. “No one has asked me for one in ages.”
“Are you positive you don’t remember anyone like that coming in?” Belle pressed, getting desperate for answers.
“I’m sorry, dears,” she waved a hand dismissively at them. “Now, if you don’t have intentions of buying anything, I’ll kindly ask you to leave.”
“She’s hiding something,” Harlem blurted. “I know she’s hiding something.”
Hondi started heading toward the back room, and parted the curtain.
Anna stepped forward, desperate to keep the woman from leaving the room. “Why would Harlem lie about something like that?” she blurted out, causing the woman to stop in the middle of the doorway. “He specifically told us he spoke to you on the phone.”
Turning her head slightly, she glared at the older sister. “I told you already I never talked to him,” she snapped. “If you persist in harassing me in this manner, I’ll have no other choice but to call the authorities and have you removed from the premises.”
With one final huff, she went into the back room and closed the curtain.
Before her view of the small storage area was completely cut off, Anna spotted something familiar on the shelf.
Spinning to face her sister and Harlem, she looked pale.
“What?” Belle asked in a hushed voice. “What is it?”
“In the back room,” she pointed. “She has bottles filled with white powder. They look exactly like the one I found in the pantry.”
CHAPTER 16
Stepping out onto the street where they could talk without being overheard, Belle burst out into her question without a single hesitation. “She has the bottles of that white stuff?”
“Wait, what white stuff?” Harlem jumped in. “What are you talking about?”
“Yesterday, Anna found a strange glass bottle of white powder. Mistaking it as powdered sugar, she opened it. The next thing we knew, she had passed out.” She shrugged. “It was really scary. She stopped breathing for a little bit and her pulse even stopped.”
Harlem’s jaw dropped wide. “Did you have any lucid nightmares while you were out?” he asked.
Anna blinked, surprised by the question. “Y-yes, actually. I dreamed I was being dragged into a graveyard and buried alive, just like you.”
Harlem snapped his fingers. “I can’t believe it. She’s selling zombie powder.”
“Z-zombie powder?” Anna gasped. “What is that?”
“It’s an extremely powerful drug combination originally used in Haiti by some witch doctors. It’s a powder that you blow in the face of your victim or rub on their skin. It paralyzes the human body, sending them into a stasis that looks like death.”
“Oh my gosh,” Belle gasped. “That’s what happened to you?”
“It also causes hallucinations to make the victim feel disoriented, or like they’re dead. In some cultures, the family would believe that the person was dead and bury them.”
Anna shivered violently at the thought of being buried alive.
“Then, they dig up the body and give it another dose of a different medicine. The victim wakes up in the grave and believes they are truly dead. They continue to administer drugs to keep the person in a zombie-like state.”
“And she’s selling this stuff?” Anna blurted angrily.
“I’m not totally sure,” he admitted “But I’m going to find out.”
“How?” Belle asked.
“No one can see me, right? Why not use that to my advantage?”
* * *
As they drove back toward Sunken Grove, Anna was still in a state of shock. “I could have become a zombie,” she muttered. “I could have been in a living nightmare forever.”
“I’m just wondering,” Belle added, “if she is selling that stuff, what else could she be selling?”
“And why was it in your pantry?” Anna gasped.
“I have no idea. I didn’t put it there.”
“Well, someone did,” Harlem noted. “And my guess is it was the same person who tried to buy my soul totem.”
“You don’t think—” Belle gasped.
“What?” Anna blurted, feeling herself grow more and more agitated by the second. When she’d returned home to Louisiana, this type of a nightmare was the farthest thing from her list of problems.
“Maybe,” she speculated. “After leaving your shop, this mystery shopper went over to Hondi’s store. When she didn’t have what he wanted, she instead offered an alternative. She showed him the other options she had in the back room.”
“And sold him the zombie powder?” Anna asked.
Belle nodded.
“But why?”
“So he could return to Harlem’s shop, blow the powder in his face, and then steal the totem.”
Harlem pounded his fist into his palm. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of this before? I can’t remember anything leading up to my own death because I was under the influence of the zombie powder.”
“But that doesn’t help figure out how you died,” Belle noted. “Or why your friend would sell you out.”
“Well, I guess I over spoke when I said the word friend,” he admitted. “We have a healthy competition going between us.”
“So, to beat out the competition and get your store location, she sold this mystery guy zombie powder?”
“Wait,” Anna added. “I have an idea. Maybe whoever did this took your paralyzed body with them when they left. They also must have taken your bag with them so that it wouldn’t seem odd if anyone came in and noticed it was still there, but you weren’t.”
“Go on,” Harlem encouraged.
“Once they were far enough out from the city they dumped you in the bayou along with your bag.” She shuddered at the horrible image of the murder she had in her mind. “Because you didn’t have control of your body, you drowned, making it look like an accident.”
“That could be it,” the younger sister agreed. “But maybe it was dark and he didn’t throw the bag far enough to get it in the water, but didn’t notice because he was in a hurry. It all makes sense.”
“But we don’t have any way of proving it,” Anna pointed out. “And we don’t know who is responsible. We’re just making assumptions here. We can’t bring any of this to Dan or the State Police.”
“You’re right,” Belle whispered disappointedly. “How could we even find that kind of evidence? We’re not professional investigators.”
“Unless,” Anna thought. “We find that soul totem.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “Whoever has the totem has to be the murderer.”
“What exactly does this soul totem look like?” Anna asked, turning in her seat to face Harlem.
“Well, it’s a little piece of wood carved in the shape of a skull and painted black.”
The two sisters looked at each other knowingly.
CHAPTER 17
Parking in the front parking lot of the Voodoo Drive-in and BBQ, both sisters ran as fast as they could through the front door.
Val let out a surprised scream as the two women burst into the restaurant. Grabbing her heart, she leaned on the counter. “Darn you, girls,” she scolded. “You about scared me out of my britches.”
“Where is it?” Belle exclaimed, ignoring Valerie. “Where did you put it, Anna?”
“It was right here, right here,” she replied, slapping the counter next to the Joan-of-Arc statue. “I swear it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“What the devil are you two girls up to?” The older woman asked in a less-than-amused tone.
“Val, did you see a little black skull sitting here today?” Belle asked desperately.
She shrugged. “I can’t really say. I don’t remember seeing it.”
“Are you sure? Completely sure?”
“Well, I�
�m sure I didn’t see it. But I can’t say if it was there or not.”
“That means someone took it,” the younger sister replied.
“Val, who has been here today?” Anna asked.
“What is with this interrogation?” Val argued, putting her hands on her hips.
“Please, it could be important.”
“Well,” she sighed, “Dan was here for lunch.”
Both women rolled their eyes, neither one of them believing the well-meaning (and often oblivious) man had anything to do with it. “Anyone else?” they asked in unison.
“Benny and Hank came in to finish fixing the deep fryer.”
Belle sighed heavily. “Benny seems just as unlikely as Dan,” she groaned. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“I hate to say this,” the older sister suggested, “but what about Hank? How well do you know him?”
“He only started working a few weeks ago, so not very well.”
“He seems like our most likely suspect.”
“Suspect?” Val interrupted. “One of you girls better tell me what in heck is going on.”
Belle looked to her older sister, as if asking for permission to speak. Anna nodded her approval. “We think the body found on the bayou—”
“The one Dan found the identity of?”
Both women rolled their eyes.
“Yes,” Belle added. “We think he’s a murder victim.”
“Murder?” Val exclaimed.
Before she could ask any more questions, the girls rushed out the door again.
“Some things never change,” Valerie complained. “Those two are just as crazy as ever.”
* * *
“I’m sorry,” the landlady at the house where Hank rented a basement apartment said. “I haven’t seen him since this morning when he left for work.”
It was growing dark, and the sisters were running out of ideas. Hank hadn’t been at the workshop where Ben kept his tools, and now he wasn’t at home.
“Do you know where he could have gone?” Anna asked. “It may be important.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t.”
“Thanks anyway,” she nodded as the woman shut the door.
“Now what?” Belle moaned.
“It’s probably better this way,” Anna told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “What would you have said to him even if he was here? Hi, Hank. Oh by the way, did you murder a man in New Orleans to steal his soul totem?”
“I guess you’re right,” she sighed. “As always.”
“I’m not always right,” she told her sister. “Just most of the time.” Anna couldn’t help but feel happy at how quickly her relationship with her sister was returning to normal. She would have preferred it happened without a crazy murder investigation, or a ghost trailing them everywhere, but having her best friend back again after all this time meant a lot.
Best friend. Yes, that seemed right. Now that she thought of it, before their small falling out, she had always considered Belle her best friend. After all, they only really had each other. She’d been foolish to stay away for so long. Despite her earlier reservations, she knew now that she belonged in Sunken Grove.
“I think our next best bet is the graveyard,” Harlem chimed in, interrupting Anna’s thoughts. “Whoever stole the totem is going to want to use it soon.”
“The graveyard?” Belle asked.
“The totem works best with someone who is relatively freshly dead. Their soul still residing in between worlds.”
“But Hank is new in town. He hasn’t even been here long enough to even know anyone in the graveyard who possibly died.”
“Maybe he took it to a neighboring town or city?” Anna offered.
Harlem sighed, slumping down into his seat in the back of the car. “Then we may be completely out of luck,” he groaned. “He could be anywhere.”
As Anna slid into the passenger seat of the car, her thoughts on Hank, she suddenly had a horrible realization. She gasped so loudly and suddenly that it made her younger sister jump.
“Don’t do that,” Belle ordered. “I hate it when you gasp like that. It scares me.”
“We’re wrong,” she told her sister. “It isn’t Hank.”
“Well, then who the heck is it?”
She grabbed her seatbelt and buckled up. “Hurry to the graveyard. I have a hunch.”
CHAPTER 18
By the time they pulled up outside the cemetery gates, it was full darkness across the sky. Another strange, low fog had settled along the ground and between the mausoleums of the local graveyard. Anna began having flashbacks to her zombie powder induced nightmare, shivering. Trying to shake it off, she opened the car door.
“I still don’t believe you,” Belle told her older sister as she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car.
“Wait until we get to the grave, and then tell me I’m wrong,” she pointed out, charging through the slight opening in the gate.
Weaving in and out along the paths between the crypts, Belle led the way to the spot where she knew the woman had been buried. After all, she’d attended the funeral herself.
Turning the final corner to where she knew the Mrs. Black had been buried, she stopped cold.
The crypt stood open, and a low glow of candle light came from inside. The sisters looked at each other, Belle’s mouth hanging open in shock. She couldn’t believe it.
Shifting closer to the door, they looked inside.
Kneeling in front of the coffin, with countless candles set up all around the room for light, was Benny Black. He had his hands together and held up high. In his hands was the little black skull—the soul totem.
He was mumbling some sort of unknown language which sounded like gibberish to Anna.
Turning around and looking at the girls standing just outside the door, he stood up. “What are you girls doing here?!” he exclaimed.
“What are you doing at your wife’s grave?” Anna accused, cutting to the chase. “And with that totem?” she pointed at the item in his hands.
“Excuse me?” he asked, playing dumb and looking hurt. “Can’t I just visit my wife’s resting place?”
“This seems like a lot of candles just for visiting,” Belle noted.
“Did you take that totem from our restaurant?” Anna demanded.
“I did, but only because I accidentally dropped it there,” he defended himself. “It’s mine. It was in my tool bag and fell out while I was working on the projector.”
“Your tool bag that’s dirty?” Belle asked, pointing at the bag sitting in a muddy patch in the corner. “Is that how the bag got dirty? You’ve been down here setting up all these candles?”
Folding his arms, his nose turning slightly red as his eyes teared up. “I’ve visited her every day since her death.”
“What are you doing, really?” Anna confronted him.
“I’m not sure I understand your meaning,” he muttered, attempting to hold his tears at bay.
“Didn’t you steal that totem from a man in New Orleans?”
“No, I didn’t,” he snapped.
“Did you kill him, too?” she replied.
“How dare you,” he shouted, trying to divert the conversation away from its current course, his red face turning from sadness to anger. “How dare you just barge in and interrupt me while I’m mourning my wife?”
“Oh, but this looks like more than mourning, my friend,” Harlem noted, stepping into the room, revealing his strange, flickering, black-and-white appearance.
Benny staggered back, his eyes wide with shock. “W-What the devil are you?”
“My name is Harlem Saxon. I am the shop owner you stole that totem from.”
“No, no, you’re lying,” he retorted. “You look nothing like that man.”
“So, you admit that you stole the totem from Harlem?” Belle asked, a true hint of surprise and hurt in her voice.
“I haven’t confessed to anything,” he replied.
“When you killed
me,” Harlem continued, “my soul entered the totem. The totem’s been used. It’s spent. You can’t use it to bring back your wife.”
At this, Benny’s face twisted downward into a look of utter despair, the tears flowing freely down red cheeks. “You’re not him,” he blubbered. “And of course it will work. I’m going to keep my wife here with me, forever.”
Harlem shook his head. “No. The totem is only good for holding one soul, and one soul only. Mine has entered and left.”
“You’re lying,” he screamed. “It’s going to work. I wouldn’t waste it.”
Harlem shook his head. “But you did. When you dumped me in the bayou, drugged with the zombie powder, I drowned and entered the soul totem.” He nodded at the little black soul. “You see, I made that totem specifically for me, so I could enter it when I died.” He held out his arms. “And it looks like it worked.”
“I killed you,” Benny finally snapped, revealing the truth.
“Benny, no,” Belle gasped.
“I knew you’d never let me buy that totem, so I had to kill you to get it.”
“Benny,” she shouted again.
“I’m sorry, Belle, but it’s true,” he confessed. “I thought no one would find out. I even took his bag and dumped it.”
“You nearly killed me,” Anna scolded him. “Hiding that powder in the pantry where you thought no one would find it. I inhaled some of that junk.”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he wailed, falling against the coffin. “I just couldn’t stand it when she died. I knew there had to be a way to keep her with me forever.”
“By trapping her permanently in a totem?” Harlem accused. “You can’t do that to a spirit.”
“No, she wants to be with me,” he argued. “She will be with me.”
Suddenly, the lid to the coffin made a noise, the stone groaning as it moved.
Everyone paused and listened. “D-Did anyone else hear that?” Anna asked.
“It’s her,” Benny whispered. “Don’t you see? It worked.”
From the cracked lid came a low voice. “Beeennny.”
“Yes, dear, yes, it’s me,” he cooed, petting the lid.
Sisterly Screams (The Dead-End Drive-In Series Book 1) Page 7