Enter Evil

by Linda Ladd

  “Hello to you. Thanks so much for waiting. I’m Khur-Vay.” The owner had approached me in a swirl and wash of exotic perfume and held out her hand with a friendly smile. I returned it. She was Asian, or partially so, had an accent that I couldn’t place, and an unusually sweet voice, almost like a little girl’s. And up close and personal, Khur-Vay was even more Curve-Vay than I had first thought. She was well built in all the right places, head to toe, but not that anorexic look so common among starving Hollywood starlets, instead she looked all healthy muscle and sinew. This girl lifted weights, you can bet on it.

  “No problem. I’m Detective Claire Morgan from Canton County.”

  Her vivid green eyes widened. Black’s beauteous ex-wife and model, Jude, had green eyes. Khur-Vay’s were not sultry and jade and almond-shaped like hers, but wide and honest and the color of summer grass. I could detect no guile in their depths, which surprised me in a belly dancer. Ingrained prejudice against women fixated on their navels, I guess. Man, she wore a lot of makeup, though. It seemed to be prevalent in the people I met nowadays.

  “Am I in trouble, Officer?” She raised both hands, then laughed. It was infectious.

  I smiled but remained suitably official. “Not yet. But I have to say you give a smokin’ hot dance class.”

  “Thank you. Would you like to sign up? You have the figure for it.”

  I considered. Black would be pleased. Really, really pleased. Nah, he didn’t need any extra encouragement. Neither of us would ever get any work done. “Not at this time. But you are very skillful with all those scarves and little teeny cymbals.”

  Khur-Vay raised both arms and did a graceful little clicking show for my enjoyment, then laughed again. I liked her immediately. How rare.

  “You should try it, really, Detective. Everybody makes fun of belly dancing classes, but it’s a real turn-on for men. You know, it brings back all those fantasies of sheiks stealing women out of desert tents in the dead of night. Rudolph Valentino, and all those guys. Very, very sexy.”

  I had seen Lawrence of Arabia, and that guy looked pretty awesome in his white robes and shiny curved scimitar, and all, but this Rudolph guy’s screen credits had alluded me. Maybe I’d make a trip to Hollywood Video and check him out. But, okay, enough chitchat, down to the business of murder and mayhem.

  “Actually, I need to ask you some questions about one of your customers.”

  “Sure, whatever I can do to help.”

  I liked her even better now. Instant cooperation was not overrated. “How well do you know a young woman named Li He?”

  “Oh, Li. We’re good friends. She’s not in trouble, is she?”

  “She’s gone missing. You haven’t heard about it?”

  Her astonishment appeared genuine, but maybe belly dancers studied acting. Her sudden look of fear appeared pretty real, too. “Are you serious? Gone missing?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry to have to tell you about it.”

  “For how long?”

  “Less than a week, but no one has seen her and no one knows where she is.”

  “Man, that’s awful. I thought it was odd when she didn’t show up for today’s lesson. She never misses them. She’s a natural, very graceful and fluid with her movements. She’s a fantastic acrobat, too, did you know that? Comes from a whole family of them. They can bend themselves around like pipe cleaners.”

  I nodded but didn’t comment. I’d seen pipe cleaners but didn’t usually bend them.

  “What’d you think happened to her? Do you think she’s in trouble or just off somewhere and forgot to tell anybody?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out. Do you have any idea where she might be?”

  “Well, I guess I’d check out her boyfriend first. She goes off with him sometimes.” She looked closely at me. “You know what? He lives up around the lake somewhere. Mikey Murphy’s his name. Have you talked to him about this?”

  I didn’t want to tell her the bad news about Mikey Murphy, not yet, so I said, “Do they go off together often?”

  “Whenever they want to, I guess. I’ve known them to do it, what, I’d say about three times, maybe even four. You know, for a weekend, or something like that.” She glanced at the front door, then she said, “I don’t have another class coming in for almost an hour. Why don’t we sit down and I’ll fix you some green tea? I have to tell you, this news is pretty hard to take. Li’s a good friend of mine. You know, she comes in here all the time.”

  There was a small section of the studio that had a cluster of two or three high tables with tall stools around them, and a counter with a cappuccino machine, a hot-water spigot, and several glass domes covering plates of bran and blueberry muffins, oatmeal raisin cookies, and peach fried pies, all labeled with little brass plaques. Man, did I ever love peach fried pies.

  “Would you like something to eat? I bake everything myself. Fresh every morning.”

  In answer to that, my stomach whined and threw a small tantrum. Well, it was going on noon. I was hungry again. I admitted it. “I’ll take a fried pie. And give me a couple of those to go, too, for my male friend that you won’t let come in.”

  Khur-Vay laughed. She was certainly an amiable type. I just wished she’d wipe off some of the makeup so I could see her better. She said, “Good choice. It’s my mother’s recipe. She’s just about the best cook who ever lived.” Man, everybody said that about their mom, even Joe McKay. I never knew my mother, so I don’t know if I could say it about her, or not.

  Khur-Vay picked up one of the half-moon-shaped fried pies with a little square of white tissue paper, then placed it on a gold paper plate rimmed in fancy black scrolls. Setting it on the table in front of me, she sprinkled a little powdered sugar on top out of handled metal shaker and told me to say when. I said when and watched her put two more fried pies in a little white pastry sack and cover them with sugar. Black was gonna be ecstatic. He loves peaches. Then she brought out a matching pair of tiny navy and gold Oriental demitasse cups and saucers on a brass tray. She placed a small tea bag inside each one and poured in some steaming water. I preferred coffee, especially vanilla cappuccino, but I was being polite. I could choke down hot green tea when I had to.

  “Does your mother live around here?”

  “Oh, no, we’re from California. Los Angeles. I really miss her. We always have these big family celebrations with all our relatives, but I don’t get to go to them much anymore.”

  “You’re a long way from home. Why did you move here?” I was one to talk. I moved here from LA, too; had to, in fact. But that was something I sure didn’t want to talk about.

  Khur-Vay said, “I heard Branson was a safe place to live and make some good money. Belly dancing studios are a dime a dozen in LA. Have you ever been out there?”

  Oh, yeah, I’ve been there but wish I hadn’t. Bad memories galore. “I’ve seen it on TV. I even watched O. J. Simpson’s slowpoke car chase.”

  Khur-Vay smiled, but her eyes were looking me over pretty good. “Yeah, I watched that, too. When I get homesick I just watch the movies filmed out there, which is nearly all of them.” Frowning, she changed the subject, “I’m really worried about Li. She’s been upset lately.”

  Aha. I sipped my tea in a ladylike fashion, or as best I could. “Do you know what’s bothering her?”

  “I’m not sure. Probably something to do with Mikey. They fight a lot, then make up and everything’s fine. They love each other.”

  “Then you know Mikey personally?”

  “Yeah, for quite a while, I guess. I met both of them in therapy.”

  My antenna quivered, then stood straight up. I swallowed my bite of peach pie and said, “Therapy?”

  “Yes, there’s a place in Jeff City. Oak Haven. We were in the same therapy group at one time. You ever heard of that place?”

  I nodded, took another bite. I couldn’t probe too much, so I waited, hoping she’d spill out some helpful information. Lucky for me, she wasn’t embarrass
ed that she’d needed help at a psychiatric hospital.

  “Yeah, I got really down in the dumps once. My husband really screwed me over, stole some of my money, got me into drugs for a while. But I’m clean now, completely,” she added since I was a cop. “I mean, he really put me through hell. When we split up, he got the courts to give him full custody of my little girl. Anyway, I got all depressed and moped around until Li told me about her therapist and how wonderful he was, so I went with her.”

  “Do you mind telling me the name of your doctor?”

  “Oh, no. I sing his praises whenever I can. It’s Dr. Collins. His first name’s Boyce.”

  “I see.” But I was thinking what she said about her kid getting taken away. I knew how it felt to suddenly lose a child: the despair, the desire to go to sleep and never wake up. I wondered if she had her little girl back. “Was he able to help you?”

  “Yes. He made me realize that life wasn’t over, that I was strong enough to deal with it.”

  I had to ask, couldn’t help myself. “Did you get your child back?”

  Sadness welled up in her eyes. “Not yet, but I’m not giving up. Dr. Collins said he’d help me. She lives with her dad and his new wife in Hawaii, Oahu. Her name’s Chloe. She’s seven.”

  Suddenly I found myself wanting to pour out my own sordid story to her, and I was amazed that I was having the urge to do that. The inclination only lasted a few seconds, though, until the deep pain hit me between the shoulder blades and knifed down into my core. Pushing it out of my mind, I got back to business.

  “One thing I’d like to ask you, Khur-Vay. I’m curious about those bracelets over there. The ones with their own case, you know? The blue and white ones with some black spots. What are they for?”

  “The evil eyes? They’re really getting popular. Li has them, and so does Mikey. Is that why you asked?”

  “Why are they called evil eyes?”

  “It’s an old custom from the Middle East, mainly countries around the Mediterranean. People use them to protect themselves from envy. Most people think it’s protection against evil, and in a way it is, I guess.”

  “How does it protect someone from envy?”

  “Well, the idea is that when somebody looks at you with envy in their heart, those eyes on the bracelet reflect that envy back to them. Lots of mothers place them on their newborns. I have the amulets for sale, too. They’re to hang around your house. Some people believe they protect you from evildoers, as well. Are you interested in having one?”

  I thought about the murder cases I’d been running into lately, the insane serial killers, the mangled victims, the stays in the hospital for me and my friends. I said, “You know, I think I will. I think I’ll take a couple, in fact.” One for me and one for Black. Then I thought of Bud and Harve. “Make that four. Hey, make it a cool half dozen.” I began to understand Mikey’s obsession.

  “Okay, come pick out the ones you want. I have gobs of different kinds.”

  Choosing quickly, I waited while Khur-Vay took the ones I chose and rang them up. She handed me a black bag displaying a pyramid with a shining eye on top. “Thanks. I do hope you’ll come back for a lesson soon. Eleven, two, four, and six, every day of the week, except Sunday. She hesitated. “Would you let me know as soon as you find Li? I’m sure she’s just off with Mikey, or maybe at some library somewhere, working on a research paper. She is very studious and makes all A’s. She’s serious about becoming a doctor, you know.”

  “I’ll give you a call as soon as I hear something.”

  Khur-Vay’s eyes veered over toward the front windows, and she said, “Whoa, look at that guy out there.”

  Turning around, I expected to see some purse snatcher grabbing some eighty-year-old lady’s purse but instead caught sight of Black loitering around on the sidewalk outside. He kept glancing in the window and looking mightily pissed. I glanced at my watch. I’d been in the studio with Khur-Vay for almost an hour. Time flies when you’re having green tea.

  “Is he a hottie, or what?” said Khur-Vay.

  I tried to be nonchalant, but a gloat threatened. “He’s with me.”

  “Like, you mean, your boyfriend?”

  “I guess. Sort of.”

  Khur-Vay looked at me with heightened respect. “Wow. You hit the jackpot with him, didn’t you?”

  I guess I did, but I usually didn’t admit it to other people. “Well, okay, Khur-Vay. He looks pretty ticked, so I guess I better wrap it up here and get going. You mind if I come back here, if I’ve got more questions?”

  “Not at all. Bring him with you, if you want. That would be no problem, believe me.”

  Khur-Vay laughed at her offer, and I knew she wasn’t putting the moves on Black or trying to get under my skin, so I laughed, too. I really liked this girl, but I wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it would come to me if I wore some of her magic bracelets.

  FIFTEEN

  “Well, it’s about damn time. A couple of more minutes and I would’ve kicked in the door and checked out Khur-Vay’s oven.”

  Black was not exactly hiding his impatience, but I had a feeling that had more to do with curiosity about what had gone on inside and irk that he’d been excluded. People just didn’t exclude Nicholas Black from anything without his permission.

  “You missed all the fun. There was a whole gaggle of sexy women in there, baring everything.”

  “I saw them leaving. Yeah, and by the way, that was thirty minutes ago.”

  “I’d have waited on you, if you’d been the one allowed inside.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “I’m so hurt by that remark.”

  He grinned. “What’d you find out? Anything?”

  “A lot. Come on, let’s get going. I’ll tell you on the way. Here, have some peach fried pies and an evil-eye bracelet to keep you safe.”

  “Thanks. Maybe you should keep all these bracelets. We all know how you are.”

  “Multiple bracelets didn’t help Mikey.”

  We got serious very quickly; the thought of murder victims usually brought that on. As we walked back toward the car, Black said, “I thought we’d have a nice dinner somewhere, and maybe catch another show before we got home.”

  “I thought we’d go straight home and have long, hot tantric sex like Sting until bedtime.”

  “Let’s go.”

  The traffic was horrific, of course. Even in a very important, official looking car, people honked at us and senior citizens took fifteen minutes to make a left turn, even a right turn. Once we were finally inside the chopper, I filled Black in on my conversation with Khur-Vay, and he listened intently as he ate one of the fried pies. Then he said, “It’s interesting to me that so many of these people were patients of Boyce Collins.”

  “My thoughts precisely. Coincidences usually add up to something in my book. Problem is, most of them were patients of Martin Young, too. Not to mention Happy Pete, who ought to advertise Crest toothpaste, he’s so smiley.”

  Black frowned, fired up the rotors, and we both put on our headsets to continue our conversation.

  “As you said, still pretty coincidental, if you ask me,” his voice said in my ear. I merely nodded, always a trifle jumpy on takeoffs and landings. Black was a good pilot, I knew that, but accidents happened. Helicopters collided in midair with small Cessnas or flocks of geese. I am a pessimist at times, can’t help it.

  However, we lifted off the ground slowly and safely and moments later we were gliding over the treetops like a rather loud but sleek pterodactyl escaped from Jurassic Park. I said, “You think Boycie boy’s involved in the murders?”

  “By your plural, I take it you’ve decided Mikey was murdered, too.”

  “We haven’t heard from Buck on the autopsy, but I’d bet my house on it. And you know how I love my house.”

  “I think the possibility bears looking into. Do you have the medical records for these kids?”

  “We’ve requested them, but haven’t gotten them
yet. I’m going back up there and have some one-on-one time with good Dr. Collins as soon as humanly possible. If a warrant’s necessary, I’m gonna have it in hand.”

  “You need to be careful on this one.”

  Well, surprise, surprise. Black always told me to duck and weave and watch my back and gave me good-luck tokens, but I was curious about the specifics of what he was thinking about this case. “Got a premonition, or what?”

  “Because it stands to reason that somebody up there at that clinic is playing dangerous head games.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “I’m serious, Claire. If these turn out to be very clever murders and not suicides, we’re talking about a psychopath, a particularly evil one. My God, he put a young and innocent girl inside an oven.”

  “Just one thing wrong with that. She put herself in that oven, remember?”

  “What I’m saying is there possibly could be some kind of doctor/patient manipulation going on. Somehow he convinces them, or entices them, to do things they normally wouldn’t do.”

  “You’re talking about mind control?”

  He frowned some more and fiddled with a dial on the control panel. Have to say again, it makes me nervous when he frowns when driving, be it a Humvee, chopper, or a rented Lincoln. But I’m a lot more so in the chopper. But he glanced at me and said, “It could very well be some kind of mind control, although that’s a lot harder to accomplish than you see it done in the movies. She got a phone call right before she got inside the stove, remember? That’s right out of the Manchurian Candidate, but actually making somebody do something life threatening like that is not easy, if possible at all. The killer could have used some kind of drug cocktail as inducement, but it would still be dicey to pull off.”