Spellbound: a Tale of Magic, Mystery & Murder

by Louise Ann Barton

CHAPTER 17 - THE WOMAN

  Joseph certainly seemed to know how to obtain this very willing woman, so Ramon allowed his friend to proceed without further interference. When it was time for lunch, Ramon spotted a vending stand. He pulled off the road and ordered two bottles of Presidente to wash down their sandwiches.

  Joseph sipped at his beer, eyeing an assortment of cheap sunglasses in jumbled display behind the counter. He pointed to two pairs of men's sunglasses and the vendor placed these on the counter. Joseph tried on one pair, gesturing to Ramon to do the same. The tall Haitian smiled at the effect. Ramon's evil, glittering eyes were effectively masked.

  Joseph's attention turned to a woman's glasses, which he put in his shirt pocket. "We may need these later," he confided. Ramon nodded, paid the vendor for their purchases, and they returned to the car.

  The drive was uneventful, as was the border crossing. The Baka kept to the bargain and Ramon passed into Haiti without attracting attention. He began to relax. The Baka had sent Joseph to care for and protect him, and the Haitian was doing an excellent job. Joseph took over the wheel, driving deeper into the Haitian countryside, past ever-present cane fields, and Ramon decided to nap. He awakened much later as the Chevy bumped off the rutted, dirt path, passed behind a copse of trees, and came to a halt beside a crude hut.

  A man sat in front of the hut, stirring the contents of a large, boiling pot. He jumped up at the intrusion, staring suspiciously at the vehicle. Ramon could see other men inside the hut. "Remain in the car, sir," Joseph cautioned. Joseph conversed briefly with the man stirring the cauldron, gesturing toward Ramon as he spoke. The man at the pot nodded and indicated Joseph might enter the hut.

  After a few minutes, Joseph stepped outside and motioned for Ramon to join him.

  "They will bargain with us," he said, "but at this time we will only have a choice of one woman." Ramon opened his mouth to protest, but Joseph hissed a warning. "We will be permitted to see this woman first. Then we may return and make our bargain."

  Ramon nodded, allowing Joseph to herd him back inside the car. To Ramon's surprise, the man who had been stirring the pot joined them. "I am Leroi," he said, as if that explained everything. He climbed into the back seat and sat for a moment, regarding Ramon suspiciously, then motioned Joseph to drive.

  Joseph did as he was bidden, Leroi instructing him as they went. In time they came to an outdoor market place. Leroi had Joseph park the car under a shade tree and directed their gaze to one of the vendors.

  The vendor, a young, shapely, ebony-skinned woman with huge, dark eyes and a comely face weighed a customer's purchase. Ramon watched as she moved about gracefully, fiercely arguing price with her customer. He smiled at the thought of bringing this fiery woman back to his secret place. And her unable to resist him.

  "Is she suitable for your purpose?" Leroi asked.

  Ramon composed himself, not wishing to appear too eager. "She will do."

  Leroi nodded, tapping Joseph's shoulder. Joseph drove back to the hut. It was time to bargain.

  As soon as they arrived, Leroi exited the car, Joseph held Ramon back. "Do not accept their first price, sir. Allow me to bargain for you."

  Ramon nodded and they followed Leroi into the darkened hut. He waited impatiently while his shaded eyes adjusted to the dim light, noticing the obligatory bowls containing offerings to the spirits littering the floor just beyond the entrance.

  Groupings of feathers and painted gourds hung on the far wall above the altar. To the right, placed on a quaint, tiered-shelf table were rows of tiny, different-colored jars with lids. To the left, containers of herbs, potions, and powders stood beside floor mats stacked with human bones and skulls. Two men already inside the hut stood up as Leroi entered. They greeted Ramon coldly. Leroi made the introductions. "This is René and Thomas."

  "You understand," René said in a strange, whispery voice, "she will not be the same afterwards."

  "How so?" Ramon asked hesitantly.

  René shrugged. "She will not be able to speak or think for herself."

  "Is that all?" Ramon laughed.

  Joseph nudged him. "She will do for our purposes, sir."

  "Si! Si! We will take this woman," Ramon insisted.

  "Then we must speak of price," René whispered with a twisted smile. He gestured for his guests to be seated.

  As Joseph had anticipated, the first figure was much too high. The second figure, although lower, was still outrageous. When the third figure was also insulting, Ramon could no longer contain himself. Jumping up, he tore off the annoying sunglasses and confronted them. René and his cohorts started back in horror.

  His eyes! Those evil, glittering eyes!

  Those who thought they knew evil fell back, realizing they were in the presence of one more terrible than themselves. Willing to agree to almost any terms in order to rid themselves of Ramon, René and his men struck a bargain.

  "How long will your preparations take?" Ramon pressed impatiently.

  "Such matters cannot be rushed," Thomas muttered, avoiding Ramon's strange eyes. "A few days. Perhaps a week. Two at the most."

  "Do not attempt to contact us before Wednesday next. Then send your man. We will tell him of our progress," Leroi said, indicating the visit was over.

  "When the matter is accomplished, we will expect payment," René added.

  Joseph guided Ramon back to the car and held the door while he entered. Joseph got behind the wheel and headed back down the road.

  "It is not for us to know their process, sir," Joseph explained, "and we are fortunate they had their eye on that woman."

  "I am sure they have their eyes on many people!" retorted Ramon.

  "Oh, but not all to be processed at the same time, sir," Joseph insisted. "If they looked toward anyone, it might more easily have been a man."

  "Hardly suitable for my purpose," Ramon chuckled. "How do your friends select people to process?"

  "This woman was available to us because she offends the community. She argues with many people," Joseph said defensively. "She cheats her customers. It was our good fortune to attempt to bargain at the time they had a suitable woman."

  While Ramon considered the matter in silence, Joseph drove back to the market. The woman, clad in a blue-cotton dress, a scarf wrapped around her head, jangled her bracelets as she boldly argued with an old man. Joseph wandered about the food stalls, managing to avoid the woman's stand, and made a few choices. He tossed the purchases in the car and they drove to a wooded spot beside the Artibonite River.

  "We will camp here, sir."

  Joseph climbed out of the car and began gathering wood. He started a fire and set about preparing their evening meal. He forced chunks of goat meat onto sticks, braced them over the fire, and unpacked the vegetables. Ramon stretched and yawned. He felt safe here. The Baka would protect their camp from intruders and the dreaded, disease-carrying mosquitoes. He sat down to wait for his meal. Presently, Joseph carried a stick of roasted meat to Ramon. The small man accepted the offering, nibbling gingerly at the hot, juicy flesh.

  "It is only a question of time, sir. We need only have patience."

  Ramon grunted and settled down to wait.

  The next day they supplemented their diet by fishing in the river. Joseph cleaned their catch, built another fire, and began cooking the fish. Then he mixed a cornmeal batter and set the cakes to bake, while Ramon prepared lime slices.

  As the days passed uneventfully, Ramon grew impatient again. He wanted to return to the market, but Joseph feared he was going to visit the woman. Ramon insisted he would only browse about and persisted until Joseph was forced to concede. They returned to the market and, to Ramon's surprise, the woman was absent and the stand was empty.

  "It is because they are preparing her, sir. Let us leave before we call attention to ourselves," pleaded Joseph, tugging fiercely at his master's shirtsleeve.

  Time dragged for Ramon as he waited at the campsite until, finally, one morning, Joseph announced
it was Wednesday. Time to inquire about the woman. Ramon waited behind, in an agony of impatience, until Joseph returned.

  "We may have the woman," he announced, "but they do not wish to deal with you, sir. They asked me to return, alone, this evening. I am to bring the money." Ramon was enraged, arguing that he was the one with the power and the protection to go anywhere he chose. Joseph attempted to placate his master, but Ramon was not easily soothed. "They fear you, sir," Joseph pleaded. "It is best that we do as they ask."

  At last, a compromise was reached. Joseph would seal the bargain while Ramon waited in the car. Ramon peeled the agreed-upon price from Hammond's wallet and handed it to his companion. Joseph and the money disappeared into the darkened hut. Ramon waited and, about ten minutes later, Joseph emerged from the hut.

  He had the woman.

  He walked slowly to the car, carrying a paper parcel, one arm around the woman's waist. She wore the sunglasses Joseph had purchased for the occasion, stumbling clumsily as she approached. Unresisting, she allowed Joseph to guide her.

  Drugged, thought Ramon.

  Joseph opened the back door and deposited her inside. The woman slumped over, pushing her sunglasses almost off her face, and he had to reseat her. Joseph adjusted her glasses. "Sit here!" he commanded. Seeing that she remained seated and upright, Joseph slammed and locked her door. Then he slid into the driver's seat. He placed the parcel between them and started the car.

  Ramon puckered his nose as the car pulled away from the hut. "What is that odor?"

  Joseph tore down the road without answering, taking a shortcut through the edge of a cane field as people jumped out of his way.

  "That smell! What is it?" Ramon demanded, looking about. "It was not in the car before!" His eyes fell on the woman. "She is that smell!" he exclaimed in horror. "What is wrong with her?"

  "The odor will wash off, sir," Joseph assured him. "It is only because she has so recently been underground."

  "Underground?"

  "Buried, sir. To her family, to the community, legally, she has been pronounced dead."

  "Dead? But she walked. She walked!" Ramon shouted.

  "Oh, she can walk, sir, and, eventually, she may speak a little. But she is dead." Joseph stared in Ramon's eyes until he had to turn his attention back to the road. "And, sir, she smells that way because she cannot, at present, perform her own toilette."

  "You mean, we can bathe the smell away?"

  "Oh, yes, sir, but it is wise to first put distance between ourselves and our new friends."

  Joseph drove steadily until they again crossed the border, when Ramon sat up. He recognized this spot. Pointing to a place down the road, he commanded Joseph to stop. Joseph pulled the car out of sight, under the trees.

  "Liberte, the village of my mother's childhood, is just over there, around the river's bend. You can bathe the woman in the waters of the Yaque del Norte. And," he chortled, "we are far enough downstream that those of the village may not come upon us."

  Joseph was confused. "Liberte is over there, sir!" He pointed in the direction of Haiti.

  "No! No!" Ramon snapped in annoyance. "Not that Liberte! This village is also called Liberte."

  "Two Libertes?" Joseph exited the car in confusion. He opened the back door and addressed the woman. "Carrisa! Get out!" he commanded in French. The woman rose clumsily and, with Joseph's help, scrambled out of the car. "Remove your shift! Unwrap your hair!"

  Ramon watched in amazement as the woman began to remove her soiled, blue dress and headscarf. He caught his breath. Save for the sunglasses, these had been her only garments. She stood before them, naked and unresisting.

  Joseph took her hand and led her to the river. He took off his own clothing and drew her into the water. Ramon watched in amazement as his friend washed the cemetery dirt from Carrisa. Then Joseph laundered her garments and led her back to the car, the wet cottons over his shoulder.

  Ramon sniffed her approvingly. "More like it."

  He reached out one hand and touched her damp, left breast. When she didn't flinch, he put both hands on her breasts, relishing the fullness of her cold flesh. Encouraged at her lack of resistance, he ran his hand downward and fondled her briefly.

  Carrisa was as tall as Ramon and they stood face to face. He found her height and her passive manner exciting. Ramon forced her back against the Chevy, pressing himself against her, staring into her sunglasses, but he couldn't see her eyes.

  Joseph turned discretely and attended to other matters. First, he spread the wet garments on the grass so they might have an opportunity to dry before the men resumed their journey. Then he returned to the river in hopes of catching another meal. By the time he returned with a string of fish, the garments were nearly dry and his master had finished exploring all possible opportunities with the unresisting woman.

  Ramon moved down to wash at the river's edge and Joseph hurried past him to the car. "You must not leave her unattended, sir," he called over his shoulder. "She is mindless. She will wander off."

  Carrisa had already moved away from the car and taken a few hesitant steps in the direction of the village. Joseph dropped the fish and roughly took the woman's arm, dragging her back to the river and into the water. He began scrubbing her again.

  "No one must see her, sir! One look! One look! And they will know what we have done."

  Her toilette complete, Joseph dragged her back to the car. He paused to pluck her garments from the grass and yanked the still-damp dress angrily over her head. She now wore her dress backward, but Joseph took no notice. He stuffed her into the car, forcing the scarf into her hands. "Hold this! Sit! Stay!"

  Ramon returned to the Chevy, buttoning his shirt. "You have not told me everything about this woman!" he accused. "She is not just drugged!" Ramon reached inside the car, angrily grabbing her by the hair, yanking her head back. The sunglasses fell from her face, revealing her eyes.

  Staring eyes! Dead eyes!

  Ramon drew back in disgust. "Dios mio! What has happened to her? What did they do to her?"

  "She is a zombie, sir," Joseph whispered.

  "A what?" Ramon spluttered.

  "We must return to the hidden place, sir," Joseph pleaded, tugging at his master's sleeve. "If you will sit in the car, I will explain as we drive."

  Ramon stared in confusion, first at the woman and then at Joseph. Finally, he agreed to enter the car. Joseph snatched up his catch of blankly staring fish and put the Chevy in gear. The little car tore out of the forest and careened down the dirt road in the direction of the houmfor, while Joseph did his best to explain.

  "There are those in my country who are all powerful. Who do evil and magic. And they may, from time to time, choose a man or woman to process. Someone unpleasant, as I have told you, that the community has turned against."

  Ramon considered this. "Would these men also process a person, a more popular person, if they were paid?"

  "For a great deal of money, perhaps, but that would be dangerous, sir," Joseph warned. "First, there must be an agreement amongst the different groups that do such evil or else the victim should not be chosen. It would be most dangerous for a sorcerer to break with tradition."

  "But a sorcerer might do this if he were paid enough?" insisted the little man, his eyes glittering at the prospect.

  "Other sorcerers would surely object to this process being used without their consent," Joseph insisted. "It would certainly have to be a princely sum to tempt a Bocor to bring the magical wrath of his fellows upon him!"

  "One powerful enough to withstand the magical onslaught of others," Ramon mused.

  As Joseph drove, Ramon fell silent, recalling the drives through the cane fields, Haitian laborers bent to their backbreaking labor. Plans to secure his financial future formed in his head. When the old car finally pulled up near their secret place, Joseph immediately brought Carrisa and the packages inside. "She cannot eat our food, sir," Joseph explained as they entered the hut. "She must not have salt. Or meat.
Remember that."

  "So, why not?"

  "Because, sir," Joseph answered, tying one end of a rope to Carrisa's left ankle, "if a zombie tastes salt, even a little bit, it will realize it is dead. Then it will scream an agonizing scream," he continued, securing the other end of the rope to the table leg. "Then it will return to the earth."

  Ramon stared at his friend in amazement.

  "It will try to bury itself, sir," Joseph confided, testing the knots.

  "So, if Carrisa tastes salt, she will no longer be of use to us?" Ramon asked.

  "Yes, sir, she will no longer obey our commands. She will insist upon returning to the grave. And her flesh will begin to decay."

  "Have you ever seen this happen? Seen it with your own eyes?" the little man demanded.

  "Oh, no, sir, but everyone in my country knows this to be so," the Haitian insisted. Satisfied that Carrisa was safely tethered, Joseph set about unpacking the car. He returned to find Ramon had unwrapped the parcel and was now contemplating its powdery contents.

  "Oh, no, sir! You must be careful!" Joseph snatched the parcel from Ramon. "You did not touch this to your skin? You did not taste this?"

  "No," replied Ramon. "I was just about to do so."

  Joseph breathed a sigh of relief. "René's process helped to make the woman as she is. What is in this package will preserve her condition. You must take care not to process yourself, sir!" he cautioned. "Please, allow me. It is to be mixed in her food. In exact proportion to her daily meal." Ramon nodded. "No need for you to bother, sir," Joseph soothed. "I will presently prepare her food and show you how it is done, but first we shall have our own dinner."

  The tall Haitian set a pot to boil and quickly produced a simple supper of rice, beans, fish, and plantain. After their evening meal, the men sat before the embers, sipping sweet, coconut milk topped with lime slices.

  "So, René's poison caused Carissa's death," mused Ramon.

  "But," Joseph explained, "it was his magic that made her rise up again. The poison and death took her mind, but it is René who holds her soul. And," he said, gesturing to the package, "it is this powder that will keep her as she is now."

  Ramon was stunned at the concept and stammered, "But doesn't anyone . . . her family . . . know what became of Carissa?"

  "Oh, no, sir!" Joseph insisted. "The woman had only an aged mother, much too feeble to suspect or inquire into our affairs. And," he added with a grin, gesturing to the zombie, "she was not known as Carrisa when she lived. That was the name René gave her when he raised her from the grave."

  Ramon's mouth opened in amazement and Joseph reached for the package.

  "Come, sir, I will show you how to prepare her food." Joseph took a bowl and filled it with rice. "No salt!" he cautioned, mixing in a pinch of the zombie cucumber powder. He offered the bowl to Carrisa and reminded her to use a spoon. She began to eat, clumsily at first, and soon emptied the bowl.

  "You see!" exclaimed Joseph triumphantly.

  Ramon leaned over, peeked behind the glasses, and snorted in disgust.

  "Oh, sir," Joseph pleaded, "she is but an unresisting vessel for your passions until we are able to find the proper foreign woman. The one we can train. We were to train the next woman together, remember?" Ramon snorted again, still unconvinced. "A promising woman who will fulfill her promise," Joseph reminded his master. Ramon shook his head in annoyance.

  "But, sir, Carrisa was promising enough back at the river. When she had made her toilette and you could not see her eyes." Ramon scowled. "Please, sir, we must keep our activities hidden or others may hunt us," Joseph pleaded.

  Ramon's anger drained from him as he recalled the story of Joseph's childhood. "Yes, it is perhaps best," the little man agreed.

  "Even now the authorities may be questioning those who last saw the foreign woman," Joseph warned, "so we must not go to town just now."

  And, in truth, the investigation into Amanda Hammond's disappearance had begun.