Bruja Brouhaha

by Rochelle Staab

  “Bailey questioned the clinic staff this morning,” I said.

  “Were you there with them?” Carmen reached for a tissue and blew her nose.

  “No, but Nick and I talked to Bailey last night. We’ll help as much as we can. Promise,” I said.

  “Good. I’m going home tomorrow.”

  “We were just with Lucia,” Nick said. “She told us Victor called her last night.”

  “He did?” Carmen sat up straight in bed. “What did he say? Where is he? Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

  “I don’t know if we should believe her,” I said. “Cruz told me the phone didn’t ring last night. Lucia might have her days confused, or he called while Cruz was watching TV. Or Lucia is having delusions again. But if Victor actually called, he told Lucia he was with Paco.”

  “Victor wouldn’t say something so cold. I’m glad we had the foresight to hire the caretaker for her,” Carmen said. “How is Cruz working out?”

  I glanced at Nick. “To be fair, we haven’t been around Cruz long enough to judge. She and Lucia need time to get to know each other.”

  Carmen cocked her head. “That’s a judgment in itself, sweetie. What do you think, Nick?”

  “Cruz stays clear of me,” Nick said. “I’m not sold yet. Did you read her résumé before Victor hired her?”

  “I trust Victor,” Carmen said. “He needed someone for Lucia right away, and we agreed to give Cruz a trial until Victor and Lucia made a permanent decision.”

  “Unless Lucia is thrilled with her, I wouldn’t make Cruz a permanent hire. Lucia’s state of mind is the bigger concern,” I said. “If she falls apart—”

  “I’ll spend time with Lucia and Cruz before I go into the clinic Monday. Tony is available for emergencies until then.” She turned to me. “Tell me something good. How did the Wellness Group go this morning? Did the women play nice, or did they give you a hard time?”

  “It went well.” I glanced sideways at Nick.

  Carmen flapped her hand. “We can talk in front of Nick. He doesn’t know any of the people.”

  “No,” Nick said. “You should talk shop in private. I’ll go out in the hall and check my e-mail and phone messages.”

  Carmen watched him back out the door, and then said, “He’s a good one.”

  “I know,” I said. What I didn’t know was why I wasn’t packing to move in with him.

  “Are you going to live with him?” Carmen said.

  Were my thoughts that transparent? If so, maybe Carmen could decipher them for me. “I’m thinking about it.” I sat in the chair by her bed and dropped my purse on the floor.

  “Don’t do that,” Carmen said.

  “What? Don’t move in with Nick, or don’t sit down?” I scooted to the side of the seat cushion.

  “Your purse on the floor invites bad luck. All the money inside will drain out.”

  “I’m not superstitious.”

  “Pick up the purse and humor me anyway. There’s too much bad luck going around. Go on, pick it up.”

  Carmen could be as stubborn as my mother. Her bedridden state gave her a sympathetic advantage, so I reached down and brought the purse to my lap.

  “Thank you,” Carmen said. “Now tell me about the group.”

  “Lively,” I said. “Four women came but only one was a carryover from last week. They spent more time complaining about Lucia’s hex than I would have liked.”

  “I can understand their obsession about the hex. Santeria has a strong influence on the neighborhood. Did they blame every flat tire in the area on Lucia?”

  “In the broadest sense, yes,” I said. “People will talk about anything to avoid their feelings.”

  Carmen laughed. “Did Erica Gates come? She asked my opinion about the group last Monday. I assured her support groups were valuable to strengthen interpersonal skills.”

  “Can I hire you to do my PR? You’re an excellent spokeswoman. Yes, she came.”

  “And when the hex came up, did she proselytize about the church as their only salvation?”

  “Erica has strong convictions. But I also sensed a lot of loneliness,” I said.

  “That’s why I encouraged her to attend your session,” Carmen said. “I think she is lonely. Her husband deals in commercial real estate. He’d buy a sandbox if he thought he could develop it. The harder Bernie works, the deeper Erica throws herself into community and church activities. What about the other women?”

  I glanced at the door. Satisfied no one lingered close in the hallway, I leaned in. “Can we treat this conversation as a professional consult? I need your advice, but we have to speak under a doctor-to-doctor umbrella to legally protect the privacy issues.”

  “Of course. You seem concerned,” Carmen said.

  “I am concerned. The client is Teresa Suarez.”

  “Really.” Carmen creased her forehead. “I wondered how she was coping with the shooting. What did she say in group that concerned you so?”

  “It wasn’t what she said in group. After the other women left, Teresa approached me in private. She made me reassure her that our conversation was confidential, and then told me she visited her husband in jail. He told her Paco wasn’t the bystander last Saturday night—he was the target.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “There’s more. Teresa thinks Victor’s disappearance is tied to Paco’s death.”

  “Does she know where Victor is?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Make her go to the police,” Carmen said.

  “I tried. She won’t. She claimed privilege and made me vow not to say anything, which means neither can you.”

  “What if the killers are after Lucia and Victor? Go to the police.”

  “Ethically, I can only contact the police if Teresa is threatened or she is the threat. If I did contact them, I have nothing to offer except Teresa’s suspicions and a jailhouse rumor. She didn’t tell me who killed Paco. She only suspects Victor’s absence is linked to the shooting. She’s searching Victor’s office this afternoon. If she finds something, she wants me to take the information to the police and leave her out of it.”

  “Tony had Helen go through Victor’s office. Teresa is playing games with you,” Carmen said.

  “I agree. And I don’t know if I trust what she told me. When I left the clinic with Miguel today three gang members harassed us on the sidewalk. Teresa came out and bullied them off. It was strange, Carmen. The three full-grown punks were afraid of her. She transformed from a frightened and worried client into a belligerent, I don’t know, gang queen? The change in her demeanor was remarkable. But what if she finds a clue Helen missed in Victor’s office? I won’t go to the police and lie for her. Unless . . .”

  “Unless what?”

  “You could give Nick and me permission to do another search of Victor’s office tonight. We go through his files. We check his e-mail. Then we take what we find to the police and leave Teresa out of it completely.”

  “Brilliant. You have my permission,” Carmen said.

  “How do we get into his computer without a password?”

  “Victor uses his late wife’s name as his password for everything. Remember Beatrice? Maybe her spirit will guide us to him.”

  “And you’re comfortable with us going through his files?” I said.

  “Sweetie, I trust you and Nick. If I could get out of bed I would search Victor’s office and computer myself. And if I had the key, I’d search his house down to his underwear drawer to find him. I’ll tell him the search was my idea after I kiss him for being alive. Victor would do the same for me. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

  There was a knock. Nick peeked through the door. “Is it safe?”

  Carmen waved him in, grinning. “Are you testing us with film quotes again, Nick? Marathon Man.”

  “Caught me,” he said. “And who gave the line?”

  “Olivier to that adorable Dustin Hoffman.”

  “You’re good, Carmen.�
�� Nick handed her a box. “You probably can’t eat these chocolates but—”

  “You’re so right. My doctor would kill me. Give them to me.” She unwrapped the cellophane, opened the box, and closed her eyes to inhale the aroma. “Heaven. I’ll sneak a bite, and you and the nurses can enjoy the rest of the box for me. Hell, I’m already in the hospital. Save me a piece. Or two.”

  She passed me the milk chocolate–covered caramels. I took two pieces and bit into one. The sweet chocolate and chewy caramel melted in my mouth.

  “We’re going to the clinic to search Victor’s office,” I said to Nick.

  “Okay.” He popped a caramel in his mouth. “What are we looking for?”

  “What do you look for when you do research?” Carmen said.

  “Patterns. Breaks from patterns. Something abnormal, out of place,” Nick said. “If I can get in his computer, I’ll go through his e-mails and Internet browser. If the history is there, we’ll have a list of his searches.”

  “Do that,” she said. “His password is Beatrice. Open his mail, too. And Liz, go through the personal folder he keeps in the back of his bottom desk drawer. Call me when you get to the clinic. I’ll call and alert Tony in case he stays late. The key to the front door is in my purse in the closet.”

  “Did you talk to any of Victor’s friends?” Nick said.

  “I gave Detective Bailey a list, and I contacted his golf partners myself this morning,” Carmen said. “None of them have talked to him since Tuesday. I have everyone calling around.”

  I retrieved Carmen’s purse from the closet. She unhooked a thick silver key off a ring and wrote down the code for the security alarm.

  “Did anything happen in the past month or so to upset Victor before Paco was shot?” Nick said. “Any threats or intimidation?”

  “Toward Victor? No.” Her eyes searched the ceiling. “We’ve been lucky. The only trouble I remember happened years ago, after Paco filed a complaint about kids loitering on the sidewalk in front of the botanica and outside the clinic. Victor told Paco not to, but Paco was outraged about the growing gang problem and insisted we file the report along with him. A few days later someone smashed the front window of the botanica and keyed Victor’s car.”

  “Did Paco or Victor call the police?” Nick said.

  “No. Victor didn’t want to encourage more trouble. Paco chose a different approach. He went to neighborhood council meetings, demanded increased patrol, and got involved in the Neighborhood Watch. Paco wanted the gangs out of the district, and the gangs knew it.”

  “Don’t forget about the recent broken lock on Paco and Lucia’s downstairs door,” I said.

  “Yes, I know. That was odd. The gangs kept their distance from the building after—” She stopped herself.

  “After Teresa moved in?” Nick said.

  “Why would you say that?” Carmen said.

  “I just wonder if the building was off-limits because of her. Liz and I saw her in action with some gang members today. She’s tough,” he said. “What if Paco caught her doing something illegal, and was killed out of fear or retaliation?”

  Carmen and I swapped glances.

  “Paco and Teresa were close,” Carmen said.

  “So? Even if he liked Teresa, Paco hated the gangs. I wonder if the punks we saw her with today broke the lock on the Rojases’ building,” Nick said. “I think one of you should talk to Teresa again.”

  We couldn’t tell Nick that Teresa was my client. I had to end the conversation before he pushed further. I turned to Carmen. “Was Victor worried or upset about anything else?”

  She picked up on the topic switch with ease. “Like money or his health? No. I would know. Victor wouldn’t abandon the clinic or Lucia. You saw him with her. He protects her like family. He has her power of attorney. He wouldn’t desert her. Or me.”

  “He has her medical POA. At the wake he told us the legal POA wasn’t signed yet,” Nick said.

  “Which concerns me,” I said. “Without Victor to handle her affairs, she’s vulnerable.”

  “I’ll spend more time with Lucia next week,” Carmen said. “If I agree with Tony’s initial impression of her condition, maybe we should discuss moving her into a facility. She would be safe in a controlled environment with professionals monitoring her.”

  I waved her off. “It’s too soon after Paco’s death to force Lucia out of her home. Relocating to an unfamiliar, strange setting would be horribly stressful, Carmen. Lucia is much better off at home with a nurturing caretaker.”

  A cheery voice interrupted from the doorway. “Well, look who’s here.”

  Glamorous in a ruffle-collared camel pantsuit with her hair coiffed in waves, Mom swept into the room holding up a shopping bag from Bottega Louie, the downtown gourmet market. She flickered her eyes around the room. “The energy in here is troubled. What in the world were you three talking about before I got here?”

  “Victor,” I said.

  “Liz, didn’t you tell Dave to find him? The fund-raiser is Monday. Nick, did you reverse the hex like I asked? How far does the effect of the hex spread? Do you feel the strange energy in here?” Without waiting for a response, she rifled to the bottom of her Chanel bag and brought out a tiny gray bundle of dried sage tied with a red thread. Another dip into her purse produced a lighter. “I have to smudge this room right now or Carmen won’t sleep a wink tonight.”

  Mom lit the sage and waved a small stream of smoke around her body, over Carmen’s bed, and into the four corners of the room. Nick stood back, grinning as she performed her ceremony. Her smudging was old news to me. I ate another chocolate to pass the time. The sage smoke drifted out into the hospital corridor, drawing a stout nurse in blue scrubs into the room.

  “Is there something burning in here?” She barreled to the monitor at Carmen’s side. She bent down, checked the wiring, and glanced back at us.

  “I’m clearing out the negative energy with sage,” Mom said, straight-faced.

  The nurse swerved around with her hands on her hips. “Put it out, now. You’ll set off the smoke alarm. This is a hospital, not a temple. Candles and incense burning are not allowed. They create a fire hazard, and the odor disturbs the other patients.”

  “I intend to disturb the negative spirits lurking in here.” Mom went into the small bathroom and flushed the remnants of burnt sage down the toilet.

  The nurse clicked her tongue and left. Mom settled into the chair by the bed, with a self-satisfied grin. “Some of the negative energy just left. It already feels better in here.”

  “Where’s Daddy?” I said.

  “Home, watching sports.” Mom moved the chocolates from Carmen’s tray to a table. “If you answered your phone, dear, you could have joined Carmen and me for dinner.”

  “You called? I didn’t hear . . . Oh.” I dug in my purse and found my phone, muted. I forgot to turn the ringer back on after the group session. The screen told me I had four messages. “Sorry about that, Mom. How many times did you call?”

  “Three or four. Dilly can take you house hunting tomorrow. She wanted to know what time,” Mom said. “Since you didn’t call me back, I made an appointment for us to meet her at eleven.”

  The thought of house hunting with my mother started a headache at the back of my neck. I envisioned her pushing an oversized box in the suburbs on me, using crazy concepts like resale value. Nope.

  “Nick and I made plans tomorrow.” I nodded in his direction, counting on his backup.

  “Go look at houses. I can write my article while you’re out.”

  I caught the hurt in Nick’s eyes before he turned away. Was his accommodating attitude about my future residence a guise? Did I disappoint him when I didn’t leap at the invitation to move in with him?

  “Then it’s settled,” Mom said. “I’ll call Dilly tonight to confirm. By the way, she told me something odd this morning. At our last fund-raiser meeting for the clinic, Victor asked if she knew a good real estate attorney. Is Victor pl
anning to sell the clinic? Should we alert Kitty?”

  I loved how Mom could go straight to an assumption.

  Carmen shook her off. “Viv, you know we lease the space for Park Clinic. So does Kitty. Victor and I agreed to sign an extended lease after the Cherries committed to raise money for showers and plumbing.”

  “Maybe Victor was going to sell his house,” Mom said.

  “He needs a real estate agent for that, not a lawyer.” I got up and moved toward the door. “We should leave, Nick. Maybe we’ll find the answer in Victor’s office.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  On the way back to Park Clinic with Nick, I picked up the three messages Mom left about the meeting with Dilly. Robin called to say she found a dress for the fund-raiser.

  No message from Teresa. I hoped that meant she changed her mind about involving me and went to the police on her own. Or it meant she searched but didn’t find what she was after in Victor’s office.

  I tucked my phone back in my purse. “Nick, what if the papers Victor went over with Lucia after the wake were for her legal power of attorney? What if she signed them?”

  “And then he took the papers and disappeared? What would that accomplish?”

  “I don’t know. I’m grasping,” I said. “I hate to say this, but maybe we should have Lucia check her bank account. What if Victor had hidden money problems?”

  “Bailey can check his finances. That’s a pretty cold turnaround. Do you think Victor is that heartless?”

  “I don’t. I’m trying to avoid thinking he’s dead,” I said.

  We parked in front of Park Clinic near dusk. Nick used Carmen’s key to unlock the dead bolt, then disabled the alarm. We turned on the lights behind Jackson’s desk and strolled through the corridors to Victor’s office in back. I tried the knob. Locked. I reached for my phone to call Carmen.

  Nick stopped me. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  He disappeared down the hall toward reception. I heard a drawer clatter open, then a jangle and a bang. He came back with a set of keys, trying several until he found one that opened Victor’s door.