by C. R. Daems
"I'm not sure. I think I'm numb. Not much is going to happen until the test finishes, and my options are limited."
"Our options," he said as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him.
"I'm willing to listen, but I can't see how that would work. We aren't dealing with the Locos. Unless I'm wrong, these are men with money, power, and a long reach. The government could possibly make us disappear. They have the connections; we don't. But they aren't an acceptable alternative."
"No. I suspect Ron is right. They would be as bad as the group who is tracking you. We will have to come up with something on our own."
"Jim, I've fallen in love with you, but I can't ask you to give up everything you've worked so hard to achieve. Besides if they did track us down, you'd be the perfect leverage to make me do their bidding."
"Not true. I won't expect you to help them. I'm willing to take the risk we live free or die," he said, wiping tears from my eyes. I hated my weakness. I need the Loa's strength to push him away. My selfishness was risking his life for no good reason.
"I'll consider it if you and I can come up with a plan that has a chance of working. I should not have let you get close to me. That was wrong of me. I knew they were after me and might determine I had my granny's gift. But I won't endanger your life on our hope or luck that we can escape them. It has got to be a concrete plan that appears to have a chance of success, and one where you realize the cost of running away with me." My voice sounded harsh as I delivered my ultimatum.
"Deal," he said and sat as I poured two glasses of wine.
"Let's enjoy today because ironically this great fortune teller cannot predict what will happen tomorrow." I laughed. "Maybe my cooking will convince you to leave."
Unfortunately, he fancied the dinner and the love making afterward.
* * *
I opened the shop shortly after Jim had left for the hospital. What was the alternative? Sit around and brood all day or get drunk? Better to keep occupied and maybe a chance to help someone while I still could. Just before noon, Grace entered the shop. She wandered around looking at things until the shop emptied, and I closed for lunch.
"How are you holding up, Renee?"
"I'm brain dead to tell the truth," I said.
"Ron and I want you to know we are willing to help in any way we can. He's a lawyer, and I'm in the FBI. The information we have and have access to may be helpful."
"Thank you," I said giving her a tight hug. "I wish you, Ron, and Jim could disassociate yourselves from me. But it's too late. I've put your lives in danger."
"No, Renee. Those people have put our lives in danger and personally, I'm mad as hell. I joined the FBI to stop people like that. I hate that Ron is involved as I'm sure you hate that Jim is involved, but that just has me madder. We will find a way to stop them without you having to commit suicide. No matter what happens to any of us, they are responsible, not you." She held me at arm’s length and shook me until I nodded. "We are going to meet regularly to discuss the problem. I hope they are watching. I want them to know you aren't alone, and we know what they are planning and have a plan of our own. That should make them more cautious and give us more time."
"I don't know what I've done to deserve friends like you."
* * *
I sat dressed and ready for Angela. I should hate the woman, but I couldn't. She was an unwilling participant, and I had the feeling she wouldn't have participated if she knew what they were planning. She arrived on time.
"Hi, Angela. You look gorgeous as usual and ready to conquer the male population of N’Orleans. They don't stand a chance."
"As you can imagine, my productive years are few in my profession. Best to make the most of them, so I can retire before they become hard work and...embarrassing." She laughed and made her way to my table. "Any warning this week?"
I sat and put my hands over her, knowing what to expect. As I suspected, next Wednesday she stood outside the condo apparently waiting for something, when Ron appeared and, half way to his car, he was shot. Although it was unpleasant to watch, I didn't react, as it wasn't going to happen, and it changed as I watched. I scrolled backward and watched as a man produced a badge and arrested Angela on Monday.
"Interesting week, Angela. Wouldn't surprise me if on Monday a policeman offered to pay you for sex," I said. Angela didn't react at first.
"Monday?"
"Evening, maybe," I said. As I watched her actions on Monday change subtly. When she met the policemen, it surprised me when she took him back to the condo as usual, but then wouldn't take the money he offered. It became hysterical as he tried to give her money and wouldn't have the sex she offered. I couldn't help smiling. When I opened my eyes, she was smiling back at me.
"Thank you, Mambo Renee. Police stations are dull and boring and expensive." She stared at me for a few minutes. As she was leaving, she turned and gave me a hug. "Careful, Mambo Renee, someone with money is playing a game with you."
As I suspected, she wasn't part of the game, and her remark pretty well confirmed she wouldn't have participated if she understood what they had planned.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Committee.
"Well, Mr. Willis. What happen this evening with phase one of your test?" Black's smiley face said.
"Doctor Douglas failed to show at his regular time. He stayed at Renee's shop on Tuesday night and left to work from there," Willis said.
"Exciting. Is she or isn't she? His failure to arrive for his murder is easily explained away as a coincidence, since they are lovers. But what will she do in phase two? If Ron doesn't show, her solution will tell us a lot about Mambo Renee. Of course, his death would be even more exciting."
"Why?" Willis asked.
"I would ask you what you would do under similar circumstances, but you would be a willing seller of your gift, so it would never come down to a test. If he shows and dies, does that prove she doesn't have the gift? Might she be willing to sacrifice a friend rather than be caged for the rest of her life?"
"Yes, that would complicate the results; however, all the background we have on her indicates she would rather commit suicide like her grandmother did rather than let someone die because of her," Willis said, although the thought had crossed his mind. "She will let the test continue because she must assume the killing will occur whether she's alive or dead. It's afterward that would concern me—suicide or a vanishing act."
"I can't wait for phase two. Like watching a trapped mouse, but even mice bite." Black was laughing as his smiley face faded out. Black made Willis nervous even when things were going well.
* * *
Sheila sat relaxing in the Grill Room of the Winsor Court Hotel. The rooms and the restaurant, five-stars and expensive, were far enough from the French Quarter to avoid running into Renee by accident, but close enough to supervise the participants in her test. She was pleased with phase one. It had gone well she concluded, as she sipped the expensive glass of French Bordeaux she had ordered to finish off a delicious quail dinner. She had earned it. Angela and Sheila's contract killer had been in place at the time Doctor Douglas had been expected to leave his condo. When he had failed to show during the designated two-hour window, the contract killer and Angela had left. The killer didn't mind, she got paid whether she killed the doctor, or he failed to show. Angela didn't know why she was being paid to stand in front of the condo entrance and didn't care. The money was good, and she was free to do what she pleased before and afterward. A call to Harold confirmed that Douglas had gone directly to Renee's shop from work on Tuesday.
The time and place to kill Jim and Ron had been set after their schedules had been carefully monitored for over a week. Jim and Ron were very consistent in the mornings, and nothing had happened to change Ron's scheduled event. Consequently, when Angela went for her fortunetelling session, Mambo Renee would see Ron's future murder. Grace's schedule was more unpredictable, so Sheila would have to monitor her activities and set the
time and place for Angela with a telephone call.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Test results.
The next two weeks alternated between heaven and hell. Jim called more often, and we managed to see each other once or twice during the week when I didn't have fortunetelling sessions. Usually I visited his place and stayed the night. That satisfied Grace's wish that I keep her up to date. Jim and I spent all our off time together. The hell was knowing this was going to end, and not nicely with marriage and children.
"Well, what is the plan for tomorrow?" Grace asked as the four of us sat snacking on cheese and wine in their apartment.
"The shooting took place around Ron's normal time to leave for work—eight-thirty or so. Angela was in place about a half hour before Ron appeared. She has to be in place, or I couldn't see it so I suggest it would be safe to leave a couple of hours early, say six o'clock."
"Lawyers work late, not early," Jim said, followed by a strained laugh.
"We'll go together. We can stop and get breakfast. I'd like to return to the scene of the planned crime to see what I can learn. Might come in handy for my planned killing. You are going to let me know when and where, aren't you, Renee?" She smiled.
"That's the movie for Thursday evening."
"From the notes you made of our sessions with you, it must be just like watching a movie. You said you couldn't see the future before your...gift," Ron said as if unsure.
"No. Close your eyes and rub your hand along my arm over the serpent."
Carefully, he rubbed his fingertips along the serpent tattoo. "Yes, I feel a scar of some sort. Almost feels like a...snowflake," he said after some hesitation. I motioned for Grace to do the same. When she did, she nodded agreement.
"It's the symbol Ohene, which stands for wisdom and foresight. It was the Loa's gift to Granny's grandmother and the only one I know of that can be passed along. It's burned into the skin then covered with a tattoo of the Loa's choosing."
"Then those two other tattoos cover two other symbols...gifts?" Grace asked.
"Yes. Mpuannum, the symbol of priestly office, and Nkontim, the symbol of loyalty and willingness to serve."
"What do they permit you to do?"
"Nothing new. I appear to have better control when watching a person's future and seem to see further. The other I took as a confirmation of my commitment to God."
"Won't the Loa protect you then?" Jim asked. He had been quiet until then as I had told him about the gifts as he explored my body the other night and felt the scars.
"I don't think so; otherwise, they would have helped Granny. I believe the Loa and God takes an interest in us but aren't there to cater to our whims or to make life easier for us. They may be willing to give us moral support, but expect us to find our own solutions."
* * *
Angela was right on time as usual, smiling and dressed to snare traffic and turn men into swivel-head dolls.
"You're amazing, Mambo Renee. That poor policeman must have had a case of blue-balls when I stripped, offered sex, but wouldn't accept money. He had a hard-on that almost ripped his pants and couldn't do anything to satisfy the itch without owing me." She laughed as she sat and put her hands on the table. "Men can be very entertaining. Most men," she amended and her smile faded.
"Yes." I agreed as I put my hands over hers. I watched as Angela partied her way through the week: eating out at good restaurants, sightseeing, and sex. It was obvious she was being paid well to see me and stand around and watch on Wednesdays. It surprised me when she wasn't standing outside the condo complex next Wednesday. Around two o'clock she received a phone on her cell and hurried out, caught a cab, and was dropped off on Moss Street. Across the canal was a park-like area where several police cars and a group of people were gathered by the water. About thirty minutes later, Grace returned to her car with Mike. They had driven only a few yards when the car exploded. I shuddered and removed my hands.
"Something bad."
"An accident," I said and put my hands back over hers and the scene changed. This time Angela’s day was like every other day. That was good, I hoped. There would be no reason to kill her where I couldn't see it happen. "Well, Angela, another fun week. You might even meet someone you like."
"You mean out of bed?" she asked with genuine interest.
"Yes."
"The question is will he like me?"
"As you said, it's a short-lived profession," I said. I could see the problem in her eyes. Of the men willing to marry a prostitute, those that were available weren't worth having, and those worth having weren't available.
"A wonderful dream, Mambo. If I find him, will you marry us?"
"I'd be honored."
* * *
It was Saturday night before the four of us could get together, since I had Mr. Bishop for a fortunetelling session on Friday. All I could tell him was that his marriage and business were doing well. A fake would have felt the need to make up something.
"Thank you, Mambo Renee. A perfect telling, and just the way I like it—sweet and short," he said and all but skipped out the door.
By the time I arrived at Jim's condo on Saturday, everyone was there having a big platter of quartered muffuletta sandwiches filled with olive salad, mortadella, salami, mozzarella, ham, and provolone, awaiting the news.
"Well, Renee. No scrumptious muffuletta until we hear the news. How is he planning to kill me?" Grace asked, and appeared more interested than nervous.
"Boom," I said reaching for a quarter of a sandwich. I could hear myself chewing, the room was so quiet.
"That was dramatic, Renee," Grace said. "I hope you have some details. Bombs are ugly weapons, especially if they are linked to a cell phone."
"I can only tell you what Angela sees; therefore, I can't tell you when or where the bomb was attached. You must have been called to some incident on Wisner Boulevard sometime in the early afternoon because there were three police cars there. They sent Angela to an address on Moss Street which was on the other side of the canal from where you and the police were on Wisner. I believe Mike was with you. When you and he returned to your car and drove off, it exploded."
"Nice people," Ron said, giving Grace a worried look. "I hope you saw the scene change."
"Yes, and Grace was alright, so I imagine you caught the person who planted the bomb or at least disarmed it."
"It's time we took the initiative. Unfortunately it's unlikely to help your problem since the person planting the bomb will be a professional and won't know who hired him. But maybe we'll get lucky. If nothing else, it may make them more cautious and will make me feel good."
"And smarter," Jim muttered.
"That's true, Jim. We have to take the initiative if there is any chance of discovering who they are."
"Grace is right. If nothing else, we put one killer behind bars," I said.
Grace decided she would get Mike and another agent to stake out her car after she returned home, thinking that the killer would have installed the bomb that night then followed her until she was called to Wisner Boulevard. Then she called Angela or her contact who called Angela. Jim and I left early.
* * *
"What do you think will happen now, my love?" Jim asked as we stopped panting from a satisfying session of love making later that night. I didn't want to think because every scenario had the same ending, only who died varied.
"They will soon know I have my granny's gift. They will be careful for fear I'll commit suicide like her, so they must act soon. Granny said the event was at least a year off which would mean it must be soon."
"You can't commit suicide. I don't want to lose you."
"What alternative do I have?" I asked feeling sorry for Jim. I would die, but he would be left behind to mourn.
* * *
The week went slowly, as I waited to hear the outcome of the Tuesday night stakeout. We had agreed to meet Wednesday after work. When I arrived, everyone was there and looked to have been celebrating for
a while.
"We got the bomber," Grace said handing me a glass of wine as I came through the door. "Jerry alerted me around two a.m. that someone had entered the garage, so Mike and I were alert when someone came walking down the ramp towards my car a couple of minutes later. We arrested her just after she had finished placing a bomb in the back seat of my car. She claims to be Cailin Dahmer, a United States citizen, but she had no identification on her when we took her into custody. We found the rental car she came in, which had a Texas license. She has no record that we can find under that name, and her finger prints aren't in the system. Judging by the description, we think she might be wanted by Interpol under the name Collette Faivre. It's going to take a while to discover who she really is, but my money says she's a professional assassin with multiple aliases. She's as cold as dry ice. Except to give us a name, she hasn't said a word except to ask for a lawyer. We don't know where she was staying here in town, where her permanent address is, or even the state she claims residence.”
"My associates say the lawyer she has retained is one of the best criminal lawyers in the country—well known and expensive," Ron said.
"The bad news, she's a professional, and I doubt we'll find any connection to who hired her. If we're lucky, we may locate the intermediate but that will take time."
"How did you explain the stakeout?" I asked out of curiosity.
"Lied." Grace smiled. "I said I thought someone had been following my car for the past several days and thought I saw someone around my car when I went back to retrieve a package I forgot in the back seat. I asked Jerry and Mike for a favor. Told them I'd pay one hundred a night for a couple of night stakeouts. I doubt they believed me then or now. The district agent-in-charge believes it's related to the group I'm investigating. No mention of you, Renee."
"Thanks, Grace. I don't need the FBI investigating me too," I laughed.
"I wish we could get you into the Witness Protection Program under some false pretenses. It would be the perfect solution. Maybe I can think up a reason."