by Kira Saito
“Mrs. Dubois, this is Kate, and this is Chris.” Chris and I nodded in her direction both equally unsure as to what we should say.
“That is quite a fancy veil, Mrs. Dubois. My grandma got married in one that looks just like that except it was snow white. I’m not sure why she chose such a holy color given that she slept with half of the town before making an honest man out of my grandpa. Now, I’m not saying that there is anything wrong with that part, it’s the robbing a bank and holding up a liquor store part that I can’t quite agree with. Ol’ grandma she loves her whiskey. She’s still kicking around, I bet she’ll outlive us all. I have to introduce you one day.” Chris extended his hand hoping to break the ice.
Mrs. Dubois extended a gloved hand covered in emeralds and rubies. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, her voice a soft, elegant drawl.
“I’m Kate.” I took Chris’s cue and extended my hand. “I lost a daughter too.” I made it about me again without even meaning to.
“Now, let me explain how this is going to work,” Madame Queenie said shuffling the deck of cards. “These tarot cards are going to help us find Charlene. Mrs. Dubois is going to ask the questions, and I’ll answer depending on the card. With enough time and sessions, we’ll track down her daughter in no time. But before we begin, we’ll hear what happened to Charlene on the day of her disappearance. What really happened. Can you please tell us your story, Mrs. Dubois?”
There was a dramatic silence before she started to speak. “Charlene has such lovely hair, so soft and thick. She hated cutting it, it hung down to her waist, she looked like a little mermaid. That is what started to call her, my little mermaid. On the morning of her disappearance, she asked me to comb it for her just like when she was younger. We were headed out to a mother-daughter lunch, you see. It was going to be just us girls for the entire afternoon—shopping, eating, giggling, talking about boys. We both dressed up in matching sundresses, pearls, and lipstick. It was a beautiful day full of sunshine and new beginnings. You see, things weren’t always easy between the two of us.
Charlene had recently developed a curious streak. She was asking questions about girls and boys, the normal stuff. I paid no attention until she started sneaking off all hours of the night. One night, I happened to follow her and caught her in the gardening quarters coming on to the sweet old gardener. She was wearing nothing but a little nightgown and rubbing her body against Mr. Jones. God bless his heart, the poor gardener respectfully pushed her away. I saw the scene with my own two eyes through the glass window. We argued for weeks over that incident. She claimed that she had done nothing wrong and just wanted to chat. I’m not a prude, but there are certain rules that I wanted my girl to follow.
Anyhow, on the day of her disappearance, she was happy, and our relationship felt as if it had been healed. She was no longer sneaking out at all hours and I was finally free to breathe again. We headed out to the Quarter to grab some lunch. We stopped at our favorite little bistro and she excused herself to go to the restroom. That was the last I ever saw of her.”
I could hear my heart beat. That story sounded so familiar. The pattern was identical to what Zoe and I had been going through. Millions of questions formed in my head. I could see Mrs. Dubois’ eyes watching me through her veil. She continued to speak and sob gently.
“I suppose you can call me a bad mother because I didn’t accompany her to that restroom, but she wasn’t a child anymore. We had visited that exact restaurant so many times before. All of the staff knew her and loved her. If they saw or heard anything suspicious, they would have said so. We were beginning to trust one another again, so I wanted to give her freedom to move, to live to breathe. That’s where that story ends. I haven’t seen her since. I’ve looked everywhere and with all my resources and wealth, it has amounted to absolutely nothing. Can you believe that? A big old fortune and it’s not enough to find my only child. My heart is broken and this veil of darkness that I’m wearing only half represents the agony that my heart feels.”
“Are you taking anything for the pain?” I blurted out feeling the urge to hand her the bottle that rested in my purse. Madame Queenie gave me a stern look.
“No, I want to live my pain. I want to feel the exquisite pleasure it brings. I don’t want to numb a thing.”
“Kate, no interrupting, remember?” Madame Queenie scolded.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
Mrs. Dubois continued to speak. “My husband believes that I have gone mad. He doesn’t know where I am. He suspects I’m hiding out at one of our tropical islands. My extended family has altogether given up on ever seeing her again, but I can’t move on until I know what happened to her. Call me mad, call me insane, I call myself a mother, any mother would want to know the truth. I’m ready to know the truth, Madame Queenie. I demand to know the truth even if it means I am stuck wearing this veil for the rest of my life.” I scribbled her words in my notebook.
Madame Queenie shuffled the cards again and placed them upside down on the table. “You have to concentrate on the question you wish to ask and then ask it out loud while picking a card. Remember, you need to concentrate as if your life depended on it.”
Mrs. Dubois took a deep breath before asking the question. “Is Charlene Dubois dead?” She reached for a card and handed it to Madame Queenie. The room was silent. I held my breath as Madame Queenie carefully examined the card. I tried to read her expression without any luck.
“Yes, Charlene Dubois is no longer living in our world. She has passed on.”
Wails filled the room. Mrs. Dubois started to shake and holler uncontrollably. I looked at the faces around me furious that Madame Queenie would say such a thing. I glanced at Chris, his mouth hung open at the shock reveal. “She doesn’t like beating around the bush, does she?”
“No, apparently not.”
“I can’t handle anymore, leave please leave at once,” Mrs. Dubois ordered through her wails.
“It’s time to leave,” Madame Queenie said rising from her chair. Her face was still expressionless almost as if she hadn’t only destroyed an innocent woman’s universe.
We stepped out into the hall and something within me broke and not even the pills could numb the feeling of anger that came over me. “That was a shitty thing you did,” I said once Madame Queenie had firmly shut the door behind us.
“Excuse me?” She eyed me with surprise. “What exactly have I done wrong?”
“You’re not a police officer, you’re not a detective, you haven’t stumbled across Charlene Dubois’ body, well, not that we know of and yet you have the nerve to tell that poor woman that her baby is dead. If that’s not cruel, then I don’t know what is.”
“She wanted to hear the truth, Kate. She understands that before she can move on she has to acknowledge the reality of her situation. I haven’t done anything wrong. I simply told her what she wanted to hear. She wants to dwell in her pain and then move on. Those are her wishes, I am simply respecting them.”
“You didn’t tell her the truth, what you did was stare at a card and throw out a theory as to what you think happened.”
“No. I told her the truth.”
“How do you know that is the truth? This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You actually believe that those stupid cards are capable of telling you what’s real?”
“If I had said that Charlene was alive, you wouldn’t think the answer was ridiculous.”
“Maybe not, but this is unethical. What you’re doing is against the law. I’m not sure which law but I’m sure that it is.”
“All the parties involved have signed a contract. There is nothing unethical going on here. Do I need to remind you that you’re a guest under my roof?” There was a threatening edge to her voice. It unnerved me as if she was taking some sort of pleasure in what she was saying and doing. It was a game to her.
Chris silently witnessed our confrontation and a small group of tourists had started to accumulate at the end of the hall as my
accusations became louder and louder. If I didn’t get out of there, I would lose it. My body shook as I ran down the hall. Unthinkable questions raced through my mind. What if Zoe was dead as well? What would I do if I was forced into Mrs. Dubois’ shoes and finally learned that there was no more hope? I wouldn’t be able to go on. I just wouldn’t. I opened my purse and took out two pills, without any water I swallowed them whole. I took out my phone and called Sylvia. She picked up on the first ring.
“Kate, how’s it going down there?”
“Sylvia, I can’t cover this story. These people are crazy.”
“That’s great news, who wants to read about a group of sane people?”
“I’m serious, Sylvia. I’m going home. There’s got to be someone else who can cover the story.”
“You’re the only one that Mrs. Dubois selected out of all the other reporters, we can’t afford another one of your episodes. Get your shit together or you’re fired.”
“Fine, I got it. I’m on it.” I hung up and continued to run down the hall. I was a mix of alternating emotions ranging from scared, angry, and frustrated. Ninety percent of the time, the drugs managed to numb my emotions, but then like a hurricane, the emotional floodgate opened, and it was often intense.
I crashed into Nigel.
“Love, what in the world is going on?”
“Nothing, I’m on a deadline, that’s all.”
“You look absolutely frazzled, my dear. What has gotten into you? Is there anything I can do? You know I’m a good listener.”
Memories of him and I rushed back. His arms felt so comforting and in an instant, I forgot all the bad history that we shared and memories of all of our good times came rushing back even if there had only been very few of them. After all, I had been obsessed with him for a reason. “No, I’m fine.” I tried to escape from his arms, but he wouldn’t let me.
“Come in here and we can talk,” he said as he opened the door to his room.
“No, I have to get some work done.” I was determined not to fall under his spell again.
“Kate, love, I know that we ended on bad terms, but I still hold a soft spot for you and only wish you the best. You’re hurting, I can see it in those big blue eyes of yours. It’s only a chat, love.” Without really thinking, I followed him inside. It would be good to talk to someone familiar, maybe he would understand how I felt and give me advice. He had always been good at offering tidbits of worldly wisdom. “Take a seat, and I’ll pour us a drink.”
I sat on the bed. “No, I’m not drinking,” I said.
“Oh, please, you can stop drinking when you’re dead.” He poured us both a stiff glass of whiskey and sat beside me. I took the glass from his hand and took a big gulp. My head was a jumble of facts and fiction. “What is going on with you?” he asked softly.
“My daughter, she’s missing. She’s been missing for three years,” I blurted out unable to hold it in.
“You have a daughter? I never knew that, love. I’m sorry for your loss. I never had any children of my own, but I can relate to your pain. Do you have any idea where she could be? Did she run away from home? You know how kids are these days.”
“I don’t know if she ran or if she got kidnapped …” I took another sip.
“And her father? Where is he?”
“He’s moved on. He says that I should do the same, but you know how writers are. We feel too much.” The words were flowing now. “I’ve read all of the books you’ve written since On the Streets of Peace and Blood each one more brilliant than the last. You deserve all of the recognition that you’ve gotten. My life hasn’t amounted to much. It did when Zoe was born, but now all is lost.” I didn’t want to tell him all of these personal details, but suddenly I had reverted back to the naïve college student I had been when we met. I felt like a failure, nothing but a failure who was only good at making mistakes and driving people away. “I’m a failure, aren’t I? To think I graduated at the top of my class.”
“Shhh, hush now, you’re not a failure.” He placed his arm around me and sat closer.
“I am.” I finished off the whiskey and my head was light and groggy. I felt his lips on mine. They tasted familiar, dangerous, sweet. I returned his kiss without wanting to. Our kiss grew deeper and his hand moved towards my chest. He unbuttoned my dress and undid my bra. “No,” I whispered.
“For old times’ sake, love.” I felt his weight on top of me and the motions that had once been so familiar began. My face grew hot and tears streamed down my face. I thought of Zoe. I thought of Jay and the things that might have happened between them and how the cycle of abuse had come full circle. Regret and anger surged through me as I attempted to push him off me. He was too heavy, so I reached for the alarm clock that rested on the dresser and hit him over the back. He groaned in pain and I was able to push him off. For good measure, I hit him again and then again. It felt so damn good. I watched as a spot of bright red blood started to seep through his spotless white shirt. “You’re being a fool, love,” he said calmly not at all concerned that he was bleeding.
“No, I’m not. I refuse to be silent any longer. As you famously said in your book, ‘that which hides in darkness must come to light and now my dear, the time of reckoning has come for the both of us.’”
“No one’s going to believe you. I’m Nigel Thomas and you’re, well, you’re just Kate. Poor old Kate, she once had so much potential, but now it looks like it’s all gone along with her sanity. If you just give me what I want, I won’t mention this incident to any of my people. If you don’t, you’ll never manage to get a book published in this lifetime.” He was saying the exact words which would guarantee a reaction from me.
The room started to spin. I wanted to smash his head in with the clock. I reached for the door handle and ran down the hall to stop myself from doing so. When I got back to my room, I locked it and immediately stripped off my clothes and got into the shower. The tears wouldn’t come. Frozen, I stood there until my skin was wrinkly and soft. The warm summer air instantly dried off the tiny beads of water.
Afterwards, I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The bright afternoon sun streamed into the room along with the never-ending chatter of the reporters from across the street. Robotically, I grabbed my phone and logged into my Instagram account. Richard had posted yet another picture with the hashtags #DinnerTime #Blessed #RichieStarbistro #Specialmenu #Diversetastes. I commented on the picture, #asshole.
I switched to Jay’s Instagram account and flipped through the pictures. He hadn’t posted a single picture since the day Zoe had disappeared. I stared at the pictures of Zoe and him. They looked happy, young, and vibrant as they goofed off over coffee and books. Without thinking, I started to comment on each of the pictures. The comment was the same: #youwilldie #youwilldie #youwilldie. After I was certain that all of the pictures had been commented on, I flipped through the deep web profiles again and clicked on Dmitri’s profile and stared at it until my eyes became heavy. Sleep came quickly, and my eyes shut in an attempt to silence the demons whose voices seemed to be getting louder.
Chapter Fourteen
Kate
A loud knock on the door pulled me out of my slumber. I glanced at the clock beside me and was relieved to find that it was only 7 p.m. and not Sunday or December. I tried to remember what I had done prior to passing out. Slices of time were constantly slipping through my fingers along with memories of what had happened only a few hours ago. I vaguely remembered the incident with Nigel and was still thinking as to who I would tell and how I would expose him. Any sane person would have gone straight to the police, but I suppose a part of me was still terrified that he would carry out his threat and blacklist me into eternity.
“Sugar, are you in there?” It was Chris.
“Yes, what do you want?”
“I’m going out to grab a bite, are you hungry?”
“No.” I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten something. It might have been a couple of da
ys ago.
“I heard your stomach rumbling during the session. Come on now, we can chase ghosts down the cobbled lanes of the French Quarter. Does that sell you? Maybe even catch a glimpse of Charlene Dubois,” he said making light of the bizarre card reading and its dramatic aftermath.
My ears perked up at the mention of the Quarter. I took out the plastic bottle from my purse and realized that I was running low. I grabbed my phone and searched for a shop that would sell Hillbilly heroin. A list of shop names popped up. I noted that Big Mama’s Voodoo shop was cheaper than most of the other places plus it had a Mexican joint next to it which claimed to have the best margaritas in town. It wasn’t the best decision to go out for dinner in a strange city with a man I had only met a few hours ago, but I didn’t care. What did I have to lose? “You know, now that I think about it, I kind of am hungry. Do you like Mexican?”
“You’re speaking my language, sugar. My momma makes the best enchiladas, gooey, cheesy, spicy with a secret sauce recipe that has been in the family for generations.”
“I’ll take that as a yes, give me a few minutes, I have to get ready.”
“Take your time. I’ll be waiting on the porch.”
I glanced into the mirror. I was a pale mess, but at least my hair was washed and squeaky clean. I took out the emergency kit and fixed my face with a thick coat of makeup, after all, I didn’t want to look like I was out to buy drugs. The ritual was a self-deception that I often carried out when I was taking more pills than usual. I fooled myself into thinking I was getting better by putting on my fanciest clothes and heaviest makeup right before meeting a doctor or a dealer. I flipped through the closet and picked out a light blue cotton dress, gave myself a final glance in the mirror and headed downstairs.