Love, or the Witches of Windward Circle

by Carlos Allende

  “I haven’t seen her,” Josie said.

  “What a fucking cunt! She promised to be on time. I gave fifteen years of my life to that woman and she can’t even… Oh, well, there’s no point in getting angry. I’ll talk to her later. Bye-bye.” Richard hung up again.

  “He’s not coming,” Josie explained to the minister. She felt the need to make an excuse on Richard’s behalf, but she didn’t know what to say. Neither did the man. He smiled compunctiously and invited Josie to sit down.

  In total, the service lasted a little over ten minutes. Josie signed a receipt and, after confirming it was the one that Richard had ordered, she picked up the urn with the ashes. Then she and the little woman stepped out to the curb to wait for Richard.

  He arrived almost an hour later.

  “I didn’t know Lina was that unpopular,” the millionaire said, leaning to open the passenger door. Josie and the little woman entered the car. “I knew she didn’t have any family, but at least a boyfriend, a dog—she must have had someone, don’t you think?

  “Where did you go?” Josie asked.

  “I had to do something important. I lost track of the time. Don’t think I don’t feel terrible for missing the service.”

  “But you were already here—” A cluck coming from the back interrupted Josie. “What’s that?” she asked, looking back.

  There was a metal cage behind Richard’s seat with a black chicken inside.

  “That,” responded Richard, forcing an irritated tone, “is what took me so long. I thought I should thank your landlady for coming.”

  “You’re giving her a chicken?” Josie exchanged a fast look with the little woman, who was bent down on her seat examining the bird.

  “It’s not a chicken; it’s a hen. It’s a present. Why not? Do you like it, Miss Dudu?” he asked the little woman through the rearview mirror. “I couldn’t think of anything else—What do you give to a maid?” he asked Josie. “A scarf? What would she do with that? Pearls? Those are for you, sexy. A hen is a very practical thing. She can use the eggs, or she can make it into a soup and feed it to her sisters.”

  “But why would you want to give another present?” Josie asked in a low voice.

  “Because I’m grateful,” Richard boasted aloud, “unlike you, you spoiled brat. You left that place without even saying good-bye. Or did you return to say thanks?”

  “I was thrown out!”

  “It doesn’t matter. I bought her a hen, and I think she likes it—don’t you, Miss Dudu?”

  The little woman didn’t respond.

  “We need to take you back home,” Richard continued. “Is there anything you need to pick up in Venice?” he asked Josie.

  “Can we go to the Grand Hotel to pick up my suitcase?”

  “Your suitcase? I was just kidding, darling. I don’t want you to wear any old rags inside my house. You can wear Lina’s clothes. It’s not like you’ll be pulling the panties off a corpse. Have you told Russell you’re spending the weekend with me?”

  “No,” Josie confessed.

  “Then, maybe it’s better if we send Jeremy for your suitcase tomorrow, if you still want it. Mrs. Coenegrachts can disinfect it. Did you bring the urn?” he interrupted himself.

  “What do you think this is?” Josie responded, raising the urn from her lap.

  “Oh yes! I didn’t see it. I don’t know where my head is sometimes. Poor Lina. They haven’t found all of the pieces yet—You heard that, Miss Dudu?” his tone got slightly hostile, “They haven’t found all the pieces yet. I think there is only one boob in there,” he said to Josie. “We could have waited, but I didn’t want to leave half her dismembered body waiting on a cold plank at the morgue all of this time. It’s been a week. That wouldn’t be proper. It could be months before they find all the pieces. Only God and the murderer know where those missing pieces are,” he gave another stern look to the little woman. “She wasn’t a pleasant thing to look at, you know?” He turned to Josie. “They identified the body by her fingerprints—and why did the police have her fingerprints—?”

  The little woman opened her book again. She had found a hierarchy of demons in the appendix.

  “Because she got arrested, two years ago. Can you believe that? That wasn’t a nice surprise, to be honest, to learn that the woman you were in love with and about to marry had been apprehended. Something stupid: forgery—”

  The entry for President Buer mentioned that “he gives the best of familiars.” The illustration showed a demon with a lion’s face and five goat’s legs around his body.

  “—She stole somebody else’s checkbook. Who hasn’t done that? Still, not a lovely thing to learn about your fiancée; it makes you start wondering what other things you don’t know about her. What if she was some crazy gold digger planning to kill me? You have never been arrested, have you?”

  How strange, the little woman thought. She had seen the demon in his regular form—burnt skin, long nose, lots of blisters, with patches of black hair here and there, like a dog with mange; she had seen him like a cat, too, and like a spider, she had seen him wearing her sisters’ clothes, but never before like a lion.

  “What am I saying?” Richard laughed. “Just last month Carol had to send Jeremy to take you out of the can—! Jesus Christ!” Richard hit the brakes after a car coming from the other way did an illegal left turn in front of him. The black hen on the back seat clucked and flapped its wings. The little woman, who wasn’t wearing a seat belt, hit her head against the back of Josie’s seat. “What is wrong with Angelenos? Nobody knows how to drive!”

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” Richard joked, pointing at a bum pushing a shopping cart down the sidewalk along Venice Boulevard. “You don’t get to see many hobos in Windsor Square… How miserable everything is down here,” he added, after a short pause. “Bars in the windows, streets full of litter. This used to be such a wonderful place, remember?” he smiled at the little witch. “You deserve better, lollypop,” he said to Josie. “Don’t you think?”

  Maybe she did, Josie thought, looking out the window. She always had this feeling of desolation whenever she returned to Venice after spending the day somewhere else. This time it felt much worse.

  They entered Dell Avenue from the south. The passenger window ended being the closest to Josie’s former residence.

  “Let’s not get out,” Richard said. “I don’t want to get mud on these shoes.”

  The little woman grabbed the hen’s cage and stepped out of the car.

  “Don’t forget your book,” Richard advised.

  The little woman shook her head. She was holding the book against her chest.

  “Maybe one day you’ll make a speckknödel soup for me. Ciao, Miss Dudu. It was nice to meet you.”

  The little woman bobbed a curtsy. She exchanged a look with Josie.

  “Goodbye,” the girl said, with a sincere smile. She realized that this could be the last time she saw her little friend. “Thanks for everything. Until next time.”

  “Josie!” An unpleasantly familiar voice called from the house.

  The three of them looked up in the direction of Josie’s old bedroom. Eva stood on the landing.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, running downstairs. “Richard? What a surprise!” She bent down to the car window. “Remember me?”

  “Of course I remember you,” Richard said. “How could I forget you? You’re the Polish girl.”

  “What are you doing here?” Josie asked astonished.

  “I live here now,” Eva chortled. Josie could sense the smell of vodka on her breath. “I meant to tell you. I hope you don’t mind. I always wanted to live by the canals and since the room was available… You don’t care, right? Where are you staying?”

  “She’s staying with me, at Windsor Square,” Richard said coldly.

  “Windsor Square?
That sounds fancy.”

  “It is, thank you,” Richard responded.

  “George told me they kicked you out of the Grand Hotel,” Eva said to Josie. “Those bastards. Now Pitt wants Russell out too, so he’ll be staying with John and Cora again.”

  “How long have you been living here?” Josie asked.

  “I just signed,” Eva replied. “I still have to move my things in. The ladies are a scream. I don’t care. You can’t hear them from upstairs. They didn’t like you very much, did they?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Eva shrugged. “What are you two doing here?”

  “Just visiting,” Richard responded. He noticed an enamored look in the little woman’s eyes as she gazed at Eva. Don’t even think about it, he warned her. Use the chicken. “Josie wanted to say hi. We took her old landlady for a ride. That’s all. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Eva, we’re running late.” He turned on the engine.

  “Wait!” Josie begged. “Eva,” she said, in a rather humble way, “please don’t tell Russell you saw me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Just don’t, please,” she forced smile. “I’ll be back in a couple days. Do you mind?”

  “Are you embarrassed to say you’re staying with me?” Richard asked after they drove off.

  Josie shook her head.

  “It seemed to me that you were.”

  “I was not.”

  “I can turn around and take you back to that slum. Is that what you want?”

  Josie shook her head.

  “You better be sure.”

  “I am,” Josie responded.

  They spent the rest of the ride in silence.

  “Now, Josie,” Richard began in a mellifluous tone, during dinner, “there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you,”

  Mrs. Coenegrachts had prepared for them a glazed ham, which she served at the formal dining room with the long table. The millionaire excused himself from trying the pork, saying that he needed instead something cold, and was having a bowl of gazpacho.

  “Yes?” Josie replied from the other end of the table. At Richard’s insistence, she had changed again, this time into a blue satin dress, à la chinoise, with a huge ribbon over the left hip.

  “You may think it is too soon,” the millionaire continued, “but with all that has happened recently, with Lina dead and you losing your place in Venice, with no one at all going to the funeral, it makes me think.” He slurped his soup. A red drop rolled down his chin. “Life is too short and one can be so lonely,” he smiled cheekily. The tomato had tainted his teeth red. “I just don’t feel there’s a good reason to wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “To propose. Let’s get married! Is that too crazy?”

  Josie was stupefied.

  “Let’s go to Vegas and get married tomorrow,” Richard continued. “What about that? You can wear Lina’s dress—just please stop eating; otherwise it won’t fit you.”

  “I cannot marry you,” the girl managed to respond.

  “Why not?”

  “Because she has a boyfriend, you moron.” These last words came from Carol, also at the table, seated between the two love birds. She was enjoying a cigarette between bites.

  “Carol, sweetie, no one is asking for your opinion,” Richard said, making a big effort not to start a fight with his ex-wife.

  “I give it freely,” Carol posited.

  “Please stay out of this.” Richard smiled. “Josie, you don’t have to say yes to me now, but promise me that you’ll think about it. Will you? I can wait till tomorrow morning.”

  “Leave the poor girl alone,” Carol sighed. “It’s obvious she doesn’t want to marry you.”

  “WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU STUPID CROW?” Richard hollered at his ex. “This is a private conversation—Josie,” he dulcified his tone again, “would you consider taking my hand? As I just said, you can tell me tomorrow; there is no hurry. If you say yes, I promise to make you extremely happy. If you say no, you know where the door is. It’s that simple.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Josie responded.

  “Perfect,” Richard replied, lacing his hands. “You’ll see. We’ll be so happy together.” He stuck out his tongue at his ex-wife.

  Carol put out her cigarette on her plate. “What’s for dessert?” she asked.

  “Mrs. Coenegrachts,” Richard called his housekeeper, once dinner ended. “Would you be so kind as to walk Miss García to her bedroom? Don’t forget to lock the door—it’s for your own good, my dearest. We don’t want you to wander around and get lost in this old mansion.”

  Mrs. Coenegrachts responded with a nod and led Josie out of the dining room. The girl complied docilely.

  “How was the funeral?” Mrs. Coenegrachts asked as they climbed the stairs.

  “Pardon me?” Josie asked.

  The housekeeper repeated her question.

  “Terribly sad,” Josie responded with a frown. “The place was empty. No one went to pay their respects to Lina.”

  “That’s terrible!”

  “Richard thinks that Lina had a boyfriend, and when we—”

  “I know this isn’t my business,” Mrs. Coenegrachts interrupted the girl, “but I was listening behind the door. He proposed! Congratulations, Miss García. This is fantastic.”

  Josie stopped, bewildered. She didn’t expect Mrs. Coenegrachts to congratulate her.

  “What are you going to tell him?” Mrs. Coenegrachts asked.

  “I don’t know,” Josie looked at the woman with disbelief. “He gave me until tomorrow morning.”

  Mrs. Coenegrachts took Josie’s hand. “You have nothing to fear from this man, Miss García. Mr. Wehr is a good man that will provide. You shouldn’t be afraid to say yes. It will be a pleasure to have you as my mistress.”

  They reached Lina’s bedroom. Mrs. Coenegrachts pulled a set of keys out of her pocket.

  “Do you have to lock the door?” Josie asked.

  “Just for tonight. Mr. Wehr prefers to keep certain things private. He doesn’t want to scare you with his dancing… You poor thing. I know that you’re scared, but you shouldn’t be. I’ve been with him for almost forty-two years. I care about this man. Think about it. It’s only marriage.”

  “But Lina just died. What kind of monster would propose on the same day of his fiancée’s funeral?”

  “He’s not a monster.” Mrs. Coenegrachts glared at Josie, making no effort to hide her vexation. “Don’t you ever say that again. Anyway, who am I to give you advice? You wouldn’t listen to the help, would you?” She opened the door and made a gesture inviting Josie to step in. “Have a good night,” she said, and closed the door.

  “Mrs. Coenegrachts, wait,” Josie called from the inside. “Could you ask Carol to come here? I’d like to speak with her.”

  “Sure,” the housekeeper responded. “I’ll go tell her.”

  Mrs. Coenegrachts returned a few minutes later. She knocked twice and then opened the door without waiting for an answer.

  Carol stepped in. “You wanted to talk to me?” she asked, dangling a cigarette between her fingers. Mrs. Coenegrachts closed the door. “What about? Richard?” she simpered, half entertained, half annoyed by Josie’s invitation.

  They heard Mrs. Coenegrachts lock the door.

  “Did he do that to you, too?” Josie asked timidly. She was sitting at the edge of the bed with folded hands.

  Carol ignored the question. She gazed around the room looking for an ashtray. The girl stood up and offered her one made of a mother-of-pearl shell on her side table. “Do you want to sit down?” she pointed.

  Carol sat, and so did Josie. They stared at each other for a second. Then Carol took out her cigarette box and offered it to Josie. The girl pulled out a smoke with clumsy finge
rs.

  “You heard what he wants,” Josie started.

  “I was there,” Carol replied with derision.

  “He wants to marry me.”

  Carol nodded, inviting the girl to continue.

  Josie remained silent.

  Carol let out a big puff of smoke. She didn’t like to do all the talking. “I was twenty-one when I married Richard,” she began matter-of-factly. “We got a divorce six years ago, when I turned forty. He gave me a good life; I cannot complain. Still does,” she pointed at the feathers of the gossamer silk robe she was wearing. “We didn’t have children, of course, but I didn’t want any. I kept the house in Palm Springs and he lets me stay here when I come to Los Angeles. What else do you want to know?”

  “Well, he is a bit…”

  “Eccentric?”

  Josie nodded. That was a nice way to put it.

  “You’ll get used to it. And yes, he did lock me in. I didn’t know he was doing it at first; he had the courtesy of waiting until I had fallen asleep. I should have guessed there was something wrong with a man who preferred that we slept in separate bedrooms and only kissed his wife on the forehead. But I was young; not as young as you are now, but in my time girls were more innocent. At least I was. I know how you feel.” She looked at Josie out of the corner of her eye. “I remember I used to think it was I who was being inappropriate. It took him a month to confess the truth. It was shocking.”

  “What truth?”

  “He hasn’t told you yet?”

  He was planning to. In the privacy of his room, Richard had begun a long letter:

  Dearest Josie,

  There is something I need to tell you before we are joined in holy matrimony. Something that I have kept secret from you and that will have to remain a secret after tonight, but I cannot ask you to marry me without sharing the truth…

  “He’ll tell you, don’t worry.” Carol reached for the ashtray.

  “Should I?”

  “Worry? No. It’s not a big deal. Well, it is. But there’s not much you can do about it. I could have left. But I stayed. For nineteen years. What else could I do? Go back home? I was the third of nine siblings. It was the middle of the Depression. My father couldn’t find a job. My mother blamed her poor health on us. Richard saved me. I realized that it didn’t make sense to complain of having to sleep alone when all of my life I’d had to share a bed with two of my sisters.”