Mercy's Magic (Mercedes Cruz #1)

by Day, P. J.

  * * *

  Mercy sat back in her chair, stunned. She knew Javier and his family well. Javier had been working there long before Mercy even met Grant, and she’d never known him to miss a day of work in his life. “What do you mean missing?” she finally asked. “Missing from home or work?”

  “I mean he hasn’t been to work in four days.” Grant was obviously irritated. “You know, I don’t remember the last time he missed a day.”

  “I know. You’re right. Now that I look back, he’s been the most reliable employee I’ve ever known.” Mercy was concerned now. “What does Julia say?” She pronounced it the way Javier did, Hoolia.

  “Who?”

  “Julia, his wife.” Grant was okay in many ways, but the fact that he didn’t even know anything about his employees bothered Mercy.

  “Well, she doesn’t know where he is either,” Grant replied. “The rest of the guys are worried, and frankly so am I. Would you be willing to check it out?”

  Of course I would, Mercy thought to herself. Javier was an honest, hard-working family man whom she’d always respected. More than that, he and his family were dear to Mercy. Many times Mercy had sent homegrown fruits and veggies to Javier and Julia’s home. In return, Mercy was delighted each Christmas with a couple of dozen delicious tamales. She would have looked into his disappearance even if Grant hadn’t asked her.

  But the businesswoman in Mercy couldn’t help herself. Grant was the one with the money. She leveled her eyes at him again. “I suppose I could put off a couple of things, for both you and Javier, of course. But...”

  “I’ll pay you, no problem,” Grant said, waving a hand. “Whatever you want. Productivity...morale is down without him. Bad for business…”

  “Alright,” Mercy said. She flashed a pair of smiling eyes at the man she still cared for but was no longer in love with. “Give me his info. I need all you have on him, social security, driver’s license...does he have a green card?”

  Grant opened a file drawer and began searching. “Give me a minute,” he said.

  Mercy decided to wander into the shop’s innards while waiting on Grant for the necessary information to begin her search. She let herself out of the office and entered the huge work area. She’d been there hundreds of times before, but still couldn’t get used to the vibe of the place. It was always dark; the lights shining down from thirty feet above. It stank of chemicals she couldn’t begin to imagine the contents of.

  She noticed the fridge on the right and knew it was always stocked with beer for clients Grant bargained with. Mostly Mexican beer; Tecate, Bohemia, Modelo. All familiar brands she used to sit down and drink with Grant when times were good.

  She walked toward the large, rusty tanks filled with chemicals that smoked and brewed. Above them hung huge chains, some raised, some sinking down into the bowels of the tanks, clutching whatever pieces of metal that were being chromed. The other employees hailed her warmly and she greeted them in turn. But they were busy, lifting, lowering, using custom sanders to refine and reshape the chromed parts.

  This was a money making operation for sure. A factory of sorts, the kind that most people never saw. They only saw the end result of all the dirty and dangerous hard work; clothing racks for department stores, push door-bars for huge buildings, a few custom silver accessories for flashy cars.

  An eerie, heavy orange dust covered everything in the old place. Mercy remembered when she and Grant were married, he’d replace his steel-toed boots three or four times a year due to the acidic dust. Even Grant’s toes were eternally stained orange. Mercy shuddered and wrinkled her nose at the thought.

  Mercy approached Grant’s other desk. This one was messy, dirty. Stacks of quotes and receipts, a desk calendar scribbled over with names and numbers. She took a seat in his chair, as she had done so many other times in the last eight years, and waited patiently, for Javier’s information.

  Her eyes wandered to a wooden box filled with paychecks and time cards, then they moved to the front office door; Grant was still in there. She looked down at the phone and noticed he was on the line, probably with a customer.

  She pulled in the wooden box from across the desk and plucked out Javier’s time card. He hadn’t missed a day until four days ago. But he had been late, and that wasn’t like him either. Five times in the last two weeks.

  Right as Mercy sunk into deep thought, she jumped at the sensation of a hand on her shoulder. “Snooping around, my dear?”

  She smiled up at Grant. “It’s my job. You know that.”

  Grant handed her some papers. “Okay, see what you can dig up. Here’s a check for your time as well.”

  Mercy rose and gave her ex-husband a perfunctory hug. “I’ll keep in touch. If you find anything out...”

  “I’ll call you,” he finished. “I’m sorry, Mercy.” His voice held a hint of bitterness. “But I’ve got to get to work.”

  Poor baby, Mercedes thought sarcastically as she tapped Grant on his shoulder before making her way back through the front office and down the steps to her car.

  A cool summer breeze swept the dry, orange tree leaves up from the cracked sidewalk. Mercy stopped and took in the citrusy smell. She smiled and a feeling of redemption tickled her soul as she realized that Grant had come around, and finally recognized her beyond the roles of mother and wife.

  Chapter Three

  Mercedes sat across from Julia, a stout, middle aged woman, with chubby fingers and short, black hair. They both sipped coffee. Mercy handed Javier’s wife another tissue.

  “No, I haven’t seen him, I haven’t heard from him. Oh, Dios Mio, Mercy, where has he gone?” The woman cried openly. “And just when he was starting to make some good money, too! What am I going to do?”

  Mercy put a warm and friendly hand on Julia’s. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

  “Por favor, Dios! Hazlo!” Julia said, wiping her nose. Please, God, make it happen.

  “You said he was just starting to make more money? Did he get a raise?” Mercy asked, doubt pursing her lips. Grant rarely gave raises.

  “No, no,” Julia answered. “I love you, my dear, and I love your ex. But he wouldn’t give my Javier a raise.” Julia wiped her tears again.

  “Wait, did he get another job?”

  Julia nodded, wiping another tear from her eye.

  “Have you encountered some debt?”

  “No, it was our oldest son, David,” Julia smiled, thinking fondly on her son. “He did so well in school. You know he graduated with honors?” Julia’s eyes gleamed pride through her tears.

  “Yes, I know you’re very proud of him. Congratulations.” Mercy smiled.

  “Yes, of course, thank you. Well, he got a scholarship from UCLA. But it was only partial. But, Mercy, he wanted to go so bad! My Javier wanted so desperately to help him have a better life. So he got a night job to help with the tuition.”

  “Really?”

  “Please don’t tell el Jeffe about it. He doesn’t know,” Julia begged.

  “Of course not,” Mercy answered. El Jeffe. Mercy chuckled inwardly at Julia’s name for Grant, Javier’s boss. “But where did he find work?”

  “At a printing shop.” Julie’s eyes narrowed a bit. “He wouldn’t tell me where it was. I didn’t like that. But when he came home with cash every night, and David was able to pay his tuition and bought his books...oh, I know my husband is a good man. He loves David as much as I do. So I didn’t ask any questions.”

  “Hmm,” Mercy said to herself, tapping her long, black-painted nails on the table.

  “Mercy, he’s alright, que no? I mean, what do you think?”

  Mercedes gave Julia an assuring smile, as she didn’t feel Javier’s spiritual presence in the home. If she did, then he was more than likely dead and, eventually, she’d have to be the bearer of bad news. “I’m sure he is, Julia. And I’m going to find him for you. Don’t you worry.”

  Julia’s eyes brimmed again. “Thank you. You’re an angel. An a
ngel, that’s what you are.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” Mercy laughed. “But I’ll do whatever I can. Do you mind if I ask...”

  “Anything!”

  “I could use something of your husband’s,” Mercy said, choosing her words carefully. “Something...a comb with his hair, a shirt he wore, did he have any lucky charms or anything?”

  Julia’s eyebrows went up, curious.

  “Just for the police, you know. Just for any clue. Whatever you have that you think is his and his alone.”

  Julia thought a moment and then jumped up. “I know just the thing!” She dashed into her bedroom. When she returned, she handed Mercy a shirt. “He wore this to the other job,” Julia said. Mercy sniffed it; it did smell like something from a print shop...ink maybe? But not quite....

  Then Julia dropped something else into Mercy’s palm; a small, silver medallion of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

  “He used to wear it all the time around his neck,” Julia explained. “He took it off just recently. I don’t know why.”

  Mercy closed her hand around the tiny charm. This was something she could feel his presence in. Why had he taken it off? “This will be fine,” she told Julia. Mercy had no intention of showing the medallion to the police, but Julia didn’t need to know that. She downed her cup of coffee yet again, and stood. This was beginning to do a number on her G.I. tract. “Excuse me,” Mercy said, softly bumping her chest as she hid a burp. “I’ve got to get going.” She hugged Julia tightly, like a sister.

  “Thank you, Mercy,” Julia said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I’ve got your number,” Mercy said. “You’ve got mine?” Julia nodded. “You call me if there is anything you can think of, or if you hear from Javier.”

  Julia held Mercy’s hand tightly as she showed her to the front door of their small home. “Of course. I will pray for you, Mercedes, just as I pray for my husband.”

  Chapter Four

  On the way to the city’s police department downtown, Mercy noticed a black Escalade on her tail. She made a needless left onto a residential street, then another. She wasn’t frightened at all, but drove carefully as she didn’t want to give the impression the Escalade had spooked her.

  While keeping her eyes glued on the rearview mirror, Mercy thought that if Javier were lying dead in a ditch somewhere, nobody except his family and friends would care. The thought of someone being parked outside Javier’s home while she conducted her investigation, and who now trailed her out of suspicion, reassured Mercy that Javier was hopefully important enough to be kept alive.

  The Escalade was a couple of cars behind. As she passed through the intersection, she glanced up at the traffic light and closed her eyes for a half second. The traffic light went from green to red, skipping the yellow light altogether. The cars behind her screeched to a halt, including the Escalade.

  Mercy glanced at her rearview mirror and screeched loudly, “Yes! It’s happening, Mercy. It’s really happening!” She smiled and slapped the steering wheel in a show of victory.

  Mercy made another quick turn and pulled into the back lot where the department kept their squad cars. She was one of the few civilians allowed to do so as she had developed a working relationship with Orange P.D.

  Mercy stepped out of her car and exhaled deeply, not because she had managed to outwit the Escalade, but because she knew she had quite a reputation around the department; at times a contentious one, but a symbiotic one nonetheless.

  Chapter Five

  Mercy sat across Detective Joe Patterson, watching his piercing emerald eyes intently scan over the papers she’d just handed him. The detective’s desk was obsessively clean, a sign that the grinding years of paperwork hadn’t caught up to the still fresh-faced investigator. His smoothed, straight almond blonde hair lay flat on his head, granting him a clichéd, old-school noir look. Mercy could read faces well, but he was a detective, and he knew that. He kept Mercy on her toes by wearing the pinnacle of all poker faces as he clicked around his computer—Joe was to be taken seriously.

  Mercy sat back and crossed her arms, maintaining a playful smirk.

  “No priors,” he mentioned.

  “I could have told you that,” Mercy said.

  “Sure you could have,” he said matter-of-factly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to check.”

  He clicked a few more buttons. “Driver’s license is legal, but the social’s not his.”

  “I’m not surprised,” she said. “Let me guess, the number belongs to someone deceased?”

  “You got it,” he answered.

  Mercy sighed as she tried not to let her anger show. All that money Grant had to take out of Javier’s paycheck would never be used. Not for unemployment, not for social security benefits when the time came. Javier had next to nothing in regards to medical protection or retirement.

  “So...” She maintained a professional demeanor. “What else?”

  Joe scanned his screen a moment longer and then sat back. “Nothing. We got nothing.”

  “What about his other job?” Mercy persisted. “Surely you keep tabs on that sort of thing.”

  “No, we really don’t,” he countered. “Not unless there’s a need to. You know, for probation, parole. That kind of thing.” Joe couldn’t help but watch her think. Those brown eyes, the wild, black hair. Her eyebrows lowered in thought. He briefly glanced down at the ornate buttons on her blouse, he couldn’t help it. He caught himself though, and immediately brought his gaze back up to her eyes, his face reddening.

  It wasn’t lost on Mercy. She thought it kind of cute that Patterson actually blushed. She cleared her throat and said coolly, “This is a dear friend of mine.” Mercy made it a point to plead with her eyes. “A man with a wife and family to support.”

  “I understand,” he fumbled. “How can I help you this time, Mercy? I don’t have an official missing person’s report on my desk, so my resources are kind of limited.”

  She handed him the shirt. “He wore this to his second job,” she explained. “I was wondering if your team could check out the chemicals on it. They don’t smell quite right to me.”

  Joe took the shirt, and set it aside. Those eyes...

  Mercy understood her looks. She wasn’t Angelina Jolie, but men often seemed inexplicably attracted to her. Sometimes she enjoyed it. But not right now.

  “What?” she asked defensively at his empty glare.

  “When are you going to say yes, Mercy?” He couldn’t help it as he gave in and dropped the façade of the cool and calm detective.

  “Yes to what?”

  “To dinner. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

  “That’s a separate subject,” she answered.

  “So it’s a separate subject,” he argued. “Sure, I’ll help you with Javier. You know that, Mercy. We’ve always helped each other out.”

  “But?”

  “But, what do you say?” Joe Patterson smiled and his eyes lit up. “I promise you, it’ll be fun. We’ll go to your favorite place. Or I’ll surprise you.”

  “What would you say if I declined?” Mercy now tilted her head downward and looked up at Joe with mischief in her eyes. She couldn’t help it. He’d been asking for a long time.

  “I’d help you anyway, and I’d still keep asking.”

  “Alright, Detective Patterson, I’ll consider.” She let out a light chuckle as he exhaled deeply and shook his head with a grin. “In the meantime, can you get forensics to take a look at the shirt?”

  Joe rubbed his chin and continued smiling at Mercy. “You know I’m not allowed to submit anything to forensics without a report, right? We’ve had this conversation before.”

  “And we’ve both bent the rules a little before, too,” she quipped.

  Joe chuckled. “Have it your way, Ms. Cruz. You always do.”

  Mercy winked and rose from her seat, and Joe, always the gentleman, stood up with her. She gathered
her purse and sweater and strutted toward the door. “Let me know what you come up with,” she called over her shoulder as she let herself out halfway through the doorway.

  “Can I call you anyway?” he asked, her back still towards him.

  “Sure,” she answered. Mercy kept her eyes on the traffic right outside the door and Joe didn’t see the smile on her lips. Mercy then turned to the young detective and said, businesslike, “You know you can always call during work hours, detective.”

  Chapter Six

  Itzel Cruz smiled to herself as she ambled up the moonlit path to her old cottage, deep in the San Gabriel Mountains. She gathered night jasmine, Mercy’s favorite. The old woman bent her worn but still agile body down and snipped a bit of lavender for luck, and a little sage for the cleansing of her home. She probably wouldn’t need the sage after, Mercy, her niece, left her home after her planned visit, but you never really knew.

  Once inside, Itzel put the jasmine and lavender into two separate vases. Rather than use sink water, she drew from a cast iron pot. This water had been bathed in the full moon, and blessed by Itzel with words of gratitude. She then laid the sage aside.

  Itzel prepared champurrado, hot chocolate, while watching her niece in her mind as she wound up and around the now empty and dark mountain roads.

  When the chocolate was ready, she sat in her rocking chair. She still had a little time before Mercy arrived, so she quieted herself in meditation. Itzel’s mind went back to the days when Mercy visited her and would run around her home in Veracruz, Mexico, curious about everything, including magic. Itzel smiled to herself, remembering the girl fixating on the spiders that webbed in every corner. There was the time she caught Mercy eating masa, maize flour used to prepare tamales every Christmas. Yes, her beloved niece had always been mischievous and daring, but at times lazy too.

  No longer young and rambunctious, adult Mercy was strong in many ways. But she still loved to drink Tía Itzel’s champurrado as much as when she was a girl in pigtails, smiling with two missing front teeth after her lips met the warm, sweet confection. Itzel had a few good years left in her, but she couldn’t hold her beloved niece by the hand too much longer. Mercy knew everything she needed to know, if she would just remember to stop being so lazy. Help her to remember to work hard at becoming as powerful as she could be, the old woman intoned, followed by a deep sigh. So be it. This, or something better.