Who Do, Voodoo?, page 19
I wiped my mouth with a handkerchief, started the car, and steered down the lane. When I got to Mulholland Drive, the canyon I had just crawled out of descended to my right. I fixed my eyes on the road ahead. Screw coincidence; screw logic. Tawny was another victim to Callia’s curse. The thought terrified the hell out of me.
Clouds shifted over the sun. I stopped for the red light at Cahuenga Boulevard and looked at my face in the rearview mirror. A white bandage covered my cheekbone. My hair was dusty and disheveled. Then I looked at the dashboard clock: one o’clock.
I put on my headset and called Nick’s cell phone. “I’m sorry,” I said when he answered. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”
“Waiting on your front steps. Where are you?”
“North Hollywood. Nick—Tawny’s dead.” I described how I found her. “The ground beneath her literally crumbled—that damned curse . . .”
“Oh, man.” He let out a long sigh. “I talked to Osaze this morning. He’s waiting for us. He knows the legend of the curse and wants to see the spell book.”
“Does he know how to stop the curse?”
“He wants to see the spell book. Your voice is shaking, Liz. Should I come and get you?”
“No. I’m fine. Just talk to me for a while. Tell me about the lore on crows. What do they mean?”
“Why do you ask?”
“A crow guided me to Tawny. Another crow followed her ambulance off. Robin believed crows trumpeted death after a crow waited on the lawn the night before Josh died. I heard a crow the night we found Sophie.”
“I’ll explain the whole mythology when you get here.”
“Tell me now, please.” I didn’t want to be alone on the drive. If I could launch him into one of his lectures . . .
“Okay,” he said. “First, let’s acknowledge that cities are full of crows. There are two on a tree across the street from your townhouse right now. But, to give you a general answer on crow superstition, crows are mentioned in folklore from all over the world.”
As Nick talked, I wove through traffic on Cahuenga and passed the studios and restaurants that lined Ventura Boulevard.
“Many cultures believe a single crow is a portent of death,” he said. “Groups of crows can be lucky. Then again, there are those who believe a prediction of good luck can also be an omen of death. Crows are a link to the spirit world and, in that sense, could be alert to the increasing momentum of Callia’s curse. The spirits she employed are vigilant.”
His voice soothed me; the topic didn’t. I was a mile from home when I interrupted. “Thanks, I get it. I’ll be home in five minutes.”
When I pulled up in front of my townhouse, Nick leaned on the railing outside my front door with his arms folded, studying the sky. Jarret sat on my top step, staring at the street.
What the hell was Jarret doing there? I parked in the garage, walked through the house, and opened my front door.
Jarret vaulted to his feet. “Hey, Lizzie Bear. Whoa, what happened to you?” He came forward to kiss me. His breath smelled like beer.
I backed away. “What are you doing here, Jarret?”
He brushed his sandy-brown hair back and grinned. “I talked to your mother this morning. She said your dad was picking up some plate, and I came instead so we could talk.” Jarret looked back at Nick. “Privately.”
Nick shrugged. “I was expected, pal.”
The cut on my cheek throbbed as I seethed with anger. My mother knew damned well Nick would be here. “This is a bad time. I don’t have time to talk.”
Jarret rubbed the shoulder of his pitching arm, an old ploy for my attention. The shoulder triggered memories of him, wincing in an ice bath, downing pain pills while I worried about his state of mind and our future. Not anymore.
“Wait here,” I said. “I’ll get the plate.”
My foot crunched on the “HELLO” welcome mat. I looked down. Oh, great. Madame Iyå’s lust gris-gris that I dropped last night. Forty dollars’ worth of guaranteed passion. Nick and Jarret both followed me, stepping over the gris-gris on the way in. Oh well.
I went to the kitchen and rifled through my cabinets.
In the living room, Jarret started in on Nick. “I want to talk to Lizzie alone. You can leave.”
“I could, but I’m not going to. Don’t you have a baseball game to be at? Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Nick said. “Your team fell out of the play-offs.”
I looked behind the dishes on the top shelf. Where was the damn pie plate?
“Didn’t know girls like you followed sports, Nickster. I’m here to talk to my wife.”
“Your ex-wife.”
“Lizzie must be bored silly without me if she’s hanging out with you,” Jarret said.
“My guess is she was bored silly with you. Hell, you always were a letdown. No wonder she left you.”
“You think you have a shot with her now? You want someone to mess around with? I’ll give you a few numbers. This afternoon, Lizzie and I are—”
I marched into the living room with Aunt Minnie’s pie plate in hand. “Are doing what, Jarret? Arguing some more? If you forgot, while you were out collecting those phone numbers and making a fool out of me, I left you. Here.” I held out the plate. “Take this and leave. Nick and I are busy.”
Jarret wouldn’t take the plate. His face cracked into a grin. “I miss you, Lizzie Bear. C’mon. Spend the afternoon with me. We can go to your favorite restaurant for crispy fries and beer.”
Nick took the plate from me, shoved it at Jarret, and smiled. “I don’t think you heard her. Liz and I are leaving. Together. Time for you to go.”
“You just can’t get out of that old habit of butting in and telling me what to do.” Jarret took a step toward Nick.
“I should have broke your arm in college when I had the chance to. Maybe you’d have a real life by now.” Nick edged forward until they were nose to nose.
Jarret rolled his shoulder. “Jealous?”
Nick smirked. “Considerate.”
I had no patience to mediate whatever they were acting out. “Enough.” I separated them and looked up at Nick. “We don’t have time for this.”
Jarret scowled at me, his mouth set. “I need to talk to you.”
“I’m talked out.” I took his arm and led him outside.
He held up Aunt Minnie’s pie plate. “This was a wedding gift?”
I nodded.
Jarret raised the plate over his head with both hands and smashed it onto the concrete. Then got into his car and drove off.
I picked up the mat littered with Madame Iyå’s lust gris-gris and shook it over the railing. A wind blew the gris-gris back, into my face. Damn it. I tried to brush myself off. Forget the gris-gris; I was covered with dirt from the canyon. Nick and Jarret bickered over me anyway? Maybe Madame Iyå had some talent.
Nick watched me from the door. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I will be when Osaze puts an end to the damned curse.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
I went upstairs to wash up and swap my dusty clothing for clean jeans and a T-shirt. I removed the bandage from my cheek and dabbed ointment on the cut. When I came back down, Nick was tossing the pieces of Aunt Minnie’s pie plate into the trash.
He brushed off his hands and held the front door open. “Did you know Jarret would be here?”
I shot a look at him. “Of course I didn’t know. Why the hell would I invite Jarret over?”
“Lunch?”
“Not funny.”
Nick opened the car door for me, then got in the driver’s seat. We drove in silence. I stared out the car window, my mind arcing from fury at my mother to worry about Robin to the mental image of Tawny’s twisted body in the canyon.
“Want to talk about it?” Nick said.
“You mean Jarret?”
“No, I mean what happened this morning.”
“No.” But I did want to. Tears welled in my eyes, then rolled down my cheeks. I turned away and wiped my face. “I’m worried about the other people in the spell book. Robin freaked when I brought up the curse. I don’t know what to believe. One death is a coincidence, but two? Within thirty-six hours?”
“I know.” He stopped for a red light on Vineland. “A death each day since Sophie was murdered. The momentum of Callia’s curse is intensifying.”
“Nola told me Callia was adamant about protecting her secrets. The spell book belongs with Nola and the family.”
“We have to give it to the police,” Nick said. “I don’t see how returning the spell book to the family would change the curse or help solve Sophie’s murder. As time passes, the trail to the killer will go cold. Do you think Buzzy or Tawny killed Sophie?”
I shook my head. “Buzzy had an alibi. Tawny wasn’t at the Greek that night. Why are you so intent on putting the spell book into evidence? Robin’s initials will incriminate her even more. She’s being arraigned on Monday—why stack the evidence against her?”
“You’re certain she’s innocent?”
“Yes.” I snapped out the word. “We need to talk to Madame Iyå again, too.”
“L. M. and H. M. have to be warned about the curse first.”
“Linda and Henry,” I said. “When I tell them Osaze reversed the curse, maybe they’ll open up. I need information to give to Barnes. The police have blood evidence and an alleged witness. We have nothing but a spell book. We’re losing.”
“Have faith, Liz,” Nick said. “Let your intuition guide you. Thinking and plotting cloud your instincts.”
“Now I know the world is upside down—I’m talking about spell books and you’re playing psychologist.”
Nick turned onto the freeway ramp toward Hollywood. “Just making conversation.”
“You want conversation? Okay,” I said. “I know you and Jarret weren’t friends in college, but why did you want to break his arm? What was that about?”
“It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.” Nick put the radio on.
I turned the radio off. “Catch me up.”
“It was nothing.”
“A nothing that came up again today.”
Nick adjusted his rearview mirror, clicked on the turn signal, and changed lanes toward the Vine Street exit.
“Damn it, Nick. Tell me what happened.”
He paused. “I caught him in bed with a girl at a frat party.”
An unexpected pang pinched my heart. I thought Jarret’s affairs started when our marriage soured. Asshole. “What did you do?”
“I told him if I ever caught him cheating on you again, I’d break his pitching arm,” Nick said.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Did you tell Dave?”
“No. You seemed so happy at the time. I didn’t think you’d appreciate me butting in. Would you have believed me?”
“Probably not.” I remembered how infatuated I was with Jarret in college. So proud of my engagement to the star college baseball pitcher, so excited about our future together, so blinded to his faults. I knew he drank, but I thought it was a phase. I didn’t know about the girls. “Thanks for telling me. No more secrets—okay, Nick?”
“Okay, Liz.”
I caught the flash of his grin. “Is there anything else you want to share?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure? What about your engagement over the summer?”
Nick laughed.
“That’s funny?” I said.
“Yeah, it is. Where’d you hear that?”
“Dave.”
“You misunderstood.” He stopped for a red light on Hollywood Boulevard.
“He said engagement. Hard to misunderstand one big word,” I said.
“One word is not the whole story. The engagement story was a fabrication, not my idea. Last summer I did research in Playa Del Alma, a village in Costa Rica. I met a family whose daughter, Isabella, was keen on attending college here in the states. Her grandfather forbade her to leave the village unless she was married. So, Isabella told him we were engaged.”
“And you brought her here?” I leaned against the car door. My mind spun visions of Nick and a Latin beauty. Why did I ask?
“Isabella came here on her own to attend UCLA. Her parents always knew the truth. I talk to her on occasion. But I’m very happy with the company I’m keeping right now.” Nick reached for my chin and leaned over to kiss me. A horn blasted behind us. Monty’s Glass Repair’s fist-waving driver was not a romantic, and I slid away, unconvinced.
“I want you to meet Isabella,” Nick said. “I think you will like each other. I’ll explain to Dave again. My fault for not being clear with him.”
“Maybe he didn’t want me to steal away his best friend,” I said. “Dave’s not good at sharing.”
“Is that what you’re planning? Sharing my friendship with Dave? I had something more romantic in mind.”
“Like sweeping me off my feet by getting my best friend convicted?”
We turned onto Osaze’s street. A white sedan with an open trunk was parked in his driveway. Boxes were stacked on the asphalt. A young woman with jet-black hair was picking up one of the boxes. She looked up as Nick backed into a parking space.
I did a double take. “Nick—I think that’s Sophie’s cousin Nola.”
He looked in the driveway. “Nola? That’s Osaze’s daughter, Noemi.”
“Hold it.” I stopped him before he opened the car door. “Nola is Osaze’s daughter?”
“That’s who you call Nola?”
“Yes. Didn’t you recognize her at the party?”
“I didn’t see her. That’s definitely Noemi. I gave her that Mardi Gras sweatshirt she’s wearing as a sixteenth birthday present.”
“Do you know what this means?” I said. “Sophie was Osaze’s niece. Callia’s spell book belongs to his family.”
Nick cocked his head, his brow wrinkled.
“Uncle Nick?” Nola tapped at Nick’s window. Her smile dropped into a frown when she saw me in the passenger’s seat. Nick got out of the car and hugged her. I tucked the spell book under my arm and joined them in street.
“You two know each other?” Nola looked from me to Nick.
“We’re old friends,” Nick said.
Osaze came out onto his porch and held the door open for a beautiful Latino woman. The top of her wavy black hair stopped beneath Osaze’s chin. A silver crucifix hung from a chain above the green V-necked sweater covering her ample bosom. Nick waved, and the woman broke into a wide smile. We started toward them—Nick with his arm around Nola’s shoulders, and me, close behind.
Nick said to Nola as we walked, “Where did this Nola moniker come from? Did you change your name?”
She grinned up at him. “When I graduated beauty school, I wanted to name my business ‘Noemi of Los Angeles’ or ‘Noemi of LA.’ My friend Linda decided it should be called ‘NoLA.’ Capital N, small o, and capital L-A.” Nola scribbled it out in the air. “Linda started calling me Nola, and it stuck. You can keep calling me Noemi, Uncle Nick.”
“Which do you prefer?” he said.
“I like Nola if you can get used to it. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Why are you here?”
“We came to show this to your father.” I held up the spell book.
Nola stopped. “Amazing. You found it. Where?”
“Sophie left it at Collins Talent,” I said.
When we got to the porch, Nick shook Osaze’s hand and kissed the woman’s cheek.
Osaze smiled at me. “Ah, the beautiful Elizabeth.” He turned to the woman. “This is my wife, Ivalisse. Ivalisse, this is our new friend, Elizabeth.”
Ivalisse greeted me with a radiant, dignified smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Please, come in. I made lunch.”
She led us inside. Nick and Osaze went into the living room. Ivalisse started toward the back of the house. As I lingered in the foyer to talk to Nola, I saw Madame Iyå’s son, Jimmy, coming down the hall toward us.
“It’s the sexy lady from last night,” he said to me. “Hello again.” His eyes shifted to the spell book.
“Hello again.” I tensed, then forced a smile. After Osaze’s condemnation of Madame Iyå the other day, I didn’t expect to see Jimmy here. I clutched the spell book to my chest.
Nola tugged at Jimmy’s sleeve. “Do you mind bringing the rest of Sophie’s boxes inside for me? I’ll meet you and Linda at the apartment later. I want to talk to my father about something.”
“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “No problem. I’ll finish up and then I’ll see you back there.”
Nick called from the living room, “Liz, come in here—I want Osaze to see the spell book.”
I joined him on the beige Victorian sofa and set the spell book on the coffee table. Sheer white curtains beneath claret jacquard drapery covered the bay window behind us. Osaze was on a straight-backed Queen Anne chair across the room. Nola sat cross-legged on the floor at Osaze’s feet.
“You didn’t tell me that the spell book belonged to your family,” Nick said to Osaze.
Osaze folded his hands and bowed his head. Then he looked at Nick and me. “I had to see it to be certain. The less we speak of its existence and the less known of my family’s connection to it, the better. Callia placed powerful protections on her work. She was very specific with her instructions to the spirits, and they’ve been obedient to her for over a century.”
“Those protections are in motion now,” Nick said. “Since you and I talked this morning, another of Sophie’s spell customers who defied the curse died. That makes two of the five Sophie listed. The others are at risk, including a close friend of Liz’s. We need to know if you can stop the curse.”
“I warned Sophie about using the spell book.” Osaze rubbed a hand across his forehead. “It was rightfully hers, but she was young, too impatient to wait for her initiation as a Vodoun priestess. She didn’t yet understand the extent of the power Callia bestowed on female descendants or the force of the curse. She’ll never know now.”
I saw the pain in his face. “I’m sorry for your loss. Sophie was a beautiful young woman.”
