Cry Havoc

animosity.

'You know anything about a Saint Barbara's Spiritual Church of the Seven Powers?' Frank asked.

Stroking his longer-than-regulation moustache, he mused, 'I'm not sure. Spiritual churches are big in the South. They're hard to define. Kind of an amalgamation of southern Baptist, Pentecostal, and spiritism, all rolled into one complicated ball. They use seances to call down the dead, all in the name of Jesus. And the Church of the Seven Powers. To the best of my knowledge it's an offshoot of the Church of the Lukumi. That was the first officially recognized church of santeria in the United States.'

'Santeria,' Lewis interjected. 'That's Cuban, right? That's what those sickos in Matamoros believed in.'

Darcy said, 'Yes, they were sickos all right, but they weren't practicing true santeria any more than Timothy McVeigh was practicing true Christianity. They took a basically benign theology and ran riot with it. They twisted it to their own sick ends. And yes, it's an island religion. Remember how I said Haiti was predominantly Catholic so the slaves were allowed to syncretize their African gods? The same thing happened in Cuba and throughout the Caribbean. Brazil too. That's how santeria and palo mayombe, candomble, all the Afro/Latino religions came into existence.'

'So Mother Love-Jones is practicing santeria?”

'Well, I couldn't say for sure,' Darcy drawled. 'I'd say with a 'spiritual' in the name of her church she's probably incorporating some form of ancestor worship in her services, and with the Seven Powers and Saint Barbara tacked on, it sounds like some derivative of santeria, yes.'

Jill spoke as if she'd tasted something bad. 'Don't they sacrifice animals?'

Darcy nodded, 'That was one of the obstacles in legalizing their church, yes.'

'What kind of animals?' Lewis asked.

'Usually fowl. Sometimes a pig or a goat if they need to make a particularly potent offering.'

'Larger the sacrifice, the greater their power?' Frank asked.

'Something like that, yes. The animals are usually drawn over the supplicant's body to draw out whatever sickness or problem is plaguing him. The theory is the animal will absorb the trouble and then it's killed and offered to whichever god they're propitiating. And different gods have different preferences.'

'What about people?' Noah asked. 'They ever sacrifice people?'

Darcy spit into his can and shook his head.

'Only in Hollywood.'

'And Matamoros,' Jill added.

Following Noah's line of thought, Frank asked, 'How do they kill the animals?'

All the detectives were silent while Darcy considered Frank's question. Holding her blue eyes with his own, he finally answered, 'They slit their throats and bleed them. Then they offer the blood to the gods.'

The squad was silent until Jill said, 'That's it. I'm going home.'

Jerking the sports coat off the back of his chair, Johnnie said, 'I'm right behind you.'

Frank looked at Lewis. The rookie hung her head and muttered, 'Shit.'

Noah cackled and clapped her on the back. 'Better get some garlic and wooden stakes, partner.'

'No, you need silver bullets,' Johnnie said. 'Or maybe a priest, like in The Exorcist.'

Frank shot her rumpled detective a look. He was blithely ignorant, but the skin on Frank's arms rose as she pictured Father Merrin in front of his stone demon.

Johnnie went on, 'Isn't that right, Swamp Boy? Isn't that what she needs? Or maybe one of those powders ya'll concoct out of snake skin and gator teeth.'

Darcy didn't even bother looking up. Johnnie bent his big frame over the smaller detective.

'I'm talkin' to you, boy.'

Darcy put his pen down, considering the face inches above his.

Frank said, 'Johnnie. Go home.'

'I'm talkin' to Swamp Boy here. Just tryin' to have a friendly conversation only he's not being so friendly. Where's that southern hospitality, boy?'

'Conversation's over,' Frank said. 'Go home.'

'Since when can't I talk to my colleagues after work?' Johnnie argued.

Frank's eyes iced up and she said, 'Don't make me say it again.'

'Fuck.'

'Come on,' Noah said, putting his arm around Johnnie. 'I'll buy you a beer.'

'Fuck off,' Johnnie answered.

Frank stayed where she was until he left the squad room, then withdrew to her office. Darcy followed.

'I don't need you to defend me,' he complained.

Frank checked a sigh.

'And I don't you need you losing your temper and pulling a Sandman on him.'

Darcy had been demoted from Venice Division to Figueroa for planting his supervisor's face into the beach, through which action he'd become known as the Sandman.

'I wasn't going to do that.'

'Good. Johnnie's got a short fuse at the end of the day and I was tired of it. Do you have a problem with that?'

Darcy chewed the inside of his lip.

'No,' he mumbled before turning around, squeezing past a flustered Jill outside Frank's door.

Now what?

Frank wondered if she'd run into Johnnie on the way out.

'I thought you left.'

'I did. Can I talk to you for a minute?'

'Sure.'

Jill closed the door and Frank waited while she dragged a chair closer to the desk. Maternity may have suited Jill, but working a full case load didn't. She looked pale and tired. Big circles under her eyes were vainly covered with make-up and her hair looked dull and brittle. Frank remembered it being thick and deep red. They used to call her the Fire Truck because of her flaming hair and quick response to a hot man.

'I need to ask you a favor.'

Jill twisted her hands in her lap and Frank braced herself for the resignation speech.

'I know it sounds silly, but I want off this Duncan case.'

'How come?' Frank asked, relieved.

'I'm just not comfortable with it. I know it sounds ridiculous. I can go into a roach-infested tenement and have maggots crawl out of a two-week-old corpse and up my leg, but I don't want to deal with this devil worship shit. Not now. Not with a baby to look after.'

'What devil worship shit are we talking about?'

'What Johnnie said. For once he's right. People don't want to talk about Love-Jones. They're scared of her. You can see it. One man I talked to yesterday, he's retired from Caltrans, a straight up fellow, and he went off, telling me not to mess with her if I knew what was good for me, that she was a witch, she could make things happen. He almost slammed the door in my face!

'Then one of my CIs—I didn't even call her, she called me, she lives near Love-Jones' place on Slauson—she told me about some really bizarre things that go on there. Granted she's not the most reputable source, but for her to call me out of the blue and tell me she's seen lightning flashing over that place without a cloud in the sky, and red lights on at all hours of the morning?'

Jill's voice climbed as she added, 'And her boyfriend? She says he fights pit bulls and none of them will walk by that building. She said they start peeing and whimpering like puppies whenever they get near it. And to top it all off, she tells me the dumpster in front of their place is always filled with dead chickens and pigeons. There are even goats sometimes! I just don't want anything to do with it. I'm asking you to take me off, Frank. Please.'

'No problem. I was going to put everybody back on regular duty anyway.'

Jill was visibly relieved and Frank leaned forward.

'Let me ask you something. Personal. I don't mean any disrespect, I just don't know. If you believe in God,