Cry Havoc

'Yeah, I know. He'll be all right. We just gotta let him chill a bit. He'll come around.'

'Unless the Mother gets to him first. What can you hit him with?'

'Not much'—Lewis shrugged—'nothing serious. Noah said we should get a priest to bless him. Kind of like do an exorcism on him or some nonsense like that so that he wouldn't be afraid to talk to us.' Lewis snorted, 'I told him I work for LAPD, not Mental Health Services.'

'That's not such a bad idea.'

'Puh-lease,' Lewis groaned.

'Think about it. There's a lot these boys could be telling us, but they're afraid. This'd be the same as a witness protection program. We guarantee them safety in exchange for information. We don't even have to relocate the bastards. Just sprinkle 'em with holy water. I like it. Check it out.'

'You're serious,' Lewis gawked.

'Yep. A priest might not work though,' Frank said, hunkering across the desk toward her cop. 'We might need somebody like the Mother, a priestess or whatever who does this same kind of voodoo shit. Somebody Echevarria and Hernandez believe could counteract the Mother's mojo. Check it out. See if they'll bite.'

Lewis's laugh came out like a bark.

'And if they do? Where I'ma find this priestess, huh? I'm supposed to look her up in the Yellow Pages. Axe around at the Local Wizards 14?'

When Lewis was done amusing herself, Frank asked, 'You forget who writes your evaluation reports?'

The rookie sobered.

'No, ma'am.'

'Good. Don't. Anything else?'

'No, ma'am.'

Frank pointed at the door.

27

The next morning, on her way to the lieutenants' meeting, Frank cornered Darcy outside the men's room. Making sure no one was within earshot, she said, 'Hey. You think your ex would do us a favor?'

'For you,' he rumbled, 'maybe. But she sure as hell won't for me.'

'This guy on the Colonel Sanders case, Hernandez, he knows shit but he won't talk. He's petrified. Thinks the Mother's got curses on him. Noah was thinking we could get somebody like a priest to break the spells. To cleanse him or whatever, convince him he's safe. I was thinking your wife might be equivalent to Mother Love. Maybe we could get Hernandez to go for that. What do you think?'

Darcy folded his arms.

'I could ask her, but if your man doesn't believe in her it won't do any good. So I suppose it's up to him.'

'You let me work on him. Meanwhile you work on your wife.'

'My ex-wife,' he corrected.

'Right. Find out what she'd charge. I'll have to figure how the hell to bury it in expenses.'

Frank sat distractedly through the meeting.

What if Noah was right? Maybe they could gain Hernandez' trust by protecting him with some bigger, badder mojo. Frank wasn't against humoring a witness if he helped bring the Mother down. It amused Frank to think of turning the Mother's own weapons against her.

It was late when she returned to the squad room; except for Noah and Lewis, everyone else had gone home.

'Hey,' Frank said to Noah. 'Lewis told me your idea about the priest. You think if we could find another voodoo queen like the Mother that Hernandez'd go to her?'

'Maybe,' he considered. 'He might be scared enough to try anything.'

'Talk to him. Find out.'

In her office, Frank found a note on her chair. She read, X says yes but you have to bring him to her. She won't come up here.

'Deal,' Frank said to the room.

She didn't know what Noah had told him, but Hernandez was eager to meet Marguerite James. Frank was pretty curious too. And surprised.

Darcy's ex greeted them silently at her front door. She was at least a foot shorter than Frank expected and bordering on plump. She was barefoot, in a sleeveless white dress belted with a bright assortment of scarves. Dozens of beaded braids ended above the swell of her breasts and Frank forced herself to look away. The woman's breasts were perfectly round and full and they pressed against her blouse like jail-bound cantaloupes making a run for it, dark nipples sent out as the advance team.

She wordlessly appraised Frank and her witness. She didn't even have a glance for her ex-husband. Hernandez fidgeted, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Frank endured a silent appraisal, thinking Marguerite James looked like a woman who knew secrets and wouldn't tell you what they were. Frank had a dozen questions she probably wouldn't ask Darcy until she knew him a hell of a lot better. Marguerite studied her a lot longer than Frank thought necessary, seeing as Hernandez was the client.

'Follow me,' she commanded, leading them through a living room decorated with carvings and sequined flags. In the rear of the apartment she let them into a windowless room. It was empty but for a large table with two chairs opposite a flowery altar. She told Frank and Hernandez to sit.

'Tell me about this woman who's cursed you,' she demanded of Hernandez. He glanced at Frank and she jerked her head in assent. He nervously told Marguerite about Danny and the hexing of his yard and Echevarria's, and the identical tongue he'd gotten but thrown away. He said he'd been going to Mass twice a day but didn't know if a Christian god could fight these older gods.

Marguerite smiled for the first time. She asked for more details about the hexes. Hernandez was vague and Frank filled in what she could.

'Do you know this woman?' she asked, her blunt gaze on Frank.

'Not well.'

'But you've met her?'

'Yeah.'

'Describe her for me.'

When she'd talked to her on the phone, Marguerite had indicated she knew Mother Love. Reputations evidently spread among the Afro-Caribbean religions like AIDS in shooting galleries. Anyone evincing talent as a priest or priestess didn't remain a secret for long.

'I thought you said you knew her,' Frank asked back.

'I know of her,' Marguerite snapped. 'But we don't travel in the same circles. Tell me your perspective.'

Frank shrugged, starting with a physical description, but Marguerite interrupted, 'No, no, no. What's she like? Her personality.'

'Like I said, she's not very big, but she's . . . forceful. She seems larger than she is. She's proud. Arrogant. Been used to having things her way for a long time.'

'How does she dress?' Marguerite asked. 'Tell me about her appearance.'

'She's flamboyant. She's got a big personality and she dresses big. She had on a red blouse, silk I think. And big hoop earrings. Lots of bracelets. Very—'

'Does she wear beads?'

Frank peered into her memory.

'Yeah. I thin—'

'What color?' Marguerite barked.

Frank closed her eyes, unprepared for the interrogation.

'I want to say glass. Red. Maybe white.'

Marguerite's unexpected smile was as powerful as a searchlight. Turning to Darcy, she asked, 'How well do you remember your orishas?'

'Not very well.'

Marguerite rolled her eyes.