Lucy got up and poured more coffee. Bernie’s story was interesting, but she had to cut her short. “Bernie, what do you need?
“For the pain to stop.”
“What pain?” Lucy asked. That’s when Bernie pulled her blouse up the best she could. Her stomach and rib cage were a terrible color. She’d clearly been beaten.
Lucy flashed back to her mother fighting off her drunk father. “Frank did this?”
“Yes.”
Lucy’s heart beat rapidly and she clutched her own ribs, remembering the pain she’d suffered at the hands of Picklehead. “How long has this been going on?”
“Too long.” Then Bernie broke down sobbing.
“It started a few years after we got married,” she said, patting at the tears running down her cheeks. “I got pregnant. He never wanted kids. He beat me for letting it happen. A few nights later, I was closing the business, and two men attacked me. Oddly, they only hit me in the ribs and stomach and took nothing. They were professionals, didn’t want any bruising that could be seen.”
She let out a huge sob and covered her face with her hands. “I lost my baby. I know Frank hired those thugs.”
“Why not go to the police?” Lucy asked, just about in tears herself.
“I’ve done that twice. It only got me more beatings.”
“I know a cop who can help. A good one.”
“No, please. I’m not here for that kind of help.” Then Bernie pulled a large envelope out of her purse. “Ten thousand dollars. Take it. Do whatever it is you do.”
Lucy put her arm around Bernie. “What about divorce?”
“Just mentioning it put me in the hospital,” Bernie said. “If I file for divorce, Frank said he’d kill me.”
Lucy was torn but had to tell her the truth. “Honey, I can’t help you.”
“Yes, you can. Margo told me how you helped her. Get a doll, stick a pin in its head,” she cried out. “I want to wake up tomorrow morning to a knock at my door. The police telling me Frank is dead.”
Had she gone too far with her make-believe voodoo scam? To this point, she had gotten lucky, and things had worked out to her benefit, not so much for other people. Looking down at the envelope, she supposed ten thousand might make it worth another shot.
Then Bernie rambled on about another Frank story. He’d taken thousands of dollars of her inheritance and invested it in a nightclub. It was only recently that she realized how naïve she’d been, allowing his name on her bank accounts. He participated in a place called The Landmark at the end of Canal Boulevard. It had become his hangout. A bar, restaurant, and dance club. Even had pinball machines in the back. One of the few places you could go to drink, eat, and be entertained. The club closed at four in the morning, and running it gave Frank an excuse to be out all night and sleep during the day.
A few nights ago Bernie had caught Frank in a private area of the club with a woman. She’d suspected he was cheating on her for some time after smelling perfume on Frank’s jacket and seeing lipstick on his shirt. She’d confronted them and embarrassed him in front of his partners and girlfriend. Rushing Bernie out of The Landmark and into his car, Frank drove her home, beating on her all the way. The real pounding came once they were inside the house.
Lucy pushed the money back to Bernie. “I’m not for hire.”
“Make something happen—you have special powers, I know it,” Bernie said. She pushed the envelope back to Lucy. “I want a doll.”
Lucy left the room. She stalled for as long as she could, mostly thinking how or if she could help. Returning with a voodoo doll, she wrote “Frank” across the head and put a pin in the chest.
Bernie took the doll, “Any instructions?”
Lucy didn’t know what to say. “Keep it close until Frank is out of your life.”
Bernie fixed her blouse, touched up her makeup, and walked into the salon. “You ladies have a good day,” she said, then strolled out with a smile.
Lucy pondered in the kitchen. What had started as a joke had turned into a powerful myth. Do people think I have psychic powers?
Lucy needed a break and took a stroll through the French Quarter. A beautiful day to suck up the warm rays of the sun and clear her head after Bernie’s story, if that was at all possible. She bounced ideas around of how she might make Bernie’s dream come true without implicating herself.
Angry and even more pissed that another abusive man had made his way into her life, Lucy wondered why she attracted such horrible people. Wracking her brain on how to get Frank out of Bernie’s life, she was at a loss. The obvious wasn’t going to happen unless Frank got hit by a car or lightning.
Stopping for gelato in Jackson Square, she heard her name being called. It was Vera standing under a tree at her easel, painting. They talked, and it got Lucy’s mind off Frank for a while, something she desperately needed. Vera suggested they get together maybe over dinner or drinks. Lucy was pretty sure Vera had a thing for her. Lucy liked her, but not that way. Though Vera’s enthusiasm might prove useful.
“Let’s do drinks,” Lucy said.
“Really!” Vera was excited, and it showed.
Lucy smiled. “I know the perfect place, The Landmark.”
Later that night, Vera and Lucy walked into The Landmark. The place was packed, and the music was cranked up so you could hear it from the parking lot. They looked at the drink menu, and Vera’s face turned pale at the prices. Lucy noticed and said, “The wine is my treat.”
Vera laughed. “Well, thank you very much.” She grabbed Lucy’s hand.
Scanning the place, Lucy tried to pick Frank out based on a small picture Bernie had shown her. No such luck. The dim mood lighting didn’t help.
The server carried over an iced-down
