The Seer Renee (19 page)

All we could do was wait. I had at
least three weeks before anything would happen. That was how long it would take
for the test to be concluded with no deaths—murders. Wednesday was a
fairly normal business day with alternating periods of busy and slow. I had
stopped thinking of the test; they had won—whoever they were. What I had
to decide was what I was going to do after the test. First, I would refuse to
have any more fortunetelling sessions with Angela. That would stop further
indirect contact with them. They would have to contact me directly, or more
likely, kidnap me. My options then would be to disappear or commit suicide. Two
really bad alternatives. In a sense disappearing was close to committing
suicide since it would mean giving up Jim, and my life as a mambo. I couldn't
bring him along, even if he were willing. He would be too easy to trace as a
registered doctor, and I couldn't ask him to give up his calling. I'd have to
talk to Grace. I'd imagine disappearing wasn't as easy as it sounded, unless
the government was involved or I became homeless. People had to have a previous
life when applying for anything. And there was the money issue. I couldn't sell
the shop without alerting them, and if I put it in a realtor's hands, how would
they get me the money?

I closed the shop on time and began
preparing dinner for Jim and me. He had offered to take me to dinner, but I had
refused. In the back of my mind, I knew I was going to lose him and wanted to
spend as much quality time with him until then. Besides, it occupied my mind to
be doing something. I had decided Country Chicken Jambalaya and bought a whole
chicken so I could use the gizzard, heart, and liver along with the sausage,
and I bought a medium-priced Merlot the clerk suggested, which he said was
medium-bodied and had a juicy fruit flavor. I took his word on it since I
seldom drank wine and usually took the waiter or waitress's suggestion. Jim
arrived around six-thirty, which was good timing as the dinner still needed to
cook, and we could relax with a glass of wine.

"How are you holding up?"
Jim said as he came through the door. He looked tired.

"I'm not sure. I think I'm
numb. Not much is going to happen until the test finishes, and my options are
limited."

"Our options," he said as
he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him.

"I'm willing to listen, but I
can't see how that would work. We aren't dealing with the Locos. Unless I'm
wrong, these are men with money, power, and a long reach. The government could
possibly make us disappear. They have the connections; we don't. But they
aren't an acceptable alternative."

"No. I suspect Ron is right.
They would be as bad as the group who is tracking you. We will have to come up
with something on our own."

"Jim, I've fallen in love with
you, but I can't ask you to give up everything you've worked so hard to
achieve. Besides if they did track us down, you'd be the perfect leverage to
make me do their bidding."

"Not true. I won't expect you
to help them. I'm willing to take the risk we live free or die," he said,
wiping tears from my eyes. I hated my weakness. I need the Loa's strength to
push him away. My selfishness was risking his life for no good reason.

"I'll consider it if you and I
can come up with a plan that has a chance of working. I should not have let you
get close to me. That was wrong of me. I knew they were after me and might
determine I had my granny's gift. But I won't endanger your life on our hope or
luck that we can escape them. It has got to be a concrete plan that appears to
have a chance of success, and one where you realize the cost of running away
with me." My voice sounded harsh as I delivered my ultimatum.

"Deal," he said and sat
as I poured two glasses of wine.

"Let's enjoy today because
ironically this great fortune teller cannot predict what will happen
tomorrow." I laughed. "Maybe my cooking will convince you to
leave."

 
Unfortunately, he fancied the dinner and
the love making afterward.

* * *

I opened the shop shortly after Jim
had left for the hospital. What was the alternative? Sit around and brood all
day or get drunk? Better to keep occupied and maybe a chance to help someone
while I still could. Just before noon, Grace entered the shop. She wandered
around looking at things until the shop emptied, and I closed for lunch.

"How are you holding up,
Renee?"

"I'm brain dead to tell the
truth," I said.

"Ron and I want you to know we
are willing to help in any way we can. He's a lawyer, and I'm in the FBI. The
information we have and have access to may be helpful."

"Thank you," I said
giving her a tight hug. "I wish you, Ron, and Jim could disassociate yourselves
from me. But it's too late. I've put your lives in danger."

"No, Renee. Those people have
put our lives in danger and personally, I'm mad as hell. I joined the FBI to
stop people like that. I hate that Ron is involved as I'm sure you hate that
Jim is involved, but that just has me madder. We will find a way to stop them
without you having to commit suicide. No matter what happens to any of us, they
are responsible, not you." She held me at arm’s length and shook me until
I nodded. "We are going to meet regularly to discuss the problem. I hope they
are watching. I want them to know you aren't alone, and we know what they are
planning and have a plan of our own. That should make them more cautious and
give us more time."

"I don't know what I've done
to deserve friends like you."

* * *

I sat dressed and ready for Angela.
I should hate the woman, but I couldn't. She was an unwilling participant, and
I had the feeling she wouldn't have participated if she knew what they were
planning. She arrived on time.

"Hi, Angela. You look gorgeous
as usual and ready to conquer the male population of N’Orleans. They don't
stand a chance."

"As you can imagine, my
productive years are few in my profession. Best to make the most of them, so I
can retire before they become hard work and...embarrassing." She laughed
and made her way to my table. "Any warning this week?"

I sat and put my hands over her,
knowing what to expect. As I suspected, next Wednesday she stood outside the
condo apparently waiting for something, when Ron appeared and, half way to his
car, he was shot. Although it was unpleasant to watch, I didn't react, as it
wasn't going to happen, and it changed as I watched. I scrolled backward and
watched as a man produced a badge and arrested Angela on Monday.

"Interesting week, Angela.
Wouldn't surprise me if on Monday a policeman offered to pay you for sex,"
I said. Angela didn't react at first.

"Monday?"

"Evening, maybe," I said.
As I watched her actions on Monday change subtly. When she met the policemen,
it surprised me when she took him back to the condo as usual, but then wouldn't
take the money he offered. It became hysterical as he tried to give her money
and wouldn't have the sex she offered. I couldn't help smiling. When I opened
my eyes, she was smiling back at me.

"Thank you, Mambo Renee. Police
stations are dull and boring and expensive." She stared at me for a few
minutes. As she was leaving, she turned and gave me a hug. "Careful, Mambo
Renee, someone with money is playing a game with you."

As I suspected, she wasn't part of
the game, and her remark pretty well confirmed she wouldn't have participated
if she understood what they had planned.

"Well, Mr. Willis. What happen
this evening with phase one of your test?" Black's smiley face said.

"Doctor Douglas failed to show
at his regular time. He stayed at Renee's shop on Tuesday night and left to
work from there," Willis said.

"Exciting. Is she or isn't she?
His failure to arrive for his murder is easily explained away as a coincidence,
since they are lovers. But what will she do in phase two? If Ron doesn't show,
her solution will tell us a lot about Mambo Renee. Of course, his death would
be even more exciting."

"Why?" Willis asked.

"I would ask you what you
would do under similar circumstances, but you would be a willing seller of your
gift, so it would never come down to a test. If he shows and dies, does that
prove she doesn't have the gift? Might she be willing to sacrifice a friend
rather than be caged for the rest of her life?"

"Yes, that would complicate
the results; however, all the background we have on her indicates she would
rather commit suicide like her grandmother did rather than let someone die
because of her," Willis said, although the thought had crossed his mind.
"She will let the test continue because she must assume the killing will
occur whether she's alive or dead. It's afterward that would concern me—suicide
or a vanishing act."

"I can't wait for phase two.
Like watching a trapped mouse, but even mice bite." Black was laughing as his
smiley face faded out. Black made Willis nervous even when things were going
well.

* * *

Sheila sat relaxing in the Grill
Room of the Winsor Court Hotel. The rooms and the restaurant, five-stars and
expensive, were far enough from the French Quarter to avoid running into Renee
by accident, but close enough to supervise the participants in her test. She
was pleased with phase one. It had gone well she concluded, as she sipped the expensive
glass of French Bordeaux she had ordered to finish off a delicious quail dinner.
She had earned it. Angela and Sheila's contract killer had been in place at the
time Doctor Douglas had been expected to leave his condo. When he had failed to
show during the designated two-hour window, the contract killer and Angela had left.
The killer didn't mind, she got paid whether she killed the doctor, or he
failed to show. Angela didn't know why she was being paid to stand in front of
the condo entrance and didn't care. The money was good, and she was free to do
what she pleased before and afterward. A call to
Harold confirmed that Douglas had gone directly to Renee's shop from work
on Tuesday.

The time and place to kill Jim and Ron had been set after their schedules
had been carefully monitored for over a week. Jim and Ron were very consistent
in the mornings, and nothing had happened to change Ron's scheduled event. Consequently,
when Angela went for her fortunetelling session, Mambo Renee would see Ron's
future murder. Grace's schedule was more unpredictable, so Sheila would have to
monitor her activities and set the time and place for Angela with a telephone
call.

The next two weeks alternated
between heaven and hell. Jim called more often, and we managed to see each
other once or twice during the week when I didn't have fortunetelling sessions.
Usually I visited his place and stayed the night. That satisfied Grace's wish
that I keep her up to date. Jim and I spent all our off time together. The hell
was knowing this was going to end, and not nicely with marriage and children.

"Well, what is the plan for
tomorrow?" Grace asked as the four of us sat snacking on cheese and wine
in their apartment.

"The shooting took place
around Ron's normal time to leave for work—eight-thirty or so. Angela was
in place about a half hour before Ron appeared. She has to be in place, or I
couldn't see it so I suggest it would be safe to leave a couple of hours early,
say six o'clock."

"Lawyers work late, not
early," Jim said, followed by a strained laugh.

"We'll go together. We can
stop and get breakfast. I'd like to return to the scene of the planned crime to
see what I can learn. Might come in handy for my planned killing. You are going
to let me know when and where, aren't you, Renee?" She smiled.

"That's the movie for Thursday
evening."

"From the notes you made of
our sessions with you, it must be just like watching a movie. You said you
couldn't see the future before your...gift," Ron said as if unsure.

"No. Close your eyes and rub
your hand along my arm over the serpent."

Carefully, he rubbed his fingertips
along the serpent tattoo. "Yes, I feel a scar of some sort. Almost feels
like a...snowflake," he said after some hesitation. I motioned for Grace
to do the same. When she did, she nodded agreement.

"It's the symbol Ohene, which
stands for wisdom and foresight. It was the Loa's gift to Granny's grandmother
and the only one I know of that can be passed along. It's burned into the skin
then covered with a tattoo of the Loa's choosing."

"Then those two other tattoos
cover two other symbols...gifts?" Grace asked.

"Yes. Mpuannum, the symbol of
priestly office, and Nkontim, the symbol of loyalty and willingness to
serve."

"What do they permit you to
do?"

"Nothing new. I appear to have
better control when watching a person's future and seem to see further. The
other I took as a confirmation of my commitment to God."

"Won't the Loa protect you
then?" Jim asked. He had been quiet until then as I had told him about the
gifts as he explored my body the other night and felt the scars.

"I don't think so; otherwise,
they would have helped Granny. I believe the Loa and God takes an interest in
us but aren't there to cater to our whims or to make life easier for us. They
may be willing to give us moral support, but expect us to find our own
solutions."

* * *

Angela was right on time as usual,
smiling and dressed to snare traffic and turn men into swivel-head dolls.

"You're amazing, Mambo Renee.
That poor policeman must have had a case of blue-balls when I stripped, offered
sex, but wouldn't accept money. He had a hard-on that almost ripped his pants
and couldn't do anything to satisfy the itch without owing me." She
laughed as she sat and put her hands on the table. "Men can be very
entertaining. Most men," she amended and her smile faded.

"Yes." I agreed as I put
my hands over hers. I watched as Angela partied her way through the week:
eating out at good restaurants, sightseeing, and sex. It was obvious she was
being paid well to see me and stand around and watch on Wednesdays. It surprised
me when she wasn't standing outside the condo complex next Wednesday. Around
two o'clock she received a phone on her cell and hurried out, caught a cab, and
was dropped off on Moss Street. Across the canal was a park-like area where
several police cars and a group of people were gathered by the water. About
thirty minutes later, Grace returned to her car with Mike. They had driven only
a few yards when the car exploded. I shuddered and removed my hands.

"Something bad."

"An accident," I said and
put my hands back over hers and the scene changed. This time Angela’s day was
like every other day. That was good, I hoped. There would be no reason to kill
her where I couldn't see it happen. "Well, Angela, another fun week. You
might even meet someone you like."

"You mean out of bed?"
she asked with genuine interest.

"Yes."

"The question is will he like
me?"

"As you said, it's a short-lived
profession," I said. I could see the problem in her eyes. Of the men
willing to marry a prostitute, those that were available weren't worth having,
and those worth having weren't available.

"A wonderful dream, Mambo. If
I find him, will you marry us?"

"I'd be honored."

* * *

It was Saturday night before the
four of us could get together, since I had Mr. Bishop for a fortunetelling
session on Friday. All I could tell him was that his marriage and business were
doing well. A fake would have felt the need to make up something.

"Thank you, Mambo Renee. A
perfect telling, and just the way I like it—sweet and short," he
said and all but skipped out the door.

By the time I arrived at Jim's condo
on Saturday, everyone was there having a big platter of quartered muffuletta
sandwiches filled with olive salad, mortadella, salami, mozzarella, ham, and
provolone, awaiting the news.

"Well, Renee. No scrumptious
muffuletta until we hear the news. How is he planning to kill me?" Grace
asked, and appeared more interested than nervous.

"Boom," I said reaching
for a quarter of a sandwich. I could hear myself chewing, the room was so
quiet.

"That was dramatic,
Renee," Grace said. "I hope you have some details. Bombs are ugly
weapons, especially if they are linked to a cell phone."

"I can only tell you what
Angela sees; therefore, I can't tell you when or where the bomb was attached. You
must have been called to some incident on Wisner Boulevard sometime in the
early afternoon because there were three police cars there. They sent Angela to
an address on Moss Street which was on the other side of the canal from where
you and the police were on Wisner. I believe Mike was with you. When you and he
returned to your car and drove off, it exploded."

"Nice people," Ron said,
giving Grace a worried look. "I hope you saw the scene change."

"Yes, and Grace was alright,
so I imagine you caught the person who planted the bomb or at least disarmed it."

"It's time we took the initiative.
Unfortunately it's unlikely to help your problem since the person planting the
bomb will be a professional and won't know who hired him. But maybe we'll get
lucky. If nothing else, it may make them more cautious and will make me feel
good."

"And smarter," Jim
muttered.

"That's true, Jim. We have to
take the initiative if there is any chance of discovering who they are."

"Grace is right. If nothing
else, we put one killer behind bars," I said.

Grace decided she would get Mike
and another agent to stake out her car after she returned home, thinking that
the killer would have installed the bomb that night then followed her until she
was called to Wisner Boulevard. Then she called Angela or her contact who
called Angela. Jim and I left early.

* * *

"What do you think will happen
now, my love?" Jim asked as we stopped panting from a satisfying session
of love making later that night. I didn't want to think because every scenario
had the same ending, only who died varied.

"They will soon know I have my
granny's gift. They will be careful for fear I'll commit suicide like her, so
they must act soon. Granny said the event was at least a year off which would
mean it must be soon."

"You can't commit suicide. I
don't want to lose you."

"What alternative do I
have?" I asked feeling sorry for Jim. I would die, but he would be left
behind to mourn.

* * *

The week went slowly, as I waited
to hear the outcome of the Tuesday night stakeout. We had agreed to meet
Wednesday after work. When I arrived, everyone was there and looked to have
been celebrating for a while.

"We got the bomber,"
Grace said handing me a glass of wine as I came through the door. "Jerry
alerted me around two a.m. that someone had entered the garage, so Mike and I
were alert when someone came walking down the ramp towards my car a couple of
minutes later. We arrested her just after she had finished placing a bomb in
the back seat of my car. She claims to be Cailin Dahmer, a United States
citizen, but she had no identification on her when we took her into custody. We
found the rental car she came in, which had a Texas license. She has no record
that we can find under that name, and her finger prints aren't in the system. Judging
by the description, we think she might be wanted by Interpol under the name
Collette Faivre. It's going to take a while to discover who she really is, but
my money says she's a professional assassin with multiple aliases. She's as
cold as dry ice. Except to give us a name, she hasn't said a word except to ask
for a lawyer. We don't know where she was staying here in town, where her
permanent address is, or even the state she claims residence.”

"My associates say the lawyer
she has retained is one of the best criminal lawyers in the country—well
known and expensive," Ron said.

"The bad news, she's a
professional, and I doubt we'll find any connection to who hired her. If we're
lucky, we may locate the intermediate but that will take time."

"How did you explain the
stakeout?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Lied." Grace smiled.
"I said I thought someone had been following my car for the past several
days and thought I saw someone around my car when I went back to retrieve a
package I forgot in the back seat. I asked Jerry and Mike for a favor. Told
them I'd pay one hundred a night for a couple of night stakeouts. I doubt they
believed me then or now. The district agent-in-charge believes it's related to
the group I'm investigating. No mention of you, Renee."

"Thanks, Grace. I don't need
the FBI investigating me too," I laughed.

"I wish we could get you into
the Witness Protection Program under some false pretenses. It would be the
perfect solution. Maybe I can think up a reason."

"Include me," Jim said,
decisively.

"For me that would be close to
suicide. I couldn't practice Vodou or tell fortunes or work with herbs without
giving them clues to my whereabouts.” I pointed to the horse-head tattoo. “That's
my commitment to God."

"Well, suicide is unacceptable
to me..."—Jim looked at Ron and Grace—"us. Maybe that's
our commitment to God. To keep you safe." He grabbed me in a
breath-constricting hug.

"Maybe I can find a reason to
have you given police protection," Grace said, frowning in thought.

"Even if you could, these people
have money and can hire whatever it takes to kidnap me, and I'd hate to see
innocent policemen killed to delay the inevitable," I took Grace's hand in
mine. "Thank you, but I'm content to wait. I won't help them no matter
what. But if I can, I'd like to avoid you or anyone from being hurt. I don't
know how, since they have identified you as important to me, but I'll
try." Tears streamed down my cheeks. I knew it would probably be
impossible.