Rachel walked over to a small closet. Inside, it was neat and organized. Paint supplies, candles, and various small bottles labeled in cryptic black script.
“These look like potions of some sort,” said Rachel. “Was Erin into black magic?”
Red shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea. This is New Orleans. Home to Anne Rice, vampires, witches, and voodoo.”
“I pictured her as a typical soccer mom,” Rachel commented. “Maybe there’s no such thing.”
“You can never tell what dirty little secrets people have in their closets,” Red said, walking out of the apartment. “Literally.”
Rachel pulled out her notebook and quickly wrote down the number of the voodoo shop. She returned the card to the notebook and then followed Red back outside.
“Top of my list is visiting Madame Verdene’s Voodoo Shop,” Rachel said.
“Sounds perfect. I know a great little restaurant in the Quarter that I’ve been dying to go back to. We can stop by and see the voodoo shop and then grab a bite.”
M
adame Verdene’s Voodoo Shop was sandwiched between a well-known karaoke club and a homemade-candy shop that was famous for its pralines. The window display of the voodoo shop was draped with black velvet and adorned with various talismans and crosses. Rachel stepped inside and was immediately overwhelmed by the scent of sage. It made her feel light-headed, but luckily that tapered off once she was a few feet inside the store.
“May I help you?” asked a gravelly voice from behind the counter.
Rachel turned to find an older woman wearing a long orange dress that complimented her dark skin, with hair trailing down her back in intricate braids.
“I’m looking for Madame Verdene,” Rachel said.
“Well, you found her.”
Rachel introduced herself and Red. “We’re with Florida Omni Search. A family disappeared near this area last week, and we’re working to find them.”
Madame Verdene narrowed her eyes and looked Rachel up and down, like a simple glance would reveal if she was telling the truth or not. “The O’Malleys?”
“Do you know them?” Rachel asked, surprised.
Madame Verdene walked to the front of the store and picked up a duster. She proceeded to dust around the cashier stand. After a few beats she answered the question.
“Erin O’Malley was a customer.” Madame Verdene put down the duster and lit a single black candle.
Rachel thought about her answer for a minute. “You said she
was
a customer. Not anymore?”
Red shifted uncomfortably beside her.
“That’s right.” Madame Verdene looked Rachel straight in the eye.
“What happened?” Rachel asked.
“She’s dead.”
“H
ow do you know she’s dead?” Rachel asked.
Two young teenage girls walked into the shop, smacking their gum and talking about buying voodoo dolls. Madame Verdene called out to another girl working at the back of the store. “Mabel, please come up here and watch the store while I help these customers.” Madame Verdene motioned for Rachel and Red to follow her as soon as Mabel took her position at the cashier stand.
They followed her to the back of the store through a heavily curtained door. The back room was surprisingly large and clearly multipurpose. There was a small office area with a paper-strewn wooden desk, a break area with a kitchenette, and a sitting area. The latter was what piqued Rachel’s interest. Tucked in the corner was a round table that seated six people. Madame Verdene walked over to the table and took a seat, and Red and Rachel followed suit. No lights were on except for a red crystal chandelier above the table, which cast sparkles around the dark room. An altar similar to the one Erin had in her art studio was to the left of the table. Rachel wondered if this was where Madame Verdene held séances or read fortunes.
“Erin had been a customer for a long time. She was a very sweet lady. Sweet, but she had a lot of negative energy around her. We were building up her psychic shield to reflect the bad energy.”
“Well, if she’s dead, apparently it didn’t work,” Red mumbled. Rachel kicked him under the table. She knew Red didn’t believe in psychic powers, witches, or anything of that sort.
Madame Verdene ignored the remark. “After Erin’s last visit, I knew it wasn’t working. She was doomed. I didn’t have the heart to tell her, so I asked her to be careful and to be aware of her surroundings. I think she knew something bad was going to happen.”
“What do you think happened to Erin?” Rachel asked. She knew Red was mentally rolling his eyes at the question.
“She got herself killed.”
“Who did it?” Rachel asked.
Madame Verdene closed her eyes for a moment before answering.
“A dark force had entered her life years ago. I don’t know a name if that’s what you’re asking, but I can tell you whereabouts to find her body.”
Rachel nodded for her to continue.
“She was dumped in a swampy area near an old fishing boat. In my vision, I saw a sign that had the words ‘fish camp.’ You should look that up.”
Rachel pulled her notebook out, while Red scrutinized Madame Verdene.
“What about her kids? They dead, too?” Red asked.
“Her kids are still alive.” Madame Verdene closed her eyes again. She started to make a weird humming noise. Rachel sneaked a glance at Red, who was shaking his head. She knew he was reaching his I’ve-had-enough-of-this-shit limit. She was going to have to get him out of here quickly.
“They are being held somewhere close by. Near a body of water. I’m sorry, but I can’t see them as strongly as I can Erin. I do have a feeling that you don’t have much time to find them.”
Madame Verdene stood up from the table. “The husband was found, you know.”
“You see that in your vision, too?” Red asked in a snarky tone.
“No. I saw that on the news.”
Rachel stifled a laugh.
“Anyway, if you need anything else, just give me a call.” Madame Verdene handed Rachel a business card. Then she turned to Red. “You better keep watching your diet. That heart of yours is still healing.” She tapped him on the chest with her six-inch-long blood-red nail and walked back out to the front of the store.
Rachel and Red followed her, then headed straight for the exit.
“Thanks for your time!” Rachel called out as they left the shop.
“Lucky guess,” Red said as they stood out on the sidewalk. He shook his finger at Rachel. “Don’t even go there.”
She went there anyway. “How in the world would she know you had a heart attack?”
“She didn’t say specifically ‘heart attack.’ Hell, most men my age have some kind of a heart problem. High blood pressure, high cholesterol, you name it.”
“But she said your heart was still healing.”
Red waved her off. “Let’s go eat.”
A
gent Krapek walked carefully around the swamp, her heels sinking deeply in the Louisiana muck. As thick fog rolled eerily through the hundred-year-old cypress trees hanging with thick moss, Krapek rubbed the goose bumps popping up on her arms. She would have to remember to keep an extra pair of boots and a sweater in her bag.
“This is where they found the body.” The sheriff’s deputy pointed to a large cypress tree. “Well, I should say
remains.
After the gators were through with it, I’m surprised there was anything left.” He spit out a stream of brown juice.
Agent Krapek tried to clear her mind and not think of mangled body parts and ten-foot alligators. She swallowed hard and put on her best professional face. “What body parts were found?”
“Body
part,
” the deputy corrected. “A left arm, hand and fingers attached. A wedding band was still on the ring finger.”
“Who found it?” Krapek asked the deputy. Her tone of voice was crisp. She refused to show this piddling local officer that this whole situation was putting her on edge.
“Local fisherman. Aaron Boudreaux. He was checking his line for gators and pulled up an arm instead. Called us in and
we secured the scene until the detective could come in. Then the medical examiner came and bagged it. You can check with her.”
“Nothing else was found? Clothing, personal items?” Agent Phipps asked.
The deputy adjusted his trousers by his belt and the chew in his mouth at the same time. “No, sir. Just the arm.”
“This area is frequently used by fishermen, correct?” Agent Krapek tried to take a step forward, but her shoe was rooted firmly in the muck. Cursing under her breath, she stepped out of the shoe before plucking it from the mud.
The deputy looked at her in amusement. “Yep. It’s a very popular spot for hunters.” He pointed to the east. “And it’s easy to get in and out of here without being seen, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s a good place to dump a body. The gator probably dragged it down below the water and hid it under a log until it was ready to finish eating. The arm could’ve floated downriver and ended up here.”
Krapek felt her stomach give another lurch. “Let’s get a call into the ME’s office and go take a look at what’s she got.”
“Our crime scene guys will be combing the area for the next couple of days. I’m not too hopeful we’ll find anything. With all the rain we’ve had, any evidence has probably been washed away,” the deputy said.
Agent Krapek stared out over the swamp. The fog was getting even thicker, and a low roll of thunder shook the ground. It is the perfect spot for dumping a body, she thought. Gators, quicksand-like soil, lots of undergrowth, and complete isolation. Whoever did this knew the area and knew what they were doing. If this arm did belong to Erin O’Malley, she hoped that Erin had been dead before the gator got to her and that the children didn’t suffer the same fate as their mother. Agent Krapek shuddered again, then passed it off as a coughing fit. Another visit to Matt O’Malley was in the works. He had to know more than he was telling. She didn’t buy his bullshit amnesia story one bit.
“What’s next?” Phipps asked as they headed toward the car.
“There’s nothing we can do here until the ME has identified the body. We don’t even know if that arm belongs to Erin. Let’s take a drive over there and see what she can tell us so far.” Agent Krapek drove away from the swampy area and made note of a large sign they passed on the way out.
McDaniel’s Fish Camp. Bait. Beer. Groceries.
R
achel hung up her cell phone. “That was Chris O’Malley. He asked if we could stop by his house to talk to Matt.”
They were just finishing up lunch at Emeril’s NOLA restaurant, the spot Red had been so keen to try. Rachel savored her last bite of fried chicken and bourbon–sweet potato mash. It wasn’t fun spending a half hour listening to Red complain that Madame Verdene was a fraud, but at least she was eating a delicious meal while doing it.
“What does Matt want to discuss?” Red grabbed a napkin and wiped his face.
“Chris didn’t say. Just that Matt wanted to ask us some questions.”
“Are you going to tell him about our little field trip to the voodoo place?”
“We’ll see how it goes.” Rachel wanted to change the subject from Madame Verdene. “How’s the catfish?”
“Delicious. I have to say that New Orleans has some of the best food in the South.”
After they settled up the tab, they headed toward Metairie, just west of New Orleans. “I wonder why Chris decided to give up
his share of the house and live outside the big city.” Rachel plugged his address into the GPS unit.
“Maybe we’ll find out,” said Red.
Fifteen minutes later they pulled up to a spacious ranch house perched at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was of whitewashed brick and had a neatly trimmed lawn. A garden gnome sat at the corner of the flower bed, with a
WELCOME
sign in his stubby hands. Rachel had always thought that garden gnomes were a little creepy: small bearded men with smiles on their faces but distrust in their eyes, like they were plotting something evil. She eased the rental car next to a white Mercedes, resisting the urge to run the gnome over.
“A lot different from where Matt lives, huh?” Rachel walked up to the front door and rang the bell.
“Maybe living in a hundred-year-old mansion in the heart of New Orleans isn’t Chris’s style,” Red said.
“Obviously not,” Rachel agreed as they waited.
A beautiful blond woman opened the door. “Hello, you must be Rachel Scott?” She held the door open for them. “I’m Melinda O’Malley, Chris’s wife. Please come in.”
Melinda O’Malley looked like she had just stepped out of
Vogue
magazine. She had on a navy-blue pencil skirt with a crisp, white button-down shirt and a hint of lace camisole peeking through. She towered over Rachel in her four-inch heels. Her blond hair was just past shoulder length and was worn sleek and straight. Her green eyes were framed perfectly in flawless makeup that avoided being too heavy. She led them through the foyer and into a spacious living room. The smell of something wonderful baking in the oven wafted throughout the house.
“Chris and Matt are outside on the deck. I’ll go let them know you are here. Make yourself comfortable.”
The interior of the house looked like it was straight from a
Pottery Barn
catalog. Nothing about it seemed warm or lived-in. Two supple leather couches were clustered around a massive
antique-looking leather chest that doubled as a coffee table. There was a huge, flat plasma screen mounted above the fireplace and surrounding bookcases. The open floor plan gave the home a roomy, modern feel. Rachel admired the kitchen and breakfast room that were situated behind the living room. From where she sat on the couch, Rachel could see gleaming white granite countertops, stainless steel top-of-the-line appliances, and a gorgeous dark wood table and chairs in the breakfast room.
“It’s a beautiful house,” Rachel whispered to Red. “But unlike Matt’s place, it looks like a museum. I’m afraid to sit on the couch.”
“The bail bond business must pay very well,” he said.
Rachel looked down at her jeans and tennis shoes. “I feel underdressed next to Melinda. Maybe I should’ve changed before we came here.”