Dead to Her(98)
“And my jury is still out on that one.”
They finished their champagne in silence.
“Why did you come back?” Marcie asked, as she finally led Jacquie back to the front door.
“I was alone again and I have good friends here. Good people. Coming up when Eleanor was sick reminded me of that. I’d gotten so caught up in hating Jason I’d forgotten that most people weren’t like that. Most people in this town were more like Michael and Eleanor. Kind. Sweet. Caring.” She stepped out into the humid gray afternoon. Overhead the heavy blanket of cloud was turning black but the air was oven roasting. “And of course I wanted to haunt Jason. To wait for him to slip up in some way. Watch him. Find some way to pass his guilt back to him and maybe get a good night’s sleep again.”
“I guess that worked,” Marcie said as Jacquie headed back to her car.
“Hey,” she called out after the woman she’d so long considered an enemy and now didn’t know quite how to feel about. “One more thing.”
Jacquie turned. “What?”
“Who do you know in Savannah who’s into voodoo maybe? Something like that?”
Jacquie laughed. “We’re in the South, Marcie. Most people have some belief in it. Why do you ask?”
“It’s probably nothing.” She wasn’t going to share all that stuff with Jacquie. She still didn’t like her. She raised a hand to wave her off. “And thank you. For telling me about Jason.”
Marcie felt hollow. Turned inside out. She’d married a monster and not even noticed. Worse than that, there was still someone out there coming after her, who she figured wanted Marcie in as much trouble as Jason was, and it wasn’t Jacquie. So who?
She had one more lead to follow. She threw the rest of her champagne away and made a strong coffee. Despite her fear, she wasn’t done yet.
60.
The doll was on the passenger seat beside her, now filled with ominous portent like a ventriloquist’s dummy in a horror film. Her thoughts kept coming back to church. That inner congregation she’d watched at William’s service. That passion. Wars were fought over religion all over the world so it wasn’t such a leap that a congregation would follow a minister’s wishes, or act for fellow worshippers. Puppets having their strings pulled. Was the voodoo church any different? She thought about the strange open-air celebration she and Keisha had gone to.
How they’d ended up there had been contrived too. The way that girl had knocked into their drinks and started chatting. If they hadn’t met those two girls, they’d never have gone, danced, made wishes, and gotten naked. She’d called Tiger Court at Savannah State University and asked to speak to Jade or Daria but the woman at the other end was adamant that there were no students with those names staying there. Had the girls been tasked with getting Keisha and Marcie to the rave and under the gaze of the old black woman with the orange hair? But why? To add to Keisha’s belief she was cursed? Or to actually curse them? But if someone was after Jason and Marcie, what did Keisha have to do with it? Keisha believed, that much was true. It was in her blood, that’s what she’d said. In her family.
Marcie glanced across at the doll again. Well, it wasn’t in Marcie’s and she refused to get freaked out about it. Outside, the sky rumbled, portentous, and Marcie pressed her foot to the pedal harder. She knew where she had to go.
“You think just because I’m black, I secretly practice voodoo?” Zelda burst into laughter, something Marcie, standing in the doorway getting wet, realized she’d never seen before. “I’m a Christian. A Baptist just like Mr. William.” Zelda looked down at the doll Marcie was still holding, which she’d thrust out at Zelda in a dramatic gesture but Zelda had refused to take. “I don’t know what that is, or what it’s for. I didn’t make it.”
“But Keisha saw you. St. John’s Eve. You were at the party we went to. Down by the Truman Parkway. Where the old black lady with the orange hair did some crazy song and dance. I need to know where to find her.” Dansé Calinda! We call on them to dance with us! The spirits! The ghosts! Li Grande Zombi! Marcie could still feel the earth pounding under her.
Zelda was still chuckling. “Oh my, oh my. I’m too old to go to parties. And that Keisha is crazy. She drinks too much to believe anything she says. Maybe she did see someone she knew, but it wasn’t me. I don’t like her much, she can be rude.” She paused and her face grew flinty. “But I like her better than I like you, Mrs. Maddox. And if you don’t mind, I want you to leave now. I have to go and open up the big house for Miss Iris shortly and I have some chores to finish first.”
“Iris?” Marcie asked. She didn’t even know the police had finished with the house.
“She’s coming to go through Mrs. Radford’s things. The first Mrs. Radford.”
Lightning shattered the gloom of the afternoon and for a moment Marcie got a glimpse into Zelda’s apartment beyond the small woman. It was perfectly ordinary. No signs of anything remotely weird. But then what had she expected?
“So who made this?” Marcie asked, exasperated.
“How the hell would I know?” Zelda’s laugh was filled with disgust. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Maybe go ask some white ladies.”