Dark Paradise (13 page)

Mama rubs her arms against the chill. “Her spirit's strong. Stronger than any ghost I've ever felt.”

“She scares me, Mama. Landry asked me to talk to Lainey's spirit. See if she'd tell me how she died. Do you…”
Merciful heavens, I can't believe these words are about to come out of my mouth.
I draw in a deep breath and spit out the question in a rush. “Do you think you can do a séance or something?”

Mama pinches my cheek. “My little skeptic. What a question. You're serious, ain't you?”

My cheek stretches like Silly Putty as I pull it free of her talonlike fingers. “I'm not stupid. After what I've seen, denying the existence of ghosts is like saying chiggers don't bite. They're both crimes against nature and shouldn't exist. But I'm scratching the bumps on my legs and Lainey's still hovering over my shoulder.”

“That's a mighty fine argument you've wasted on me, Mala,” Mama says. “I've spent the last fifteen years drunk so I can't hear the spirits. I don't think they'll talk to me now even if I put them on speakerphone. Sorry,
cher
. You got a better connection to Lainey's spirit than I do.”

“Is there any advice you can give me?”

“Nope.”

“Thanks a lot,
Mama
. That's so helpful.”

Landry tenses beside me when Mama rocks forward in the chair, hands fisting on her lap. I wonder if he thinks he should protect me. What would he do if she lashed out?

Mama catches his movement. Her eyes narrow, but she leans back. “Don't sass me, girl. You asked. I answered. Did you want me to lie? Say it'd all work out? Well, I can't do that. Your grandmère Cora tried to teach me how to control my abilities 'fore she died, but I was just as stubborn as you. I thought she was crazy and pushed her away so I could do my own thin'—hangin' out with older men, drinkin', and gettin' pregnant with you. After she died, I inherited her powers, and those she'd gotten from her mother, and so on. I couldn't control the spirits. They swept over me like a hurricane. Bashed me up somethin' terrible, and I never fully recovered. That's what I worry will happen to you,
cher
. I don't know what it takes to be able to control these gifts.”

“Well, maybe there's someone out there who can help—a medium or medicine man.”

“There's that psychic, Madame Rubine.” Mama's lips pucker as if she sucks on something sour. “Course, she's paid by the hour. Think you can afford her prices only to find out she's full of shit?”

“Depends on how desperate I am, I guess.”

Landry rubs his face with his hands. “We're wasting time. None of this helps. There has to be a reason why Lainey's drawn to Mala. One of you knows something or she wouldn't be telling me to come to you.”

I rub my hands on my jeans. “I'm sorry. I wish I did. I'd never seen her before I pulled her from the water, but it scares me to think someone killed her out here…” I trail off with a choked cry and take a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“I did,” Mama says softly.

Landry rocks forward. “What did you say?”

I put a hand on Landry's shoulder and press him back in the rocker. The fact that he lets me raises my eyebrows a notch. “Mama, what do you mean? Did what?”

“You stayed over at Maggie's house some months ago. Lainey came to me that night. Poor girl was desperate. She begged for my help. Said she'd heard I knew spells.”

I cross my arms and snort. “Bah…spells? That's
crazy
.”

“Any crazier than ghosts, Mala?”

“Yeah, okay, maybe ghosts exist. They're made of energy, right…and Einstein said ‘Energy never dies, it just transforms.' I remember that from my physics class. But magic spells, there's no proof. It's all smoke and mirrors.” I lean toward her trying to get a whiff, but with Landry smelling like a bar, I can't tell if Mama's been spending time with her good friends, Jim Beam and Johnnie Walker.

“A spell is just an old-timey way of sayin' medicine.” Mama rocks back in the chair. Her gaze settles briefly on Landry then skitters to the roof. “It's just a concoction based on herbal remedies and years of tamperin' by the women in our family. Lainey wanted somethin' to knock loose the baby growin' in her belly.”

Landry groans like a cow being slaughtered. “A baby…oh God, Lainey.” His head drops into his trembling hands. “I had no idea.”

I want to hug the boy so bad my palms tingle. That's what you do when someone's in pain, but I'm not sure if he'd be open to being comforted by me. I pop my knuckles, processing what I've been told. “This doesn't make any sense. Why go to a ‘witch doctor' for an unwanted pregnancy? This isn't the Middle Ages.”

“Because our dad would've killed her if he ever found out,” Landry says. “And if she went to a clinic, he would've heard about it. His congregation pays close attention to those places.”

I chew on my lip, trying to figure out a delicate way of asking the question, before I finally just spit it out. “Did you do it, Mama? Give her something?”

“I did, but I don't know if she took it.”

E
nough! I can't do this.” Landry pushes out of the chair. He stumbles down the stairs, heading for his truck.

I run after him. “Wait, you're drunk. You'll kill yourself if you drive like this.” He fumbles, dropping his keys, and I grab them from off the ground. He spins and snatches for them, but I dance back.

“Don't. I'll call George Dubois to pick you up. You've got two choices: Wait here for him to take you home or have him arrest you on the road and cart your ass to jail. What's it gonna be?”

His fists clench. I rise on the balls of my toes, ready to dodge again.

“Fine, I'll wait. But keep away from me. I can't take any more.”

“You're the one who came for answers.”

“How can someone so pretty be so heartless? Can't you see this is killing me?” He turns and stalks off to the side of the house, leaving me staring after him as the word—
pretty
—flashes through my mind. I shake my head.
Landry thinks I'm pretty.

And heartless. Ouch.

A few chickens dodge his heels. I start to call out a warning about the rooster, but I'm afraid it might startle him. If he accidentally falls and breaks his neck, I'll have to explain how another dead Prince ended up on our property.

Landry walks far enough into the trees bordering the edge of our yard that he is out of earshot, but I can still keep an eye on him from the porch.

Mama comes back outside. “I called Dixie. George isn't far. He'll be here in about ten minutes.”

I cross my arms, feeling cold, and this has nothing to do with a spirit floating around me. This has to do with the lies my mother tells and me believing them. “I asked you the day I found Lainey's body if you'd ever seen her. You didn't answer.”

“Weren't none of your business. What she came to me for was private.”

I throw my hands in the air. “What if coming to you got her killed? Don't you get it? If anyone finds out what you did—”

“I didn't do anythin' wrong. Told the girl to go find the baby daddy and get money to take care of her problem. That's all.”

“But you said…”

“Said what? I didn't say that I gave her a potion. Just that I knew how to make one. I'm not stupid. Those spells are from back when women didn't have a choice but to go to a witch doctor to take care of an unwanted pregnancy. Half the time, the girls died from infection or blood loss. You think I'd wish that on some innocent girl or have her death on my hands?”

Guilt burns in my belly. “Oh, Mama, I'm sorry. I assumed when you said you gave her something…I'm stupid. I didn't think it would be advice.” We sit on the step, shoulder to shoulder. “Still, how would a preacher's kid know to ask you for help in the first place?”

“The girls told Lainey I can work mojo. They come begging for spells to help with protection, love, and luck.” Mama laughs and rolls her dark eyes when speaking of the other prostitutes who work out of the same motel she does. “They're pretty gullible, and I can't say no to making a dollar off of their stupidity.”

“How do you even know how to cast a spell?”

“Ever hear of Google? Lots of companies sellin' made-to-order hoodoo products, so I buy in bulk. Protection and luck oils and cleansin' crystals are my top sellers. I also make a mean mojo hand, but it ain't got no magic juice.” She sniffs. “Don't act all holier than thou. My side business helps to pay your college tuition.”

“So you're swindling a bunch of ignorant women with fake hoodoo products, and Lainey learned about you from the ‘girls'?” I frown. “Oh hell, Lainey was a prostitute?”

Mama laughs. “No baby, the girl wasn't no angel, but she didn't go in for my line of business. At least, she kept her clientele to one. Her Richie Rich boyfriend kept her a room at the motel so they had a private hookup spot. She didn't want her daddy finding out she wasn't as pure as he thought she was. 'Sides, he wouldn't of approved of her affair.”

I lean forward, trembling. “You know who the baby's daddy is? Don't you?” I grab onto her elbow and squeeze. “What's his name?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Come on, Mama. This guy might've killed Lainey. You've got to tell me, or would you rather George do the questioning?”

Mama jerks her arm free of my grasp. “Don't threaten to sic Georgie Porgie on me, girl. We're already neck deep in this shit, thanks to you dippin' your nose into somethin' that's none of your business. Lainey's man doesn't know I know who he is, and I plan on keepin' it that way. We don't need any more problems showin' up on our doorstep. You hear me?”

“But, Mama—”

“I ain't sayin' another word on the matter, and neither will you.”

I glance at Landry. He still remains upright. I'm not sure how he hasn't passed out yet. I finally have a clue to help him figure out who killed Lainey, but it's not enough. Mama won't budge on telling me the name. Even if it comes to a choice between jail and snitching on someone, she'll choose jail. She has before.

The crunch of wheels on gravel fills the air, and I stand. Mama beats a hasty retreat into the house, not wanting to be around when George arrives. I wait in the driveway, shuffling from foot to foot. It's been three days since I've seen him. When he steps out of the car, my breath sucks in. He looks exhausted. The shirt that had been snug at the beginning of the week hangs loose. Dark circles surround his cheerful green eyes.

“Hiya, Malaise. Heard you have a visitor that's not fit to drive?”

“Yeah, Landry Prince. He's worked up about his sister's
murder
,” I hiss the word, surprised at the anger churning inside me over not being informed of that bit of news.

George stabs his fingers through his hair, making the short ends stand up in copper spikes. “He knows about that?”

The guilt on his face fuels my exasperation. “Yeah, he accused me of killing Lainey and dumping her body in the swamp. Then fishing her out again, 'cause that's what murderers do, apparently. Why didn't you tell me that Lainey didn't kill herself or warn me that you told her family that I found her body?”

He lurches forward, so close I smell the fresh rain scent of fabric softener wafting from his shirt. His hands lift toward me, but he lets them drop to his sides. “Did Landry hurt you?”

“I'm fine. See, not a mark on me,” I say, glossing over the incident. “But he freaked me out. Course he has a right to be upset. I don't get it. The cuts on her arms…”

“I'm not allowed to talk about the case, Mala.”

“But
he
knows.” I point at the still form across the yard.

George's eyes fall on Landry, and his fists clench. “Yeah, but I didn't tell the family. It must've been Sheriff Keyes. He's been working double time to head off trouble. Reverend Prince isn't happy with how our investigation is going. I'm afraid he might take justice into his own hands.”

“Oh, like Landry tried to do? I should've gotten a heads-up or something.”

“I'll collect Landry and warn him to keep away from you.” George starts in Landry's direction, but I grab his arm.

“Don't be too hard on him. He's upset. Turns out his sister was pregnant. Have you checked out the baby's father?”

George spins and grabs my shoulders. “Pregnant? What do you mean?”

“Like Baby on Board. What? You didn't know?”

“No, the autopsy report hasn't come out yet, but preliminary findings didn't suggest…” His eyes light up. “God, this changes everything. A pregnancy could be a proper motive. What if the baby's father murdered Lainey to rid himself of her secret?”

“He makes a great suspect.”

George laughs and pulls me into a bear hug. He squeezes all of the air out of my lungs. My heart pounds. It makes me uncomfortable. My gaze darts over to Landry and I flush, seeing him watching us with an empty expression.

“You're suffocating me,” I whisper, wriggling to free myself from his constrictive embrace.

He relaxes his hold. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Damn, it seems that's all I ever do when I'm around you anymore.”

“No, I—”
I'm just embarrassed.

“Look, I'm sorry for not warning you about the Princes. I'll keep Landry away. Just be careful. If anyone finds out that you know about the pregnancy—well, it could put you at risk. This guy killed once to cover up his secret. By finding her body, you brought her into the light, and now he'll be scrambling to cover his tracks.”

I nod, not promising him anything. This situation with Lainey has more twists than a pretzel, and I'm smack dab in the middle of it.

He brushes the back of his hand across my cheek. “You did good, girl. Don't worry. I'll be watching out for you.”

I hand over Landry's keys. As George walks over to Landry, a chill replaces the heat of his presence, and I rub away the goose bumps that rise on my arm. When he reaches the grieving boy's side, he lays a gentle hand on his back. They exchange a few words. Then Landry weaves his way toward the patrol car. George speeds up to reach his car first and opens the door. Landry bends to crawl inside then groans. He falls to his knees, grabs a flowerpot sitting beside the tire, and throws up.

“Oh, Landry, not in my geraniums.” I rush to his side. The poor plant already droops from the last time Mama vomited in it. I've got to remember to move the pot out of the danger zone.

George stands on the far side of his car. “Sorry, Mala. If I get too close, I'll start puking myself.”

“Thanks a lot. What am I supposed to do?”

George shrugs.

Deserted. Crap!
I kneel beside Landry and hesitantly lay a hand on his shoulder. When he doesn't pull away, I rub his back in a slow circle. He shakes with each heave. And the smell, boy oh boy, does it smell rank. I shuffle a little closer until he can lean on me for support and brush the dangling tendrils of his hair behind his ears so they don't get coated in vomit. Finally, when everything in his stomach fills the flowerpot, he turns toward me. His head lowers onto my lap and his arms circle my waist.

I throw my hands up in the air, not sure where to place them. “Uh, Georgie, a little help, please.”

George comes over and wraps his hands around Landry's waist and tries to lift him—not sure why he thinks that will work without cooperation, given Landry's size. And Landry isn't cooperating. He seems content to nest in my lap. When George pulls on him, his arms tighten around my waist.

“Landry, let her go,” George yells right into the softly snoring boy's ear.

I sit there, afraid to move.

“Mala, give him a push.”

“But he might fall over.”

“Do you want to babysit him all night?” George snaps.

Landry grunts. His head turns, and an eyelid slides open to reveal a bloodshot eye. “I don't need a babysitter,” he mumbles. “Just a little dizzy.”

“See, he's dizzy, Georgie. Be nice. He's under a lot of stress.” I gently pat Landry on the head, and he rubs his bristly chin against my leg with a deep sigh.

George's face flames scarlet, and a vein pulses in his forehead. “We're all under a lot of stress. I'm supposed to be on patrol. How do you think the sheriff would take it if he found out about this?”

“Georgie, you're doing a good thing. Calm down.”

“I
am
calm,” he yells, running his hand through his hair. “Look at him. How am I supposed to explain to his grieving parents how he got in this condition? They've enough to deal with preparing for the funeral on Saturday. They don't need this worry.”

Landry shudders at his words. He rolls onto his backside and sits up. “Cut the yelling. I'm fine,
Deputy
George. My head's cleared up. I can drive.”

“Hell, no, you can't drive.” George grabs his arm. This time, Landry doesn't fight as George lifts him to his feet and half drags, half carries him to the car. He isn't gentle getting him inside either.

I follow behind, feeling guilty and not knowing why.

George turns and gives me a hard, lingering stare.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “I don't know how you manage to get me worked up.”

“But I didn't do anything.” I step closer, staring into his eyes. The moss green darkens with an undefined emotion. I clasp my hands together and take a deep breath to calm the surge of panic building inside me.

“Mala…I—” he begins, only to be cut off by the sound of Landry gagging. He rolls his eyes and offers me a tight grin. “I'd better go before I have to spend the rest of the night hosing out my car. You take care, all right?”

“Sure.” What I really want to ask is what he planned to say before he got interrupted. For some reason, I think it might…no, better let it go. “Be careful.”

Feeling confused, I watch the patrol car drive off. I hate that George is upset, and I think his frustration has more to do with me than with having to take care of Landry. I totally understand because I'm feeling the same way. The whole day has been a nightmare. Part of me wonders if I really woke up this morning.

After dragging out the hose and spraying out my flowerpot, part of the driveway, and my piss-soaked purse, I go inside. It's time for Mama and me to have a little chat. I have a bunch of unanswered questions about Lainey that only she can shed light on.

A battered suitcase waits in the entryway.

“Mama,” I call, shoving it aside so I can get through the door.

She comes out of her bedroom with a tote bag. “The boy's gone?”

“Yeah, but what's all this?”

“I called my great-auntie in New Orleans. I need to head down there tonight. I'll be back sometime tomorrow. You gonna be all right by your lonesome?”