The Seer Renee (16 page)

"The first rule in business is
to get the customer's attention." She laughed and sat.

"I’m sure you’ll be successful
at that.” I grinned. “Is there anything specific you would like to know?"

She pursed her lips for a second
then laughed.

"Whether it's going to be a
great vacation or a fantastic one. I don't often get the chance to mix business
and pleasure."

"All right. Let's look. Place
your hands on the table, palms down." I mimicked the position I wanted.
When she did, I placed mine over hers. I was confused as to what she considered
vacation, pleasure, and business after just a few days. As I had suspected, she
had frequent sex—two and occasionally three times a night—for
money. During the day, she did a little sightseeing, ate at good restaurants,
had her hair and nails done, and had a massage twice during the week. Good to
her word, she left four weeks later. The only strange part was she was staying
at the Canal Street condos where Jim, Ron, and Grace lived. Probably a friend's
condo, but I never saw anyone there when she was there with a customer or
alone. "Well, it looks like you are going to party long and hard, relax in
the day, win a few bucks at Harrah's, and overall have a really good time. I
don't see you meeting anyone you'd want to bring home to mother," I said
absently mindedly. She choked, then roared with laughter.

"Fat chance. The ones worth
having are already taken; the ones available aren't worth having." She
laughed again and dropped two twenties and a ten on the table. I couldn't help
but like her. Besides her stunning figure, I could see why men would be instantly
attracted.

"Can I have another
appointment for the next couple of Tuesdays?" she asked as she was getting
ready to leave. "This was fun."

"Sure. Same time next week and
the week after if you want." I wasn't sure why she wanted another telling.
It hardly seemed worth the fifty dollars, but if she thought it worthwhile, who
was I to look a gift horse in the mouth—
strange saying.

* * *

Wednesday and Thursday dragged by
as there were few customers. Fortunately, my website was doing well with the
new packaged herbal remedies I had added. I sat pushing my sausage gumbo dinner
around the plate, hoping Jim would call and then that he wouldn't. If I hadn't
become fond of him, I would have ended it cleanly. But I was fond of him, too fond,
and had taken the coward's way out by pushing the decision onto him. It was a
good thing that Ellen had a seven o'clock appointment tonight because I had to
drag myself out of my swamp of self-pity and get ready for her.

She arrived a few minutes early and
looked in good spirits, dressed in expensive looking beige slacks, an orange
silk blouse, and sandals, when I opened the door for her.

"Good evening, Mambo Renee.
You look well. I heard some rumors about trouble in the French Quarters,
involving some of the Voodoo shop owners and someone being kidnapped. Were you
involved?"

"Yes. Do you have time for
something to drink? You look like you're headed somewhere."

"I am, but I have time and
would like to hear what happened. Coffee, if you don't mind," she said
following me back into my living area.

"Apparently, there was a group
who decided the Voodoo shops were not the image they wanted for the French
Quarter and hired some bikers to cause trouble..." I went on to tell her
about the murder and firebombing and kidnapping, although I left out a lot of
the details. I normally wouldn't have told her anything except what she could
have found in the newspapers, but I felt a strange connection with her.

"It's funny. Before meeting
you, I would have sympathized with that group thinking Voodoo a lot of cult
fantasy. But I've done a lot of reading. You’re actually a misunderstood
minority that has been slandered by the movie industry. And I got to know you,
who I would stake up against any clergy of any religion."

"Thank you. That is very kind.
And thank you for the money you left me. It wasn't necessary, but thank
you."

"You got me a promotion. I'm
now a vice-president and in charge of marketing," she quipped. "You
saved my life. I don't totally understand, but I think it involved great risk
on your part. If you ever need anything—money, connections,
help—don't hesitate to call me. If it's within my power, it's
yours."

"Thank you again. Well, let's
see what good things are in store for you in the future, although a promotion
to Vice-president is going to be hard to top," I said as I cleared the
table, and she repositioned her hands, palms down. I covered them and watched
the days fly by. She enjoyed her new position and went on several trips out of
state. She looked like her bosses were pleased with her trips. She went out a
couple of time with girlfriends, but seemed to be avoiding dates she could
easily have had. "Looks like you are doing well in your new job, your
bosses seem pleased, and you’re traveling more out of state. And the opera
tonight looks like fun."

"Simple and
straightforward." She smiled. "I'll bet you could describe the women I'm
going to the opera with down to what they will be wearing." She held up a
hand. "I prefer not to know the details. I don't really want to know about
the future, unless it is something bad I can avoid. Can you see your
future?"

"No. Not one minute
ahead."

"A dangerous gift from the Loa...God,
Mambo Renee," she said as she rose. I nodded.

* * *

Thankfully, Friday was a reasonably
busy day and I didn't bother closing for lunch. I had just locked the door at
five o'clock, when the phone rang.

"Mambo Eshe's," I
answered.

"You asked I not call you for
at least three to four days. It has been four days eight hours and ten minutes,
but who's counting?” His voice seemed to mix laughter with a little insecurity.
“Having demonstrated super-human will power in not calling sooner, I was hoping
you’d like to reward me with your presence when you're free."

"Well, I've learned something
about the crazy man who is interested in marrying me—he has super-human
will power, and you learned something about me—I'm selfish and have no
will power. I should have told you never to call me again. But to answer your
question, I'm free tonight and tomorrow after five, and all day Sunday and Monday."

"I'll be right over," he
said, and the phone connection ended with a click.

I sat looking at the phone trying
to decide whether I was ecstatic or depressed now that he had decided to keep
pursuing me. I decided I would make the most of whatever time I had left. Maybe
it was a good thing I couldn't see my future. For now, I would enjoy Jim and my
friends' company and continue to help those I could. That decided, I washed and
dressed, although that turned out unnecessary, as we spent the evening in bed
making love—several times.

"Good evening, Mr.
Willis," Sheila said, sounding pleased. She felt like a cat with a fat
mouse under her paw.

"Well, what is the latest on
the people you and Harold are watching? We have to make a decision within the
next couple of weeks. The client is getting...anxious. That could force us to
act prematurely and—"

"And that could have
unpleasant consequences. Yes, I understand. I have taken some rather expensive
steps to preclude that undesirable outcome," Sheila said, enjoying the
intrigue. Necessary, if she were to increase her
reward
for her participation.

"What kind of steps?"
Willis asked hesitantly.

"I've had Harold watching
Oatha and Bishop, although her new boyfriend, and old friend Ron and his wife,
are potentially better targets. Especially, Jim Douglas, who has become her
lover. The problem is the target must be someone whose future she is likely to
know. Oatha and Bishop qualify as they have regular fortunetelling sessions
with her. Oatha is a good candidate as Renee has known her for a long time, and
she's a member of her congregation. But they don't see her every week, so it
could take a month or more to set something up." Sheila intentionally
paused, awaiting a reaction.

"Yes, I understand the problem
that our time constraints are causing."

"And of course, there are the
unknowns," Sheila said. "We believe she has to have physical contact
to see the person's future. Can she control that reaction? For example, while
Jim is fucking her can she see his future? Can she see her own? The answer to
those questions could determine the success or failure of the test."

"And you have a
solution?" Willis's voice held a slight hint of amusement. "For which
you would like to be compensated."

"Yes. I've hired a woman who
is paying Mambo Renee to tell her fortune once each week—"

"Won't Renee get suspicious,
especially if she sees this woman talking to you? She knows you."

"I'm not stupid, Mr. Willis. I
hired the woman through a friend. The woman is pretending to be in town on a
business vacation, which she is. She's being paid to be in New Orleans
explicitly to have Mambo Renee tell her fortune and is otherwise free to do
whatever she wants on a very generous expense account."

"I don't see how that helps
us."

"The first two sessions, Renee
will only see her activities, which, knowing this woman, will be XXX rated. The
third week she will witness three murders on consecutive days: Jim Douglas, Ron
Casey, and Grace Casey." Sheila smiled at the silence on the other end.
Eventually Willis spoke.

"Yes. That is very creative
and a test only a psychopath could ignore. You've earned a bonus. How does
three million plus expenses sound?"

"Like someone who appreciates
good help. I’ll make the necessary arrangements."

"Call me when you have them made."

* * *

Willis sat back feeling relaxed for
the first time in weeks. Nightly calls from Mr. Black were stressful,
especially since he had more questions than answers until tonight. He had to
pretend the situation was under control, but he hadn't fooled Black. He was
looking forward to tonight's call. In anticipation, he opened a three thousand
dollar bottle of Vosne Romanee and lit a five and a half La Corona cigar.
Taking a long satisfying drag, he could imagine himself on one of the Hawaii
islands, maybe Oahu, sitting on a lanai with a private beach but close to the
city nightlife. Or maybe... His thoughts were interrupted when his monitor lit
with a smiley face inside a black square.

"Good evening, Mr. Willis. You
appear to have good news. That's good. I'm afraid this venture is like Evel Knievel
jumping the Snake River Canyon. A one-time proposition—success or
failure.

Willis shuddered. As he recollected,
Evel failed to make the jump. Although he survived, Willis was sure that didn't
apply to this one time proposition. "Yes, my agent has designed a test
that will provide the absolute proof we are looking for."

"Which one of her friends have
you selected?"

"That is the beauty of it, Mr.
Black. Jim's her lover," Willis said and intentionally paused savoring the
exchange.

"What if she chooses to ignore
the threat?"

"Then her college friend, Ron
Casey."

"And?" Black laughed.

"His FBI wife, Grace, who is
also a friend of Renee."

"That is creative, Mr. Willis.
But how are you going to ensure she knows they are in danger without alerting
her to our involvement? You’re not grasping at straws, hoping she will know one
of their futures."

"Renee has a fortunetelling
session with the witness to all three murders." Willis gave Black a brief
salute with his glass before taking a satisfying sniff and a drink. Black was
quiet for several minutes.

"Clever, but... Once she
realizes all three are going to die if she chooses to do nothing, she will
realize we are involved. A simple solution is to kill herself, which is not a
successful conclusion for us." Black's voice held a dangerous tone.

"No. Her three friends will
die in that event. Given she can see the future, she will know suicide won't
save her friends. She must take action to stop us and provide you with an
opportunity to...talk to her."

"For her friends' sake, let's
hope she can see the future." Black laughed. "I congratulate you and
your people. The plan sounds workable. I want you and your people to allow her
to stop each of the attempts on her friends’ lives, but under no circumstances
are you to approach her. She will be my responsibility."

"What if she attempts to
commit suicide afterward?"

"The fools took the wrong
approach with her grandmother. Your involvement will end after she has passed
or failed the test. The sheriff has given me a unique insight into Mambo
Renee." Black's smiley face disappeared.

Willis sat for a long time thinking
about the exchange with Black. He shuddered at the thought of Black tasked with
getting information from him. He pitied Renee and her friends.

I woke to a kiss on the cheek, then
the neck, then the breast...then passionate love making...then a joint shower
and more kisses...

"I have a shop to open for
business and don't you have patients or rounds, or..." I asked as we
dressed.

"Unfortunately, I do. But time
with you is more important than breakfast—"

"You mean sex—"

"Wasn't that spending time
with you?" He laughed. "I'll eat a big lunch. When can I see you
again?" he asked as he buttoned his shirt and buckled his belt.

"Call or come over anytime you
want," I said. Why pretend? My noble intentions had gone out the window.
He wasn't interested in leaving, and I had given up trying to push him away.

"I want to see a lot of you,
Renee, but I'll give you all the space you need." He kissed my nose and
hurried out the door. I stood shaking my head, hoping my selfishness didn't
bring harm to him. He was a kind, gentle man and deserved a good life. I wanted
to scream, break things, stick pins in one of my dolls. Of course, I didn't
have any essences of the people who were causing my problems, and if I did, I
doubted the Loa would approve. I sat, emptying my mind in quiet prayer. When I
opened my eyes, I felt better, made a cup of coffee, and sat with a bowl of
cereal. I couldn't control the actions of the men after me; I could only
control my actions—and those would not help them achieve their goal.

* * *

It was a good day, with a fair
number of customers to keep me busy and provide sufficient sales to justify
opening for business. Around four, my cell rang. I smiled, thinking it Jim, but
was surprised to see it was Ellen's number.

"Ellen, how are you?"

"I'm fine, but... I know you
don't want me recommending you for fortunetelling, but... I have a longtime
friend... She's not in the kind of trouble I had, but she has been depressed
for months, and it’s getting worse. I thought maybe..."

"I'm not a psychologist. She
may well have a good reason to be depressed."

"I know. And I know I shouldn't
be asking you to risk..."

"It's alright. Pay for a
session with me and tell her it's for her amusement. Tell her that I made you
feel good. But understand, I won't tell you what I see or don't see," I
said, feeling my arm tingle as if the Loa agreed with my decision. I had
pursued being a mambo because I wanted to help people. That help shouldn't be
restricted to my congregation or people's beliefs or...

"Thank you. I trust you will
do what you can. That's all I ask. If it's all right, I'll bring her over but won’t
stay. It'll be part of a girls’ night out. I'll call you back to set up a day
and time. Thank you." She cut the connection.

Jim called two hours later.
"Would you be interested in dinner, tonight?"

"I might be if I don't have to
dress up, and it isn't too expensive. I'd enjoy the company and not having to
cook. How about the Cajun Café. It's close, reasonable prices, and good food.”

"Pick you up around
seven-thirty or eight?"

"Whenever you can make
it."

* * *

"Well, Doctor Douglas, how was
your day?" I asked, as we shared a crème bruleé for dessert over coffee.

"A rather slow day at the ER even
for a day-time shift—a few cuts and sprains, a couple of stomach viruses,
and a whiplash from a car accident. How about your day, Mambo Renee?"

"A typical Friday in a Voodoo
shop. Mostly tourists from out of state looking for souvenirs from N’Orleans,
and a few looking for herbal remedies. In fact, my website is doing very well
with them. I think I should advertise that more in my shop."

"A perfect day then," Jim
said to my surprise. "We helped a few people, are healthy, and
together."

I took his hand in mind and
squeezed. "Yes. Perfect." Like me, he was dedicated to helping people,
and when he did, that made it a good day.

* * *

Ellen called the next morning as
Jim was at the door getting ready to leave. I stopped him with a shake of my
head, anticipating she wanted to arrange for a session with her friend, and I
couldn't have Jim present any more than he could have me in a room with one of
his patients.

"Could you do it tonight? I
know—"

"It's all right, Ellen. I
understand. What time?"

"Between seven and
eight?"

"Yes, I will see you then,"
I said, and heard her sigh with obvious relief.

"Complications?" Jim
asked, looking concerned.

"Kind of like if you got
called in on an emergency. A woman who I helped a while back is concerned about
her friend and would like me to talk to her...under the pretense of a
fortunetelling session. She's very concerned for her friend."

"I understand, Renee. Doctors
and priests have an obligation that takes priority." He walked over and
kissed me on the cheek. "What time?"

"Tonight between seven and
eight. It shouldn't be longer than an hour, probably less," I said with a
shrug.

"I could pick you up
afterward, or you could have a free night. I'm free Sunday, if you are."

"What if I call you when I'm
done? Then we can decide."

"Good idea. It's Saturday and
I may not be able to get away when my shift ends." He gave me a long
tender kiss before waving goodbye. I finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes,
dressing, and preparing to open the shop. Thankfully, the day was busy, and it
was closing time before I realized it. I stayed open another half hour to
accommodate a few last minute shoppers. Since I didn't know when Ellen and her
friend would show, I quickly heated a can of soup, washed, and dressed in a
white head wrap and long flared gown, which gave me the traditional mambo and
fortuneteller look most expected.

It was near eight when there was a
knock at the door. When I answered, it was Ellen and a woman a couple of inches
shorter, dressed casually in light brown slacks and a short-sleeved orange
pullover top.

"Vicky, this is Mambo Renee. A
real priestess of the Vodou religion," Ellen said as they entered, and I
closed the door. Vicky looked to have had a couple of drinks, and she gave a
shy giggle.

"Please to meet you...Mambo
Renee. Can you really tell fortunes?"

"No"—Ellen
frowned—"But together we can ask the Loa...the equivalent of saints
in the Catholic religion. Sometimes they let me have a peek into the near future."

"How near?" She suddenly
looked interested.

"Come, let's find out." I
looked to Ellen.

"I'll come back in an hour,
Vicky. Fortunes are personal."

"No. Stay. Please," Vicky
grabbed Ellen’s hand to stop her from leaving.

"Mambo Renee insists her
clients be alone since she doesn't know what she will see," Ellen said.

"I don't have any secrets from...you,
Ellen," she said with a slight pause.

"Vicky, we all have secrets.
That's not a bad thing. Many things are private and must be guarded until the
time is right. Come. Let’s see what the Loa feel like revealing tonight. You
can always tell Ellen all about it afterward." I took her hand and led her
to my table, as Ellen quietly left. "Place your hands on the table palms
down like this," I said, indicating the position. Reluctantly, she did.

"Ellen thinks very highly of
you. And she's worried about me." Her eyes misted at the words. I placed
my hands over hers and watched the days, weeks, and months roll by. It was
immediately obvious that Vicky had breast cancer. Every night she would stand
in front of the mirror examining her breast. Afterward, she would take to
drinking which grew worse as time sped by. As I watched, her home business
began to fail, and she turned to prescription drugs. Unfortunately, I couldn't
see into the past which was certainly relevant to the current behavior. Then it
dawned on me. Like me, Vicky was self-employed and probably couldn't afford
health insurance. So, no mammograms, no yearly physicals, no time off work for
hospitals, no money for expensive medical treatments, etc. Not seeing a way
out, she was now frozen into inaction and a world of despair. Vicky jerked me
back from my thoughts.

"What's wrong!" Her voice
rose and tears appeared in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Vicky. I was
thinking about what I saw. Put your hands back, please." When she did I
covered them again. "You have a very dark cloud hanging over you. I see
you frozen under it. If you do not move, the storm's winds, rain, and lighting
will continue to pound on you until you are nothing."

"What can I do? I have nowhere
to go!" she said, her voice near hysteria. She tried to pull her hands
away, but I held firm.

"Your secret is keeping you
frozen. Share it and you will be able to move. It won't make the storm go away,
but you may survive." I was gambling that Ellen would help if she knew
Vicky's problem. She sat quiet for a long time, and I could feel her future
shifting chaotically as she worked through alternatives. Finally, she decided
to tell Ellen. When she did, her future steadied, and I watched Ellen take
charge. I stopped around three months as Vicky's life came under control, and
she was getting treatment. My Loa gifts felt like they had come alive, and I
could have gone further. But then what if I saw something else bad happening? I
could get lost in Vicky's life trying to make it perfect. No. My gift was to
help, not to play God.

Feeling that Ellen was probably waiting
nearby, I rose and went and opened the door leading to the street, while Vicky
composed herself. I laughed. Ellen was standing talking to Jim.

"We're done, so you two can
come in," I said, smiling. But before they could get to the door, Vicky joined
me.

"Thank you, Mambo Renee,"
she said. "You're right. We all have secrets that we guard until the time
is right, and maybe that time is now." She surprised me by giving me a hug
and turned to Ellen. "Well, my tour guide, where to now?"

Ellen stood there in shock for a
moment before she grabbed Vicky’s hand. "I know this club where the men
are hot...and rich," she said. "Mambo Renee has already landed the
good looking Doctor Douglas. Nice to have met you, Jim. Thank you, Mambo
Renee." She waved as the two walked off arm-in-arm talking.

 
"That's a classy lady," Jim
said, watching them walk away.

"Classy, huh?" I put my
hands on my hips, trying to look angry.

"Yes, and almost as gorgeous
as you." He grabbed me in a bear hug and lifted me off my feet. "What
would my dazzling companion like to do? Late dinner? Movie? Watch TV?"

"Let's go to your place. I
don't have a TV." I laughed. "Let me change. We can pick up a pizza
or something on the way there."

* * *

"Ellen said her friend was
very depressed, and she was worried about her as it seemed to be getting worse.
So she had coerced her into a girls-night out and thought a fortunetelling
session would be good fun for her since she had never gone to one before,"
I explained as we sat on the couch listing to love songs of the seventies.

 
"Sounded plausible...except, why
would you bring a person who was depressed to a fortuneteller unless you
expected that person to make up a bright future. That person would be a fake
and not you. And I'd wager Ellen has been to see you. She doesn't impress me as
the kind of woman who visits fortunetellers and certainly not for
amusement."

"You’re very suspicious,
Doctor Douglas." I punched him on the arm.

"I know you've said you can't
talk about what you see when you tell someone’s fortune. I’m just trying to
understand the woman I'm in love with."

"Yes. Ellen has been to see me
before, and she felt what I saw helped her. She was hoping I could see
something that would help her friend."

"Does knowing about the
future, help someone?" he asked, eyes looking down deep in thought.
"If you knew you were going to die in six months, I guess knowing may help
you get things in place for your loved ones or spend it all in one last luxury
trip around the world." He laughed, then sobered. "Now if you knew
you had a choice, X or Y, and you knew the consequences of X and Y..." He
looked hard at me for a long time, then shook his head as if that would clear
it of the thought.

"I think I remember a science fiction
book like that once," I said, wanting to change the subject. He was
getting dangerously close to things I didn't want to discuss, and I didn't want
to lie to him—of course, I would.

"That's an interesting
question. Is the future predetermined? Is there nothing we can do to change it,
or is it determined by our actions? I hope the later. I tell smokers all the
time to quit or they’ll develop lung cancer. Are those who get lung cancer predetermined
to get it no matter what they do? If so, I'm wasting my breath." He
laughed. I decided we needed to get off the current subject so I threw my arms
around his neck, pushed him backward onto the couch, and began serious kissing
and rubbing. It had the desired effect. Men were so easily distracted.

* * *

We spent Sunday at the Museum of Art, eating out, and getting to know
each other. On Monday, we visited the Aquarium of Americas, ate lunch out, but
had to end the day short as Jim had the evening shift. It was a pleasant two
days and, we had a chance to get to know each other better. I was sure the
bad men
hadn't forgotten me, but I was
in a meaningful relationship that was helping me keep from falling into the
same dark place Vicky had retreated. I sought the comfort of the Loa and fell
asleep at peace.

The next three days were a blissful normal. Opened the shop at nine a.m.,
talked with customers, cooked my own dinner, read some of Granny's notes,
listened to music, and retired to bed. I was glad Jim hadn't called. True to
his word, he was giving me space—or maybe being sneaky and giving me time
to miss him. I smiled.