Voodoo, Lies, and Murder (9 page)

"And what do you make of him?" I asked. "I think he knows more about Chantal's disappearance than he's letting on."

"The day after she disappeared he was at work and the police came to question him. I was trying to listen in on the conversation, but he took them up to his office. When he came back down, he was pretty shaken up. He's been very quiet and withdrawn ever since."

"Has he talked about Chantal to any of the staff?"

"No. They're all avoiding him because they don't know what to say to him."

I pulled out a copy of the love letter from my rucksack and handed it to Dad. "Can you rummage around in his office and find out if he's got the same handwriting as this letter? I need to know if he sent it or not."

Dad took the letter and read it. "No problem." He took a big mouthful of coffee and swallowed, thoughtfully. "So, what's Nicole Langton like? I heard she's into voodoo. Do you think it's got anything to do with Chantal disappearing?"

"I'm not sure yet." I told him about Liza Bennet's disappearance, too.

"God, their mothers must be worried sick." Mum shook her head. "Poor things."

"I've got a feeling that Nicole only uses her spells and potions and stuff for good things, but her sister Marie apparently does black magic."

Mum did a mock shiver. "Like sacrifices?"

I nodded. "Maybe."

Dad glanced out the window, a look of concentration on his face. "You remember that boy that was found mutilated in the Thames in 2001 in some kind of black magic killing? They never found out who he was. He was known only as Adam. Since then there've been a lot more ritual killings. All of them unsolved."

I nodded, swallowing back a lump in my throat. It was too horrible to even think about.

"Nicole said Chantal hadn't had anything to do with Marie, but I found a business card for Marie's son, Dr. Andrew Scott, hidden in Chantal's bedroom, so they had some kind of connection."

"Well, if you need any help, just ask," Dad said as someone rang the doorbell.

Sabre ran out into the hall and started barking at the front door.

"Why does Sabre always assume it's for him when someone rings the bell?" I asked Mum.

A few minutes later, Dad came into the kitchen with my sister Suzy, closely followed by Sabre, who was sniffing her ass.

Suzy was a psychiatrist who always tried to overanalyze everyone. She was so serious it was unbelievable, which was so weird because Mum, Dad, and I weren't like that at all. In fact, if you could take a degree in seriousness, Suzy would have a double honors. I secretly thought that she must've been the milkman's or switched at birth. Immaculately dressed, as always, in a beige trouser suit, she rested her Gucci clutch bag on the island and smiled at us all one by one. "Hello, I was just passing and thought I'd pop in." She twisted around to Sabre, whose nose was still attached to the back of her trousers, and tried to swat him away. "Sabre! Stop it!" she yelled, grabbing some kitchen roll and wiping off the slobber from her clothes.

Sabre's ears pricked up and, for once, he sat obediently. I wondered if she spoke to her patients in the same way.

Bumping her shoulder with mine, which she hated, I said, "Hey, sis, how's it going?"

She glanced at her shoulder and wiped that as well. For a psychiatrist, she had some major issues going on. Mind you, how could you be around all that craziness and not have it rub off on you?

"Not too bad, thanks. How about you?" She studied me carefully. "Working on a new case?"

I nodded.

"Anyone trying to kill you yet?" She tilted her head.

"Not yet. I'm kind of missing that. It's makes life so boring." I grinned.

"You actually like it when people are after you?" Suzy said. "I don't understand you at all."

"Hey, that makes six of us, then," I said.

"Six?" Suzy asked.

"Yep, me and the five other voices in my head."

"I was just telling her to set the wedding date," Mum butted in.

Extraordinary eye rolling by me.

"Yes." Suzy raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Let's talk about that."

"Let's not," I said.

"I hear what you're saying." Suzy raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "You're scared of committing to Brad in case he runs off and leaves you again, and you get hurt so badly for a second time."

"That's weird, because I'm sure I didn't just say any of that."

"You don't need to say it. I know you."

"Oh, God, here we go with the psychoanalyzing babble," I groaned.

Suzy rested her hand on her hip. "You know, there's a famous saying: 'Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.'"

"Nice." I nodded. "Who said that, Oprah?"

"
Buddha!
" Suzy sighed. "It means—"

"I know what it means," I said. "There's another famous saying, too: 'Eats, shoots, and leaves.'"

"That's a book," Suzy said.

I shrugged. "Whatever." I looked at Dad to help me get her off my back.

He just raised his eyebrows sympathetically. If Suzy was doing her psycho stuff on me, it meant she wasn't doing it on him.

I pointed at Dad's Burger Land uniform. "Look, Suzy, what do you make of Dad working in Burger Land?"

Suzy turned to Dad. "And how does that make you feel?"

Dad glared at me.

"Anyway, must dash. I think I left a salad in the oven," I said, grinning back.

"Amber, be careful, honey." Mum squeezed my arm.

I nodded. The only problem was that being careful didn't solve cases.

* * *

It was dark by the time I got back home. As I opened the door to the smell of garlic and spices, Marmalade trotted up to greet me.

"Hey, boy." I dumped my rucksack by the door, kicked off my boots, and scooped him up. "What did you get up to today?" I rubbed his head with my chin, wandering into the kitchen.

Marmalade yawned.

"Busy day, huh?"

He purred in response.

"Catching mice or stalking pussy?"

He meowed.

That could mean either.

"Hey, Foxy." Brad turned his attention from a pan of pasta he was stirring and grinned. It was the kind of lopsided, sexy grin that made me want to ravish him on the spot.

Whoa—down, girl!

Marmalade jumped out of my arms at the sight of some chopped-up bacon in his food bowl, tucking into it like he'd never been fed before.

"You're spoiling him. He'll get fat."

"The way to a woman's heart is through her pussy." He smirked.

I curled my fingers into his shirt and pulled him close. "Ooh, I like that idea." I reached up and kissed him. Pretty soon we were involved in some heavy-duty tongue action and the pasta made slopping noises as it bubbled over.

"Hold that thought." Brad winked. "Dinner first, bedroom after."

"I love it when you talk all forceful." I smiled, pulling out bowls for the pasta and pouring a couple of glasses of red wine. "But what a shame you cooked. I was so hoping to do the cooking tonight."

Brad gave me a disbelieving look. "The only thing you know how to cook is a frozen pizza, and even then you cook the plastic tray with it and melt it to the grill pan."

I feigned shock, even though I knew he was right. I could even manage to burn boiled eggs. Still, I considered that quite an achievement. It's not everyone who can do that. "No, that's not strictly true. I did attempt to cook you that chicken-liver casserole last month."

"Yes, which gave us both food poisoning."

I shrugged. "Well, it's the thought that counts."

"Exactly, so don't even think about it." Brad dished out spaghetti and carbonara sauce, sprinkling fresh parsley on top.

We sat at the breakfast bar and tucked in.

"So, I checked out the list of Chantal's friends. None of them have seen her in months." Brad expertly twirled some spaghetti around his fork and spoon. "After Liza went missing, she broke off contact with them. They said she started acting weird. She was withdrawn and depressed. They tried to get her to go out, and tried to cheer her up, but she wasn't interested."

"That ties in with what everyone else has been saying." I cut up my pasta into bite-sized pieces. Sod the twirling thing, it took too long. Plus, I'd end up with it all down my top. "Apparently, Liza was working on some big story when she went missing, but no one at the paper knew what it was. It's sounding more and more like Chantal must've found out something about what happened to her."

Brad nodded. "Sounds likely. I've got something to show you." He rested his fork and spoon on the side of his plate and walked out to the lounge. When he returned, he had a piece of paper in his hand. He placed it on the breakfast bar in front of me. "What do you make of this?"

There was a list of letters and numbers in the same handwriting that had scrawled
The Holbrook Clinic
on the back of Andrew's business card I'd found in Chantal's teddy bear:

MP - 28/01

DL - 15/02

CT - 01/03

EJ - 27/03

LS - 07875567893

"The numbers look like they could be dates. The letters could mean anything." I picked up my glass and swirled the wine around thoughtfully.

"I found it hidden in Chantal's apartment under a loose floorboard. There wasn't anything else of interest there."

"Codes for projects she was working on for her Dad? Passwords for something? People's initials?" I could go on forever. It could mean anything. "If it was hidden, then it had to be something pretty important. And I'm guessing it was to do with Liza." Then I had a light-bulb moment and did a mental head slap. "Wait a sec." I retrieved my rucksack from its resting place by the front door and brought it into the kitchen. Pulling out my notes, I read through them, then double-checked them against Chantal's list." I pointed to the number on the last line. "This is a phone number. Both Chantal and Liza phoned this number the day they disappeared."

"Interesting." Brad raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe this was one of Liza's sources for her story?"

"Maybe. Give the list to Hacker. He's good at cracking codes."

"Romeo said that the police examined Liza's phone records and all the people she called checked out apart from this number, which, as Hacker said, is an untraceable mobile. If Chantal listed that phone number next to the letters, maybe this is a list of people's initials. I think we need to get Hacker to check Liza's phone records, too, and see if we can compare it to this list."

A muscle in Brad's jaw pulsed at the mention of Romeo. "Good thinking. So what else did you find out?"

I filled him in on my day. "Steven Shaw is hiding something. He lied to me."

"You think he's involved in Chantal's disappearance?"

"Maybe. Dad's going to find out if the love letter is the same handwriting as Steven's." I paused for a bite of spaghetti. "Romeo told me that Alfie Cross, the guy running the opposition campaign to City Park Complex, didn't seem like the type of guy who would do anything physical to Chantal. He thinks painting slogans and organizing protest rallies is as far as it goes. His alibi checks out, too, so I guess we can cross him off our list of possible suspects. And apparently, Langton Developments are having financial troubles due to the recession. Another company, Sage Developments, were due to buy the plot for the City Park Complex and build apartments on it, but James Langton made a ridiculously high offer for it and beat them to it. Maybe there's some kind of rivalry thing going on."

"I heard that plot sold for four million pounds. A hefty price in this current climate," Brad said. "If he was having money problems, where did he stump up that kind of cash from?"

"My thoughts exactly. How's Hacker getting on looking into Langton's bank accounts?"

"He's still working on it. He's been trying to get into the Holbrook Clinic's computer system to find out what they do there, but their computers don't have much on it. It seems like they keep their files on a secure server elsewhere. He's still trying to crack it."

"Tomorrow I need to see Nicole's sister Marie and visit Andrew Scott at the Second Chance Clinic." I told Brad my thoughts about the unknown boy in the Thames and the escalation of weird ritual killings in the UK. "I'm not looking forward to it. What if she puts a hex on me and makes all my teeth fall out or something?" Maybe someone had already put some kind of love curse on me, which was why my love life was always such a big drama.

"You'd still look sexy to me." Brad grinned, reaching out and touching the corner of my lip. "You've got a little spot of carbonara sauce. Want me to lick it off?" He tilted his head, radiating heat like a furnace.

Hell yeah! I was feeling pretty hot myself. I didn't need asking twice.

"Morning!" I said to Hacker as I breezed into the office the next day. "Where's Tia?"

Hacker glanced up from one of his vast array of computer screens. "At the chemist."

"Is she okay?" I dumped my rucksack on my desk and plonked my ass in my chair.

"She's got a cold, but she's convinced someone's put a voodoo spell on her. She's dosing herself up on Beechams and paracetamol."

"Well, I've come up with a plan so that when I go and see Marie she doesn't put one on me."

"Go on." Hacker gave me a look, as if to say this should be interesting.

"Okay, Brad and I will go and visit her for a voodoo reading of our future. Then I'll just sneak in some questions about Chantal very casually. That way she won't know we're actually looking into Chantal's disappearance, just that we're concerned citizens or nosy parkers."

"Oh, she'll know."

"How will she know?"

 "Some of the things I've seen black magic bokors do in Haiti, you wouldn't believe."

"Well, that's the point, isn't it? Don't you have to believe in voodoo to get hexed? If I don't believe it, then she can't hex me. Right?" Well, that was what I was trying to convince myself of, anyway.

He shook his head gravely. "It doesn't matter. I've seen people who didn't believe in it die slow, painful deaths after they were cursed by a bokor. Deaths that had no explanation for them other than voodoo. She'll know everything you're thinking and everything about you."