Chapter 31
Dominga Salvador sat in her living room smiling. The little girl who had been riding her tricycle on my last trip here was sitting in her grandma's lap. The child was as relaxed and languorous as a kitten. Two older boys sat at Dominga's feet. She was the picture of maternal bliss. I wanted to throw up.
Of course, just because she was the most dangerous voodoo priestess I'd ever met didn't mean she wasn't a grandma, too. People are seldom just one thing. Hitler liked dogs.
"You are more than welcome to search, Sergeant. My house is your house," she said in a candy-coated voice that had already offered us lemonade, or perhaps iced tea.
John Burke and I were standing to one side, letting the police do their job. Dominga was making them feel silly for their suspicions. Just a nice old lady. Right.
Antonio and Enzo were also standing to one side. They didn't quite fit this picture of grandmotherly bliss, but evidently she wanted witnesses. Or maybe a shootout wasn't out of the question.
"Mrs. Salvador, do you understand the possible implications of this search?" Dolph said.
"There are no implications because I have nothing to hide." She smiled sweetly. Damn her.
"Anita, Mr. Burke," Dolph said.
We came forward like props in a magic show. Which wasn't far off. A tall police officer had the video camera ready to go.
"I believe you know Ms. Blake," Dolph said.
"I have had the pleasure," Dominga said.
Butter wouldn't have melted in her lying mouth.
"This is John Burke."
Her eyes widened just a little. The first slip in her perfect camouflage. Had she heard of John Burke? Did the name worry her? I hoped so.
"So glad to meet you at last, Mr. John Burke," she said finally.
"Always good to meet another practitioner of the art," he said.
She bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment. At least she wasn't trying to pretend complete innocence. She admitted to being a voodoo priestess. Progress..
It was obscene for the godmother of voodoo to be playing the innocent.
"Do it, Anita," Dolph said. No preliminaries, no sense of theater, just do it. That was Dolph for you.
I took a plastic bag out of my pocket. Dominga looked puzzled. I pulled out the gris-gris. Her face became very still, like a mask. A funny little smile curled her lips. "What is that?"
"Come now, Señora," John said, "do not play the fool. You know very well what it is."
"I know that it is a charm of some kind, of course. But do the police now threaten old women with voodoo?"
"Whatever works," I said.
"Anita," Dolph said.
"Sorry." I glanced at John, and he nodded. I sat the gris-gris on the carpet about six feet from Dominga Salvador. I had had to take John's word on a lot of this. I had checked some of it over the phone with Manny. If this worked and if we could get it admitted into court, and if we could explain it to the jury, then we might have a case. How many ifs was that?
The gris-gris just sat there for a moment, then the finger bones rippled as if an invisible finger had ruffled them.
Dominga lifted her granddaughter from her lap and shooed the boys over to Enzo. She sat alone on the couch and waited. The strange little smile was still on her face, but it looked sickly now.
The charm began to ooze towards her like a slug, pushing and struggling with muscles it did not have. The hairs on my arms stood to attention.
"You recording this, Bobby?" Dolph asked.
The cop with the video camera said, "I'm getting it. I don't fucking believe it, but I'm getting it."
"Please, do not use such words in front of the children," Dominga said.
The cop said, "Sorry, ma'am."
"You are forgiven." She was still trying to play the perfect hostess while that thing crawled towards her feet. She had nerve. I'd give her that.
Antonio didn't. He broke. He strode forward as if he meant to pluck the thing from the rug.
"Don't touch it," Dolph said.
"You are frightening my grandmother with your tricks," he said.
"Don't touch it," Dolph said again. This time he stood. His bulk seemed to fill the room. Antonio looked suddenly small and frail beside him.
"Please, you are frightening her." But it was his face that was pale and covered with a sheen of sweat. What was ol' Tony in such a fret about? It wasn't his ass going to jail.
"Stand over there," Dolph said, "now, or do we have to cuff you?"
Antonio shook his head. "No, I . . . I will go back." He did, but he glanced at Dominga as he moved. A quick, fearful glance. When she met his eyes, there was nothing but rage in them. Her black eyes glittered with rage. Her face was suddenly contorted with it. What had happened to strip the act away? What was going on?
The gris-gris made its painful way to her. It fawned at her feet like a dog, rolling on the toes of her shoes in abandon like a cat who wants its belly rubbed.