Sulfur.
Elise was familiar with sulfur-a main ingredient in most root work.
She'd seen people on street comers selling wangas for much less, but a person had to be careful. Those supposed wangas could be filled with leaves and grass out of the backyard. Not the real thing, with no powers of protection. Wearing a fake wanga would be like driving with a faulty seat belt or defective air bag.Unfortunately, there were always vultures out there ready to make a buck on someone else's misfortune.
"How can people wear these?" Audrey made a face. "They smell awful."
"It's worth it if it makes you feel safe."
"Dad says this kind of stuff preys on people's fear."
"It's not always a bad thing for people to believe a bag of herbs will protect them," Elise said. "It gives them a feeling of control in a situation in which they have none."
Audrey tossed the charm back in the basket. "Thanks for the T-shirt, Mom." Audrey slipped the shirt with the puffer fish design over her tank top and they resumed their walk.
Elise reached into her pocket and pulled out the wanga she'd been carrying for the past several days.
Audrey stared at it. "Where'd you get that?"
"Strata Luna made it for me."
"She did?"
"Would you like it?"
Elise realized she might feel better if Audrey had the charm. It could offer her some protection.
Audrey picked it up and sniffed it. "It doesn't smell as bad, anyway."
"The herbs she used help cover up the sulfur."
Audrey handed it back. "No, thanks."
The fact that her mother carried a wanga obviously made Audrey uncomfortable. What would she think when she learned about Jackson Sweet?
That line of thought reminded Elise of her last visit with Strata Luna. Would she come through with her birth mother's full name? If so, what would Elise do with it?
Three more blocks and they were home.
Their evening together had been somewhat of a success, but as Elise returned Audrey to the suburbs, she thought of her daughter's reaction to the wangas and was once again reminded of the differences between them. Not that she expected her daughter to be like her. That was egotistical and unrealistic. Audrey lived in a traditional, practical world while Elise continuously found herself straddling two cultures, neither of which fit. She could say she didn't believe in spells and wangas, but on a more primitive level she did. She also understood the power of the myth, a power that could never be discredited.
Elise dropped Audrey off, then drove back downtown through dark, silent streets. Arriving home, she found a manila envelope with the Black Tupelo logo stuck in her door. Just a single sheet of paper with the name Loralie and the address of the Savannah Carmelite Monastery printed in large black letters.
Chapter 34
Elise's phone rang in the middle of the night.
It was a Savannah Police Department dispatcher.
"I know this is your night off," she said, "but there's a sticky note here saying we're supposed to call you if any dead bodies make an appearance."
Elise took down the information, thanked the woman, and hung up. Then she called Gould. His car was still in the shop, his apartment on the way. "I'll pick you up," she told him.
Gould was waiting on the front steps when she got there. He ran for the car and slid into the passenger seat as she pulled away.
Heading toward the address given to her by the dispatcher, Elise filled him in on what little details she could. "The body was discovered in the courtyard of the Secret Garden Bed and Breakfast, currently unoccupied and under renovation."
"Sex of the victim?"
"Male."
"Approximate age?"
"Nothing on that."
Elise knew they were getting close to the site before they reached it. Emergency lights flashed silently. Streets had been barricaded, and traffic was being redirected.
After parking two blocks from the perimeter, Elise and David jumped from the car, flashlights in hand, doors slamming, the pounding of their shoes sounding hollow against the cement sidewalk as they walked rapidly in the direction of the lights.
Even though it was the middle of the night, people had wandered out of their homes to watch. They huddled together on sidewalks and in the street, snatches of conversation floating toward Elise and David.
"Did you see anything?" a young female voice asked.
"I heard somebody found a body."
"I heard the head had been chopped off."
"I heard somebody was wading in the pond and tripped over it."
"Oh, man. That's sick! Really sick!"
"Not the head, you retard. The body."
"That's sick too."
To someone outside law enforcement, the scene may have appeared chaotic, but Elise automatically took note of the dividing lines that had been made to partition off witnesses, keeping them corralled until their stories could be taken down. Savannah Police Department used what they called the two-barrier method. The outer barrier was for press and gawkers, the inner barrier for the few people who were given permission to pass. Detectives and police officers were questioning people, tablets in hand.
One of the officers spotted Elise and Gould. "Weird as hell," she whispered. "The place was dark. The gates were locked, but some kids sneaked in and went wading. One of them tripped over the body and thought it was a friend joking around until it just stayed there. Turns out, it had been weighted down with rocks."
"Headless?" Elise asked.
"No, but the throat's been cut."
Elise glanced at David. Not our guy, they were both thinking.
"What about lights?" Gould asked. Randomly placed police cars with spotlights were parked at odd angles, but it wasn't enough to adequately illuminate the crime scene.
"Getting a generator set up."
"Where's the body now?" Elise asked.
"Still in the fountain," the officer said. "Or maybe I should say pond. It's huge-that's all I know. In the middle is kind of an island with a stone bench. I dragged him up there." She aimed the flashlight on herself. "Look at me."
Her pants were wet from the thigh down. When she shifted her weight, her black leather shoes squeaked and water oozed out.
"These shoes will never be the same. I wish I'd known he was dead. I wouldn't have gone to the trouble. And now I keep smelling him. Don't know if it's in my sinuses, or my clothes."
The detectives thanked her and made their way up the brick walk.
Elise turned on her flashlight as they stepped through the wrought-iron gates decorated with cherubs. "I've always loved this place." She'd visited a few times during the annual spring tour of gardens. "It's breathtaking under normal conditions."
But not now…
The first thing that hit them was the sweet smell of magnolias mixed with the stench of death. Water trickled and ferns grew from damp stone walls. There were boxwoods and trumpet vines, water poppies and hibiscuses. Nestled amid plants and trees were various kinds of statuary, from angels to frogs.
David scanned the area using a high-powered flashlight beam. "Wow," he said, pausing to admire the twisted trunk of a Jerusalem tree. In the distance, crickets chirped and chimes made a soft, delicate sound.
Elise was relieved to see that Abe Chilton was on duty. With some crime scene specialists, she had to tell them what to collect. Abe knew what he was doing.
She and David had arrived so quickly that the preliminary preparations were still under way. It wasn't their shift, but Mason and Avery hadn't yet arrived, so Elise and David temporarily took charge.
"Ready for daylight?" someone shouted.
The sound of a generator drowned out the crickets and chimes. Everybody turned their backs. One second later, brilliant, blinding light flooded the area.
Two EMTs stood in the center of the fountain, staring at the body at their feet. They looked up when the light came on, flinched, and raised their arms against the glare.
"Water," Chilton muttered. "I hate water."