Chapter 18

The third day

At the Majestic Hotel, L’Oiseau de Nuit stood outside an open door in a corridor painted pea green and carpeted in water-stained brown. Spike remembered, sort of, that the carpets used to have a large chrysanthemum pattern, but a leak in the roof had taken its toll.

“Why you bring him?” Wazoo said. The tip of a finger protruded from the ragged sleeve of her floor-length black lace coat and pointed steadily at Cyrus. “Pains my mind, him.” She thrust out her palms and shook her hands, fending off poor Cyrus who had yet to take another step toward her.

“Calm down now, Wazoo,” Spike said. When Wazoo’s call came in, he and Cyrus had been eating together at All Tarted Up and discussing if and how to go forward with Bill Green’s idea to help out the Patins. “Father and I were havin’ breakfast together when your request for help came in. I invited him along.” He had to get out of here in time to meet up with Vivian and he counted on Cyrus to help him do that.

“Let’s sit down somewhere,” Cyrus suggested. “Spike’s got to leave town but you know how he is, won’t let a citizen down.”

Wazoo blocked the entrance to her rooms. “Where you go, you?” she said to Spike. “There’s trouble here. You needed.”

Spike barely suppressed a groan. She was in one of her moods, which meant she wanted an audience and intended to be the one to decide when the performance was over.

“The longer we stand here, the less time I’ll have to talk with you, Wazoo. The call I got said it was urgent I come here.”

She shook back the bulk of her long, curly black hair, even pushed it from her face. Spike had not seen her so clearly until now.

Cyrus shifted and Spike guessed they were having similar thoughts. At this distance and without the tumble of hair over her features, Wazoo’s age wasn’t a mystery. Maybe thirty, but no more. And she was quite beautiful in a thin-faced, black-eyed way. Large eyes, exaggerated by heavy, dark green lines painted around them. Her hair shone and the curls had been brushed. Spike had never seen her take such trouble with herself before.

“You enter, you,” she told Spike and hesitated, close to snarling at Cyrus. “And you. But L’Oiseau feel it if you try your powers.”

The room they entered wasn’t what Spike had expected. It had been turned into a sitting room for Wazoo and spartan took on a new meaning. He glanced at Cyrus who looked around with open curiosity. The only furniture was a black-lacquered chest inlaid with colored glass and surrounded by a ring of straight-back chairs. On the trunk rested a crystal ball that made Spike want to laugh. The word hokey came to mind. Small embroidered bags in two tidy stacks flanked the ball. Everything was clean.

“You don’t come near, you,” Wazoo said to Cyrus, curling her lip as if he disgusted her. “Spike, sit down.” She swept a hand over the embroidered bags and said, “I read your cards?”

“I’ll stand, thanks. Like I said, I’ve gotta leave.”

“Like I say, where you goin’?”

He laughed at her impudence. “Not your business but if it’ll speed this up any, I’ve got business in the Quarter.”

A smile spread across her lips and she rocked from foot to foot. “I know this. I have to test you to see if you honest with L’Oiseau.”

“If you’re psychic, or whatever,” Cyrus said in his reasonable tone, “you shouldn’t need tests to be sure Spike’s telling the truth.”

She ignored him. “I’m talkin just to you, me,” she told Spike. “You the golden one. Truth, and so sexy. Oh, yes, you a sexy truthful man.”

Spike ran two fingers beneath his collar.

“All that tellin’ the truth probably mean you suffer a lot in your life.” She shook out her skirts and stood closer to Spike. Had he seen a glimpse of scarlet petticoat under the layers of black? She tilted her head and smiled up at him. “You and the Patin girl share your bodies yet?”

Spike missed a few beats before he found his voice. “What did you want to talk to me about?” Just the mention of making love with Vivian had a predictable result. He changed his mind and sat down after all.

“Now you,” Wazoo said in a hoarse whisper, pointing at Cyrus again. “You a sexy man, too, but you hide.”

“I think you’ve said enough on that subject,” Cyrus told her.

“Why? Because the man of God put on his collar and his thing fall off? I don’t think so.”

Spike pressed his lips together and frowned. Damn, she could be funny—as long as she wasn’t talking about him.

“You’re right,” Cyrus said, so calm Spike would have taken his hat off to the man if he’d been wearing one. “I’d say the thing I have is right where it’s supposed to be.”

Wazoo laughed and slapped her knees. “And it works, too, I’m thinkin’, me. You no mystery to me, God man. Not like to some others. You scared to put your thing in a woman on account of you got to be just a man then. Shout like a man, and cry out when you come, hold her breasts in you hands and kiss them sweet things, let her pump you out and leave you dry. Helpless. Like I say, just a man then and just a man mean you can’t hide no more. You a sinner like the rest, then, and you human.”

Astonished, Spike couldn’t look at Cyrus. This woman’s gall struck them both dumb, yet she had wisdom.

Cyrus’s face stung as if she’d slapped him. When would it stop being his lot to have his commitment to the Church questioned? This exotic little woman wasn’t a fool. She spoke to shock, but she spoke the truth. Stripped down to a few sentences, L’Oiseau set his mind and his struggles naked before him.

She gathered up her hair and held it on top of her head. With one hand a man could all but span her fragile neck. A pointed chin, a bowed, full mouth, shadows beneath high cheekbones. If he were free to do as he pleased, he’d ask her what she was hiding from and see how honest she might be with the roles switched.

“We different,” L’Oiseau said. “But I could like you because you strong and brave.”

“Thank you,” Cyrus said, “and God bless you.” He didn’t expect any response.

Spike watched the crystal ball as if he saw something there—the truth? Cyrus wondered. Ah, the truth, whatever that was. He folded his arms tightly and prayed for this little woman with the troubled mind, and perhaps heart. Soon he must pray for himself.

Perhaps each human being needed a crystal ball, Cyrus thought, amused at the idea even as he chastised himself for such ideas.

“I know things,” Wazoo said, sitting down on the gray carpet with her legs crossed. “Yes, I am psychic. I was born so, me. Once I didn’t want it, but now I know I am sent here like this because there is work for me to do.”

Cyrus and Spike made polite noises. Cyrus hadn’t forgotten Wazoo arriving at Rosebank with a radio hidden on her person.

“Things happenin’ in this town, and in certain other places I know, me. I see things.”

“So you’ve told us,” Spike said, checking his watch again. “How about telling us what they are quickly so we can go on our way.”

“Can’t hurry these matters. Need to do ceremony here and there first. Got to drive the evil out.”

“Sheesh, an exorcism,” Spike said, unable to contain himself any longer. “Go on.”

“Miz Patin, she go with you to New Orleans?”

Spike planted his elbows on his knees and supported his head. He would keep his mouth shut from now on.

“I see,” Wazoo said. “She do and you in a hurry. Maybe better to be slow. Get there late and stay somewhere. Drivin’ when you tired is no good. Spend the night. One room cheaper than two. Dark night in strange place, two bodies so different. Mystery and discovery. If you ain’t been with her then it’s time. Readiness for sex is not a convention thing, not how long you know each other. Your bodies tell you and should not be denied.”

“Gotta go,” Spike said, beginning to like her suggestions too much. “Come on Cyrus.”

“You go you be sorry,” she said and stretched out on her back on the carpet. “Something missing must be found. Maybe someone already got it. A guide to treasure, maybe? Worth to kill for, huh?”

“You’re guessing,” Spike said.

“But people die for treasure, yes?”

Reluctantly Spike said, “Sometimes.”

“Vivian will be expectin’ you,” Cyrus reminded him.

“Yeah,” Wazoo said. “She waitin’. She crazy ’bout you that one.”

He surely hoped so. And he hoped he’d be able to do something about it.

“Keep me around,” Wazoo said. She looked at Cyrus and said, absolutely serious, “You tell him I good woman, me. No malice. Only want to help.”

Spike expected Cyrus to slide out of that one but he said, “We all need to be needed. I think Wazoo is a good woman.”

Then Cyrus must see something in Wazoo that Spike did not see. Wazoo watched the priest with puzzled eyes.

“I try to talk to that ugly one, Bonine,” she said. “I don’t think he know nothing but he bluffing. I ask if I can help him and he laugh in my face.”

“So I was second choice?” Spike said, his tongue in a cheek.

“I mad with myself now. Should have started with you first.”

“That’s touching,” Spike said. He got up. “Detective Bonine is a more formal man than I am. He’s not so approachable.”

“I drive evil spirits out of Rosebank, maybe Serenity House, out of Jilly’s place, too.”

“All Tarted Up?” Now she was completely losing him again.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “All the people around go there. Leave evil behind. I already do work at your office, Spike, when you and that poor Lori out.”

“Poor Lori?”

“She one woman with the job of six officers. You need better pay and so does Lori. And she need help.”

“You know a great deal,” Cyrus ventured. “But I think you want what’s best for others.”

She flapped a hand at him. “And I work on the girl with no past.”

Spike felt blank.

“You know her,” Wazoo said. “Ellie Byron at the bookshop. I know she good but so sad. She go back maybe five year ago when she show up in Lafayette. Before then, nothing.”

“You’re giving me a headache,” Spike told her with honesty. “Tomorrow I should have a little time. We can talk then.”

“Too late,” she said. “I tell you more. The woman at Serenity House, Susan Hurst. She who not take her husband name. She too busy on her own, do too many things. She here and there. There’s a man. She visit him sometimes and she different when she leave his place.”

“I don’t think we’ll touch that,” Spike said.

“Wazoo,” Cyrus said in his priestly voice. “I’d like you to come and visit me. You’ll find I’m not a fearsome man and perhaps I can help you deal with these things you imagine.”

“I expect people to say I make things up.” She closed her eyes, disgusted, and said to Spike, “You deputize me. This an emergency. You deputize me and I work for you so no one else dies.”

Spike looked straight ahead and hoped for guidance.

“You won’t be sorry,” Wazoo said. “I help stop the killing. Unless I make a mistake like two days ago.”

“What mistake?” She had all of his attention now.

She pressed her lips together and poked fingers into her temples. “Nothing. I not mean that, me. I can help. I stay near you.”

“I really appreciate your generous offer,” Spike said, “but even if I’d been told to take on another deputy, it wouldn’t have anything to do with the Rosebank murder. That’s not in my jurisdiction.” When would someone other than Errol Bonine finally accept that? “I’ll admit to needin’ more help in Toussaint but there’s no money for it.” He’d also admit to himself that he wouldn’t rest easy unless he kept a watch on this woman.

“I want to help,” Wazoo insisted. “I work for free. I worried for Vivian Patin, me. Find a way for me to be close there. I ask my friend, Ellie Byron, what she think and she tell me to ask and hope you not laugh.”

“I’m not laughin’,” Spike said, “but neither are you tellin’ me everythin’.”

“May I, Spike?” Cyrus asked and when he got the nod turned his attention back to Wazoo. “You’re frightened. Let us help you.”

“Nothin’ frighten me,” she insisted, sitting up again. “I have power. I offer to help you is all.”

Spike met Cyrus’s eyes and he wished they could talk alone before this thing went any further.

“I tell you one thing,” Wazoo said, her eyes glazing. “Gil Mayes don’t leave Rosebank. I don’t see exactly where he at yet. But I will.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

Spike wanted to leave but something he couldn’t put in words kept him there, waiting for her to finish.

“I see what I got to do,” she said. “You take me to that house and make sure they accept me there. Charlotte and Vivian need help and I can do things.”

“I don’t know—”

“Maybe Gil still alive.” Wazoo raised her chin. Her eyes were wide open and radiant. “I got to hurry.”