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“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.

She tried to ignore it, to pretend.

“Would you refuse your returned power?” John asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Her face was under control again. She looked puzzled. Gosh, she was good. “You are a powerful voodoo priest. You are doing this to trap me.”

“If you don’t want the charm, I will take it,” he said. “I will add your magic to mine. I will be the most powerful practitioner in the States.” For the first time, John’s power flowed across my skin. It was a breath of magic that was frightening. I had begun to think of John as ordinary, or as ordinary as any of us get. My mistake.

She just shook her head.

John strode forward and knelt, reaching for the writhing gris-gris. His power moved with him like an invisible hand.

“No!” She grabbed it, cradling it in her hands.

John smiled up at her. “Do you acknowledge that you made this charm? If not, I can take it and use it as I see fit. It was found in my brother’s effects. It’s legally mine, correct, Sergeant Storr?”

“Correct,” Dolph said.

“No, you cannot.”

“I can and I will, unless you look into that camera and admit making it.”

She snarled at him. “You will regret this.”

“You will regret having killed my brother.”

She stared at the video camera. “Very well, I made this charm, but I admit nothing else. I made the charm for your brother, but that is all.”

“You performed human sacrifice to make this charm,” John said.

She shook her head. “The charm is mine. I made it for your brother, that is all. You have the charm but nothing else.”

“Señora, forgive me,” Antonio said. He looked pale and shaken and very, very scared.

“Calenta,” she said, “shut up!”

“Zerbrowski, take our friend here into the kitchen and take his statement,” Dolph said.

Dominga stood at that.