Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [45]
“Oh, come on,” said Jeff.
Biko considered my comment. “Yes, I suppose you could say the baka look a bit like gargoyles. Or, at least, some of them do.”
“Wait, you were out hunting gargoyles last night?” Jeff shook his head. “Okay. That’s it. All three of you are insane.”
“That must be what I saw!” I said to Max. “That must be what attacked Darius. Baka!”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Biko said.
“Oh, you think?” said Jeff.
Biko ignored him. “If a bokor raised Darius from the dead—”
“Are you listening to yourself?” Jeff said.
“Then why would he—or she—send baka to attack him? Er, it? Um—”
“Whatever,” I said. “I don’t know. Could there be two bokors? At odds with each other?”
“Oh, dear.” Max looked alarmed. “Two warring bokors? That could be very messy.”
“Oh, Harlem has survived worse,” Jeff said philosophically.
Biko gave him a contemptuous look. “You only say that because you don’t know what a bokor can do.”
“Why were you hunting the baka?” Max asked curiously.
“What on earth makes you think these things exist?” Jeff asked him.
“How did you get involved in this?” I asked.
Biko’s expression was a mixture of anger, sadness, and revulsion. “My sister Puma and I . . .”
“Yes?”
“Well . . .” He looked at all three of us. “The baka ate our dog.”
“I find pet death very disturbing,” I said.
“I find the idea that you’re buying into this crazy bullshit very disturbing,” Jeff said.
“Here we are,” said Max. “I believe this is the place.”
Biko had to finish teaching his class, but there was clearly a lot that we needed to discuss. So he had advised us to go to his sister’s nearby shop, on West 123rd Street, and wait for him there. He called her on his cell phone and told her to expect us, then he went back to his students while we left the building.
Jeff, who was appalled by this whole business, had not intended to accompany us. But Max wanted to question him about Darius and also about Frank. So, aware of Max’s silent glances imploring me to convince him to join us, I asked Jeff if he’d like to go to the hospital with me, after we were done meeting with the Garland siblings, to visit Michael Nolan. I conscientiously did not imply that if he made a good impression, Nolan might help him get an audition for the show. (In fact, I thought there was a better chance of Fiorello LaGuardia being turned into a zombie than of Mike Nolan helping another actor get work.) But, as expected, Jeff leaped to the conclusion that he wanted to reach; and, for the sake of the greater good, I didn’t correct his optimistic assumptions. So he walked with us to Puma Garland’s shop.
Now Max read aloud the sign in the window of the small storefront. “Puma’s Vodou Emporium.”
“So I guess I can understand where Biko’s getting his crazy ideas,” Jeff said, looking at the shop window without enthusiasm. “But as for you two . . .” He shook his head.
“ ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’ ” I quoted.
“Whatever.”
Alerted by her brother, Puma Garland was waiting for us inside the shop. An attractive young woman with a robust, hourglass figure, she was dressed in blue jeans and a flowing shirt of brightly patterned material. Puma wore her chin-length black hair in bouncy curls, and she accented her look with gold hoop earrings and beaded bracelets. She was obviously older than Biko, probably in her mid-twenties.
And the moment he saw her, Jeff’s whole attitude about this venture changed. He took her hand when she introduced herself to us, looked into her eyes, and said, “We’ve come to help you.”
“Oh, good grief,” I muttered.
Puma flashed straight white teeth in a pretty smile, then turned to Max. “You must be Dr. Zadok?” She shook his hand. “And you’re Esther Diamond?” She blinked a little at my outfit, but she was welcoming, even so.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m really sorry about your dog.”
Her face fell.
“Oh, nicely played.” Jeff gave me a quelling look.
Puma rallied quickly. “Biko says you’ve seen the baka?”
“Yes. Last night.”
She took my hands and squeezed them in sympathy. “You