Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [53]
“It’s a Vodou community’s social and spiritual center. You might call it the temple or the meetinghouse.”
“And where exactly is this hounfour?” Napoleon’s home seemed like a good place for me to avoid.
Jeff said, “In the basement of the Livingston Foundation.”
“I don’t think Napoleon leaves the building unless he needs to see his veterinarian or something,” said Puma.
“Then I’ll just stay out of the basement.”
“Good plan,” said Jeff. “That’s what I do.”
“Still,” I said, “you’d think she’d need a license or something, for a reptile that size.”
“He wasn’t nearly that big when she got him,” Puma said. “I sometimes wonder if she feeds him too much.”
I had a sudden mental image of the mambo feeding rats to her squirming boa constrictor, and I made an involuntary sound of disgust.
“Are you all right, Esther?” Puma asked with concern.
I decided maybe I should pour some cold water on my head after all. “I need to use the restroom.”
“Of course.” She led me behind the counter, through a doorway that was covered by hanging beads, and into the stockroom behind the shop. She pointed to a door on my left. “Right there.”
“Thanks.”
Inside the bathroom, one glance in the mirror confirmed that I looked every bit as haggard as I felt. My snarled hair hung in greasy clumps, my skin was pale with fatigue and shiny with perspiration, my lips were chapped, and the remnants of Jilly C-Note’s mascara was caked around my eyes. I really did look like a crack whore now. My tight, low-cut shirt had big dark patches under the arms, where I’d been sweating. I suspected I was beginning to smell like a pachyderm, and I thought that by the time I got home, I would need surgical assistance to pry the push-up bra off my tender flesh.
If Lopez could see me now, he would surely be cured of his attraction to me.
And if my mother could see me now, she would thank God that at least she had one daughter who had turned out all right: my sister Ruth, who was a hospital administrator in Chicago and had two kids, a standard-issue husband, and no leopard-patterned clothing of any kind.
I thought longingly of my shower and my bed, but suspected that I was still hours away from seeing either of them. Wishing that Puma kept a garden hose in this bathroom, I did the best I could with paper towels and cold water, then I rejoined the others.
10
I didn’t want to think about the mambo’s snake anymore, so I was relieved to find that Jeff had changed the subject by the time I returned.
“So how would I create sympathetic magic with this?” he asked Puma, holding up the doll that he claimed looked like me.
I resumed my place on my stool. “I trust that you’re asking purely out of intellectual curiosity?”
“Well, you wouldn’t do it with this,” said Puma. “These dolls are novelty gifts, not real poppets. Something like this is a fun impulse buy for someone who comes into the shop to browse out of curiosity, not really knowing anything about Vodou. The voodoo doll is an icon that they recognize, and if they see one that they think looks a little like themselves, or a family member, or a friend, they get a kick out of it and buy it. And, of course, once they’ve decided to buy something . . .” She grinned. “Well, then I see what else I can talk them into buying.”
“I should employ such a strategy at my bookstore,” Max said with admiration, “but I lack the talents of a true merchant.”
“Hmm.” I started wondering where Biko was. This shop was only a few blocks away from the foundation. He should be here by now.
Puma said, “These dolls are good sellers for me. Especially with the European tourists who come here on guided walking tours of Harlem.” She added with a rueful expression, “So it’s worth putting up with Mambo Celeste giving me a hard time about the dolls whenever she comes here.”
Ah, the mambo again. Yay.
“Why does she give you a hard time?” Jeff asked. “Dolls seem pretty harmless. Especially compared to some of the stuff you carry.” He nodded toward the glass case that contained the ritual knives.
“Well, I guess you could say