Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [58]
“I don’t like gossip,” Puma said with a frown.
“I do,” I said shamelessly. “When did he marry Catherine?”
“The wedding was six years ago,” said Puma.
“And two years ago,” I said, “he died and made her a wealthy widow.” I wondered whether Catherine counted herself bereaved or lucky.
“Well, she’s a lot wealthier than any of us, certainly,” Jeff said, “but not nearly as wealthy as his two exwives.”
“Oh?” That seemed odd.
“He was, you know, a philanthropist by the time she married him. So his fortune’s all tied up in the foundation and managed by the board of directors.”
“You mean that Catherine didn’t get anything?” I asked.
“According to the grapevine at the time . . .” Jeff smiled apologetically at Puma, who was again frowning with disapproval. “She got their penthouse, personal possessions, and some money. Everything else went to the foundation.”
“I heard she’s selling the penthouse.” Puma clapped a hand over her mouth, as if startled that this bit of gossip had popped out. Then, looking sheepish, she added, “They say she can’t keep it up on the money he left her.”
“I was at their place once for a fund- raising party, talking to rich guests about my work at the foundation,” Jeff said. “Just the property taxes on that penthouse would probably be enough to feed Haiti for a month.” He added to me, “Martin was generous, but not self-sacrificing. He liked living large.”
I recalled something else Jeff had told us back at the foundation. “You mentioned that Mambo Celeste took a long time to accept Catherine?”
He nodded. “You bet.”
“The mambo doesn’t really like, uh . . .” Puma paused awkwardly.
“White people. We know,” I said. “Though she seems to like Max.”
“I tried to establish a rapport with her,” he said modestly to Puma.
“To give Catherine credit,” said Jeff, “she patiently put up with rebuffs from Celeste for a long time.”
“Because of her interest in Vodou,” said Puma. “I guess she thought they’d have a lot in common. But Dr. Livingston’s approach is . . . you know, so academic. So dry. She can talk all day about what we believe, but I don’t think she can really understand.”
“Celeste got less rude after the wedding. Maybe Martin put his foot down,” said Jeff. “Or maybe Celeste just figured the marriage meant Catherine was there to stay, like it or not.”
“They seem friendlier since he passed away,” Puma said. “I think the mambo feels some compassion for Dr. Livingston now, since they’re both childless widows.”
“Oh, come on,” Jeff said. “Celeste’s husband didn’t die, he left her. It was years ago, but everyone knows about it.”
“She likes to call herself a widow,” Puma said primly. “I try to respect that.”
It was not difficult to imagine why a spouse might have left the sour-tempered, snake-wielding Vodou priestess. I exchanged a glance with Max and saw the same thoughts written on his expression. But we kept our mouths shut.
“Anyhow, I think Celeste’s just being practical,” said Jeff. “The board of directors manages the money and makes the major decisions, but they don’t pay attention to the daily operations or care about the hiring and firing. Celeste must know that if she’s unfriendly to Catherine, now that for all practical purposes Catherine’s the boss, then there are plenty of other voodoo priests and priestesses who’d probably be happy to work at the foundation in her place.”
It was clear from Puma’s expression that she didn’t like this ungenerous interpretation of the mambo’s behavior, but she evidently also didn’t have a good enough argument against it to say anything.
“Did your houngan work there, too?” Max asked Puma.
“No, he was always too busy serving his own clients.” She explained to Jeff and me, “It’s like serving parishioners, except that since there’s no official church or salary, people pay their mambo or houngan for help, if they can afford to offer something.” Then she continued, looking at Max, “He also used to spend part of almost every year in Haiti even before he moved back there after the earthquake. But Mambo Celeste was