Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [88]
“In a garbage can right outside the Harlem Market.”
I knew that place. A few blocks south of here, it was a semienclosed space with market stalls where the vendors sold African souvenirs: tribal masks, leather goods, clothing, decorative objects, drums, and music. “I wonder how my purse wound up there?”
“Probably dumped deliberately,” Lopez said.“Whoever had your bag didn’t want to get caught with it, and I think they didn’t really know what to do with it. So they probably figured its contents would get stolen and scattered pretty quickly if they left it at such a busy location.”
“I’m lucky that didn’t happen.” I clutched the bag gratefully to my chest.
“One of the market vendors found it. He called the cops.”
“Really? I should go thank him!”
“Not a bad idea,” Lopez said. “Maybe more guys would report petty crime if they thought a pretty woman would come around and thank them for it.”
The silence that descended between us after he said this lengthened until it grew awkward.
I gazed across the floor of the lobby. Nelli’s blood was smeared all over the place, and the cracked wooden sculpture lay where it had fallen. I would have enjoyed seeing Catherine or Mambo Celeste have to clean up the mess, but I assumed the foundation employed a janitor or a cleaning service.
Feeling Lopez’s sidelong glance, I gestured to the wreckage. “Uh, I can explain this.”
He shook his head. “No need.”
I looked at him. “Really?”
“Well, in one sole building, we have a huge snake and a woman too silly to keep it in a cage where it belongs, Max and his neurotic dog, a teenager with a sword, and—oh, yes—you.” He shrugged. “I’d say the results were inevitable.”
“Hey, I tried to prevent this from happening.”
“Yeah, that was my first thought when I got here and saw you wading through blood and giving a half nelson to a hysterical dog the size of a minivan: Esther must be trying to prevent trouble.”
“Prevention wasn’t going as smoothly as I would have liked,” I admitted. “Not all of us can manhandle a dog that size by her collar, Stud Muffin.”
“You should never get that close to the teeth of a dog that’s not in its right mind,” he said seriously. “If she had bitten you by accident . . .”
“It all happened pretty fast,” I said. “I don’t like that snake, but that doesn’t mean I think we should let our dog kill it. Anyhow, I’m not so sure Nelli would have won.”
“You couldn’t have talked Max into getting a kitten?” he said with some exasperation.
“Nelli has special qualities.” Seeing his skeptical expression, I added, “They’re not immediately apparent, I grant you.”
“Well, I suppose she’s slightly more cuddly than a seven-foot-long boa constrictor.” He grimaced. “What do you think they feed that snake?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”
“And, Jesus, the way he attacked that woman—”
“Mambo Celeste,” I said.
“The way he attacked Mambo Celeste when he was scared . . . Well, you’d think she’d reconsider her choice of house pet now.”
“She won’t,” I said with certainty. “He represents Damballah, a sacred . . . something or other.”
I was suddenly very tired of this place, and I looked forward to spending tonight singing old favorites to cheerful tourists in a noisy restaurant downtown. And as another silence descended between us, I also suddenly recalled how many things I didn’t particularly want to discuss with my companion.
“Well, thanks again for bringing my purse. I really appreciate it.” I got to my feet. “I have to go to the restaurant now. Bye.”
“Nice try.” He pulled me back down beside him. “We have to talk.”
“I’ll be late for work,” I lied.
“We’ve got Bella Stella under surveillance,” he pointed out. “I know what time your shift starts.”
“Surveillance? That’s a waste of taxpayer money,” I said. “The restaurant’s full of tourists at this time of year. All the wiseguys are on their summer vacations.”
“Fair point,” he said. “Get any postcards from Lucky Battistuzzi lately?”
“One,” I said, refusing to apologize for my friendship with the semiretired hit man. “He’s enjoying his tour of Sicily.”
“Ah,