The Devil in Gray (32 page)

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Authors: Graham Masterton

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He took off his glasses, but the wall was still oddly curved. He stood up. Cab pressed his hand over the telephone receiver and said, “Lieutenant—I'm not done with you yet!” But Decker ignored him and stepped outside the office.

Halfway along the corridor he saw a tangled, transparent shape. It reminded him of a huge jellyfish that he had once seen in Cumtuck Sound—a glistening and deadly disturbance that was visible only for what it wasn't, rather than what it was. He didn't know if he ought to approach it or not. If it was Changó, cloaked by a Santería spell, then he could be in truly appalling danger.

He lifted out his gun, cocked it, and raised it in both hands. Then he edged his way carefully toward the transparency, trying to distinguish some kind of outline, some kind of distinguishing features. But it kept on rolling and unrolling, knotting and unknotting, and every time he thought he could make out a face, or an arm, or a shoulder, it unraveled itself into another shape altogether.

“Is that you, Major Shroud?” he said, with a phlegmy catch in his throat.

The distortion moved away from him, and now it became more geometrical, so that the wall behind it appeared to be broken up into irregular diamond patterns. He began to realize that he was witnessing an optical trick, a way of diverting his attention away from what he was really looking at, like a mirage, or a complicated arrangement of mirrors.

“I know you're there, Major, or Changó, or whatever you call yourself. I know you're there and I know where to find you and believe me, you bastard, I'm coming to get you.”

He had no idea if this ripple in the air really was Changó, or Major Shroud, or if he was simply experiencing another illusion. Neither did he know if it possessed any intelligence, or if it could hear what he was saying—or, hell, if it could be stopped by a bullet, or stopped by anything. Maybe Hicks was right, and his mind was giving way.

At that moment, Cab came out of his office. “Lieutenant, what in the name of God are you doing?”

Decker didn't turn around. But as soon as Cab approached, the distortion in the air rolled away and disappeared. Decker waited for a moment to make sure that it had gone, and then he cautiously holstered his gun.

“Lieutenant?”

“Oh … I was practicing my grip, Captain. Sergeant Bliss down at the range said that my balance needed some work.”

“Your balance? Too damn right it does. Listen—I have to go talk to the chief. Give me an update on what you've been doing and leave it on my desk. Like, immediately.”

“Yes, sir, Captain. It's done already.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

He swerved his Mercury into the curb outside Queen Aché's house and both he and Hicks rolled out of their seats like TV cops. Two squad cars followed close behind, with four uniformed officers, three of them black and two of them female. Decker knew his politics.

George and Newton, Queen Aché's bodyguards, stood shoulder to shoulder and blocked the front steps.

“Queen Aché ain't seeing nobody today.”

“Says you. I have a warrant here for Queen Aché's arrest on suspicion of homicide in the first degree.”

He held it up and George peered at it closely. “Like you can read,” Decker said, and whipped it away again.

“She still ain't seeing nobody. She gave me orders. ‘Tell everybody I ain't seeing nobody no matter what,' that's what she said.”

“George Montgomery, you are under arrest for obstructing a police officer. You have the right to remain silent—”

“Okay, okay! Cool. I'll tell her you're here. She won't like it, though. She's holding an
asiento
.”

“I don't care if she's holding her breath. Get her to open up.”

George went to the intercom and buzzed it. “Mikey,” he said. “It's trouble. We got Martin down here and half of the police department. He has a warrant.”

After a while, Mikey opened the door. Decker turned around to the uniforms and said, “Give me a couple of minutes, will you? I'll whistle if I need you.”

He and Hicks followed Mikey into Queen Aché's throne room. As before, the white wooden shutters were all closed, and the room was illuminated only by a few thin shafts of sunlight, like a chapel. Queen Aché wasn't there, but Mikey said, “Wait, okay? I'll go bring her.” Scores of candles were steadily burning on Queen Aché's shrine, and there was a strong, bittersweet smell of herbs and spices and flowers in the air,
escoba amarga, prodigiosa, yerba luisa
, and cinnamon. The aroma heightened the sense of unreality in the house, as if he and Hicks were visiting a dream house together. Hicks nervously flexed his shoulders and tugged at his shirt collar.

After a few minutes Queen Aché appeared through the double doors, and she was like a tall ghost flowing into the room. She wore a headdress of blue flowers and silver stars and she was robed in flowing white muslin, with blue and white and crystal beads around her neck. Her makeup was ivory white, although her eyes were circled by crimson eye shadow and her lips were bloodred. Her face reminded Decker of a West African death mask.

“This intrusion is an
outrage
, Lieutenant! I am holding an
asiento
for my friend's cousin, an initiation. This is the
día del medio
, the day in the middle, when all his family and friends will be gathering to pay tribute to his
orisha
.”

“Oh,” Decker said. “Bummer.”

“You can come back in two days. Make an appointment with Mikey.”

“Sorry, Your Majesty, this can't wait. I'm here to arrest you on suspicion of the murder of Herbert ‘Junior' Abraham.”

Queen Aché flapped one hand in contempt, so that her bangles clashed. “You think I would soil my own hands with such a deed? In Santería we say
oddi oche
—absolved through lack of evidence.”

“In the City of Richmond Police Department we say that maybe a perpetrator can make herself invisible but she always leaves some evidence behind her, no matter how smart an occult cookie she thinks she is.”

Queen Aché sat down on the chaise longue. She could even make sitting down appear erotic, the way she slid sideways and crossed her thighs and looked at Decker from out of those bloodred eye circles around her eyes. “Nobody knows what is at the bottom of the sea, Lieutenant.”

Decker cleared his throat. “I'm not worried about the bottom of the sea, Queen Aché. I'm concerned with what happened at Jimmy the Rib's.”

“Pfff! I was here at home. How should I know what happened?”

“I have at least one eyewitness who is prepared to swear on oath that it was you who came into that restaurant, and that it was you who personally blew Junior Abraham's head off. I'm talking to other eyewitnesses, too.”

“You're crazy. I saw it on the news. Everybody said that Junior was shot by a man—a man who looked like a waiter.”

“Sure they did. But that was before I asked a very special somebody to jog their memory. A very special somebody who saw you clearer than anybody else.”

“Is that so? I don't suppose you're going to tell me who that very special somebody is.”

“For sure. The best witness of all. Junior Abraham himself. You tricked everybody else into thinking that they saw a waiter, didn't you? But there was one person you wanted to show yourself to, and that was Junior. Just so he was absolutely clear
why
his brains were going to be splattered all over the wall.”

“Ha! Since when did the Richmond City police detectives confer with the dead?”

“Since we found out just how powerful your magic is, Queen Aché. Since we learned what tricks you can play with people's perception. I've learned a whole lot about Santería these past few days, and I have to say that I've developed a very healthy respect for it. A religion that can call on every force of nature. Wind, fire, lightning, you name it. You can walk through solid walls if you know how to do it. You can walk through a crowded room and nobody can see you. You can change the way that people look at you, so that they think you're somebody else.”

“Do you seriously think that anybody is going to believe you?”

“Oh yes. Because me and Sergeant Hicks here, we've been prepared to approach this investigation with a very open mind. That means we've been talking to people that other detectives would never think of talking to. Like dead people. Like people who can tell us how you did what you did. Like
santeros
.”

“You can't convict me with the words of a headless corpse.
Obbara osa
. You're crazy.”

“You want to know how crazy I am? I'm also arresting you for the murder of Catherine Meredith Meade.”

Queen Aché dismissively waved her hand. “Catherine
who?
I don't even know who this person is.”

“Oh, I think you do, Your Majesty. Catherine Meredith Meade was my partner during that time a couple of years ago when I was investigating your various enterprises with illegal substances and property scams. I was called out in the middle of the night to investigate a suspicious drowning. As soon as I was gone, you came to my apartment—
you
, personally—and you blew that poor girl's brains out. Now do you know who she is?”

Queen Aché said, “I am not going to speak to you anymore. This is insanity.”

Decker held up a small plastic evidence bag containing two beads. “Yours, I think. You left them at the crime scene.”

“What do two beads amount to?”

“Murderers have been convicted on a damn sight less. We nailed one guy when we found a single grain of gunpowder in his coat pocket, practically invisible to the naked eye.”

“I was never at your apartment and I can prove that I was never there. You're wasting my time.”

“Ah, but somebody
saw
you there. Somebody heard you speak.”

“I was never there. Never. You are a fool, Lieutenant.”

Decker looked at her with his eyebrows raised, saying nothing. Then he turned to Hicks and said, “Sergeant … you want to give me a moment alone with Queen Aché here?”

Hicks didn't look very happy about it, but he said, “Whatever you say, sir,” and left the room. Decker called out, “Close the doors, would you, sport?”

He went over to Queen Aché's shrine, with all its steadily burning candles. “Who's your personal
orisha
, Your Majesty?”

“Yemayá, the goddess of the sea waters, and of the moon.”

“Powerful, is she, Yemayá? I would guess so.”

“She is the mother to everyone. Her children are as numerous as the fish.”

“Powerful as Changó, say?”

“Hmm. That shows how little you know of Santería, Lieutenant. I said that Yemayá is the mother to everyone. She is also Changó's adoptive mother, and perhaps more than that. When Changó returned home after many years away, he did not recognize Yemayá, and fell in love with her.”

“So … Yemayá could have some influence over Changó? I mean, if Changó was causing trouble, Yemayá could tell him to, like, cool it?”

“Why are you asking me this? I thought you were more interested in proving that I am a killer.”

“I
know
you're a killer, Queen Aché.”

“Oh yes, I forgot your evidence. Your two beads, produced years after your girlfriend was murdered.”

“Not just beads, but several small hairs, which I've sent for DNA matching. And something else. Another eyewitness account.”

Queen Aché stood up. “I don't have the time for these fantasies, Lieutenant. I have to get back to my
asiento
.”

“You just wait up,” Decker cautioned her. “When Cathy's killer entered my apartment building that night in February, he or she left no footprints and no fingerprints and no image on the closed-circuit television cameras. There is nobody else I know of who could have done that, except you.

“The killer passed through a solid door and didn't materialize until he or she was actually standing in my bedroom. There is nobody else I know of who could have done that, except you.

“I know it was you, Queen Aché. You came up real close, so that you could shoot Cathy point-blank in the face. Cathy grabbed your hair and pulled out some of your beads. You said,
‘Irosun oche!'

Queen Aché stared at him, her eyes so wide that she looked as if she had gone mad, and actually
shuddered
. Her white dress was illuminated so brightly by a single shaft of sunlight that it looked like an incandescent gas mantle.

“So you
do
know,” she said, at last.

Decker nodded.

“You will find these accusations impossible to prove in court.”

“That doesn't matter, as far as I'm concerned. I'm satisfied that you killed both Cathy and Junior Abraham, and that's good enough for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Decker took his Colt Anaconda out of its shoulder holster, opened the cylinder, and ejected all of the shells into the palm of his hand. One by one, he kissed the tip of each shell and pressed it back in.

“I do this every day,” he told her. “I bless these bullets. And do you want to know
why
I bless these bullets? I do it because once I accidentally shot a fellow officer because I was too jumpy and too quick and I didn't make absolutely sure that I was shooting at the right person. So I promised myself that I would never do that again. If I had to shoot anybody, each bullet would be blessed, and each bullet would be fired with forethought. Not out of fear, or panic, but because it was right, and because I had no other choice.”

Queen Aché didn't say anything, but she didn't stop staring at him.

“I have a serious problem,” he said. “You've heard about this recent spate of homicides, people getting beheaded, people having their guts cut out. I'm pretty certain that they're connected with Santería, and that the perpetrator is possessed by Changó. I'm also pretty certain that there are going to be more. Up to eight more, at least.”

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