Part 38 (2/2)
”Where the f.u.c.k are you?” Ben's voice hit my ear.
”Actually, I'm at the airport.”
”Why in h.e.l.l are ya' at the friggin' airport?”
”You don't want to know.”
”Well where ya' goin'?”
”Like I said, you don't want to know.”
”Dammit, Row, is this somethin' ta' do with that Voodoo stuff? Are you doin' somethin' stupid like I told ya' not to?”
”Do I need to say it a third time, Ben?”
”f.u.c.k me.”
”I'd rather not. So, did you just call me to brush up on your suspect interviewing skills, or was there some greater reason?”
He adopted a snide tone. ”I dunno, are you sure you wanna know?”
”Hey, you called me.”
”Yeah, I did.”
”So?”
”So I got a piece'a news for ya'. Are ya' sittin' down?”
”Actually, yes.”
”Good, 'cause guess what? We found your G.o.dd.a.m.ned sister-in...half sister-in...aww, h.e.l.l, whatever-the-f.u.c.k-she-is-in-law.”
I instantly sat up straighter in the chair. ”You found her? Where?”
”Well, not 'zactly found. But, we know who she is.”
”Who?”
”Her name's Annalise Devereaux,” he replied. ”I'm lookin' at 'er driver's license photo right this minute. And, Row, you ain't gonna believe this. She's the f.u.c.kin' spittin' image of Firehair.”
”Where is she, Ben?” I pressed.
”Right now, we don't know, 'cause of Katrina.”
”What do you mean?”
”The address on 'er license is in a section of New Orleans that got totally flooded out, so there's no way to know where she is at the moment. But, obviously we know she survived.”
I sat there staring into s.p.a.ce for a moment, feeling my headache creep up another notch.
”Row...” Ben's voice flooded into my ear. ”Hey, Row, you still there?”
”Yeah,” I finally said. ”So, Ben, you wanted to know where I'm going?”
”Yeah, I do, but I seem ta' recall you decided ta' be an a.s.shole about tellin' me when I asked.”
”Well, it's my turn to tell you something you won't believe. I'll give you three guesses where I'm going, and the first two don't count.”
Friday, December 2 3:11 P.M.
St. Louis Cemetery #1 New Orleans, Louisiana
EPILOGUE:.
”Do you have any change with you?” the woman asked.
The man dug in his pocket and extracted a handful of coins, spread them out with his index finger, then displayed his palm to her. ”This enough?”
”It's really not as much about the amount as the effort and respect,” she replied, nodding toward the a.s.sortment in his hand and then showing him the few she held in her own. ”Just let them know you have a gift for them and ask permission to enter.”
The pair was standing on the sidewalk in front of the cemetery gate. The walls surrounding the plots showed their advanced age but were obviously maintained as best they could be. The iron gates were propped open in an eerily inviting manner.
”I can't say that I've ever done this before,” he replied.
”Have you gone into cemeteries before?” she asked.
”Yeah, of course.”
”Then I suspect you've offended a few ancestors.”
”Great.”
”Don't worry about that now. You'll all get over it,” she told him with a quick shake of her head. ”Just do it right this time.”
”Anything special I'm supposed to say?”
”No, just speak from the heart. Tell them you're bringing a gift and ask permission. It's not hard. It's like showing up at a dinner party with a bottle of wine and knocking on the door.”
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