The Burning Bush (12 page)

More tears fell. She wiped them. Cassie jumped up, handed her a napkin from her purse, and came back to the couch.

“One moment she was in love, the next she’d started wearing black and becoming disobedient, but I thought it was a little phase.” She wiped her face with the napkin. “Later, I found out she’d dropped out of school. And got involved with other things.”

Like prostitution?

“Can you tell me exactly when she started wearing black or perhaps give me some of her friends’ names?” I asked.

Harriet fixed her eyes to some distant view that no one else could see. “She even had men in this house.”

I cleared my throat and said, “What do you mean she had men in the house? Mrs. Fife?” But she was silent. “You said she had men in the house?” I repeated.

Harriet didn’t even look at me as her lips pressed together in an angry line.
What the fuck?
We all sat there in awkward silence for another minute. The only noise I heard was Cassie’s stirring on the couch’s plastic covering. I glanced at my watch and decided to forget about any more questions. Harriet was in shock. She’d lost her husband and now her daughter. I needed to hurry and get out of here immediately, give this woman some peace.

And then all of a sudden Harriet stood up and seized her coffee cup. “Do you have any more questions?”

“No.” I didn’t think she would answer my earlier question. “Can I look through Onyx’s room before we go?”

I stood up. Cassie and Angel followed.

“Yes.” Harriet plodded to the kitchen. “Let yourselves out when you’re done. I may lie down and rest.”

She disappeared through the bamboo curtains before I could say goodbye or thank her for the coffee. Angel and I exchanged looks.

“Should we just wander through the apartment, searching for her room?” I whispered.

Angel shrugged. “You’re the lead detective.”

“Oh shut up.” I spotted a dimly lit hallway near a tiny dining room with a small wooden table and two chairs. I headed that direction. “It’ll probably be easy to spot Onyx’s room.”

Easy was an understatement. Black spray paint decorated every wall. The bed sheets, dresser, carpet, and lampshades were all midnight black, as if an evil lord had vomited darkness over the whole space. The only colors in the room came from beautiful butterflies in various shades of the rainbow. And even those cute, little creatures hung in the air by black chains wrapped around their necks.

“This was more than a teenage phase.” Cassie tiptoed around the room as if we had no permission and were trespassing.

“Definitely not a phase.” I closed the door behind us.

“You smell the gin on Harriet’s breath? It’s eight in the morning.” Angel sat on Onyx’s bed and stuffed her hands into my fuzzy, purple coat. A blue color crept around her pale lips.

“Lanore,” Angel said.

“What?”

“Would you please stop looking at me like I’m about to die.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t look like you were about to die, then it wouldn’t be a big deal.” I stomped over to Onyx’s dresser drawers and opened them. I spotted sheer crimson panties, ivory silk bras, several metallic-colored thongs, and even two tiny boxes of edible underwear, watermelon flavor.

“I doubt Onyx was a virgin.” I gestured to the drawer.

Angel stood up and peeked at the drawer’s contents. “She probably was a hooker, but not street. Most likely delivery. I would have recognized her if she’d tricked for the strip club scene.”

“Wait a minute. Maybe those are just for her boyfriend.” Cassie approached the drawer and dug through it. “Maybe they’re adventurous. A girl doesn’t have to be a hooker to have edible panties in her drawer.”

Cassie picked up the packet and studied it. She noticed me smiling at her and dropped the edible undies.

“Not that I know anything about this stuff.” Her eyes shifted back to tiger. “Zulu would kill me.”

“And the guy that got to eat the underwear would get his heart ripped out of his chest.” Angel collapsed back onto Onyx’s bed.

“Okay, both of you, let’s just make this quick.” I shut the top drawer.

“I just think you and Angel shouldn’t automatically assume she is a hooker.” Cassie kneeled on the floor and searched under the bed. What she was searching for, I didn’t know, but I guess anything would help.

“Were you both adventurous with boys in high school?” Cassie blinked her eyes as they returned to blue.

I considered the question. MeShack and I had taken each other’s virginity. After that, we made love anywhere and everywhere. We had no parental supervision. And thus, we’d put dents in the kitchen counters and bedroom walls. The closet pole never bent back the right way. We’d even been forced to replace my bed frame five times, sneaking stolen ones in so my father wouldn’t kill us during the few moments he was sober and clear-minded enough to see through our lies.

“Okay, maybe she has an open-minded boyfriend.” I leaned toward them and whispered, “But keep in mind, the habbie I’m working with said she was a hooker for a pimp named Kilo.”

“Well, that’s not good. I know Kilo. He’s nothing but bad news.” Angel put the jacket’s hood over her head. Her cheeks now had a bluish-gray tint. “I don’t think he killed her though. What you described was a lot of magic. Kilo has no magic. He would’ve just beaten her to death.”

Kilo sounds like a great guy.

“How did she die?” Cassie directed those big blue eyes at me.

“Don’t worry about that. Trust me; it may give you nightmares.” I glanced at Angel. “How do you feel?”

“I feel like an annoying person is following me around, worried about me for no reason.” Angel sucked her teeth and leaned back until she was lying on Onyx’s bed. “If you ask me how I’m doing again, I’m going to bite you.”

“You’re really scary there with your corpse skin and winter clothes.” I turned and headed to Onyx’s closet. “I told you not to absorb any more magic, but no, you had to see what it felt like to be a Were-hyena.”

“Here we go. I’ve been waiting for this,” Angel murmured and closed her eyes.

“Lanore, how does the habbie know Kilo is her pimp?” Cassie asked, taking out her recorder.

I stopped and glanced over my shoulder. “He asked around.”

“Kilo, suspect number one,” Cassie said into her silver recorder. “What’s your story, Onyx? Why bright orange to black? Why the sorrow, the pain? Why hang the butterflies by their necks? Why the edible panties? Talk to me, Onyx—”

“We’re dropping Cassie off next,” Angel announced, still with her eyes closed.

“Yep.” I opened the closet. “And Angel, have some respect for the dead and get off her bed.”

“She doesn’t need it,” Angel mumbled.

Cassie came up on my left side and dragged a chair into the closet. “I wonder where her diary is.”

“Diary?” Angel raised her eyebrows.

“A book that people write their thoughts in,” I offered.

“I know what the hell a diary is. I’m not stupid. I just doubt a hooker has one,” Angel said.

“Oh my goodness, Angel. She’s probably not even a hooker.” Cassie jumped on the chair and rummaged through the top shelf.

“Both of you keep your voices down. I don’t think her mother wants to hear that,” I said.

Cassie pulled out a box with several Xs drawn on it with black marker.

“I’ll get that.” I let her drop the box into my hand and carried it to the bed. “Anything else up there?”

“Uh . . . not really.” Cassie quickly put something behind her.

Angel giggled, her eyes now open and centered on Cassie in the closet’s opening. “Little, pink Cassie just pocketed a bag of marijuana.”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “Your brother would kill me if he knew you had that.”

Zulu had zero tolerance for drugs.

Angel bounced up, headed to the closet, and snatched it from Cassie’s hand. “Drugs are bad for you, kid.”

Angel sniffed the bag, smiling, and then stuffed it into her pocket.

“But they’re good for you?” Cassie pouted and strolled to the bed.

I took a stack of pictures out of the shoe box. Onyx had drawn Xs on every picture. I couldn’t make out the faces, but I assumed some were her and the mystery boyfriend.

“There’s her diary.” Cassie seized a clear stone with two red gems on it. “Holy Shango! Onyx was big time. She had an orb. It’s like a magical electronic diary. It holds an infinite amount of memory. Like you’re supposed to still be able to use this thing when you’re over a hundred.”

Jackpot.
A diary would tell me everything I needed to know and stop Rivera from blackmailing me for at least a few weeks. Cassie handed Onyx’s diary to me. I studied it, turning the orb around in my hand. It was the size of an apple, but as round as a ball, with a smooth surface.

“I read about this in Mag Tech.” I glided my fingers against the red gems. “If you lose it, it’s supposed to appear in front of you, but only if you say a programmed chant. At least that’s what the ad said.”

“I have an orb. Mine only has one button. To open it, you have to press it in a certain rhythm.” Cassie dug around in the box, taking out a jewelry box and more pictures.

I pressed the gems and nothing happened. Not that I thought anything would. Luck was never on my side. I slung it into my jean satchel.

“How are you going to get the orb open?” Cassie dangled a black stone, carved butterfly in front of herself.

“I know a Witch in Drum Housing Projects who could probably unlock it.” I spotted an unopened box covered in yellow wrapping paper and white ribbon. “I’ll go to the Witch next.”

Angel crashed back onto the bed. “Are you going to open the gift?”

I checked the tag. It read,
Happy Birthday, My Love!

“Yeah. Hopefully this is to or from our mystery boyfriend and not a present for a friend or relative. Although the
my love
part makes me think it’s not a family gift.” I tore open the paper, hoping I hadn’t just completely disrespected Harriet and that this had something to do with Onyx’s murder.

The yellow paper ripped away easily, exposing a white cardboard box. I lifted the top. A framed charcoal sketch of a man lay inside. I held the sketch to the light. Angel and Cassie got behind me. The mystery man had an upright triangle in his forehead, which stood for Fire Witch. He smiled back at me with a trimmed beard.

“I hope this is the boyfriend even though the beard makes me think this is a grown man.” I rushed out of Onyx’s bedroom, holding the picture like it was a fragile and expensive piece of crystal.

“Mrs. Fife?” I headed to the kitchen. Angel and Cassie ran up right behind me.

“Harriet?” I yelled out.

Harriet stumbled out of the kitchen with her coffee cup in her hand. “Yes?”

“Do you know who this is?” I held the picture up to give her a better view.

“No.” Harriet stared at the sketch for several seconds and looked at me. “Who is this?”

“I don’t know.” I held my hand to the side. “It was in an unopened gift . . . that I . . . opened.”

Harriet grabbed the paper and analyzed it again, shaking her head. “I don’t know this man.” She handed it back to me. “Do you think he killed my baby?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”