face like a fire axe and the clinging gray dress. The Zombie was sitting at his favorite corner table underneath the signed caricature of Fred Astaire, with his floppy black beret hanging on the chair beside him.
When Dan and Ernie came across the restaurant toward him, two of his bodyguards sitting at the nexttable rose to their feet, buttoning their coats as they did so. The Zombie waved them both to sit down.
“ Bon jou, mesyés ,” he said, as Dan came up to his table. “ Ki sa ou vié? ”
The Zombie was very delicate-featured, almost pretty, although his nose was more bulbous than his friends would have dared to tell him. He wore his shiny black hair in ringlets and a diamond earring like a miniature chandelier. He smelled strongly of some floral perfume, like gardenias.
“You can cut the Creole crap,” said Dan. “We just lost three good men out there, and I want to know how.”
“You don’t think I had anything to do with that, Detective Fisher? I have always been very good friends with the police, as you know. Even with vice and narcotics.”
“Who’s this?” Dan asked, nodding toward the girl in the gray dress.
The girl lifted her head and looked at Dan with defiance.
“ Ki non ou? ” Dan asked her.
“She is a cousin of mine from Haiti. She has come to Los Angeles for a vacation.”
“What’s her name?”
“My name is Michelange DuPriz,” said the girl, haughtily. “You want to ask me some question?”
“ Wi , Ms. DuPriz. We have eyewitnesses who saw you waving or making gestures at our detectives shortly before their car caught fire. Is that true?”
The Zombie smiled, pushed his plate a little way across the table, and held out his fork. “You feel like something to manjé , Detective? Sesame-seared Ahi tuna with field greens and soya vinaigrette. You should taste it.”
Dan ignored him and said, “Well?”
Michelange held his stare. “I felt that something bad was about to happen to your friends.”
“What do you mean—something bad?”
“I saw a dark loua over their heads.”
“A loua ? What the hell is a loua ?”
“A spirit.”
“A spirit? You mean like a ghost-type spirit?”
“That’s right. Not a rada , not a sweet spirit. A bitter spirit. A petro .”
“You’ve lost me. You saw a dark spirit over their heads, and that’s why you were waving at them?
“ Sekonsa . I warned them to get out of the car. But it was too late. They catch alight.”
“I don’t get it. The spirit set them on fire?”
Michelange nodded.
“So what are you? Some kind of medium? Is that what you’re saying? You can see spirits?”
The Zombie said, “Michelange is a manbo . But, yes, you could call her a medium if you like. She connects between the physical world and the spirit world.”
“Oh, really? Sounds to me like she’s been watching too much TV.”
The Zombie forked up more tuna. As he ate, he kept grinning at Dan, so that Dan could see the brownish flakes of chewed fish between his teeth.
“I’m so glad this hasn’t affected your appetite,” Dan told him.
The Zombie said nothing, but grinned even wider.
Michelange said, “It is true, mesyé . Who knows why the petro wanted to burn your friends. It did not speak. It gave me no sign. Maybe it was the spirit of some bad man who want his revenge.”
“This is bullshit,” Ernie retorted.
“You think so?” asked the Zombie. “That is not a wise way to think.”
“Oh, no? Let’s forget about spirits for the moment.One witness saw you holding up something that was smoking.”
Michelange looked away. “Different people see different things.”
“Maybe they do. But why would anybody say that?”
“Maybe they saw my cheroot. I am always smoking a cheroot.”
“A cheroot? ” said Ernie. “Who are you trying to kid?”
Dan leaned close to the Zombie’s ear and very quietly said, “Jean-Christophe, I want to know what the hell this is all about. Don’t try to tell me that there’s no
When Dan and Ernie came across the restaurant toward him, two of his bodyguards sitting at the nexttable rose to their feet, buttoning their coats as they did so. The Zombie waved them both to sit down.
“ Bon jou, mesyés ,” he said, as Dan came up to his table. “ Ki sa ou vié? ”
The Zombie was very delicate-featured, almost pretty, although his nose was more bulbous than his friends would have dared to tell him. He wore his shiny black hair in ringlets and a diamond earring like a miniature chandelier. He smelled strongly of some floral perfume, like gardenias.
“You can cut the Creole crap,” said Dan. “We just lost three good men out there, and I want to know how.”
“You don’t think I had anything to do with that, Detective Fisher? I have always been very good friends with the police, as you know. Even with vice and narcotics.”
“Who’s this?” Dan asked, nodding toward the girl in the gray dress.
The girl lifted her head and looked at Dan with defiance.
“ Ki non ou? ” Dan asked her.
“She is a cousin of mine from Haiti. She has come to Los Angeles for a vacation.”
“What’s her name?”
“My name is Michelange DuPriz,” said the girl, haughtily. “You want to ask me some question?”
“ Wi , Ms. DuPriz. We have eyewitnesses who saw you waving or making gestures at our detectives shortly before their car caught fire. Is that true?”
The Zombie smiled, pushed his plate a little way across the table, and held out his fork. “You feel like something to manjé , Detective? Sesame-seared Ahi tuna with field greens and soya vinaigrette. You should taste it.”
Dan ignored him and said, “Well?”
Michelange held his stare. “I felt that something bad was about to happen to your friends.”
“What do you mean—something bad?”
“I saw a dark loua over their heads.”
“A loua ? What the hell is a loua ?”
“A spirit.”
“A spirit? You mean like a ghost-type spirit?”
“That’s right. Not a rada , not a sweet spirit. A bitter spirit. A petro .”
“You’ve lost me. You saw a dark spirit over their heads, and that’s why you were waving at them?
“ Sekonsa . I warned them to get out of the car. But it was too late. They catch alight.”
“I don’t get it. The spirit set them on fire?”
Michelange nodded.
“So what are you? Some kind of medium? Is that what you’re saying? You can see spirits?”
The Zombie said, “Michelange is a manbo . But, yes, you could call her a medium if you like. She connects between the physical world and the spirit world.”
“Oh, really? Sounds to me like she’s been watching too much TV.”
The Zombie forked up more tuna. As he ate, he kept grinning at Dan, so that Dan could see the brownish flakes of chewed fish between his teeth.
“I’m so glad this hasn’t affected your appetite,” Dan told him.
The Zombie said nothing, but grinned even wider.
Michelange said, “It is true, mesyé . Who knows why the petro wanted to burn your friends. It did not speak. It gave me no sign. Maybe it was the spirit of some bad man who want his revenge.”
“This is bullshit,” Ernie retorted.
“You think so?” asked the Zombie. “That is not a wise way to think.”
“Oh, no? Let’s forget about spirits for the moment.One witness saw you holding up something that was smoking.”
Michelange looked away. “Different people see different things.”
“Maybe they do. But why would anybody say that?”
“Maybe they saw my cheroot. I am always smoking a cheroot.”
“A cheroot? ” said Ernie. “Who are you trying to kid?”
Dan leaned close to the Zombie’s ear and very quietly said, “Jean-Christophe, I want to know what the hell this is all about. Don’t try to tell me that there’s no
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