Mr. Clarinet полностью

"I know L.A." He laughed again. "Did a few cases out there. Hated it every time. Too sprawled out, disconnected. Worked twice as fast so I could get out fast. Movies, résumés, head shots, tit jobs, and bullshit. Everyone tryin' to crawl through the same hole. Lots of people gettin' left out. Victims and broken dreams. I've got that kind of shit at home—only there I actually feel sorry for some of them. Their hard-luck stories change a bit every time. In L.A. they're all reading off the same page. You're better off staying here if you're gonna move there."

"I'm not staying here a second longer than I have to." She shook her head.

"That bad?"

"No, but not much better." She sighed. "I had happy memories of growing up here, but when I came back whatever I'd known was all gone. I guess I had a happy childhood. Made coming back here as an adult that much harder, disappointing."

A couple walked in and greeted the waiter with a handshake. First-to third-episode daters, Max decided, still checking each other out, circling, everything formal and polite, timing the move. They were in their late twenties, well dressed. The guy ironed his jeans and the woman had just bought hers or only wore them on special occasions. They both sported polo shirts, hers turquoise, his bottle-green. The waiter showed them to a corner seat. Chantale watched them with a wistful smile.

"Tell me about Faustin's hoon-gan."

"Leballec?" she said, lowering her voice. "First up, he's not a houngan. Houngans are good. Leballec is a bokor—a black magician. He's supposed to be as powerful as Dufour, but a hundred times worse.

"You know, in life, certain things aren't meant to happen to you. Say you're in love with someone who just doesn't want to know, or you really want a job you can't have—disappointments, things that don't go your way. Most people shrug their shoulders and move on to the next thing. Here people go to their houngan or their mambo. They look into the future and see whether or not the person's desires are going to be fulfilled for them. If they're not, the houngan or mambo might try to fix it—as long as it's not going to alter the direction of the person's life. But a lot of things you want but can't have are just not meant to be."

"So they go to Le Balack?"

"His kind, yes. They call them 'Les Ombres de Dieu.' God's shadows. Those who walk behind God, in the dark, where He doesn't look. They give you what you're not supposed to have," Chantale whispered, looking fearful.

"How?"

"Remember what Dufour told you about black magic? How they use children to fool your guardian angels?"

"Le Balack kills kids?"

"I don't want to say," Chantale said, sitting back. "No one knows for sure what they do. That's between the people he's working for and him. But it's guaranteed to be extreme."

"What kind of people would go to him? Generally?"

"People who've lost all hope. Desperate people. People at death's door."

"That's everybody sometime," Max said.

"Faustin went."

"To make Francesca Carver fall in love with him—or whatever. Maybe that's why he stole Charlie," Max said, thinking things through. "Dufour said Charlie was very special. Le Balack thought so too."

"Maybe," Chantale said. "Maybe not. Maybe Charlie was payment."

"Payment?"

"Les Ombres never ask you for money. They ask you to do something for them in return."

"Like a kidnapping?"

"Or a murder."

"What happens if the spell doesn't work?"

"They don't ask you to do anything for them upfront, not until you've got what you want. Then you start paying. That's how it starts."

"What?"

"Well, whatever you cast out you get back three times over. Good and bad," Chantale said. "It's how things maintain their balance. No bad deed goes unpunished. In the early eighties, before AIDS hit the headlines, Jean-Claude Duvalier had a mistress and a mister. He was bisexual. The mistress was called Véronique, the boyfriend was called Robert. Véronique got jealous of Robert, who was getting more attention from Jean-Claude. She was scared of losing favor and scared of getting dumped for a man. So she went to Leballec. I don't know what she asked for but Robert died quite unexpectedly in the middle of Port-au-Prince. Like that—" she snapped her fingers "—at the wheel. When they opened him up they found water in his lungs, like he'd drowned."

"Couldn't someone have drowned him and dumped him in the car?"

"Lots of people saw him driving the car. He even stopped to buy cigarettes a few minutes before he died," said Chantale. "Word got back to Jean-Claude that Véronique had been seen at Saut d'Eau with Leballec. He knew what that meant. He was terrified of Leballec. Even Papa Doc was said to be scared of him. He cut Véronique off. A month later they found her, her mother, and two of her brothers drowned in the family swimming pool."

"Any idea what this Le Balack looks like?" Max asked. He'd recovered from the taffia, although he felt tired.