“But I was wrong! I’m sorry.” The woman fell facedown into the turf, sobbing.
“That ain’t Jilo’s fault. Now, if you want Jilo’s help getting a new man, you let her know. That she can help you with, but yo’ old man, he as good as gone, and the quicker you get used to it, the better.” Jilo continued on her way as though nothing untoward had happened, passing beneath the eagle as we silently watched her.
“That was really quite extraordinary,” the tall guy said in an undertone. “This ‘mother’ arranges murders for hire?”
“Isn’t that a police station on the other side of the wall there? Should we maybe go report this?” my round fellow asked. Beads of sweat had popped up on top of his bald head.
“That would be a waste of time,” I responded. “The police know exactly what she’s up to.”
“And they don’t do anything about it?”
“Honestly, there isn’t much they could do. You see, Mother Jilo isn’t any kind of hit man, she’s a magic worker.”
“A witch?” the tall one asked, laughing. The sobbing woman had pulled herself up off the ground and was weaving toward the exit as falteringly as a drunk.
“No, definitely not a witch,” I said, “but as close as you can get to one without being the genuine article. She works spells for revenge, for money, for love …” I was suddenly struck with an idea that I wasn’t comfortable entertaining. It was the kind of idea that could lead me down a path I knew better than to tread.
“For gullible people, like that poor soul,” the quietest member of my crew chimed in.
For a few moments the guys stood around, staring wordlessly at me. “Ah, I get it,” the round one blurted out with a snort. “You’re still lying to us aren’t you?”
I laughed along with him. “You got me,” I lied. “I don’t have the slightest idea what any of that was about.” I heard the bells from St. John’s begin to ring the hour. It was 8 P.M., and I knew the city workers would show up at any moment to lock Colonial up for the night. “Come on, y’all,” I said, moving toward the gate. “I am going to introduce you to the ghost of Billy Bones.”
TWO
“Mercy!” Sam’s gravelly whisper carried across the field like the call of a cicada. Even at this distance and in the dark, I recognized the old man. The moon reinforced the silver in his hair and his pronounced limp as he hurried toward me. “Mercy, you know you should not be here. Not even during the day, but specially not at night,” he said as he reached me.
“It’s okay, Sam…” I tried to protest, but he interrupted me.
“No, it is not okay. There are men out here—hell, even women—who’d rape you or kill you just for the fun of it.”
“Sam, I’m just a couple of miles from home,” I said.
“And you are a world away. Normandy Street ain’t your Savannah. Trust me on this,” he said, reaching out in an attempt to place a wrinkled hand on my shoulder. “I know you think you safe ’cause you a Taylor, but they some people out here, they no better than animals. They might decide killing you a smart way to make they mark.” He paused. “Let me accompany you home. I’ve known you since you were a tiny little thing. It’d kill this old man to let him think he let something happen to you.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was already dead, that his body had been turned over to the medical school three months ago. Now Sam was just another spirit caught in Savannah’s web.
“I’m here on business, Sam,” I told him, easily moving through his grip. The smell of sweat and booze nearly brought tears to my eyes. Even in the afterlife, the homeless man was best loved from upwind.
“Now what kind of business could you possibly have out here?” he asked. “Just who do you need to see here at this time of night?”
“I’m here to see Mother Jilo,” I replied.
His bright eyes bulged out of his thin face. His mouth fell open to reveal gums that were pocked here and there with a few remaining teeth. “Girl, you ain’t got no kind of business with Jilo. Your Aunt Ginny would skin you alive if she knew you out here in the middle of the night to talk with a juju doctor.”
My great-aunt Ginny Taylor was the true seat of the family power in more ways than one, and an insufferable tyrant to boot. “It was Ginny who sent me.” I hated lying to Sam, but if I didn’t, he might take it into his head to inform Ginny, which would be disastrous. If there was one person Ginny held more deeply in contempt than me, it was Jilo. I couldn’t risk that he would take it upon himself to look after what he thought were my best interests by going to Ginny.
“You telling me the truth now?” he asked, eyes narrowed. I nodded my head yes, and he let out a deep sigh. Who knew that a ghost could sigh? “Your Aunt Ginny, she gotta understand. It’s a different world than it used to be. When I was young, your people were respected. Everybody knew not to lay a finger on one of y’all. The young ones these days, they don’t respect nothing and they don’t fear much.”
“They fear Jilo,” I said.
“That’s because Jilo deals with them on their own terms. A gangbanger cross her and a gangbanger gets killed—or worse. Frankly, it has been a long time since y’all have given them anything to fear. Everybody think your family is toothless.”
“Well, they are soon to find out otherwise,” I bluffed. “That’s the reason Ginny sent me here to talk in secret with Jilo.” I paused for a moment then added. “She’d be angry if she knew how much I’ve told you.”
“You swear to me that Ginny know you here, and you under her protection?”
“I swear,” I assured him.