The bartender pointed and Gould disappeared.

"I'm Enrique," the young man told Elise. "Enrique Xavier. If you need anything, just call me."

Elise fiddled with her napkin. "Enrique, I wondered if it would be possible to talk to Strata Luna."

"Strata Luna don't talk to nobody."

"I've heard that, but in light of these two possible homicides… I thought she might be able to help us."

He shook his head. "No way, man."

"Why don't you ask her?"

"She'll say no."

"I'll take that chance."

He shrugged, picked up a nearby phone, and punched in a number.

"There's a lady here. A detective," he said into the receiver.

Elise handed him her card.

He grabbed it. "Detective Sandburg. Wants to know if she can talk. Just for a few minutes." He lit a cigarette, picking tobacco off his tongue. "Yeah, that's what I told her. Sorry to bother you."

Elise leaned in Enrique's direction. It was time to play the conjurer card. "Tell her I'm Jackson Sweet's daughter."

Enrique hesitated, then passed on the information. Elise watched his expression change and knew she'd won. Five minutes later, the arrangements had been made.

Where was Gould? Why hadn't he returned from the rest room?

Bent over the sink, David tossed the wet paper towel into the trash. Eyes closed, he backed up until he hit the solid brick wall. His heart hammered like a son of a bitch. There was a weird humming in his head.

Jesus.

The girl from the other night. He couldn't remember much, but he was sure it was her.

Jesus.

What had he done? What was he doing? This was so fucked-up. He used to be professional. He used to be a good agent. What-

"What the hell is going on?" came an angry whispered demand.

He opened his eyes to see the girl, Flora, standing three feet away.

"You're a detective? A fucking detective? Is this some kind of setup?"

"Listen. My being here today is just a weird coincidence. And the other night-I've never done anything like that before. I'm not sure how it happened."

She jammed a finger into his chest and glared at him. "There is no such thing as a coincidence. And you're a cop!"

"I don't even know if I want to be in law enforcement anymore." God. He was admitting things to this woman he hadn't even admitted to himself.

"Oh, I get it," Flora said. "You're going through a midlife crisis."

"No, just your everyday crisis."

"Do you know how common it is for men to turn to prostitutes when they've hit the bottom of a downward spiral? For them to seek the company of strangers? To want to be held in the arms of a woman they don't even know? What do you think that's all about?"

"If Freud were here, I'm sure he could clear things right up."

A knock sounded on the door. "Gould?" came Elise's voice. "You okay in there?"

Flora let out a smirk and opened her mouth to reply.

In one swift motion, David pulled her against him, a hand pressed to her face.

"Fine," he shouted. "Be right out."

Elise's footsteps faded. He released the girl. Her lipstick was smeared. She wasn't mad anymore. "You weren't setting me up?" she asked with a coy smile.

Shit. Was she was going to try to blackmail him? He could see the headlines now: Yankee cop and black TUPELO hooker. "This is just between you and me. Nobody else." He wiped a finger across the lipstick smear, trying to fix it, realized what he was doing, and stopped.

"How about if I come by your apartment tonight?" Her smile was bigger now.

"Don't trouble yourself."

"Not in a professional way. I think you need a friend."

"I have a cat."

She laughed. "Like I said the other night, you're funny."

"Mr. Funny Man-that's me."

"Strata Luna has agreed to meet with me," Elise told David.

"How in the hell did you swing that?"

She slid from the barstool. "Mutual connection."

They stepped outside. David paused in the sunlight, the full impact of her words sinking in. "You said me, not us."

"She'll only meet with me if I come by myself. That was her stipulation."

"Depending on the location, we should be able to make it look like you're by yourself."

"Strata Luna isn't a threat. I'm going alone. It won't be a problem."

Not a good idea. Not a good idea at all. "You're talking about a woman who ate her mother's heart."

"Folklore."

"Folklore you presented as fact. Will you at least tell me where this meeting is going to take place?"

"Can't."

He stared at her for a long moment. Straight shimmering hair. Like a sleek black cat. "I thought you were smarter than that," he said.

The door swung open behind them. Flora.

"You might want these." She held out their unfinished drinks, which she'd poured into transparent take-out containers.

While she smiled wickedly up at him, David accepted his cup, topped off, complete with straw and lid.

"Did you see the way she looked at you when she served us our tea?" Eiise asked once Flora was back inside. "She's smitten."

"Smitten? Don't you have to be over ninety to use that word?" Wow. Elise has the weirdest eyes…

He'd noticed them before. Who wouldn't? But out in the intense sunlight, he could see metallic flecks and lines in about a million colors.

In her lady-of-the-manor Southern best, she said, "Are you making fun of me?"

There were occasions when Elise had very little accent. At other times, like now, she could sound as Southern as a Georgia peach. The accent seemed to be a tool she pulled out from time to time for effect.

His mother and sister would adore her. Which was why they must never meet. They would feel it was their matchmaking duty to push them together, since they considered it their duty to find him a mate. They would also want to tell Elise about David's past. He didn't want anybody to know. If no one knew, it might make it less real.

"She said she was Jackson Sweet's daughter," Strata Luna said.

Flora and Strata Luna stood in the third-story window of Black Tupelo, watching the two detectives as they walked down the cobblestone alley.

"Jackson Sweet?" Flora asked. "The conjurer?"

" Jackson was more than that."

The older woman smelled of secrets, of pungent herbs and rich, loamy soil. The scent saturated her hair. Her clothes. It seeped from her pores.

Flora wasn't interested in Jackson Sweet or the female detective.

She watched until the pair rounded the corner. "He's the guy I was telling you about."

"You like him." A statement.

"I do."

"But he's a policeman."

"So?"

"Police don't fall for people like us, silly child."

Flora continued to stare in the direction David Gould had gone. "He could love me," she said softly. "Jesus fell in love with a prostitute."

"Jesus this, and Jesus that," Strata Luna chided. "Everybody's always talkin' about Jesus. A strong woman don't need no man other than for opening jars and having sex."

"Haven't you ever been in love?"

"I'm not even sure what love is, hon. Man-woman love, anyway."

"What about Enrique?"

The older woman laughed her deep, rich laugh. "Enrique is a sweet, gorgeous child, but he ain't my equal, honey."

Strata Luna picked up a brush from the dresser, the slight movement causing her black gown to rustle. She pulled the brush through Flora's hair. Flora sighed and closed her eyes.

"There was this one man…," Strata Luna began with a secret smile in her voice. "But I was too much woman for him." She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Too much woman."

"Someone I know?" Flora felt herself relaxing.

"Before your time."

The room was cool, but Flora could feel the muggy heat of Savannah radiating through the window glass near her face as the rhythmic movement of the brush continued to soothe her.

"If you're serious about this man," Strata Luna said, "I can help."

"I'm serious."

"Then we'll gather ingredients for a spell. How'd that be?" Strata Luna put down the brush and raked her nails along Flora's scalp. "A love-me-or-die spell."