Love Can Be Murder

stick and pointed it at Penny. "I told you that voodoo isn't for amateurs."
    Penny blinked and held out a calming hand. "Jules, I know what everyone is saying, but Deke Black's murder had nothing to do with me sticking that voodoo doll."
    "That's what you think," Jules said, her voice crackling with strain.
    "Maybe it was a random killing," Marie said, munching on her beignet. "Maybe someone here for the festival got carried away."
    "Nothing is random," Jules declared, then looked back to Penny. "Someone put a hex on that doll, and used you as a carrier."
    Penny frowned. "A carrier?"
    "Or someone could have put a hex on you."
    Penny started to deny Jules's words, then she remembered the masked priestess in the shelter who had singled her out. Penny asked Jules about the woman and the rattle.
    "It's called an ason ," Jules said. "It's a gourd filled with snake vertebrae, to honor Danbala, the Great Serpent spirit. Only voodoo priests and priestesses are allowed to use the ason. They can be used to bring forth good... or evil."
    For a few seconds, Penny was riveted, then she shook herself. "I don't believe in voodoo, Jules."
    "You should," the old woman said, backing toward the door. "I told you people were going to die, but you didn't listen."
    Cool air settled over Penny's arms, raising goose-flesh across her shoulders. "I'm listening now."
    "Good," Jules said, then stabbed the air with her stick. "Because the dying isn't over yet."

Chapter Seventeen

    You might need to test alternate formulas...

    "SHE’S A SPOOKY OLD GAL, isn't she?" B.J. asked, holding open the passenger door of his faded green sedan, which was parked in the store parking lot. Homemade and mass-produced voodoo dolls littered the ground, many with notes attached.
    On impulse, Penny scooped up one of the dolls at her feet and nodded as she slid by him. The scent of strong soap tickled her nostrils, and she suddenly had doubts about being with him in such a confining space. The fact that she'd known him for such a short time niggled at the back of her mind. On the other hand, she'd known Deke for years, yet her trust in him had been utterly misplaced.
    The crude doll was made from wax and straw, wrapped in a white cotton strip that looked to be part of a dingy T-shirt. The attached note read, "My husband is a pain in the neck—please give him one back." The T-shirt no doubt belonged to the annoying husband.
    "Do you think there's any validity to what Jules Lamborne said—that Deke's murder has something to do with voodoo?"
    He quirked a dark eyebrow. "There are a lot of things in the world that are unexplainable—love at first sight, vegetable pizza, and potpourri, for instance. But I doubt that your ex's murder is one of them."
    He closed her door. She was immediately overcome with the stale scent of French fries and rolled down the window, then studied him as he walked around the front of the car and climbed inside.
    "Sorry about the mess," he said, reaching over to remove the fast-food bags from the floorboard beneath her feet. He tossed them in the backseat, which was piled high with newspapers, manila file folders, and athletic equipment.
    She fastened her seat belt, then reached beneath her hip and removed a woman's lime green stiletto pump.
    He grinned. "Wonder how long that's been there."
    She smirked. "I wonder."
    He tossed it in the back, too, then started the engine. "Have you seen today's Post?"
    She nodded. "And I talked to Chief Davis this morning—she wasn't in a good mood. She said this murder was bad publicity for the festival and for the town, and she blames me personally."
    "She called to tell you that?"
    "Er, no. Actually, I called her." Penny told him about the shooting incident.
    B.J.'s expression darkened. "Why didn't you call me?"
    "No phone at home," she reminded him. "And I was going to call you...soon. Anyway, I reported it to Chief Davis, but I got the feeling that she thought I was making up the story for sympathy."
    B.J. was quiet for a few seconds, and she wondered briefly if he also thought she was making up the story for sympathy. "Speaking of shooting, did you ask her about the gun that was removed from your place?"
    "No, my attorney is going to handle it."
    "That's probably best," he agreed. "What do you know about this Chasen guy who picked you up this morning?"
    "He's worked for Deke for a couple of years. I don't particularly like him, but he's never really done anything to me."
    "Just a feeling?"
    Penny