offerings made if it involved a request.
“Next is two shells up, two down. This is
Eyife.
It is a definite yes, a conclusive answer.”
He pointed to the third drawing—three shells with the convex side up and one down. “Here the answer is
Otawe.
This means that the answer could be yes, but there is an obstacle to overcome.
“Next is three shells down and one up—
Ocana.
This is a definite no to the question or request. It tells us that something is wrong, or has happened, or was done by some enemy. To overcome this there must be an
Ebbo
, an offering to the god of the
nganga.
“And finally is
Oyekun
, which is all shells facing down.This means that the dead one wants to speak, and you must question him.”
Devlin stared at Tamayo. The man seemed sincere in all he had said, like a Christian explaining the equally unfathomable resurrection of Christ.
“And you believe all of this?” he asked. “You believe that it works?”
“I have seen it work, my friend.” He gave Devlin a small smile that seemed a mixture of patience and tolerance. “And tonight, at midnight, when you visit the great
palero
Plante Firme, I believe you also will see it work.” He turned to Adrianna. “And it will be you who will make this magic happen. Because tonight, with Plante Firme’s help,
you
will speak to the dead man.”
5
Ollie Pitts sat on the terrace that ran the entire length of the Inglaterra Hotel. It was ten-thirty in the evening. Devlin and Martínez had picked him up at José Martí Airport two hours before, and Pitts had simply dumped his bags in his room and retreated to the terrace to have the first of the many beers he planned to add to Devlin’s tab.
Martínez sat on the other side of the small tile-covered table, a cup of strong Cuban coffee before him. He had offered to keep Pitts company while Devlin returned to his room to give Adrianna whatever comfort he could before her meeting with the dead man, now only an hour and a half away.
Pitts had only rolled his eyes when told of their midnight séance with the Palo Monte witch doctor. Now those same cop’s eyes roamed the sidewalk, taking in the array of beautiful young prostitutes who strolled by, smiles flashing at the tourists who crowded the terrace. Pitts let out a small snort and brought his attention back to the sad-eyed major.
“So, listen, Martínez. We pull this thing off, and find thisold broad’s body, I figure Fidel owes me a big one. Am I right?”
Martínez fought off a smile. “I am sure the Comandante will be very grateful.”
“Yeah, well, gratitude don’t quite cut it. You know what I mean?”
“What is it you would wish in payment for your services, Detective?”
Pitts smirked and again fixed his gaze on the young prostitutes parading along the sidewalk. “I want the Lycra concession for the whole island.” He let out a louder snort. “Hell, I’ll be a fucking millionaire overnight.” He shook his head and turned his gaze back on the major. “Where do these broads get their clothes, Martínez? You got a store down here called Whores ‘R’ Us?”
Martínez closed his eyes momentarily. “It is more simple than that, my friend. They see these clothes in American movies and on American television, and they think this is how they must look to be desirable.”
Pitts was now staring at a young woman with dark hair and garish makeup. She was no more than eighteen, and she was wearing a jersey-style top, tight about her neck but with a hole cut in its center large enough to allow half of each breast to protrude lasciviously. “I must be seeing the wrong fucking movies,” Pitts said.
The young woman seemed to sense mat Pitts was speaking about her. She stopped at the row of plants that created a barrier between the terrace and the street. Slowly, she withdrew a cigarette from her purse and indicated she wanted Pitts to light it.
“You are being offered one of the few capitalist delights of Cuba,” Martínez said.
“Next is two shells up, two down. This is
Eyife.
It is a definite yes, a conclusive answer.”
He pointed to the third drawing—three shells with the convex side up and one down. “Here the answer is
Otawe.
This means that the answer could be yes, but there is an obstacle to overcome.
“Next is three shells down and one up—
Ocana.
This is a definite no to the question or request. It tells us that something is wrong, or has happened, or was done by some enemy. To overcome this there must be an
Ebbo
, an offering to the god of the
nganga.
“And finally is
Oyekun
, which is all shells facing down.This means that the dead one wants to speak, and you must question him.”
Devlin stared at Tamayo. The man seemed sincere in all he had said, like a Christian explaining the equally unfathomable resurrection of Christ.
“And you believe all of this?” he asked. “You believe that it works?”
“I have seen it work, my friend.” He gave Devlin a small smile that seemed a mixture of patience and tolerance. “And tonight, at midnight, when you visit the great
palero
Plante Firme, I believe you also will see it work.” He turned to Adrianna. “And it will be you who will make this magic happen. Because tonight, with Plante Firme’s help,
you
will speak to the dead man.”
5
Ollie Pitts sat on the terrace that ran the entire length of the Inglaterra Hotel. It was ten-thirty in the evening. Devlin and Martínez had picked him up at José Martí Airport two hours before, and Pitts had simply dumped his bags in his room and retreated to the terrace to have the first of the many beers he planned to add to Devlin’s tab.
Martínez sat on the other side of the small tile-covered table, a cup of strong Cuban coffee before him. He had offered to keep Pitts company while Devlin returned to his room to give Adrianna whatever comfort he could before her meeting with the dead man, now only an hour and a half away.
Pitts had only rolled his eyes when told of their midnight séance with the Palo Monte witch doctor. Now those same cop’s eyes roamed the sidewalk, taking in the array of beautiful young prostitutes who strolled by, smiles flashing at the tourists who crowded the terrace. Pitts let out a small snort and brought his attention back to the sad-eyed major.
“So, listen, Martínez. We pull this thing off, and find thisold broad’s body, I figure Fidel owes me a big one. Am I right?”
Martínez fought off a smile. “I am sure the Comandante will be very grateful.”
“Yeah, well, gratitude don’t quite cut it. You know what I mean?”
“What is it you would wish in payment for your services, Detective?”
Pitts smirked and again fixed his gaze on the young prostitutes parading along the sidewalk. “I want the Lycra concession for the whole island.” He let out a louder snort. “Hell, I’ll be a fucking millionaire overnight.” He shook his head and turned his gaze back on the major. “Where do these broads get their clothes, Martínez? You got a store down here called Whores ‘R’ Us?”
Martínez closed his eyes momentarily. “It is more simple than that, my friend. They see these clothes in American movies and on American television, and they think this is how they must look to be desirable.”
Pitts was now staring at a young woman with dark hair and garish makeup. She was no more than eighteen, and she was wearing a jersey-style top, tight about her neck but with a hole cut in its center large enough to allow half of each breast to protrude lasciviously. “I must be seeing the wrong fucking movies,” Pitts said.
The young woman seemed to sense mat Pitts was speaking about her. She stopped at the row of plants that created a barrier between the terrace and the street. Slowly, she withdrew a cigarette from her purse and indicated she wanted Pitts to light it.
“You are being offered one of the few capitalist delights of Cuba,” Martínez said.
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