Mercy's Magic (3 page)

Julia’s eyebrows went up, curious.

“Just for the police, you know. Just for any clue. Whatever you have that you think is his and his alone.”

Julia thought a moment and then jumped up. “I know just the thing!” She dashed into her bedroom. When she returned, she handed Mercy a shirt. “He wore this to the other job,” Julia said. Mercy sniffed it; it did smell like something from a print shop...ink maybe? But not quite....

Then Julia dropped something else into Mercy’s palm; a small, silver medallion of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

“He used to wear it all the time around his neck,” Julia explained. “He took it off just recently. I don’t know why.”

Mercy closed her hand around the tiny charm. This was something she could feel his presence in. Why had he taken it off? “This will be fine,” she told Julia. Mercy had no intention of showing the medallion to the police, but Julia didn’t need to know that. She downed her cup of coffee yet again, and stood. This was beginning to do a number on her G.I. tract. “Excuse me,” Mercy said, softly bumping her chest as she hid a burp. “I’ve got to get going.” She hugged Julia tightly, like a sister.

“Thank you, Mercy,” Julia said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’ve got your number,” Mercy said. “You’ve got mine?” Julia nodded. “You call me if there is anything you can think of, or if you hear from Javier.”

Julia held Mercy’s hand tightly as she showed her to the front door of their small home. “Of course. I will pray for you, Mercedes, just as I pray for my husband.”

Chapter Four

On the way to the city’s police department downtown, Mercy noticed a black Escalade on her tail. She made a needless left onto a residential street, then another. She wasn’t frightened at all, but drove carefully as she didn’t want to give the impression the Escalade had spooked her.

While keeping her eyes glued on the rearview mirror, Mercy thought that if Javier were lying dead in a ditch somewhere, nobody except his family and friends would care. The thought of someone being parked outside Javier’s home while she conducted her investigation, and who now trailed her out of suspicion, reassured Mercy that Javier was hopefully important enough to be kept alive.

The Escalade was a couple of cars behind. As she passed through the intersection, she glanced up at the traffic light and closed her eyes for a half second. The traffic light went from green to red, skipping the yellow light altogether. The cars behind her screeched to a halt, including the Escalade.

Mercy glanced at her rearview mirror and screeched loudly, “Yes! It’s happening, Mercy.
It’s really happening
!” She smiled and slapped the steering wheel in a show of victory.

Mercy made another quick turn and pulled into the back lot where the department kept their squad cars. She was one of the few civilians allowed to do so as she had developed a working relationship with Orange P.D.

Mercy stepped out of her car and exhaled deeply, not because she had managed to outwit the Escalade, but because she knew she had quite a reputation around the department; at times a contentious one, but a symbiotic one nonetheless.

Chapter Five

Mercy sat across Detective Joe Patterson, watching his piercing emerald eyes intently scan over the papers she’d just handed him. The detective’s desk was obsessively clean, a sign that the grinding years of paperwork hadn’t caught up to the still fresh-faced investigator. His smoothed, straight almond blonde hair lay flat on his head, granting him a clichéd, old-school noir look. Mercy could read faces well, but he was a detective, and he knew that. He kept Mercy on her toes by wearing the pinnacle of all poker faces as he clicked around his computer—Joe was to be taken seriously.

Mercy sat back and crossed her arms, maintaining a playful smirk.

“No priors,” he mentioned.

“I could have told you that,” Mercy said.

“Sure you could have,” he said matter-of-factly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to check.”

He clicked a few more buttons. “Driver’s license is legal, but the social’s not his.”

“I’m not surprised,” she said. “Let me guess, the number belongs to someone deceased?”

“You got it,” he answered.

Mercy sighed as she tried not to let her anger show. All that money Grant had to take out of Javier’s paycheck would never be used. Not for unemployment, not for social security benefits when the time came. Javier had next to nothing in regards to medical protection or retirement.

“So...” She maintained a professional demeanor. “What else?”

Joe scanned his screen a moment longer and then sat back. “Nothing. We got nothing.”

“What about his other job?” Mercy persisted. “Surely you keep tabs on that sort of thing.”

“No, we really don’t,” he countered. “Not unless there’s a need to. You know, for probation, parole. That kind of thing.” Joe couldn’t help but watch her think. Those brown eyes, the wild, black hair. Her eyebrows lowered in thought. He briefly glanced down at the ornate buttons on her blouse, he couldn’t help it. He caught himself though, and immediately brought his gaze back up to her eyes, his face reddening.

It wasn’t lost on Mercy. She thought it kind of cute that Patterson actually blushed. She cleared her throat and said coolly, “This is a dear friend of mine.” Mercy made it a point to plead with her eyes. “A man with a wife and family to support.”

“I understand,” he fumbled. “How can I help you this time, Mercy? I don’t have an official missing person’s report on my desk, so my resources are kind of limited.”

She handed him the shirt. “He wore this to his second job,” she explained. “I was wondering if your team could check out the chemicals on it. They don’t smell quite right to me.”

Joe took the shirt, and set it aside
. Those eyes...

Mercy understood her looks. She wasn’t Angelina Jolie, but men often seemed inexplicably attracted to her. Sometimes she enjoyed it. But not right now.

“What?” she asked defensively at his empty glare.

“When are you going to say yes, Mercy?” He couldn’t help it as he gave in and dropped the façade of the cool and calm detective.

“Yes to what?”

“To dinner. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

“That’s a separate subject,” she answered.

“So it’s a separate subject,” he argued. “Sure, I’ll help you with Javier. You know that, Mercy. We’ve always helped each other out.”

“But?”

“But, what do you say?” Joe Patterson smiled and his eyes lit up. “I promise you, it’ll be fun.  We’ll go to your favorite place. Or I’ll surprise you.”

“What would you say if I declined?” Mercy now tilted her head downward and looked up at Joe with mischief in her eyes. She couldn’t help it. He’d been asking for a long time.

“I’d help you anyway, and I’d still keep asking.”

“Alright, Detective Patterson, I’ll consider.” She let out a light chuckle as he exhaled deeply and shook his head with a grin. “In the meantime, can you get forensics to take a look at the shirt?”

Joe rubbed his chin and continued smiling at Mercy. “You know I’m not allowed to submit anything to forensics without a report, right? We’ve had this conversation before.”

“And we’ve both bent the rules a little before, too,” she quipped.

Joe chuckled. “Have it your way, Ms. Cruz. You always do.”

Mercy winked and rose from her seat, and Joe, always the gentleman, stood up with her. She gathered her purse and sweater and strutted toward the door. “Let me know what you come up with,” she called over her shoulder as she let herself out halfway through the doorway.

“Can I call you anyway?” he asked, her back still towards him.

“Sure,” she answered. Mercy kept her eyes on the traffic right outside the door and Joe didn’t see the smile on her lips. Mercy then turned to the young detective and said, businesslike, “You know you can always call during work hours, detective.”

Chapter Six

Itzel Cruz smiled to herself as she ambled up the moonlit path to her old cottage, deep in the San Gabriel Mountains. She gathered night jasmine, Mercy’s favorite. The old woman bent her worn but still agile body down and snipped a bit of lavender for luck, and a little sage for the cleansing of her home. She probably wouldn’t need the sage after, Mercy, her niece, left her home after her planned visit, but you never really knew.

Once inside, Itzel put the jasmine and lavender into two separate vases. Rather than use sink water, she drew from a cast iron pot. This water had been bathed in the full moon, and blessed by Itzel with words of gratitude. She then laid the sage aside.

Itzel prepared
champurrado
, hot chocolate, while watching her niece in her mind as she wound up and around the now empty and dark mountain roads.

When the chocolate was ready, she sat in her rocking chair. She still had a little time before Mercy arrived, so she quieted herself in meditation. Itzel’s mind went back to the days when Mercy visited her and would run around her home in Veracruz, Mexico, curious about everything, including magic. Itzel smiled to herself, remembering the girl fixating on the spiders that webbed in every corner. There was the time she caught Mercy eating
masa
, maize flour used to prepare tamales
every Christmas. Yes, her beloved niece had always been mischievous and daring, but at times lazy too.

No longer young and rambunctious, adult Mercy was strong in many ways. But she still loved to drink
Tía
Itzel’s
champurrado
as much as when she was a girl in pigtails, smiling with two missing front teeth after her lips met the warm, sweet confection. Itzel had a few good years left in her, but she couldn’t hold her beloved niece by the hand too much longer. Mercy knew everything she needed to know, if she would just remember to stop being so lazy.
Help her to remember to work hard at becoming as powerful as she could be,
the old woman intoned, followed by a deep sigh.
So be it. This, or something better.

She kept her eyes closed a moment longer, pushing courage into her favorite niece’s heart. Then she stood and opened her front door, waiting for Mercy’s arrival.

Chapter Seven

Mercy caught her Aunt Itzel’s figure in the doorway as she pulled up. She parked and walked up to meet her favorite aunt as the silver moon shone brightly on her raven hair.

“Good evening, Aunt Itzy!” She gave her tiny aunt a big hug and a kiss on both cheeks. A family tradition.

Itzel returned the intimate gesture. “And bright blessings to you,
Mija
.”

The two stood facing each other for a moment. Aunt Itzel didn’t look a day older than when Mercy had spent her childhood summers with her down in Mexico. She knew the woman was in her nineties.
What was her secret?
Mercy thought.

“But you have aged very little too, my dear.” Her aunt read Mercy’s mind. “You’re more beautiful than ever. Come inside, come inside. I’ve got some
champurrado
for you!”

Mercy entered the cozy home and took off her shoes. Something she had always done, even as a child. Her Aunt Itzel almost never wore shoes; she preferred being barefoot. It kept her grounded and feeling the dirt, dust, and everything else that padded Mother Earth.

As Itzel poured mugs of the Mexican hot chocolate, Mercy crossed over to the bird cage. Itzel’s African Gray parrot, Luis, or
Lu
for short, hopped onto Mercy’s wrist. Mercy drew the bird near her face, and Lu proceeded with pecks on her cheek.

“Lu, you’re still so adorable.” Mercy smiled and stroked the parrot’s neck. “How ya doing?”

“Dinner time,” Lu responded, bobbing his head up and down and hopping from claw to claw. “Dinner time!”

Mercy laughed as her aunt handed her a piece of carrot. Mercy gave it to her little feathered relative; at least he felt like a relative, how could he not? He’d been around for almost as long as Aunt Itzel.

As he began to nibble the carrot, she set him back on top of his cage.

The two women made their way to the small living room, where a fire crackled inside the hearth. There were no heaters inside Aunt Itzel’s home. On the coldest of nights, her aunt slept near the fireplace.

Mercy knew her old aunt had a good amount of money saved up. She could have this whole place renovated if she wanted to, but Itzel preferred a simple life.

Aunt Itzy sat back in her old rocking chair again, turned on the old and tall black-iron lamp next to her. Mercy curled up on the overstuffed sofa.

“So tell me about this man,” Itzel said.

“Which one?” Mercy asked, laughing. Aunt Itzy knew everything about Mercy, including the fact that Mercy wasn’t seriously dating. She ignored the men who admired her looks and vibrant aura.

“Your friend. He has family. You want me to tell you where he is?”

“That’s just it,” Mercy said. “I don’t think you can,
Tía
. I’ve got a feeling about this one. I don’t come to you often; I know you want me to use my gifts.”

“Yes, that is true. But you don’t practice enough, my dear. If you did, you wouldn’t need me.”

“I’m always going to need you.” Mercy beamed. “After all, no one can make a sweet and warm drink like you.”

“And if you don’t come into own your powers, who will teach little Terra? She’s a strong one, you know. It’s your responsibility to help my Territa. How can you teach what you don’t know?”

The truth was, Mercedes feared where her powers could eventually lead. She felt them becoming stronger. Although the past couple of days were thrilling and the taste of magic filled her with adrenaline, she worried that eventually she’d cause a scene, or worse, let her fresh set of powers consume her.

“That’s why you practice,” Itzy snapped.

“Alright.” Mercy gave in, like a relenting stubborn child. “I promise you, I will.”

“You’ll be sorry if you don’t.” Itzel was still a little irritated. Old, but filled with wisdom beyond her ripened years, she had every right to be cranky. It was up to Mercy to continue the tradition. Itzel saw Mercy squirm in her seat, uncomfortable. She quickly shifted to what percolated inside Mercy’s mind. “Why is this case different?”