A group called Just Say Thanks was coming in on Sunday. Lara had been in contact with the events coordinator several times. She had just spent another hour with her on the phone now, assuring the woman that they were open and ready for the group’s visit. Meanwhile, Meg was bent intently over her Bureau laptop.
Just Say Thanks had been founded by a wealthy household-appliance inventor who hadn’t served in the military but who was grateful to those who had the courage he didn’t. It was largely funded by about twenty wealthy people across the country, though they accepted donations. Their mission was to help wounded veterans, and especially those with PTSD, by getting them out into the world. Lara had been thrilled when they made contact, and Grady had even offered to underwrite their visit. Lara had done a half dozen press releases for the event, but now she continued contacting the media. Sea Life liked to welcome vets and went all out for them. The employees even lined up to applaud as the soldiers went by. It was a nice touch. Not nearly enough, but nice.
She emailed a small piece for the next day’s paper, then turned to look at Meg, who was so deeply involved in her work that she could have been back in her own office in Virginia. She didn’t even notice Lara.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Lara said softly. “But...what are you doing?”
Meg turned to her. “When you were on the phone I was cyber-conferencing with Matt, Diego and Brett. Here’s a shock to the system. Someone is making zombies.”
“What? Zombies aren’t real. They’re horror movie stuff.”
“No, not zombies like in the movies,” Meg said. “Real zombies. Slaves with no free will, basically. The whole thing comes from Haiti, and it involves voodoo and drugs, and now it’s here in Miami. A conservative estimate for South Florida says close to half a million people here are Haitian or of Haitian descent.” Meg smiled. “I’ve been on the computer a long time, and now I’m full of statistics. Miami’s Little Haiti is a small area. It runs, roughly speaking, from Northwest 79th Street to Northwest 86th Street, and from the bay over to 2nd Avenue. It’s got a fascinating history. It used to be a small agricultural community called Lemon City, founded around 1850. There were lemon groves everywhere, and supposedly there are still a lot of lemon trees in people’s yards. It’s a poor area, with its share of crack houses, but the median income has been rising, and the local businessmen are fighting to protect their investment and keep drugs out of the area.
“The population has grown a lot more mixed since the 1980s, but it’s still primarily a Haitian and overall Caribbean community.” She shook her head. “It’s not the safest neighborhood, though. The trip advisory sites all say to be careful, even though the design district and a lot of tourist attractions are just to the south.”
Lara nodded. “I’ve been there.”
“What? Already?”
Lara laughed. “I took a city tour when I first moved down.”
“Well, at any rate, you can still find voodoo priests and priestesses there,” Meg said.
Lara leaned back. “Okay. So how do you guys go about that? Do you just walk down the streets and ask people where the voodoo priest lives?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“What, then?”
“We use the internet, just like everybody else, ask the local cops at the task force meeting. To tell you the truth, I suspect there will be a voodoo shop on every block, though.” She was quiet for a long moment, studying Lara. “I’d hate to be handling the press on this one. I can just see the headlines. ‘Real Zombies Roam Miami.’”
“I admit, I’m glad I don’t have to spin this one,” Lara said.
“Listen,” Meg said, “I’ve got some time, and since you know the area, how about you go with me, and we drive around, see what we can see?”
“It’s nearly lunchtime anyway, so give me ten minutes to finish up here and I’m all yours.”
Forty-five minutes later, Meg and Lara stopped at a place called The Haitian Princess.
As Meg had suspected, they’d had no difficulty finding voodoo shops, and they’d chosen this one at random. Lara knew she could take a long lunch, but she didn’t want to be gone too long. Still, she was eager to go inside and see what the place was like.
A tour group was just leaving when they arrived. Lara was glad; she didn’t want to share the place with a large group. The neighborhood itself had a few sketchy housing projects not too far away, but she was with Meg. And Meg was armed and knew how to use her weapon.
But Lara didn’t think about any of that once they entered the shop. It was magical. There were beautiful carvings everywhere, freestanding sculptures along with African masks and paintings adorning the walls. A large table held gris-gris bags and a wide variety of herbs. Religious talismans and statues of the Virgin Mary and various saints were displayed in handsome cases. A sign over an archway advised that there was an altar in the back for the faithful.