CHAPTER 8

MADAM MOISE

"The worst evil is when it originates from good."

The evening was calm, but I knew the souls of the restless were waiting

for their time to intrude upon the night sky. I sat and waited in a chair that

was very valuable to me. This chair was born of a rare wood from a century

past and would be fairly hard to find. It was carved by the hands that created

miracles of ancient times and was blessed by spirits unforeseen by unchosen

eyes. This chair protected me from evil, but I was not sure if it would have

helped that night.

My eyes were focused on the many different artifacts and figurines that I

had strategically placed for my visitation. I was expecting a visit from someone

that I’d never known. I did not know his motives, but what was much more

concerning was that I did not know his intentions. I looked in the direction

toward Teeto. Teeto was a smiley-faced clown figurine that held a bar in his

hands. He was my most cherished piece of them all. What made Teeto so

cherished was the fact that whenever a person was near him, he could sense

the aura of that individual. If a person near him was good in spirit, the bar he

held in his hand stayed the same. If the person was evil in spirit, then Teeto

would start to bend the bar downward accordingly by how much evil was

coming from that individual. The stronger the evil, the more the bar was bent.

If Teeto bent the bar to the point where both ends touched, then this was an

evil beyond recognition. As I continued to wait, I was thinking of what could

happen during my encounter until a heavy pounding on the door enveloped

my surroundings. I approached the door without hesitation, and I did not

ask who it was. I could not figure out the strange aura that was emitting from

the other side of my door, but I knew this meeting had to happen. When I

opened the door, a large Native American police officer from the Miami Police

Department stood before me.

"Hello, my name is Officer Tiger, are you Madame Moise?" he said with

a heavy voice.

"Yes, I am," I said as he simultaneously showed his identification.

A grip of fear suddenly caught me as he quickly whipped his eyes in the

house while I was distracted in seeing his identification. It was a quick and

meticulous stare that made me uncomfortable.

"I am here in reference to a couple of leads of an individual that I’m looking

for," he said with a more subtle voice.

I suspected he was pacing himself to continue his observation.

"What does this person that you are looking for have to do with me, Officer

Tiger?" I asked.

A smirk visibly appeared on his face as he folded his wallet and concealed

it in his uniform pocket. It started to feel like a chess match between him and

me. He took a step in the door without a hint of hesitation.

"Mrs . . . Madame Moise, may I come in?" he said inexcusably.

The air between us seemed heavy and was a determining factor at the

pace that we would continue. The step he took was indicative of a challenge

in uncharted territory that he was willing to take. I took a moment as there

seemed to be no time limit to my response, only my next move to counter what

seemed to me his leap of faith.

"Yes, you may enter," I said.

As he entered, I noticed that every step that he took seemed handicapped

in nature. He may have spoken with a blind confidence, but his body language

could not match it. After I closed the door, my steps were similar to his, but

they were more so cautious in nature than handicapped.

"Your home seems to be a doorway . . . to how should I say it . . . the

supernatural," he said with a lump of sarcasm.

"Have a seat, Officer Tiger, and tell me more about this particular

individual you are looking for."

I sat on my chair that was a few feet away from where he was sitting. He

continued his observation throughout my home. He reached into his uniform

and fumbled with a notepad that I knew he had no intentions on using.

"Yes, this individual I’m looking for is called Scar by many of the local

kids. Are you familiar with him?" he said as he shifted his tone.

His eyes continued back and forth as if they were treading murky

waters.

"Scar? No, I do not know of an individual that is called or goes by this

name."

My response was somewhat broken by its unrehearsed origin, but he did

not seem to mind. I took a quick glimpse at Teeto, and to my surprise, the bar

in his hand was still in its original state.

Teeto’s inability to reveal anything about Tiger seemed substantiated by

my state of confusion also. The stalemate in our conversation kept me in a

position with my elbow propped on the arm of the chair. My other hand was

strategically placed under the shawl I was wearing as I continued to watch for

more signs from Officer Tiger.

"Now, Madame Moise, are you sure of what you’ve told me?"

"As I said before, I don’t know or in anyway harbor this person they call

Scar."

There seemed to be an unbridled compromise in our conversation until

he made his next statement.

"Understand, Madame Moise, I’ve received many eyewitness reports

indicating he has been seen going into your home. I’m sure that you also know

that falsifying information to an officer could lead to . . . how should I say it . . .

the possibility of being arrested," he said with a clammered confidence.

Our compromise seemed a little whimsical as he came close to the line

without crossing it.

"Well, is he here, do you yourself see this Scar in my home?" I said as I

maintained eye contact.

His eyes continued to roam unsuccessfully as I continued.

"There is no need to continue this harassment," I said.

"Madame Moise, I apologize if I somehow made you feel uneasy, but I’m

only doing my job. I appreciate your cooperation," he said with a hinted smirk

on his face.

I acknowledged his last statement by nodding my head. Officer Tiger

rose from his seated position and extended a contact card to me as he

continued, "If you do have any information on this Scar character, give

me a call."

It seemed a little tense at that moment, so I declined on accepting the

card. "Officer Tiger, I don’t need a card to call 911, and why don’t you put

your pad and pen away and really talk to me," I said as I clasped my hands

together and leaned forward toward him.

He then put the pad and pen away and after a gasp asked, "How can I

talk to you . . . ?"

He looked left and right with his hands gesturing toward the artifacts in

the room and continued.

"When I really don’t understand?"

I stood up from my chair and took a step forward.

"It’s to my advantage that you don’t understand. It’s been going on too

long. Your time has passed, let it go."

He was slightly bewildered and seemed upset as he turned and made his

way to the door.

"That is something I cannot do. My conflict is not with you, Moise," he

said with his back to me.

"That’s Madame Moise. You were and may be still a good man, but your

intentions are misguided by a lingering grudge."

I slowly trailed behind him as I continued.

"I don’t want any conflict with you, but there is no agreement for my

assistance," I said.

"Good evening . . . Madame Moise," he said still with his back to me.

"I know who you are, and I can see you do not walk alone," I said

cautiously.

He surprised me when he then spoke in my native language and said, "You

know who I am. Then you know what’s going to happen. Haiti cannot help you

because she continues to die."

He did not have to turn around as I could feel the smile that arose upon

his face.

"Haiti will never die, and if it is necessary, I will die for her if it requires

my path to cross with yours."

Officer Tiger’s departure was a much-needed relief, but I remained in a

state of confusion. It’s all behind me now as I locked my door with the inclusion

of the dead bolt that I rarely used. My movements around my chair were a little

more comforting as I ran my fingers over the inscriptions that more than likely

aided with my conversation with Tiger. I paused for a moment and gazed at Teeto

and wondered why he was not able to see the type of aura emitting from Officer

Tiger. It was of a small concern to me now after my recent encounter.

My next trek through my home led to the room where I left a purse that

contained a substantial amount of money for a service that I was unable to

fulfill. A folder labeled Mrs. Velasquez lay next to it. I then reached under

the shawl I wore and pulled out a pouch, which was filled with a powerful

powder. I put it on top of the Mrs. Velasquez-labeled folder. Officer Tiger was

a Native American that was known for his heroic deeds, and the money was

a declaration that he should be murdered by my hands. A task that could

have easily been executed recently and by a high possibility of success, but I

bore a conscience. A bookcase was where I walked to and pulled a lever that

revealed a false wall that hid a back room. It’s quiet as I made my way to my

destination. There was just enough light in the hidden passage for me to see a

trail of blood that was still visible. The trail led to a bed with the one everyone

called Scar and, more importantly, the one Tiger was searching for. The blood

that led to him was his. He continued to tremble as he was covered under a

blanket. Though he was not a blood relative of mine, I took him in as my family.

I would not let him die in the streets like a dog. He did not tremble because

of the bullet wound he sustained, he trembled more to the fact of not knowing

who and why he had been attacked. His ability to speak was taken away from

him. And now his life was nearly taken, and he had no idea why. I reached

out and touched him, and immediately the trembling stopped.