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〃This is your old friend Gar Whitmark；〃 he said。 〃Your crew of gypsy fakers hit my wife for seven grand。 My wife is not well； Avila。 If I don't see my money by tomorrow morning； you'll be in the county jail by tomorrow night。 And I will arrange for you to share a cell with Paul Pick…Percy。〃
The threat brutally jarred Avila wide awake。 Paul Pick…Percy was a notorious cannibal。 Currently he awaited trial on charges of killing and eating his landlord； who had neglected to repair a leaky ball cock in Paul Pick…Percy's toilet tank。 Recently Paul Pick…Percy had also been found guilty of killing and eating a tardy cable…TV repairman and a rude tollbooth attendant。
Avila said： 〃Seven thousand？ Mister Whitmark； I swear to God I don't know nothing about this。〃
〃Suit yourself…〃
〃Wait； now hold on。。。。〃 Avila sat upright in bed。 〃Tell me supposedly what happened； OK？〃
〃There is no fucking 'supposedly。'〃 Gar Whitmark related his wife's pitiable tale。
〃And the truck was ours； you're sure？〃
〃I'm holding the receipt； dipshit。 'Fortress Roofing' is what it says。〃
Avila grimaced。 〃Who signed it？〃
Gar Whitmark said the signature was illegible。 〃My wife said the guy had a fucked…up jaw made him look like a moray eel。 Plus he wore a bad suit。〃
〃Shit；〃 Avila said。 Exactly what he'd feared。
〃Is this ringing a bell？〃 Gar Whitmark's sarcasm was heavy and ominous。
Avila sagged against the headboard of his bed。 〃Sir； you'll get your money back first thing。〃
〃Damn straight。 And a new roof as well。〃
〃What？〃
〃You heard me； noodle dick。 The seven grand your people stole； plus you're picking up the bill when my new roof gets done。 By real roofers。〃
Avila's stomach pitched。 Gar Whitmark probably lived in a goddamn ranch house way down south； with all the other millionaires。 Avila figured he'd be looking at twenty thousand； easy； for a new roof job。 He said； 〃That ain't really fair。〃
〃You'd rather do dinner with Chef Pick…Percy？〃
〃Aw； Christ； Mister Whitmark。〃
〃I didn't think so。〃
Avila got out of bed and went to the backyard to round up two roosters； which he took to the garage for beheading。 He hoped the sacrifice would be favorably received。 After a short scuffle； the deed was done。 Avila dripped the warm blood into a plastic pail filled with pennies； bleached cat bones and turtle shells。 The pail was placed at the feet of a ceramic statue of Change； the saint of lightning and fire。 The child…sized statue wore a robe； colored beads and a gold…plated crown。 Kneeling in beseechment； Avila raised his blood…flecked arms toward the heavens and asked Change to please strike Snapper dead as a fucking doornail for screwing up the roofer scam。
Avila wasn't sure the ceremony would work。 He was relatively new to the study of santeria and； characteristically； hadn't bothered to research it thoroughly。 Avila had begun dabbling in the blood practices when he first learned the authorities were investigating him for bribery； several cocaine dealers of his acquaintance swore that santeria worship had kept them out of jail； so Avila figured there was nothing to lose by trying。 In Hialeah he conferred with a genuine santero priest； who' offered to teach him the secrets of the religion； rooted in ancient Afro…Cuban customs。 The history was infinitely too deep and mystical for Avila； and soon he grew impatient with the lessons。
All he really wanted； he explained to the santero； was the ability to put curses on his enemies。 Lethal curses。
The priest wailed and told him to get lost。 But Avila went home convinced that； from the mumbo jumbo he'd seen； he could teach himself the basics of hexing。 For his deity Avila picked the saint Change； because he liked the macho name。 For his first target he chose the county prosecutor leading the investigation against corrupt building inspectors。
Pennies were easy to e by； as were old animal bones； Avila's grandmother lived four blocks from a pet cemetery in Medley。 Obtaining blood was the biggest obstacle for Avila； who had no zeal for performing live sacrifices。 The first few times； he tried pleasing Chango by sprinkling the coins and bones with steak juices and 。。 homemade bouillon。 Nothing happened。 Evidently the santeria saints preferred the fresh stuff。
One rainy Sunday afternoon； Avila bought himself a live chicken。 His wife was cooking a big dinner for the cousins； so she banished Avila from the kitchen。 He put a Ginsu knife in his back pocket and smuggled the victim to the garage。 As soon as Avila began spreading newspapers on the floor； the chicken sensed trouble。 Avila was astounded that a puny five…pound bird could make such a racket or put up such spirited resistance。 The crudely staged sacrifice eventually was pleted； but Avila emerged scratched； pecked and smeared with bloody feathers。 So was his wife's cream…colored Buick Electra。 Her ear…splitting tirade caused the cousins to forgo dessert and head home early。
Two days later； the magic happened。 The prosecutor targeted by Avila's chicken curse fell and dislocated a shoulder in the shower。 At the time； he was in the pany of an athletic prostitute named Kandi； who was thoughtful enough not only to call 911 but to make herself available for numerous press interviews。 Given the media uproar； the State Attorney suggested that the fallen prosecutor take an indefinite leave of absence。
The corruption investigation wasn't derailed； merely reassigned。 Nevertheless； Avila was convinced that the santeria spell was a success。 Later attempts to replicate the results proved fruitless （and messy）； but Avila blamed his own inexperience； plus a lack of suitable facilities。 Perhaps； during the sacrifices； he was chanting the wrong phrases； or chanting the right phrases in the wrong order。 Perhaps he was performing the ceremonies at a bad time of day for the mercurial Change。 Or perhaps Avila was simply using inferior poultry。
While he ended up plea…bargaining with the replacement prosecutor； Avila's faith in the witchcraft of bones and blood remained unshaken。 He decided Snapper's transgression was heinous enough to merit the offering of two chickens instead of one。 If that didn't work； he'd invest in a billy goat。
The roosters did not succumb quietly； the clamor awakening Avila's wife； aunt and mother。 The women burst； into the garage to find Avila singing Spanish gibberish to his cherished ceramic statue。 Avila's wife instantly spied red droplets and a waxen fragment of chicken beak on the left front fender of her Electra； and savagely took to striking her husband with a garden rake。
On the other side of Dade County； Snapper dozed peacefully in a dead man's Naugahyde recliner。 He felt no pain from the supernatural hand of Chango； nor did he feel the hateful glare of Edie Marsh； who was stretched out on the mildewed carpet and trussed to a naked insurance man。
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As the candles melted to lumps； Snapper's shadow flickered and shrunk on the pale bare walls。 His profile reminded Edie Marsh of a miniature tyrannosaurus。
For laughs； he refused t