Read Online Because We Are: A Novel of Haiti by Ted Oswald - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ted Oswald
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should have spoken to us yesterday, Libète interrupted him. We have important things to share.
— I offer you my apology, and I’m speaking with you now. Libète looked self-satisfied. But child, I have entertained your smart mouth. Know that I won’t do so any longer. Interrupt me again and you’ll have a bruised cheek to keep that sharp tongue of yours company.
Libète shrunk, and nodded, looking to the floor.
— Now, you say you have something to share. Why didn’t you tell the police who were there?
— I
did
try. They didn’t want to listen.
— And you, Jak?
— I was scared, he whimpered.
Dimanche sucked his teeth, unimpressed. He turned back to Libète.
— You could have come to the station.
She laughed. Living with my aunt? She would not let me. And you think those guards outside with big guns would have let a kid in to see the inspector?
— Maybe so, maybe not. But you’re here now. Tell me what you wish to say.
Libète took a deep breath and collected her thoughts.
— Well, we were in the marshes, looking for bottles. We came upon the bodies—Jak found them first. We inspected them. I closed Claire’s open eyes and mouth and tore a piece of my dress to cover her face. I ran to tell others and Jak stayed with them. Here’s the important part. When I reached the edge of the reeds, I almost ran into the Dya — she paused, not wanting to sound foolish — the old man who lives on the edge of Bwa Nèf. The one with the little black pig. I almost knocked him over and the look in his eyes—I just know that he had something to do with the murders. He was the only person I saw anywhere close to them. After that, I came back with my cousin and other people started to show up. Before long, the police were there and my aunt made me leave. So I left.
Dimanche looked at Libète, unimpressed. Is that all?
Libète thought about mentioning the apparition of the faceless woman, San Figi, but decided against it. They would surely disbelieve her, and a ghost couldn’t have killed the mother and child.
— Well, yes. I’m telling you the old man with the pig did it.
Another lull followed. Dimanche looked to Simeon, who shrugged, and then back to Libète.
— I appreciate your insight. That’s…very helpful. I’ll look into it.
— Good.
Dimanche deflated slightly, realizing that tasking Simeon with bringing these children had been a fool’s errand.
— And what about you, Jak? Simeon interjected. Did you see anything Libète didn’t mention?
Jak paused, looking at each person in the room. He was always eager to defer to Libète but there was something gnawing at him.
— The way they were killed—it reminded me of something. It was just like when they killed Ezili Dantò.
— The lwa? Simeon asked.
— Well, it
looked
like it was supposed to be Ezili. You know the paintings of the black Madonna, with her black baby Jesus? When I was sitting there, alone with the bodies, it popped into my head. She was scratched on her cheek. Had her tongue cut out, a knife in her heart, and a baby in her arms. I don’t know too much about Ezili, and I don’t know why someone would kill these two like that, but it seemed like they wanted to, you know, make it seem the same.
The room was silent. Dimanche eyed Simeon while Libète beamed, realizing Jak had touched upon something that the police hadn’t yet considered. Jak didn’t look like much, but she knew better than anyone that he was smart.
Really
smart.
— Maybe the old man did it because he has a crazy spirit and thought that she was being ridden by Dantò’s lwa and so he had to put her to death? Libète hypothesized out loud.
— Be quiet, Dimanche snapped. Any other thoughts, Jak? The boy shrugged, shaking his head. No? I don’t know if you’re right, but I’ll look into this. Dimanche shot up out of his chair. Thank you for coming. Simeon will take you home now.
— Wait. We told you what we know and saw, so you need to tell us what
— I offer you my apology, and I’m speaking with you now. Libète looked self-satisfied. But child, I have entertained your smart mouth. Know that I won’t do so any longer. Interrupt me again and you’ll have a bruised cheek to keep that sharp tongue of yours company.
Libète shrunk, and nodded, looking to the floor.
— Now, you say you have something to share. Why didn’t you tell the police who were there?
— I
did
try. They didn’t want to listen.
— And you, Jak?
— I was scared, he whimpered.
Dimanche sucked his teeth, unimpressed. He turned back to Libète.
— You could have come to the station.
She laughed. Living with my aunt? She would not let me. And you think those guards outside with big guns would have let a kid in to see the inspector?
— Maybe so, maybe not. But you’re here now. Tell me what you wish to say.
Libète took a deep breath and collected her thoughts.
— Well, we were in the marshes, looking for bottles. We came upon the bodies—Jak found them first. We inspected them. I closed Claire’s open eyes and mouth and tore a piece of my dress to cover her face. I ran to tell others and Jak stayed with them. Here’s the important part. When I reached the edge of the reeds, I almost ran into the Dya — she paused, not wanting to sound foolish — the old man who lives on the edge of Bwa Nèf. The one with the little black pig. I almost knocked him over and the look in his eyes—I just know that he had something to do with the murders. He was the only person I saw anywhere close to them. After that, I came back with my cousin and other people started to show up. Before long, the police were there and my aunt made me leave. So I left.
Dimanche looked at Libète, unimpressed. Is that all?
Libète thought about mentioning the apparition of the faceless woman, San Figi, but decided against it. They would surely disbelieve her, and a ghost couldn’t have killed the mother and child.
— Well, yes. I’m telling you the old man with the pig did it.
Another lull followed. Dimanche looked to Simeon, who shrugged, and then back to Libète.
— I appreciate your insight. That’s…very helpful. I’ll look into it.
— Good.
Dimanche deflated slightly, realizing that tasking Simeon with bringing these children had been a fool’s errand.
— And what about you, Jak? Simeon interjected. Did you see anything Libète didn’t mention?
Jak paused, looking at each person in the room. He was always eager to defer to Libète but there was something gnawing at him.
— The way they were killed—it reminded me of something. It was just like when they killed Ezili Dantò.
— The lwa? Simeon asked.
— Well, it
looked
like it was supposed to be Ezili. You know the paintings of the black Madonna, with her black baby Jesus? When I was sitting there, alone with the bodies, it popped into my head. She was scratched on her cheek. Had her tongue cut out, a knife in her heart, and a baby in her arms. I don’t know too much about Ezili, and I don’t know why someone would kill these two like that, but it seemed like they wanted to, you know, make it seem the same.
The room was silent. Dimanche eyed Simeon while Libète beamed, realizing Jak had touched upon something that the police hadn’t yet considered. Jak didn’t look like much, but she knew better than anyone that he was smart.
Really
smart.
— Maybe the old man did it because he has a crazy spirit and thought that she was being ridden by Dantò’s lwa and so he had to put her to death? Libète hypothesized out loud.
— Be quiet, Dimanche snapped. Any other thoughts, Jak? The boy shrugged, shaking his head. No? I don’t know if you’re right, but I’ll look into this. Dimanche shot up out of his chair. Thank you for coming. Simeon will take you home now.
— Wait. We told you what we know and saw, so you need to tell us what
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