Free The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 1: American Nightmares (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #1) by Michael Panush

nothing to do with his father’s cruelties. He is polite and well-meaning, and with the naivety of one who believes in justice and the good things of the world. I could never hurt him. I will give him back to his father.”
    Weatherby nodded. “A brilliant decision, Mrs. Le Croix. You are as well skilled in ethics as you are in black magic.” He nodded to Henry Wallace. “Come this way, my boy. We’ll have you back in the warm arms of your proud papa by suppertime.”
    “Except we won’t,” I said. “Because the mob, the communist guerillas and the CIA ain’t gonna appreciate Mama Le Croix’s change of heart. Matter of fact, I got the feeling they’ll want her heart to stop beating altogether.” I pulled back my coat, revealing my shoulder-holsters. “Best get ready for some bloodshed before the day is out.”
    A gunshot cracked through the air after my words. We all exchanged a glance. I guessed it was gonna happen sooner rather than later. Carefully, I walked to the door of the hut. I peered outside. The beach was packed with the communist guerillas. They had a few jeeps with them, armed with heavy machine guns, all aimed at the hut. I peered outside and looked at the silent ranks of Escopeteros in olive green uniforms, their rifles and sub-guns aimed my way.
    Near the top of the beach, just where the hill sloped down, they had their prisoners. Bobby Belasco stood next to Miss Rosa. Their hands were bound and they had rifle muzzles to their heads. Belasco smiled at me. “Morty!” he cried. “Boy, I am glad to see you!”
    “You betrayed me to the Reds,” I said. “You betrayed your country by working with them to kidnap Baum.”
    “Yeah, but I just betrayed the Reds themselves, so it all works out.” Belasco shrugged. “Come on, Morton. I’ve played double agent, triple agent, and been in cover so deep that I forget what side I’m on. I don’t even think it matters that much anyway.” He nodded to the guerillas. “They want to execute me and the native beauty here. How about joining us? Misery loves company, after all.”
    “Thanks but no thanks.” I ducked back into the hut and closed the door. The Cuban rebels were hoping to take us captive without a fight. That brought us precious seconds. “They’re outside,” I told Mama Le Croix, Weatherby and Henry Wallace. “Too many to fight, and loaded for bear.” I looked back at them. “I’m out of ideas. Got any?”
    Mama Le Croix put her hand on Henry Wallace’s shoulder. “We gonna get you home, child. But it’s gonna be real bad and noisy for a while. You gotta promise to stay with us and just look at me, and don’t you go looking back or looking around, cause you won’t like what you see. You promise me that?”
    Henry Wallace nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “What exactly are you going to do?”
    Mama Le Croix picked up a clay jar and carefully removed the lid. A thin gray dust was inside, a little bit lighter than gunpowder. “I’m gonna make the dead dance,” she said, holding it high. “Mr. Candle, you ready?”
    I drew out both of my automatics and Weatherby took out his large revolver. “Yup,” I said.
    “Good. May the Loas guide us.” Mama Le Croix kicked open the door and hurled out the clay jar.
    It shattered on the sand and the gray powder was caught up by a sea breeze. The rebels raised their rifles, trying to aim through the smoke. It sunk slowly down, falling like evening mist on the sand. Nobody moved. The Commie guards didn’t shoot, and though we were in the doorway and stepping out onto the beach, we didn’t move either. All of us seemed to be under Le Croix’s spell.
    And then it went into effect. More hands than I could count reached out of the sand. They were black and weathered, skinless and rotten, and grabbed for the Escopeteros like drowning men trying to get out of the water. Screams of terror ran through the Commie ranks, followed by a torrent of gunfire. If we waited for a better