Free Hell on the Heart by Nancy Brophy Page B

them.”
    “What’ve you found?”
    “Get this. They believe I’m here to fulfill a prophecy to protect the girl. Not because of who I am, but because I’m Indian.”
    “Who told you that?”
    “The board of directors, or in this case, the Council of Elders invited me to dinner. More like a command performance than an invitation, but I went hoping to get information.”
    “How’d it go?”
    “The head of the family, an old dude named Poppy wanted to check me out. It’s a world of their own out here.” He shook his head again thinking of the boy’s club dinner. Where did the women eat? Were they regarded as second-class citizens? “I was going to bring the rest of the team in. Now I’m not so sure.”
    “Maybe the old man is planning to marry you to the girl.”
    “Not hardly. They’re unwavering on the gypsy-only theme. The doors haven’t been thrown open in welcome despite the fact they insisted I stay.”
    When D’Sean remained quiet, John exhaled, hoping his pent-up aggravation would leave him. “There was an incident at dinner.”
    D’Sean made a noise in his throat indicating he was listening.
    “The healer, an old gal with bulging eyes, burst through the doors, ranting and raving about my being here. Of course it was all in whatever language they’re using, so I didn’t get anything but the gist. A lot of the dispute was territorial. The real question was who’s in charge of approving the outsider – me.”
    “Who won?”
    “The Elders gave in to the witch, but when she approached me I refused to let her use me as the centerpiece for some sacred ritual.”
    D’Sean let out a gruff chuckle. “I thought you believed in that stuff.”
    “I do, that’s why I stood my ground insisting my ancestry would be offended.”
    D’Sean knew him well enough to prompt, “And….”
     “I included that I was protected by a Shaman’s magic and the bite of the tarantula.”
    The chuckle turned into a snort. “Did you show them the tattoo?”
    “Wasn’t necessary. The crone backed off.” The water from the lake had an eerie calmness that had him scanning the cloudy sky and listening for the sounds of warning from the animals.
    “How’d the men take it?”
    “What? Oh, I did the right thing. Once they got the healer out the door, I was not only more accepted, they brought out the good alcohol, some overly sweet, plumy liquor called Slivovitz.”
    “Apart from the wine tasting, did you find out anything?”
    “Something happened Friday night that no one’s talking about. I’m going to squeeze Czigany for details in the morning to get the info we need.”
    “Good luck.” His tone was anything but confident.
    John signed off and shoving the phone into his pocket. Great, his team doubted he could get the job done.

 
     
     
    Chapter Ten
    As though John had summoned her, Cezi sat on the far end of the dock next to a boat fuel pump. She’d changed from slacks to a long black and blue skirt with a blue sleeveless blouse. Her feet dangled in the water and a colorful blue and orange scarf bound her inky locks. All she lacked was heavy eyeliner and a lot of jangly bracelets to complete his picture of an ideal gypsy.
    He groaned, reminded of the numerous people who expected to see him in a beaded vest and a war bonnet.
    “Hey.”
    She focused her attention in his direction and raised a hand in a half-wave. Had she not smiled he might have kept on walking. “So is this place completely self-sufficient?”
    The dock swayed, moving with the weight of each step.
    “Almost. There’s a service station, a post office, a grocery store and a clothing store. We raise most of our own food. Women run everything, except the dock store.” She gestured with her shoulder to indicate the building behind her. “Too much contact with the public. Men have jobs in the community and contribute cash.”
    John frowned and lowered himself to sit on the smooth wooden planks beside her. Refusing to remove his wingtips