A/N: Sorry to take so long to update! Just some plot development in this one... Reviews deeply appreciated!

Seds

*****

Morgan and Reid headed to their small rental car. They squeezed in and drove to the sheriff's department, where Dee had agreed to let them have the use of her office for the morning. After being greeted and given coffee, they settled in and Reid made a second attempt to go through the ruined evidence box while Morgan called Garcia.

"Top of the morning to you, Garcia, Queen-of-All-Information here, you ask, I tell. Hit me."

"Morning, baby girl." Derek's warm greeting clearly communicated a smile.

Garcia's eyes widened. "Oh, my God! You had sex!"

Morgan stared at the phone in surprise. "Garcia! What did--how did--what makes you say that?"

"Listen, my steaming hunk of chocolate love, you only have that particular lilt in your voice after a night of hot erotic sex action, so don't lie to me. Who was she? A Cajun princess? Voodoo mama? Lady alligator wrestler?"

"Garcia, let's just forget it--"

"Lingerie model? Cocktail waitress? Systems analyst from Cincinnati?"

Morgan sighed. "Do you think we could concentrate on work for a moment?"

"Fine, don't tell me, I'll have more fun fantasizing anyway. What can I do for you, angel-pants?"

Morgan rolled his eyes and grinned. Part of him longed to tell her exactly who had shared his bed last night just to hear the squeals that he knew the information would produce, but he forced himself to stick to business.

"I have the names of possible witnesses from an old case and I'm hoping you can help me track them down."

"My fingers are poised for action, much as I imagine yours were last night."

"Uh--great. Here goes--" Morgan read off a list of names and the phone numbers that they had previously been associated with. He could hear Garcia tapping furiously at her keyboard. After several moments, she made a sound of frustration.

"Hmm. Babe, I'm going to have to get back with you on this. The trail is cold on all of these."

"They were dislocated by Katrina, we think."

"Ok. I'll see what I can come up with."

"Thanks, sweetness."

They hung up and Reid looked at him. "Garcia give you a hard time about something?"

"She could tell I had sex last night."

Reid's mouth fell open. "She could? How?"

"Something in my voice, apparently."

"She's freakishly perceptive."

"I know."

"Well, did she have anything?"

"No, not yet. How about you, anything?"

"There's a transcript of an interview with a Beauregard Devereux, his address is on Rue Royal. Isn't that where the voodoo shop is located?"

"Right, and we're supposed to talk to a guy named Beau. Must be the same one."

"Well, it says here, from what I can make out, that Tom Brown was one of his best customers."

"Hmm. Sounds promising."

Sheriff Dee buzzed them on the intercom.

"You gents ready to interview my officers?"

"Yes, ma'am," Morgan answered.

"On our way."

Two deputies came in, one a small, round African-American man that appeared to be in his thirties, the other a tall, stringy Anglo with many more years on him. Dee followed.

"Special Agents Reid and Morgan, this is Deputy Delong and Deputy Walters."

They shook hands all around and everyone took a seat except Walters. He excused himself so the other man could be interviewed independently.

"Deputy Delong, how long have you been with the department?" Reid began.

"Fifteen years."

"And you were here when the Tom Brown murder occurred?"

"Sure was. It was kind of a big deal."

"How so?"

"Well, there had been a series of murders leading up to that point, and we all thought he was responsible for them. Things did quiet down after he was out of the picture."

"Were you involved in the investigation?"

"No, that was Smith and Caruthers. But I remember them talking about it."

"Could you tell us about that?"

"They said Brown's body was a gory mess by the time it was found. Some dogs had gotten to it. But the cause of death appeared to be blood loss from a throat wound. It was like he'd been bled. There were signs he'd been killed ritualistically. The mutilation of the body definitely took place after death."

"So, he wasn't tortured, or--"

"I can't say that for sure. I just know the belly was cut open after he died."

"Do you know what kind of instrument was used? Was it a clean cut, or ragged?"

"From what I remember, they said it looked like somebody knew what they were doing. I don't know what was used."

"Did they have any leads?"

"Rumor had it that Brown was taken down by a rival drug dealer's gang. But those guys wouldn't have bothered with the ritual. They'd have dumped him in the river or a swamp. He was laid out beside the tomb of Marie Laveau. Somebody was sending a message."

"What kind of message?" Morgan asked.

"It was a warning. But I have no idea for who, or against what."

"Can you think of anything else we need to know?" Reid finished.

The man shrugged and shook his head. "Sorry, that's all I have. It was a long time ago and a lot's happened since then."

Reid thanked him and Deputy Delong was excused. Next up was Deputy Walters, and Reid called him in.

"Thank you for speaking with us, Deputy. How long have you been with the department?"

"A little over seven years."

"And, do you recall anything about the Tom Brown murder investigation?"

Walters gave them the same information that Delong had, but added that he had been one of the men sent to pick up the body.

Morgan took up the questioning.

"So, you actually saw the body?"

"I sure did. It was awful. He'd been gutted and his throat was slashed, and he had marks on his forehead. His eyes were open, it was like he was staring at us when we got there."

"Sherriff Dee said it was difficult to get anyone to go out there to pick him up."

"Yeah."

"Why was that?"

The younger deputy looked uncomfortable. "Look, you guys from outside--you don't understand. Things go on around here that don't make sense unless you know--well, unless you can read the signs."

"Can you read the signs, Deputy Walters?" Morgan asked.

He shrugged. "No, but--ok, now, I'm not ignorant, and I'm not crazy. But I do know some things. My grandma told me all about that voodoo stuff. It's real. It's real, and you stay away from it unless you know what you're doing. Going to pick up a dead body's no big deal. Picking up one that's been hexed, that's different."

"Hexed?"

"Yeah, put a curse on. It's like, bad mojo, bad luck. You don't want to come in contact with it in case some of it rubs off on you."

Both Reid and Morgan were silent for a moment. Then Reid asked, "Did anything happen to you? Bad luck, I mean?"

The man shifted in his seat and sighed. "No."

"That's good."

"I made sure it didn't."

Morgan and Reid exchanged glances.

"How...how did you do that?" Reid asked.

"I--look, I know what you're thinking. Ignorant, superstitious--it's not like that. I went to LSU, I have a degree! It's just--you can't be too careful, you know?" He nervously pulled at his tie, then spoke in a quiet voice. "I bought a charm."

"What's that you say?" Dee prodded.

He glared at her, then repeated in a louder voice, "I bought a charm."

"A charm?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah."

"Can you tell us more about that?" Reid prompted.

Deputy Walters sighed again. "I know what you're thinking, like, little voodoo dolls they sell in the souvenir shops or something. That stuff's for dumb tourists. When it's for real, it's more complicated than that."

"Tell us." Morgan leaned forward expectantly.

The man looked from Dee to Reid to Morgan and frowned. "Ok. But, I don't want anyone thinking I'm crazy, or stupid, or--"

"We don't. We're just trying to understand. Who knows what might be useful in trying to solve this case?" Reid said gently.

"Well, you make an appointment with a houdon. He listens to your situation and recommends something, gives you instructions. He sells you some stuff--in my case it was 'good luck, fast luck' powder. I had to go home and gather some fingernail clippings from myself and everyone in my house--I put them in a bowl and sprinkled the powder over them. I said some stuff--the priest told me what to say--then I set it on fire and let it burn out. That was it. It worked."

Reid wrinkled his brow. "How do you know?"

"I saw what happened to the other two guys."

Reid's frown deepened. "What?"

"One's in a wheelchair. The other one lost an arm. Don't tell me there's nothing to this voodoo stuff. I know better. Anything else you want to know?"

"No, thank you, you've been very helpful." Reid nodded as the deputy got up to leave. When he was out the door, Dee shut it and turned back to the two agents.

"Of course, what he didn't mention was that both those men were heavily involved in rescue efforts when Katrina hit. The first guy was in an accident with an ambulance, and the other fellow got crushed when he was helping to evacuate a family and he got caught up in flood waters. Stuff like that, and worse, happened to lots of people who didn't go around picking up hexed bodies."

"You don't believe in voodoo, do you, Dee?" Morgan asked.

"No, sir, I do not. It's a tool used to control vulnerable people, that's all. Don't underestimate it--I've seen what it can do. But it's not magic. It's just simple psychology."

Reid nodded. "Yes. But, that can be extremely powerful in the right hands, no matter what you call it."

Morgan stretched and stood up. "Well--sounds like it's time for us to go meet the proprietor of the voodoo shop. Any advice?"

"Try not to come off like hot-shot FBI agents. I've met Beau a few times, and he's not going to be impressed by your badges. Try to connect with him as a human being. He's a good guy, but he won't tell you one darn thing if he thinks you're trying to strong-arm him. Or, out-think him." She gave Reid a pointed stare and he pursed his lips.

"Well, thanks for your time. Come on, Reid, let's go," Morgan said.

They said their goodbyes and headed to the car.

***

The voodoo shop was housed in an old building with blacked-out windows. Morgan pulled a baseball cap out of his bag and put it on.

Reid raised an eyebrow. "What's that for?"

"We want to look like tourists, don't we?' Morgan carefully straightened the cap and headed toward the shop with Reid trailing behind him, trying to stifle a grin. "A mere baseball cap does not a tourist make," he whispered as Morgan reached the door.

"Why don't you try being quiet?" Morgan responded.

The pair entered the dark shop. There were a few lamps illuminating the corners and the front counter, and several candles burned on high shelves. There was a smell of incense and food cooking and something else indefinable that Reid assumed was some sort of herb. They had no trouble looking like tourists as they gazed around the strange room; there were folk art pieces hung on the walls, and shelves of books for sale. Decor included alligator skulls, snakes and insects in jars, and what looked to be an authentic human skull on a shelf behind the cash register. There were display cases with small jars, vials and powder packets of various colors with labels describing their contents.

Reid immediately became immersed in a book. Morgan headed to the desk, where a young man with dreadlocks, light brown skin and gold-colored eyes sat listening to headphones, bobbing his head to the music. He glanced up when Morgan approached and a slow smile came to his lips as he looked him up and down.

"May I help you?" he asked with a light Jamaican accent.

"Uh--yeah. I don't know anything about this voodoo stuff, but I'm curious--does it really work?"

The man pushed his headphones down to his neck and stood up. He was tall and gangly--like Reid, Morgan thought--and he reached behind him to a shelf and pulled down a small handmade rag doll.

"Look at this. You see? This represents my lover. This morning, he was very mean to me. So now, I shall pay him back." He closed his eyes and murmured something then slowly bent the doll's left leg backward. He smiled. "Now, he has a terrible leg cramp. I'll hear all about it tonight. I'll be...very sympathetic."

Morgan stared at him. "Wow. That's...amazing."

The man nodded. "You don't believe. That's all right. But, I sense that you are looking for something." He lowered his voice and leaned forward. "What about your boyfriend, there? Would you like to win his love?"

"My...boyfriend? Now, look here, he's not--I mean, we're not--"

"Oh, dear, it's early between you two, isn't it? You're not ready. But, you will be. Here, this--" The man reached into the display case and brought out a small vial of clear liquid. "Put a drop--just one drop--on his pillow each night before you make love. He will think of you all the next day, and never look at another man." The gold eyes held a merry, teasing quality, and Morgan fought the urge to punch him in the face.

"Listen, I'm not--"

The man made little effort to hide a smile, and held up one hand defensively. "Oh, my goodness. Yes, yes, I understand. My mistake." He put the vial back in the case. "Perhaps you would prefer a few souvenirs, then? For your many, ah, girlfriends?" He bubbled over with laughter as he strode to a display rack and picked out a few "naughty" postcards with naked women on them and handed them to Morgan. Morgan glanced at them and rolled his eyes, but took out his wallet and handed a few bills to the man.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"I am Leon."

"Ok, Leon. Thanks. Now, a friend of mine told me to ask for someone named Beau--is he here?"

"Beau is always here." He made no effort to offer additional help.

"Could I speak to him?"

"He'll show up eventually. Make yourself at home." Leon sat down and put his headphones back on his ears, clearly having lost interest in baiting Morgan, and Morgan sighed as he turned to speak to Reid.

But, Reid was gone.