Let's get something straight right from the start: I am, always have been and always will be, a practical, level-headed, straight-shooting person. The "just the facts" type. I believe what I can see, hear, taste and touch and while I've got enough imagination to daydream about the vintage and antique buttons I sell in my Chicago shop and just a touch more that helps me solve the murders that pop into my path, I am not prone to flights of fancy.
Which is why I never believed in voodoo. I mean, what practical person would?
But then Forbis Parmenter came into my life. Forbis was what some people call a visionary and others refer to as a crackpot. He was an artist who covered everyday objects with buttons. Thousands and thousands of buttons. He once did an exhibit of household items encrusted with buttons. But he came to Chicago with something new--an exhibit of articles sacred to the religion of vudon, the kind of voodoo practiced on the Atlantic barrier islands.
Yes, it was as bizarre as it sounds. Especially when at the exhibit, Forbis caught sight of something, screamed, and ran out of the gallery.
And the next day, of course, when I found Forbis's body in the arms of a button-covered statue, his eyes and lips sealed with buttons.
That was the start of an adventure like no other I'd ever had, one that included a handsome (and possibly dangerous) stranger, and made me re-examine everything I thought was solid, stable and dependable in my life.
Does what happened make me believe in voodoo?
I can't say. Not for sure. Maybe you'll be able to decide once you read "Buttoned Up."
And don't forget, this post is part of the Seasons Readings celebration. Leave a comment and you'll have a chance to win a copy of "Buttoned Up."