09 - Return Of The Witch

by Dana E. Donovan

  “Could you have been bilocating?”

  “I suppose, but I’ve never done that before. And even if that was the case, I couldn’t have killed her. I’d have been an apparition, incapable of manipulating physical objects.”

  “Yet you woke up in Gloucester this morning with no recollection of how you got there.”

  Carlos said, “Maybe you were sleepwalking. I read somewhere that in extreme cases, people have been known to get up and drive to work or to the store while still sleeping.”

  “That thought crossed my mind, too,” I said. “Earlier today, Ursula and I went to Salem to check out Terri Cotta’s house. A neighbor there also said he recognized me. Accused me of being the Devil and stalking the neighborhood the night Terri disappeared.”

  “Did he call the police?”

  “He did, just before the ground opened up and almost swallowed us both.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, it was the craziest thing. The old man pitched his Crucifix over the fence and damned me to Hell. The next thing I knew, a sinkhole opened up and almost accommodated his wish. Not so sure he wasn’t the devil himself.”

  Dominic asked, “Were you?”

  “What, the devil?”

  “No. Were you at Terri’s place the night she disappeared?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I think I was.”

  I watched Carlos and Dominic exchange worried glances, and almost expected one of them to read me my rights. That’s when Ursula pointed out the window, her eyes wide with warning.

  “There yonder, they come!”

  Carlos pulled back the drapes for a better view. “Speaking of Salem….” He leaned back so that Dominic could see. “Looks like two of their finest coming up the walk to see you now, Lilith.”

  I sprang from bed, spilling the tray with the sandwich, chips and iced tea all over the floor. “How can you tell?” I asked, pulling the drapes further from the window so that we all could see. “It’s an unmarked car.”

  “That’s Detective Chandler. Don’t you remember him? He headed up the investigation after Putnam shot Dominic up on Gallows Hill.”

  “I remember,” said Dominic. I turned and caught him rubbing the spot where Putman’s bullet had entered his chest that night and nearly taken him from us.

  “I remember, too,” I said, “but I thought you said the Ipswich P.D. wanted to talk to me. What’s Salem Slim doing here?”

  “Guess you’re a popular girl.”

  Dominic said, “Don’t worry, Lilith. Brittany told us their department couldn’t do anything to you because there’s no proof a crime has been committed. I’m sure the same goes for the Salem P.D. They can’t touch you.”

  “No, but there’s nothing stopping them from getting together and comparing notes.”

  I looked at Ursula, remembering the bowling trophy at April’s house that I picked up and later cleared of prints. Was it the only thing there I had touched? In Salem, we both pressed our hands to the patio doors to look inside Terri’s home. Surely if either of those women turned up dead, the police would have to suspect me.

  The doorbell rang, followed by a loud, authoritative knock. Carlos started toward the door. I pulled him back and skirted around him.

  “Let me,” I said.

  Dominic grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. “Remember, Lilith.” His voice fell into a hush. “Anything you say to them now may be used against you later.”

  I patted his hand and gently pried it off me. “Thanks, but I’m a big girl. I’ll handle it.”

  The Salem dick had started a second, more forceful, round of knocking when I opened the door in mid-thump. “Whoa! Easy there, Slim. You don’t have to beat it down.”

  Chandler stood there a moment, blinking in mock surprise. “Excuse me?”

  “All right, since you asked nicely.”

  “Good afternoon, Miss Adams?”

  “Please, Detective Chandler, call me Ms. Adams.”

  “So you remember me.”

  “How could I forget?”

  I stepped aside and allowed him and his partner to enter. He had lost weight since I’d last seen him, taking most of the fun out of calling him Slim. But his partner, a moon-faced, pot-bellied chap with bushy white hair and a mustache to match, looked as though he could wear that crown nicely.

  Carlos, Dominic and Ursula stood behind me shoulder-to-shoulder. I presented them to our company. “Detective Chandler, you’ll no doubt remember Detectives Rodriquez and Spinelli of the Second Precinct, New Castle.”

  “Of course. Detective Spinelli, it’s nice to see you’ve recovered from your wounds.”

  “And my sister, Ursula?”

  “Yes. I remember.” He reached out and began shaking hands. “This is my partner, Detective Rick Rossi.”

  I offered my hand to Papa Smurf. “Detective Rossi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  After the somewhat stiff introductions, I invited everyone into the living room for a seat. Rossi was halfway there when Chandler cleared his throat and stopped him.

  “Actually, Ms. Adams, we can’t stay. We really just want to ask you a few questions.”

  “Oh? You mean this isn’t a social call?”

  “Hardly.”

  He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to me. It looked like a printout from a web page, probably the Witch’s Cauldron. He had highlighted sections with yellow highlighter that mentioned my name along with Terri Cotta, Amber Burns, Wendy Skye and April Raines. I glanced at it briefly before casually handing it to Carlos.

  “Do you recognize any of the names on that page, Ms. Adams?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I recognize mine.”

  Carlos laughed. Chandler didn’t.

  “Anyone else’s.”

  “Nope.”

  Ursula, who had been looking around Carlos’ shoulder, said, “But, Sister, methinks if thee look again, thou will—”

  “I said NO, Ursula.” I ripped the paper from Carlos’ hands and gave it back to Chandler. “Sorry, Detective.”

  “I see.” He folded the page in haphazard fashion and stuffed it back into his pocket. “Then perhaps you won’t mind telling me why you were in Salem today at the home of one Miss Terri Cotta.”

  “Was I?”

  “We have a witness who says you were.”

  “Who, Holy Cross man?”

  “If you mean Terri Cotta’s neighbor, yes.”

  “He’s a dick. He nearly took my head off with his Crucifix.”

  “He said he also saw you there the night Terri Cotta went missing.”

  “Missing? I didn’t know she was missing.” I looked to Ursula. “Did you know she was missing?”

  “Aye, for just this morn we—”

  “See. We didn’t know she was missing.”

  The two detectives meshed their brows, though for my money, Papa Smurf’s was most impressive.

  “Ms. Adams,” said Chandler, obviously losing patience with me. “I thought you said you didn’t know Terri Cotta.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Yet, you were at her house today.”

  “We’re Jehovah. We were at a lot of houses today.”

  Chandler looked at Carlos and Dominic. “Detectives, does your friend here understand the seriousness of impeding a police investigation?”

  Carlos asked, “Is this a formal interview?”

  “No, but it can be if she wishes to go back to Salem with us and do this at the jailhouse.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Dominic. “You’re out of jurisdiction, Detective. You have no probable cause, no warrant and no evidence that a crime has even taken place.”

  “What about this?” Chandler snapped his fingers and held out his hand. Rossi, the obedient smurfster, reached into his coat pocket, removed a little baggie filled with a brown powdery substance and handed it to him.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Carpenters chalk, we think, used for snapping straight lines on construction sit
es. Our lab is verifying that.”

  “No, that’s right,” said Carlos. “That’s what carpenter’s marking chalk is used for.”

  “I meant they’re verifying that it’s chalk.”

  Carlos merely smiled.

  “Apparently someone’s been using it as a sort of Pagan ceremonial dust.”

  Ursula held out her hand. “Please kind sir, may I?”

  Chandler handed her the baggie. Ursula held it to the light and examined its content. “Ah, `tis true, I fear, yet I see not the worse in this light.” She turned to me. “Sister, hath thee a torch of UV-A?”

  “What, you mean a black lamp?” I shook my head. “No, I’m certain I don’t—”

  “Oh! Lest I forget, my purse!”

  She ran to the couch, grabbed her purse and rummaged through it in an obvious yet cursory manner. Sighing, she tossed it back down and returned the baggie to Detective Rossi.

  “Forgive me,” she said, cupping it into his hand and closing his fist around it tightly. “Seems I have not the proper light to show thee what precious gem ye hold. Yet know thee this.” She backed away and pointed to his hand. “What light of day doth hit this fast shalt spoil riches meant to last.”

  “Huh?”

  “Sunlight.”

  “Really?”

  “Aye, sunlight, the wicked thief. Let it not reveal itself upon thy treasure.”

  “Bullshit. Quit talking gibberish.” said Chandler. He wagged his finger at me. “Three other Essex County P.D.s found similar chalk at the homes of the other missing women.”

  “So what does that have to do with me?” I asked. “Does it look like I’m running a chalk factory here?”

  “I’m not sure what it has to do with you, Ms. Adams. Yet, it seems to me that your name keeps coming up in connection with those women, first on various websites and now in police reports of criminal trespassing.”

  I presented my wrists to him with loose fists bumped at the thumbs. “Then arrest me now, Detective. Cuff me and take me in. What else can I tell you? You can see that those women are obviously not here.”

  “Ms. Adams, we didn’t come here to arrest you. We came here looking for answers, and if nothing else, to warn you that you might be in danger yourself.”

  I laughed. “Me? In danger?”

  Chandler’s demeanor softened considerably. I watched his gaze find a spot on the floor that seemed vague and distant. “Ms. Adams….” He shook his head. “I was sorry to hear about your husband. I truly was. I only met him that one time, but….”

  I wanted to stop him right there, to tell him that he didn’t know my Tony well enough at all to talk about him in any sense. Yet something about his eyes prevented me from interrupting, especially when they rolled back up at me. I saw compassion in them, born of respect and forged in brotherhood.

  “He seemed like a decent man and a damn fine cop,” he continued. “Now then, I suspect that perhaps in his honor or because it’s something you think he’d have done, that you and your sister here felt obligated to investigate what happened to those women. But I’m here to tell you—”

  “Okay, stop right there,” I said, adopting a posture that Tony would have recognized immediately as my bite me pose. “First of all, Detective, my Tony was a decent man, and not just a damn fine cop, but the best damn cop there ever was. Secondly, I don’t appreciate your patronizing implication that I need to emulate his profession in order to honor his memory.”

  “Ms. Adams, I assure you I meant no disrespect when I said—”

  “Yet you did disrespect me nonetheless,” I interrupted. “So I’d appreciate it, Detective, if you spare me your psycho analytical evaluations and stick to doing your job, which as I see it, awaits you at a donut shop somewhere back in Salem.”

  Chandler stiffened his chin and drew another long deep breath through his nose. “Ms. Adams, let me make myself perfectly clear. You are not welcome in Salem. If I hear or see that you’ve been trespassing in people’s yards again, or if anyone calls to report that you’ve been poking around in their business, I will personally arrest you, toss you in jail and throw away the key.”

  “Oh, how cliché, Detective.”

  “You mean like your donut joke, Ms. Adams?”

  “Touché.”

  He glared past my shoulder to Carlos and Dominic. “And I don’t care what friends you have on the police force here. I will not extend the customary professional courtesy.”

  I walked to the door and opened it. “In that case, Detective, we’re done here.”

  He flashed a cocky grin, confident he had put me in my place. Still, I held my own as he and Papa Smurf both physically bumped me on their way out. After shutting the door, my lips gave life to a smile as equally cocky. Carlos recognized it for what it was and immediately called me out on it.

  “Lilith? What did you do?”

  I held up the small plastic baggie that I lifted from Detective Rossi’s pocket as he brushed past me. “Nothing much, just a little dust lifting of my own.”

  Dominic came in closer, squinting. “Lilith, it’s empty.”

  “What?” I looked at my little prize. Dominic was right. The bag was empty. “I don’t get it. It couldn’t have spilled out. The seal is still locked.”

  “`Twas never filled,” said Ursula.

  We all looked at her. “Excuse me?”

  She held up a similar baggie filled with a brownish red chalk.

  “I don’t believe it! You pulled the old switcheroo.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Dominic.

  I pointed at her purse across the room. “Ursula asked me if I had a black light, which she knew I didn’t, but used it as an excuse to get an empty evidence baggie so that she could switch it with the one Detective Chandler handed her.”

  Carlos shook his head. “I still don’t get it. What’s so special about a baggie filled with carpenter’s chalk? You said so yourself it has no purpose in witchcraft.”

  “No, but it obviously has something to do with Terri Cotta’s disappearance. Think about it. All four women disappeared, leaving behind a similar chalk residue of one color or another. It must hold some significance.”

  “Do you want me to have the lab look at it?” asked Dominic. “If nothing else, they can confirm if it’s marking chalk.”

  “Yes.” I collected the three filled baggies from Ursula’s purse, plus the one she lifted from the detective, and handed them to Dominic. “Let me know as soon as you have a confirmation on them.”

  “Of course.” He tucked the baggies into his pocket and kissed his wife on the cheek. “We have to go now,” he told Ursula. “I want you to promise me you won’t leave town again.”

  She looked over at me. I nodded lightly. “Promise,” she said, which seemed to please Dominic immensely.

  Chapter 13

  After the guys left, I confided in Ursula about what I thought happened on Emma Bernstein’s front porch back in Ipswich.

  “I had a vision,” I told her, “or a flashback. I’m not sure which. Right after Bernstein slammed the door on us, I saw myself back at April Raines’ house, attacking April with that bowling trophy.”

  I crossed the room and took a seat on the sofa. All the while static bits of imagery kept popping in and out of my head, random scraps like snapshots flickering under strobe light, but never long enough to make any sense of them.

  I looked up at Ursula, who had been standing over me, her hand resting softly on my shoulder. “Ursula, what if it’s me? What if I’ve killed those women?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Thou hath not a bone so mean in thy body.”

  “But you heard what Emma Bernstein said. She saw me there last night. And that dog this afternoon, he knew me. You saw the way he acted.”

  “He is a dog. He acts as a dog acts. Thou knoweth not what he thinks.”

  I turned my gaze down to the floor. “Still…I’ve read about this, you know, repressed anger manifesting in silent rage. It’s the
only thing that makes sense, the only explanation for the things I know, the things I’ve seen.”

  “Surely thou doth jest,” said Ursula, laughing in pig snorts at the obvious flaw in my remarks. “Before this morn thou knew not the names Terri, Amber, April or Wendy.”

  “No, I didn’t but I…. Wait a second.” I stood and reached for Ursula’s hand. “That’s it!” I grabbed her other hand and squeezed them both tightly. “Ursula, that’s it. How could I have not made the connection? I’ve been so out of my mind with Tony and all, I haven’t been thinking straight.”

  “Pray tell, Sister, what connection?”

  “The names! Don’t you get it?”

  She cocked her head to one side like a confused pup.

  “Look, this morning Dominic showed us Paige Turner’s website where she mentioned the Pendle Prophecy. It said the assimilation of the guardians had already begun.”

  “Aye, for the dust of life scattered here and yon.”

  “That’s right, so think about it. The prime elements are the prime essentials. What if Terri Cotta is a codename for terracotta, the Earth element?”

  “Aye, `tis a logic I see now that you mention it.”

  “Of course, and that gnome you took from Terri’s front yard? Was it not a bearded old man sitting at a potter’s wheel spinning a clay pot?”

  “Aye.”

  “That’s Father Earth.”

  “And what of Amber Burns?”

  “Could be ember burns, for the keeper of fire. Her gnome was holding a lantern.”

  “Wendy Skye,” said Ursula, “Be she windy sky?”

  “Air element, of course, and guess who April Raines is.”

  “Water!”

  “The codenames, the gnomes, it all fits! Quick, follow me.”

  I led Ursula back to my room and powered up my laptop. We logged onto Paige Turner’s website and clicked on the link to her members’ page. There we found other links to sites run by the Guardians of Four. And contrary to what I told Carlos, it appeared that some witches do indeed advertise.

  “Look at that,” I said, pointing in disgust. “Those women were all accomplished witches, each entrusted with the powers of a prime essential. Why would they advertise that and put themselves at risk?”