THE WITCH'S KEY (Detective Marcella Witch's Series. Book 3)

by Dana Donovan

  “I figured you out.”

  I opened the door all the way. “Okay, look. I’ll try your nauseating concoction if you agree to go with me this afternoon, no questions asked.”

  “Go where?”

  “Oops, see there. That’s a question.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “Uh-ah. Another question.”

  She sighed, looked down at the cup and then held it out. “Okay, here. I’ll go to your stupid whatever. Now, drink this.”

  “I said I would try it.”

  “Drink as much as you can.”

  I took the cup. “We have a deal, right?”

  She held the index and middle fingers of her right hand together and pressed them into her left palm. “Witch’s honor.”

  I put the cup to my lips, held my nose and then drank the noisome brew down. Lilith’s eyes blinked wide in disbelief. I handed the cup back to her and she accepted it with a broad smile. “That was amazing. You didn’t even taste it first.”

  “I trusted you,” I said. “Now it’s your turn to trust me. You’re going to keep up your end of the deal, right?”

  “Of course. Just say when.”

  “After my shower.”

  Twelve

  “I’m driving.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m driving. You don’t know where we’re going.”

  “You don’t have a license.”

  “I have a license.”

  “You have a Florida license with an old man’s picture on it.”

  “But it’s valid.”

  She fed me a crooked smile. “You really want to go with that?”

  I thought about it a moment. License or no license, it was Lilith’s car we were arguing over, but more importantly, I was arguing with Lilith. I never had a chance.

  “All right, fine,” I said, begrudgingly. “You drive, but remember, you promised.”

  She started the car and pulled out, heading west. “I know what I did.”

  “What does that mean?”

  A light smile thinned her lips. “It means I know.” She turned the car north onto Lexington at the first corner. I realized then that she knew exactly where we were going. So I leaned back, crossed my arms at my chest and waited for her surprise.

  We pulled into the parking lot of the hospice center on Lexington and Fillmore just ten minutes after leaving the apartment, not a long time, but an eternity with Lilith when no one is talking. I waited until she put the car in park and shut off the engine before warming up to the idea that she wasn’t actually going to just leave me there on the curb.

  “You are coming in,” I told her, only it may have come out more as a question.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Lilith, you promised. You even did that witch’s honor thing with your fingers.” I showed her the index and middle finger to the palm move.

  “Oh, this?” she duplicated the sign, only making it look more official. “That was nothing. I made it up. Witches don’t really have an honor signal. We pretty much do whatever we want.”

  “But you….”

  “Relax,” she laughed. “I’m only teasing. I’ll go in with you.”

  “You will?”

  “Sure. Lead on.”

  I still didn’t trust her. “Give me the keys.” I held out my hand. She pulled them from the ignition and gave them to me.

  “Fine. I see you don’t trust me.”

  I took them. “It’s the trust you’ve earned. Now, let’s go.”

  Melissa recognized me as we approached the front desk and she greeted us with a warm smile. “Mister Spitelli,” she said, “nice to see you again.”

  “Spitelli?” said Lilith, under her breath.

  “Nice to see you, too, Melissa. Thank you. We’re here to see Mister Marcella, if that’s possible.”

  “Oh, please say it isn’t,” Lilith said, only this time it wasn’t as quiet, as Melissa looked both surprised and confused.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Melissa, this is my sister, Lilith. I told her about Mister Marcella and she wanted to come in to say hello to him.” I turned to Lilith and gave her the eye. “Didn’t you, Sis?”

  She drilled a purposely-unconvincing smile my way. “I did,” she said, and then pasted the same smile on for Melissa. “When my brother told me about Mister Marcella, I said to him, Spit—that’s what we call him—Spit, you must take me to see that dear old goat at the hospice center so that I can say hello to him before he croaks.”

  I faked a laugh through gritted teeth. “All right, Lilith, that’s enough.” Melissa worked at returning a pleasant smile, but I could tell it was hard for her. I leaned over the reception counter and whispered, “You’ll have to excuse her. She gets nervous around places like this.”

  Melissa came forward in her seat and whispered back, “She really needn’t be. Nobody here is contagious.”

  “Oh, it’s not that.” I nodded in Lilith’s direction. “You see, a lot of folks here are just a heartbeat away from meeting the big guy upstairs, and she doesn’t want any of them leaving here with a bad impression of her. They might talk, if you know what I mean.”

  I pulled back, leaving Melissa nodding, though undoubtedly more confused. I really don’t think she knew I was joking, because as she waited for India to answer her page, I noticed how she kept eyeing Lilith with great suspicion.

  I suspect Lilith noticed too, because every time a patient came along, she would shout out, “Mom! Dad!” and then she’d wave to them. The sad part is that half of them waved back, but then she ignored them completely. I pulled her aside and asked her if she would stop it.

  “Would you rather I leave?” she asked.

  “No, but if you’re trying to get us kicked out, it won’t count towards fulfilling your promise.”

  She smiled up at me playfully. “You’re cute. You know that?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you want to kiss me?”

  “Kiss you?”

  “Yeah.” She rocked up on her toes and leaned in to kiss me.

  “Lilith!” I pulled back. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be my sister. You can’t…. Oh, wait a minute. I get it.” I looked over my shoulder at Melissa. Her eyes were wide as soupspoons. I shook my finger at Lilith. “You promised. Now please behave.”

  She rolled back on her heels. “All right, just remember this the next time you want to kiss me.”

  “No. Don’t even play that game.”

  “What game?”

  “Detective Spitelli!”

  I turned abruptly and found India practically in my face. “Oh! Hey, India. Good to see you.” I meant it, too. She looked amazing. Her low-rider blue jeans fit as snug as anything Lilith had ever worn. I imagined that a two-fingered glove could hardly have fit her tighter.

  “You look wonderful!” I said, grateful that the words; hot, sexy, smokin`, bitchin` or delicious hadn’t slip out by mistake.

  She shook my hand, delivering an instant rush of adrenaline. “Oh, how kind, Detective. Thank you. You’ll have to excuse my appearance.” She stepped back and splayed her arms to showcase her attire, though I suppose Lilith saw it as shameless advertising. “It’s my day off, but I thought I would sneak in and take care of a couple of things I didn’t get to yesterday. Looks like you caught me off guard.”

  Lilith stepped up and piped in loudly. “Ahem! Excuse me. Invisible woman here.”

  I retreated, reeling my primal instincts back in. “Of course. Sorry.” I turned to Lilith. “Where are my manners? Lilith? India.” I stepped back some. “She’s in charge of operations here. India; my sister, Lilith.”

  Until that moment in the introductions, I don’t know whose face looked more soured. Neither woman seemed very receptive to meeting the other. But when I introduced Lilith as my sister, India nearly ignited with enthusiasm. She came forward with outstretched hand, practically tripping over me to get to her.

  “Hello,” she said, paying no
attention to Lilith’s frozen stare. “Actually, it’s staff supervisor. Operations is an entirely different department. But sometimes I do wonder how they get along without me.” She laughed faintly. “I’m joking, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Lilith. “Aren’t you funny?”

  “Are you two here to see Mister Marcella?”

  I inserted myself between the girls like a wedge. “Yes, we are, if that’s all right. You see, my sister is a big train buff and she’d just love to hear one of Mister Marcella’s stories about life on the rails.”

  India checked her watch against the clock on the wall. “Oh, my. I’m afraid it is getting late. Visiting hours is over in ten minutes.”

  Lilith tossed her hair back over her shoulders. “Well, we tried. Better luck next time.”

  “No, wait!” I turned to India. “Are you sure we couldn’t see him for just a few minutes? We won’t tire him out. I promise.”

  I watched her lips melt softly as she thawed by degrees. I knew she would say yes. It was only a matter of time. I also knew that she intended for me to work on her until I understood that she was the boss. Women work that way, I’ve found; or so I’ve learned from Lilith. A man can have anything he wants, just so long as he understands that it’s the woman’s idea to let him have it.

  I waited until India’s eyes came back to mine before locking onto them tightly. After that, just one sappy, “Pleeease?” was all it took.

  She opened up to me like a flower. “Well, all right. Come on you guys. This way.” She turned and started toward the elevator. As we followed her down the hall, Lilith tugged on the back of my pants, slowing our pace enough to put some distance between India and us.

  “Nice work, Casanova.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I did, of course. “No, I don’t.”

  “Come on. You were drooling all over her.”

  “Was I?”

  “Yes, and what’s worse, she was drooling all over you.”

  “Huh, I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Liar,” she said, and she poked me in the ribs. “You were eating it up.”

  I laughed. “Listen to you. You’re jealous?”

  “Ha! Of that skank?”

  “Uh-uh. Wrong answer.”

  “What, she’s not a skank?”

  “No, you were supposed to say you weren’t jealous. Instead, you attacked her character, and that’s something only a jealous woman does.”

  “Oh, so now you’re an expert on women?”

  “No, but I’m good at observations.”

  “Yeah, well, observe this.” She pulled away and double-stepped ahead of me, employing a conspicuous accentuation to her strut that seemed designed for maximum exhibition. By the time she caught up with India, I was looking at bookend bottoms paired for action and ready for battle.

  At the elevator, India stepped back to let Lilith and me in first. After coming in behind us, she hit the button for the second floor and addressed the front of the elevator with her back toward us. I watched her face in the reflection of the doors, and her smile, which went from pleasant when she saw me watching her, to sour when she spotted Lilith’s scowling face watching us both.

  I thought the awkward moment could hardly get worse, but I was wrong. Halfway through the ride, India got down on one knee to tie her shoelace. When I looked down at her, I noticed two things of particular interest. One was the tattoo on the small of her back that looked like frilly handlebars. The other, and certainly more compelling thing, was the way the back of her low-rider jeans flared open at the waist, exposing her t-back and half her butt crack.

  I tried not to look; I really did, but the draw proved too overpowering. Lilith caught me staring and dutifully elbowed me in the side. I straightened up, coughed to catch my breath and then fixed my eyes dead ahead. India stood up just as the elevator came to a stop on the second floor. I thought that I had escaped total humiliation, but for Lilith, who couldn’t resist the opportunity.

  “It’s called a panty wink,” she said, as the doors opened, but not before I saw India’s face turn red with embarrassment in their reflection.

  “Shut it,” I said, and we followed India out of the elevator and down the hall.

  Lilith went on. “You see, they call it that because of the way the t-back peeks out the top of the pants like that and sort of winks at you.”

  “Enough, Lilith.”

  “It’s like, hello! Look at me!”

  “I get it, Lilith. Now drop it.”

  “Of course when you got a big ol` tramp stamp like that on your back it’s hard to tell what you should look at first; the stamp, the t-back or the butt crack. I guess if I had a butt that large, though, I would—”

  “Lilith!”

  “You know I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo. What do you think? Maybe a little butterfly?”

  I grabbed Lilith’s wrist and pulled her aside in the hall just as we reached Pops’ room. “Forget the butterfly. How `bout an ass?” I said. “You can tattoo it to your forehead. That way people will know what you are, coming and going.”

  She pulled her hand free with a jerk. “Screw you!”

  “No. Screw you! If you don’t want to be here, fine, then go. I don’t need you.”

  “Oh, you need me.”

  “Do I? For what? For you to lead me around by your leash like a dog? You pull me in just to push me away. I can’t figure you, Lilith.”

  “So, what do you want?”

  “I want the truth. I want to know what you’re hiding from me. I want to know where you go at night to all hours of the morning. I want to know what I really am to you, why you don’t let me in. Is it because you don’t want to, or because you can’t?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You tell me. I’m sure you have your reasons. You either know them or you don’t. Regardless, you need to stop stringing me along.”

  “Stringing you…. Uh, is that what you think?”

  “Well, what do you call it?”

  Our voices were nearly at a shout until India intervened. “Excuse me! We can’t have this. People here are sick and dying.”

  I pulled back to regain my composure, and after a couple of deep breaths, I said, “I’m sorry, India. We didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

  She crowded her brows down low. “Are you guys really brother and sister?”

  “No!” said Lilith. “There’s no blood relation between us.”

  “Ah-ha! Finally,” I said. “Do you mean that?”

  “What?”

  “Spitelli! Is that you?”

  I turned in the direction of the voice calling for me and realized it was Pops’. “Hey, Pops,” I called back. “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Well come in here.” His voice sounded weaker than usual. He had lost his raspy scratch entirely and picked up a nasally whistle. “I wanna talk to you.”

  “Be right in, Pops.” I pointed at Lilith. “Don’t go anywhere. You’re going to meet this man. You understand?”

  She nodded silently, something I didn’t expect her to do. It struck me as a genuine moment and made me want to go to her and hug her and tell her that I was sorry for yelling at her. Those big dark eyes had never seemed so empty and needy. I wondered for a moment if I hurt her feelings, as impossible as I thought that was. But I had seen hurt in other women’s eyes before, and it looked much the same.

  I walked into Pops’ room, filled with hope. For the first time, though possibly only temporary, I felt like I was on an even footing with Lilith. I thought that if the next few minutes went well, then maybe, just maybe, Lilith and I could reconcile the mystery of our relationship.

  I walked up to Pops’ bed and took his hand. It felt cold and limp, as if he had already died. But his eyes remained full of life, and he smiled with them, even though his mouth did not. I smiled back, and perhaps it was just me, but I swear I felt the warmth in his hand return with my touc
h.

  “How are you, Pops? Feeling all right today?”

  “I feel great,” he said. I knew he was lying.

  I looked out the window. It was still light out, but a thin haze had blown in from the city, making it hard to see the trains at Minor’s Point.

  “Anybody catch out today?”

  “Oh, probably,” he said, though mostly I lip-read his answer. His words were fading by the second. “I s`pect a few fellas caught out this morning. All the evening trains are pulling tankers and flat cars, you know.”

  “I see. Yeah, we don’t like riding those, do we?”

  He laughed weakly. “Noooho, we don’t.”

  “So, all the boxcars rolled out this morning?”

  “Yup, first light.” He lifted his head a few inches to steal a glimpse out the window. “Should`a seen the way the sun tripped off the tops of `em,” he said, speaking of the boxcars. “Mighty pretty, it was.” And he let his head drop back into the cup of his pillow. “Mighty pretty.”

  “Is that the best time to catch out, Pops? In the morning?”

  “Usually.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Best seats. Ya wanna catch out b`fore the punks and angellinas hop aboard. Otherwise ya get stuck sitting near the doors where the bull can get ya. Ain’t no faster way to find ya self hittin` the grit. Ya know what hitting the grit is, don’t ya?”

  “Sure,” I said. “It’s when you get tossed from a fast moving train.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You ever hit the grit, Pops?”

  He laughed nearly silently. “Oh, you betcha.”

  I laughed, too. “I bet you hit the grit a lot, huh?”

  He looked up at me with smiling eyes. “Son, I damn near made a livin` at it.”

  I waited until his thoughts receded from those old days and watched them bring him back into the room like a tap on the shoulder.

  “Hey, Pops. India tells me that we don’t have a lot of visiting time left this afternoon, but I have someone out in the hall I would like you to meet. Are you up to it?”

  He crowded his gnarly white brows together tightly. “Male or female?”

  “Female.”

  “Is she cute?”

  I leaned in close and whispered, “Let’s just say she’s hotter than a Cummings diesel and tighter than a spruce caboose.”