BURY THE WITCH: Book 10 (Detective Marcella Witch's Series)

by Dana E. Donovan

  I stood and offered my hand. “Of, course. We appreciate your time.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  As we shook hands, I paid closer attention to the flashy jewelry twinkling under my nose, particularly his ring. I gestured to it and said, “If you don’t mind me saying, that’s a beautiful ring you’re wearing.”

  He smiled through pride, and not a fake, plastic smile like the ones politicians dole out when they’re not talking out of both sides of their mouths. “Oh, you like that, eh?” He rolled his hand to the light so that I might appreciate its brilliance more keenly. “It’s a two and a half carat fancy blue, flawless, no inclusions, no blemishes. It’s absolutely perfect.”

  “I see. Hope it didn’t set you back too much.”

  “Not at all. It was a gift.”

  “Wow. Some gift.”

  He merely smiled and let it go at that.

  “Well, thanks again for your time, Mister Brinkman. You’ve been a big help.”

  “No problem, Detective.”

  Carlos offered Brinkman one of those politicians’ smiles I mentioned earlier. On the way down in the elevator, I asked Carlos if he was thinking what I was thinking.

  “I sure am,” he said. He sounded perturbed. “I hate it when you thank someone and they say, no problem, like maybe if it were a problem they wouldn’t have anything to do with you in the first place. I mean, where’s their manners? Why can’t they just say, you’re welcome, like normal people? You know, the other day I was in—”

  “Carlos!”

  “What?”

  “I wasn’t talking about Brinkman’s manners. I was talking about his ring. Did you see that diamond?”

  “Yeah, I saw it.”

  “He said it was a fancy blue, flawless, no inclusions, no blemishes and that it was absolutely perfect.”

  “So, good for him.”

  “Doesn’t that sound a lot like the sort of diamonds we’re investigating?”

  “I suppose, but how would he get his hands on… Oh, wait. I see where you’re going. You think Rachel Marx gave him that ring as a bribe to shut him up after she came and got the safe combination.”

  “That’s one possibility, but we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Hey, you brought it up.”

  “I know. It’s just something to keep in mind.” I checked my watch as we both hopped into the car. “Look. It’s a quarter of. I told Dominic we’d try to get back by noon. You got your lead shoes on?”

  “My what?”

  I stretched the seatbelt across my chest and buckled it. “Just drive like you normally do.”

  We arrived back at the Justice Center a little before noon. Dominic was upstairs shuffling papers, which always intrigued me, since I never understood how he could accumulate so much paperwork in any given case. I know that when Carlos works a case, he seldom produces little more than a phone number on a sticky note. Somewhere between the two, there lies the perfect document acquisition technique: not too little, not too much.

  “Dominic, whaddaya got?” I said, as I rounded the corner of his desk, surprising him from behind. He nearly jumped out of his boots and spilled his coffee over half the papers sprawled out in front of him.

  “Geezus! Tony, do you have to do that?” He began mopping up the coffee with the papers that hadn’t already gotten wet. “Look at this mess.”

  “Never mind that. You probably have it all memorized anyway. Tell us what you’ve got?”

  Carlos pitched the car keys on the desk as we both pulled up a chair. We watched with stitched smiles as Dominic plowed everything over the edge and into his wastebasket.

  “Plenty,” he said, and then pulled a roll of paper towels from his bottom drawer. He stripped a dozen sheets off the roll and made quick work of the remaining cleanup. “I checked the owners’ finances like you asked.”

  “And?”

  “For a successful jewelry store, a few of them sure seem to be on shaky ground, especially Eric Feldon and Rachel Marx. Between them, they owe creditors over three million dollars.”

  “Interesting.”

  He looked up from his swabbing detail. “It is, but at least they have collateral, you know, real estate, stock holdings; that sort of thing. Oscar Shaul, on the other hand, well let’s just say that he’s another story.”

  “How so?”

  “I did some digging. Seems Oscar likes to gamble. A lot. The only problem is he’s not very good at it. Just two months ago, he took out a third mortgage on his home for forty-eight thousand dollars.”

  “To pay off gambling debts?”

  “To pay off whatever. But here’s the interesting thing. Less than six weeks ago, he made a change to his life insurance policy, renaming the beneficiary. Care to guess whose name he added?”

  Carlos guessed, “Rachel Marx?”

  “No.”

  “Then who?”

  Spinelli hesitated, or maybe paused for effect, as the answer was surprising. “Allen Brinkman.”

  “The lawyer?” I said. “Now that is interesting. How much is the policy worth?”

  He didn’t hesitate this time. “A half-million.”

  Carlos asked, “What about the others? Do they have large policies naming Brinkman as beneficiary?”

  “No, not that I can find.”

  “Wow.” I brushed my forehead and swept the loose strands of hair from my eyes. “It seems to me that Shaul had reasonable motive to pull off the heist.”

  Carlos said, “I could see how that might go down. If Shaul owed Brinkman more money than he could possibly repay, Brinkman might have told him about the second key and combination, maybe even coerced him into doing it.”

  “Shaul does seem like an obsessively nervous little man, perhaps easily manipulated. So, you’re saying you think they planned the burglary together.”

  “Why not? It’s plausible.”

  “What about the cigarette butt in Brinkman’s office?”

  “What cigarette butt?” asked Dominic.

  “We found a Melrose Light in Brinkman’s ashtray.”

  “That’s Rachel’s brand.”

  “I know.”

  “She went up to see him?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  “So she’s in on it.”

  Carlos said, “That’s it then. It’s the three of them, Marx, Shaul and Brinkman.”

  “You sure?” I asked. “You seemed certain a second ago it was just Shaul and Brinkman.”

  “Yeah, but I forgot about the cigarette butt.”

  Dominic said, “Makes sense to me.” He tidied up the roll of paper towels and stashed it back in the bottom drawer of his desk. “Alone, Marx and Shaul wouldn’t have all four numbers to the safe. They would need Brinkman in order to open it, and I bet only Rachel knew that Brinkman had the key.”

  “But why not get Feldon involved?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to bring him in on the scheme, rather than to bring in Brinkman, an outsider?”

  Carlos said, “I agree with Tony. It’s Marx, Feldon and Shaul. Brinkman probably had nothing to do with it.”

  Dominic replied, “Yes, but if that’s the case, then why not include Cohen? Why take the chance that he’d start asking all the wrong questions?”

  “Oh yeah.” Carlos folded his arms at his chest and furrowed his brows. “Now I’m confused. Maybe it’s all of them.”

  “Carlos,” I said, “why don’t you hold your verdict until all the scenarios are in?”

  He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “Nope. I don’t have to. I have it figured out now.”

  “Do you?” I looked at Dominic, who rolled his eyes and shrugged a why not?

  Carlos explained, “Here’s what I think. This whole operation centered on a plan to frame Allen Brinkman for the heist?”

  “Carlos, that doesn’t—”

  “No, Tony, hear me out. Listen, the owners made it clear to us from the beginning that none of them knew the safe’s combination,
right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Call me crazy, but I have to believe they all knew the combination. What’s more, I believe they knew Brinkman had a key and a copy of the combination. It’s ludicrous to think otherwise. I mean think about it. What if something happened to Rachel and the others couldn’t locate her key to the safe? Are we to believe that none of them knew about a second key, and that they would have no means of accessing twenty million dollars worth of diamonds from their own safe?”

  “You have a point there,” I said.

  “Damn right, I do. Same thing if something happened to Shaul and Cohen, or Cohen and Feldon for that matter. Half the combination would be lost forever.”

  Dominic said, “I can believe that, Carlos, but if that’s the case, then tell me why the owners wouldn’t have told us that Brinkman had the key and combination? I mean as long as we thought they were the only ones who could open the safe, they’d remain our only suspects.”

  “They didn’t want to make it too easy for us,” I said.

  “That’s right,” Carlos agreed. “If they were to point the finger at Brinkman, then it might look too obvious.”

  “It does look too obvious,” said Dominic. “Let’s face it. Brinkman had access to the safe. He’s a criminal defense attorney, so he probably knows plenty of jewel thieves and tons of people who can fence twenty-million in unmarked diamonds, as well.”

  “Nineteen-million,” I said, “if we deduct for that rock on his finger.”

  “Rock?” Dominic shook his head. “What rock?”

  Carlos pointed to his left hand. “Brinkman’s got a fancy blue diamond as big as a golf ball on his finger. Doesn’t he, Tony?”

  “It’s not a golf ball.”

  “I didn’t say it was a golf ball. I said it was as big as a golf ball.”

  “It’s two and a half carats,” I said to Dominic, “but it is flawless. No inclusions. No blemishes. Exactly the sort of diamond we’re investigating.”

  “He told us it was a gift.”

  “Some gift,” said Dominic.

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “Could be innocent,” I said. “The man knows some rich and powerful people. Maybe it’s a thank you gift from a mob boss he successfully represented in court.”

  “Tony. Acquaintances like that buy you hookers, not fancy blue diamonds. Which brings me to my point. What if the owners told Oscar to give Brinkman the ring, telling him it was payment for a gambling debt?”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, they would know that we’d see it on Brinkman’s finger. Naturally, we would put one and one together and—”

  “And suspect him of pulling off the heist,” I finished.

  “Right.”

  “So you think they were seeding evidence.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Dominic said, “Should be simple to find out. I’ll review the photos and descriptions of the stolen diamonds to see if there’s a two and a half carat fancy blue among the inventory.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I was going to suggest that.”

  “So what’s our next move?” asked Carlos.

  “We divide and conquer,” I said. “It seems to me there are three fronts we need to address. First, Carlos, I want you to look into that case in Connecticut, the one the FBI is working on. See if they researched the Chubb Sovereign for any known flaws in the lock mechanisms that might keep it from shutting properly. I think if any of the owners discovered that flaw, he or she could have acted alone in making it look like an outside job.”

  “Would you rather I do that?” asked Dominic. “I have contacts in the FBI that could help me.”

  “Then give Carlos that information. In the meantime, I have something else in mind for you.”

  I watched Dominic’s face sour with disappointment, as I’m sure he expected me to bestow some menial task upon him that would surely tie him to a desk until morning. But the fact I seldom ask him to participate in field work had me feeling unusually conciliatory. I waited until his face could hardly contort to a more pathetic look before telling him, “I want you to hit the streets.”

  His eyes lit up like jack-o-lanterns. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I was thinking about those rust circles you mentioned yesterday.”

  “From the propane tanks.”

  “Yes. That was good work there, by the way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I want you to look into that. It’s probably not too common for someone to stop by a propane refilling or tank exchange station with two cylinders. Visit as many as you can in a ten mile radius of the jewelry store, ask around and see if anyone remembers either refilling or exchanging two tanks.”

  “Sure. You got it.”

  “And while you’re at it, check the lumber yards and home supply stores. This is a white-collar crime. The two-by-twelve board used on that back door likely was new. Even more likely, whoever bought it probably had the lumber department cut it down to four feet. It’s a long shot, but you never know. You might get lucky.”

  Dominic smiled and returned an eager nod. “I’m on it. In fact, while I’m at it, I’ll check a few sporting goods stores and see if anyone remembers selling any propane heater kits lately.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Carlos said, “What about you, Tony? What are you going to do?”

  “Me? I’m going to pay a visit to the owners and see if any of them want to tell me something about the others when they’re not in the same room together.”

  “You think they will?”

  I smiled slyly. “I’m counting on it.”

  Dominic said, “Before you go, do you want to hear the latest on Jerome?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, you’ll be happy to know there’s been no new disasters.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “However, a team of U.S. geological experts are flying in tomorrow to assess the anomaly at Minor’s Pointe.”

  “Anomaly? That’s what they’re calling it?”

  “Yeah, they think it’s a rare phenomenon known as a vertical seismic shift. That’s when shallow subterranean plates experience a sudden upward pitch due to swelling aquifers. The resulting mound is usually saturated with ground water, making small mudslides possible.”

  “Oh, so maybe that’s what happened. Maybe it wasn’t Jerome’s doing after all.”

  “No, it’s Jerome,” he said, laughing in that slightly patronizing way of his. Then he added, as if I should know, “Vertical seismic shifts are usually only a few meters high and not much wider. The one that derailed the train at Minor’s Pointe was six stories tall and hundreds of feet long. That’s why the geologists are flying in. This one’s going to make the national news.”

  “Great. That’s all we need.”

  Carlos said, “Hey, Tony, I know what will make you feel better.”

  I glanced at my watch and back at him. “Don’t tell me. Lunch?”

  “Yeah. How’d you guess?”

  I got up and snatched the car keys off the desk. “Maybe next time,” I said, patting him on the shoulder as I walked out.

  Chapter 18

  On the way out to see Rachel Marx, I got to thinking how strange it was that I hadn’t heard from Lilith in a while. I figured it meant either she had no news to tell me about Jerome, or she had such bad news, she was afraid to deliver it. I relied on Dominic’s report that there were no new disasters, and decided to tempt fate by calling her.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Tony! What a surprise.”

  I noticed she had waited five rings before answering the phone. That told me she probably had her hands full. Also, her phone has caller ID, so I knew the surprise in her voice was manufactured. Together, the two meant something was up.

  “Did you find Jerome? Please tell me something good.”

  “Something good? Well, he knows he can fly now.”

  “What?”

  “He can fly, whic
h is making it very difficult to keep up with him.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m with Ursula. We’re…wait a sec.” I heard a rustling noise as she shouldered the phone to tell Ursula, ‘Just run it. Don’t stop. Run it, run it. Good girl.’ She came back to me, “Tony, we’re sort of busy right now. Can I call you back?”

  “Is Ursula driving?”

  “Yeah, but don’t worry. She’s an excellent driver.”

  I heard Ursula say, “Oh, but I am. `Tis the car what seems clumsy at times, not I. What of this one, sister? Should I run it, as well?”

  “I think you just did, Urs.”

  “Lilith!” I gripped the phone tightly and shook it. “What are you doing, running red lights? Where are you going?”

  “Whoa, easy with the questions there, cowboy. Listen, we’re following Jerome. He’s… Uh-oh, hold on.” I could hear her shouldering the phone again. “Damn, girl! Stay on the road, will you? This ain’t a dune buggy!” To me, she said, “Tony, I’m sorry. I gotta go. Jerome’s just above treetop level, about to cut across a golf course. We’re going off road.”

  “Off road? Lilith, wait!”

  Just before the phone went dead, I heard her say something about punching the gas to clear a ditch.

  “Mother of all saints,” I mumbled, “this is not going to be good.” I felt a wave of despair wash over me, paving the way for the panic attack that followed. I thought of pulling the car over, getting out and shouting at the top of my lungs for the heavens to strike me down. I would have, too, had it not been for the people, all those damn people. They were everywhere, on the sidewalks, crossing streets, hopscotching from one shop to another, oblivious to the trappings of humanity.

  I eventually found myself breathing long, steady breaths. Slowly, my white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel loosened. In time, the tempo of my heartbeat subsided, leveling out until I could no longer hear it reverberating in my ears. My eyesight gradually peeled back the blind spot in my periphery, turning my tunnel vision back to open field view.

  After a few minutes, it was over, and later I was knocking on Rachel Marx’s front door. Marx was one of those women whose beauty follows her throughout her entire life. It’s a quality few women possess and fewer men appreciate later in life.