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

by Dana E. Donovan

  I crawled out of bed and slipped into the shower before joining Lilith for coffee. To my surprise, Ursula was there too, both of them at the table, scattering dried beans about in what I assumed was an attempt at scrying.

  “Good morning.” I nodded to both.

  “Morning,” Lilith answered, looking up through adoring eyes. Naturally, I did not find that so strange, considering the circumstances of the night before. What I did find strange was Ursula’s smile. It seemed born more of admiration than of simple politeness.

  “Master Tony,” she said. “Thou art looking fine this bright morn. Rest ye well, did thee?”

  “I did. Thank you.”

  She and Lilith exchanged covert glances and veiled grins. I knew then that they had been talking about me. To change the subject I said, “You’re here rather early, Ursula. Did Dominic drive you?”

  She shook her head. “Nay, I walked some.”

  “You walked some?”

  “Aye.”

  “Six miles?”

  “Oh no,” she laughed. “Only the last two.”

  “What about the first four?”

  “I ran.”

  “Of course.” I crossed the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee. “So what are you two doing there?”

  “Scrying,” said Lilith. “We’ve tried using salt, sand, rice, sugar and beans. I just can’t seem to get a bearing on Jerome’s whereabouts. It’s as if he’s in another world.”

  I nearly scalded my mouth with coffee when she said that. I set the cup on the counter and pretended to pour more cream into it. With my back turned to her, I said, “Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she replied. “The mothers threatened to strip me of my powers if I don’t deliver him, and I’m simply not about to let that happen.”

  “What if you find him and he resists going back with you.”

  “He better not do that.”

  “But what if he does?”

  She slapped her hand down on the table hard enough to set the beans chattering. I turned around and found her looking at me as if she knew I knew where he was.

  “Tony.” I seriously thought the jig was up then. “That little shit has crossed me more than once, but he knows no fury like a witch scorn. I don’t care what powers he has. That won’t stop me from ripping his pointy little head off his bony shoulders if he doesn’t cooperate. You get my point?”

  I understood that last part was a message for me to take back to Jerome. She knew I knew, but why she cut me so much slack was still a mystery. I only hoped I would realize the moment when that slack ran out before I ended up hanging myself.

  I cut the niceties short and fixed my coffee to go. Twenty minutes later, I was upstairs in the Justice Center, filling Carlos and Dominic in on the death of Daniel Cohen. Both had already heard the news, and both, naturally, suspected foul play.

  “I don’t think so,” I told them. “I was there right after he fell. I even asked him before he died what happened.”

  Dominic asked, “What did he say?”

  “He said he fell down the stairs.”

  “Those were his exact words?”

  “No, his exact words were ‘Fell down’, but it seemed obvious that’s what happened.”

  “I don’t buy it,” said Carlos.

  “What’s not to buy?”

  “Think about it, Tony. The guy calls you, tells you he knows who stole twenty million dollars worth of diamonds and then the next thing you know, he’s dead?”

  “There didn’t appear to be a struggle. I swept the house. The only thing out of place was a rumpled throw rug at the top of the stairs.” I readjusted my position in the chair and took a swig of coffee. “Besides, all he said was he wanted to talk about the diamonds, but not over the phone. He didn’t say he knew who stole them. ”

  “Well, that’s probably what he was going to tell you, but someone offed him before he could talk. You said the door was unlocked?”

  “It was.”

  “So anyone could have gotten in, found a hiding place upstairs, waited for Cohen to pass by the landing and then pushed him down the stairs.”

  “How would he know that would kill him?”

  “How would he know it wouldn’t?”

  “Carlos, the rug on the upstairs landing is clear evidence that it was an accident, pure and simple. Besides, Cohen himself told me he tripped.”

  Dominic said, “No. He told you he fell down.”

  “All right, he fell down. Same thing.”

  “Is it?”

  “What do you mean, is it? Fell down is fell down.”

  “Hear me out on this one, Tony. What if Cohen didn’t say he fell down?”

  “But he did. I heard him.”

  “Did you, or did you hear him say Feldon?”

  “Whoa!” said Carlos. “Dominic, you just blew my mind.”

  “Is that possible? Could he have said Feldon, instead of fell down?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, “now that you put it that way… I have to think about it.” I reached up and scratched the back of my neck, trying to recall the details of events that seemed to unfold so quickly at the time. “I suppose it’s possible.”

  “You have to think hard, Tony. Did Cohen say anything else to you before he died?”

  “No.” I shook my head doubtfully, no longer certain of anything. “I mean, he tried to say something else. His words were garbles and incoherent.”

  “That’s it,” said Carlos. “We need to look at his death as a homicide rather than an accident.”

  “We can’t do that,” I told him.

  “Why not?”

  “Cohen’s not in our jurisdiction. That case belongs to the First Precinct.”

  “Then they’ll have to investigate it. Did you give your statement yet?”

  “I did. Gave it to the responding officer. Riley, I think his name was.”

  Dominic said, “I’m sure their department will turn it over to Detective Sullivan, who’ll probably want more details from you, now that we suspect foul play.”

  “Understandably,” I said. “We’ll need to bring him up on the details of the burglary case, as well, since the two may be related.”

  “The two are related,” said Carlos.

  “No. We don’t know that for sure. Under oath, I’d still have to swear that I heard Cohen utter two distinct words: fell and down.”

  “Then we at least should bring Feldon in for questioning,” Dominic argued. “Get a crack at him before Sullivan does.”

  “It won’t help. He has an alibi.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I saw him just a couple of hours before at Rachel Marx’s house. The two were going to sit down and watch a movie together. He brought wine and everything.”

  “What kind of wine?” asked Carlos.

  “Hmm?”

  “The wine. What was it?”

  “I don’t know. A Château, I believe.”

  “Château what?”

  “Carlos, I told you, I don’t know, Leo something or another.”

  “Léoville Barton?”

  “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

  “That’s it. We’re screwed. He’s got his alibi.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A Château Léoville Barton costs a hundred dollars a bottle. If he brought that over to watch a movie, then he and Rachel are definitely banging boots. She’ll back up any story he comes up with.”

  “Hell, Carlos, I could have told you that.”

  “How?”

  “Well, forget that Oscar Shaul told me they were sleeping together; I could tell from the way they looked at each other.”

  Dominic remarked, “Then it won’t do any good to bring Feldon in for questioning at this point.”

  “No, and it isn’t going to help us to share our suspicions about Feldon with Detective Sullivan yet, either. All he can do is complicate matters for us now.”

  “Tony
.” Carlos edged closer to me and lowered his voice. “If Feldon pushed Cohen down the stairs, you know we have to declare that house a crime scene to preserve evidence.”

  “I know that.”

  Dominic said, “I can call Sullivan, tell him we may have evidence about to surface that could insinuate a homicide took place there. Cohen lived alone. I’m sure Sullivan will have no problem sealing off the property for a few days to let us work our angle.”

  “What if he presses you for details?”

  “I’ll tell him all we have is a theory. Without more to go on, his captain won’t let him spend resources investigating a death that’s already been ruled accidental.”

  “That’s good thinking.” I rewarded Dominic with a slap on the shoulder that nearly knocked him out of his chair. “In the meantime, let’s pull Dan Cohen’s phone records. See who else he talked to yesterday. If he decided to come clean with me about what he knew, maybe he mistakenly told the wrong person what he had in mind.”

  “Should I do it now?”

  “No, not this minute. When we’re done.”

  “Sure. That’s what I meant.”

  “Yeah, right,” said Carlos, under his breath.

  I said to both, “By the way, how did you two hear about Cohen’s death?”

  Carlos offered, “That rep from Royal Hall Insurance called and told us.”

  “Lesley Swan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Only she didn’t call to tell us that,” said Dominic. “She called to ask us about it. She assumed we already knew.”

  “What exactly did she say?”

  “I don’t know. Carlos talked to her.”

  “Carlos?”

  “She said she wanted to know what the deal was. Said you and she had an agreement, that you would keep her filled in on every detail of the case.”

  “That’s not true. I didn’t tell her that.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  “I said she’d have to speak to you, because she and I didn’t have any such agreement.”

  “Good.”

  Dominic added, “Basically, she’s worried about her job. Her own investigation has stalled and her company’s about to pay out the insurance claim.”

  “Already? It’s only been a couple of days. Why so soon? Isn’t that unusual for a claim of this magnitude?”

  “It is, but they want it off their books, like now. It’s the end of their fiscal year and they need to take the write off against some unusually large profits.”

  “Okay, I understand that, but why would she lose her job over it? It’s not her fault the diamonds were stolen.”

  “She screwed up,” said Carlos. “She failed to have a third party evaluate on the story’s security system.”

  “Oh, I see. It’s all making sense now. I thought she seemed unusually eager to put herself out there for me. She messed up and needs to redeem herself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was coming on to me, both at the jewelry store and at the bar the other night. I think she was willing to sleep with me in exchange for information.”

  “Really?” said Carlos, smiling a little too pleasantly.

  “Carlos, why the gargoyle grin?”

  Dominic hiked his thumb at him. “He made a date with Swan. They’re going out to dinner tonight.”

  “A date? What happened to Brittany?”

  Carlos shrugged. “What, we’re not exclusive. She’s up there in Ipswich. I’m here. We can see other people.”

  “Other people, maybe, but not Swan. You know she’s involved in this case.”

  “She’s not a suspect. Besides, this’ll be strictly pleasure. I won’t discuss business at all.”

  “Cancel it.”

  “Tony!”

  “You heard me, Carlos. Cancel it.”

  “But I wasn’t going to tell her anything.”

  “What, you were just going to wine, dine and sixty-nine her?”

  “If she’s into wine.”

  “Forget it. If she’s still interested in you once this case is closed, then you can have at it. In the meantime, she’s off limits. If she calls again, say nothing and refer her to me. Understand?”

  He grumbled an incoherent reply.

  “Carrrrlos?”

  “Fine! I’ll refer her to you.”

  “Thank you. Now let’s talk about your assignments yesterday.”

  Carlos held up his hand. “Wait. I want to ask you about Jerome. Did the girls find him?”

  “No.”

  “I heard there was a tanker spill in the Ukraine last night. Do you think Jerome had anything to do with that?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “What about that earthquake in Italy? I bet that was Jerome. He hates buildings that lean. Probably wanted to finish bringing it down.”

  “Carlos, the earthquake wasn’t Jerome.”

  Dominic said, “Ursula told me she and Lilith spotted Jerome flying over a golf course.”

  “Oh? Did she also tell you that she…”

  “She what?”

  I almost told him that she was driving at the time, and that she led a cop on an off-road chase that nearly got an officer killed. But that wasn’t really her doing, no more than the mudslide at Minor’s Pointe or the squirrels at Hobo Junction was Jerome’s doing. Both were victims of circumstance, products of natural forces beyond their control. I decided to let it go.

  “Nothing. Forget it. Tell me about yesterday. Did you have any luck tracing the purchases of the board or the propane heaters?”

  “No, but the day wasn’t a total bust. It turns out that lumber is nearly impossible to trace. Home improvement stores and lumberyards sell hundreds of boards a day, some cut, some not. You’d need the resources of the FBI to find the needle in that haystack.”

  “What about the heaters?”

  “Not too many places in town sell those, but the few that do have no record of sales for dual gas burners in quite some time.”

  “So, why do you say it wasn’t a total bust?”

  “Because, you asked me to check on propane refill stations.”

  “And?”

  “I found a place on Main where the kid there remembers filling a couple of rusty old tanks for a woman about a week ago.”

  “Two tanks?”

  “Yes, and get this. He specifically remembers seeing twin gas heaters in the back of the woman’s car.”

  “How old is the kid.”

  “`Bout sixteen.”

  “Oh, your age,” joked Carlos.

  We both let it ride. I asked Dominic, “Did he seem like a reliable witness?”

  “I guess.”

  “Could this kid describe the woman?”

  “He didn’t have to. He identified her from a photo, albeit a small, twenty-year-old photo.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I showed him one of Rachel’s business cards. It has her picture on it, one of them glamour shots like the kind realtors often use on their cards.”

  “Great. Did he remember anything else?”

  “No, only that she smelled nice.”

  “He said that?”

  “Real nice, were his words.”

  I found my thoughts instantly returning to the close contact brush I had with Rachel Marx at her house the day before. I remembered her perfume as it wafted under my nose, an exotic blend, daring yet breezy. I’ll never forget it, and I’m sure a post pubescent sixteen-year-old wouldn’t forget a scent like that either.

  I said to Dominic, “Actually, I meant did he remember anything about the type of vehicle she drove.”

  “No, he didn’t remember exactly, only that it was a dark colored SUV.”

  Carlos said. “Marx drives a dark colored SUV.”

  Dominic acknowledged that, but was quick to point out that the bumper on Rachel Marx’s vehicle appeared free of damage when inspected on the morning after the burglary.

  To that
, Carlos suggested Marx could own more than one SUV.

  Dominic answered that one, too. “She doesn’t. I checked.” He then said to me, “Should we get a search warrant to pick up the propane cylinders?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Two reasons. One, I don’t want her to know how close we are to her yet, and two, it’s not awfully strong evidence. Even if we could prove that the rust rings came from propane tanks, how unusual is it that she might have a couple of tanks stored in the back room at her place of business?”

  “What, so we don’t use it to our advantage?”

  “No, we use it as an ace in the hole, or a nail in the coffin, as the case may be. In the meantime, what’s the story with that fancy blue on Brinkman’s finger?”

  “Ah, that. Well, I reviewed the photos and descriptions of the stolen diamonds like you asked.”

  “And?”

  “There was a two and a half carat fancy blue among the inventory.”

  “I knew it!” said Carlos.

  “You?” I said. “I’m the one that thought it was suspicious.”

  “I know.” He shrank back in his seat and folded his arms to his chest. “But after you thought it was suspicious, I thought it was suspicious, too.”

  Dominic said, “Now all we need to do is determine where he got it. Did Rachel Marx give it to him to shut him up?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “If Rachel Marx robbed her own store, than Eric Feldon almost certainly was in on it with her. We’ve already determined that between them, they knew all four numbers to the combination. They wouldn’t have needed Brinkman’s help.”

  “Then it’s Shaul.” Carlos turned his palms up empty as to indicate there was nothing more to say about it. Of course, he still had something to say. “Oscar Shaul owed Allen Brinkman a ton of money. Brinkman had access to the safe. Brinkman’s car bumper is all dented up.”

  “What.”