Gordon put the fingers of his hands together and looked up at the ceiling. He wasn’t altogether sure why he felt as he did or that he could explain it, but he had to try.
“For starters, I don’t believe in witches or vampires — at least not as supernatural agents. But there are people who play at it, and … “ Rogers looked at him intently without saying a word. “All right, let me put it this way. You asked me to keep my eyes open, and I’ve already been more or less doing that since I got here, more than 48 hours before the murder. I can’t put my finger on it, but something isn’t right at Harry’s. And I know that in the past, when I’ve had a feeling that something wasn’t right, it usually turned out that somebody, or several somebodies, had something to hide. That caused them to act a bit off, which was probably what I was picking up on. If Peter and I were right about what we saw in that clearing this afternoon, it’s something somebody is almost surely trying to hide. That’s all I’m saying.”
Rogers nodded his head almost imperceptibly.
“When I was a rookie deputy, like Lilly here, I got called out to a place like what you’re describing, only about 20 miles the other way from here. Some hikers came across it and were pretty visibly shaken. I took a short report and went back to the office with it, thinking I really had something.
“Well, guess what. It was the sixties. People were experimenting with all kinds of stuff. Witchcraft. Druid circles. Just getting together in large numbers to smoke, swallow or inject something that would change the way they felt. Some of them were coming to Lava County to do it because there’s a lot of lonesome out here. My find was about the fifth one that summer, and later on I learned that people had been coming across that sort of thing in the woods here since at least the turn of the century. In short, it’s not that unusual.”
Gordon looked at Lilly and thought he was seeing more of the nervousness he’d seen earlier.
“How about you, deputy. Anything to add to this discussion?”
Rogers looked at Lilly and picked up on his unease as well.
“Come on,” he said. “Spit it out.”
Lilly poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the table in the room and took two large swallows before setting down the glass.
“I’ve never told anybody about this,” he said. “It happened several months ago. On Halloween, actually. I was on patrol and my partner was sick, so I was alone, and it was after dark. I was on Benson Road where it joins A22, and there was a car coming from the right, heading toward Harry’s. I decided to let it go instead of pulling in front of it.
“When it passed in front of my headlights, I got a quick look inside the car. There were two women wearing black outfits. That’s all I can swear to, but I had a feeling there was something strange about it. I turned left to head up to follow it and was behind the car for a couple of miles. I remember we passed the entrance to Harry’s, and maybe a half mile beyond that, the brake lights came on and it made a sharp turn into a dirt road. It would have been right around where Mr. Gordon and his friend found the clearing.”
“They were probably just going to somebody’s house,” Rogers said.
“No, sir. There was no mailbox where it turned in, and as often as I’d driven by it, I hadn’t even realized there was a road or driveway there.”
He looked at Gordon and Rogers.
“There’s one more thing. I recognized the car. It was a Toyota Camry, and I noted the license plate number, but I didn’t need to run the plates to make an identification. It had a bumper sticker that said ‘One Earth, One People.’ There’s only one car I’ve ever seen in eastern Lava County that had a bumper sticker like that.”
He took another swallow of water.
“It belongs to the principal of Paradise Valley High School.”
Rogers shifted in his chair.
“So you think it was the principal’s wife driving the car?”
“No, sir. I think it was the principal, Mrs. Maurillo.”
“All right,” said Rogers softly.
“You may already know this, sir, but last summer, a couple of months before this happened, her husband died in a fall from their roof. It was officially ruled an accident, but it was pretty well known they hadn’t been getting along.”
Lilly finished the glass of water.
“There was talk. Some people were suspicious.”
9
PETER AND JOHNNY WERE WAITING in the lounge for Gordon when he got out of the meeting. Drew and Alan were there as well, and Charles Van Holland was sitting in one of the large chairs by the fire, staring into it and holding a full wine glass in his hand. Rogers called Van Holland to the interview room, and he shuffled slowly after the detective. Gordon couldn’t help thinking how much his movement had changed. He was doing everything more slowly, and he stooped when he walked.
Sharon showed them to a window table, told them the specials, and left. The sun, though unseen, had not set, and they could see raindrops splashing on the deck outside. They looked at the rain falling through the overcast twilight for several minutes without speaking.
Finally, Johnny cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t want to pressure you gentlemen, and I know there are more important things than fishing to think about now. But I was wondering if you might have any idea what your plans would be for tomorrow?”
“Shoot,” Gordon said. “I almost forgot. We’re booked with you, aren’t we?”
Johnny nodded. “Under the circumstances, I doubt the Fisherman’s Friend would impose a cancellation charge. Still, I’d like to know for myself, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
Gordon looked at Peter, who nodded almost imperceptibly.
“I can’t say for sure, Johnny. You see, Peter and I found something this afternoon that might be important. In fact, Rogers just asked us to take him out to see it tomorrow morning.”
“So he took it seriously?” said Peter.
“After some advocacy on my part.” Gordon leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “I’ll let you in on it, Johnny, but don’t tell anybody else.”
“You know me, Mr. Gordon. Soul of discretion.”
“This afternoon, Peter and I took a little walk up to Roaring Springs. On the way back we went off the trail a bit and found a clearing with a fire circle. We think it had recently been used for a witches’ Sabbath. You’ve lived around here all your life. Does that seem possible?”
“Well, now, I can’t say it altogether surprises me. No, not at all. There have been stories about such things, going back to when I was a boy. How much is rumor, I can’t say, but at times it got specific enough that certain women in town were mentioned by name as being of that persuasion.”
“It’s a good thing,” Peter said, “that civilization has advanced to a point where at least they wouldn’t be burned.”
“Nothing like that, no. But in a couple of cases I know of, the talk got to a point where the woman left town. And sometimes it just died down. Of course it was hardly an everyday thing — just something that came up once in a while. I don’t recall hearing of that for a few years now.”
“I take it one of those women was Harry’s daughter-in-law.”
“Indeed. A lot of talk there. I was quite a bit younger then, and she was close to my age. She was a wild one, she was, and there was something — I don’t know, strange or different about her. She frightened me a bit.”
Sharon came back to take their order, but as they hadn’t looked at the menu yet, they deferred. Gordon ordered a glass of wine, Peter another drink, and Johnny stuck with the one he was working on.
“There’s a saying around here,” Johnny continued, “that what happens in the woods, stays in the woods. The mountains are a hard and lonely place, gentlemen, and they have an appeal for people who want to live differently. That’s all I can tell you.”
Charles Van Holland emerged from the hallway leading to the interview room. Gordon had the best look at him and saw that, if anything, he looked more beaten down
than he had when he went in a quarter of an hour ago. April came up to him from behind and put a hand on his right arm. He nodded his head, and she went to get him a drink.
“Guys,” Gordon said, “Let’s make this a party of four.”
He rose, and with several long strides was at Van Holland’s side. In a matter of seconds, Gordon was leading him to their table.
“Thank you for asking,” Van Holland said as he sat down. “I apologize if I’m not the best of company, but I have a lot on my mind.”
“Did Rogers just put you through the wringer?” Peter asked.
Van Holland let out a dismissive laugh. “I guess you could call it that. I’m the husband, so I’m obviously going to be the prime suspect. It’s just how it is. What I wasn’t expecting was to be told what a fool I was. I lost Wendy once when she was killed, and now I just lost her a second time. I found out what she really was.”
No one had an answer for that, so they sat silently until he continued. April brought Van Holland’s drink, but he didn’t touch it.
“Rogers heard back from the police in Syracuse about Wendy Vitello, which was her maiden name. Their story was a little different from the one she told me. She said she grew up in a traditional Catholic family, went to college for a year but dropped out because she was bored by it, then did clerical work for some nonprofit groups for a few years before coming out to California after her parents were killed in an auto accident. That’s pretty much what she had on her resume when I hired her to work in my office. And no, I didn’t check her references. She was such a live wire, I knew I wanted to have her around.
“The real story is that she got her first drug arrest when she was 15 and had a few more over the years, along with a couple for petty theft and one for solicitation. The detective in Syracuse said he didn’t think she was a real working girl, but just needed some quick money to make a buy and got unlucky. As if that makes it a whole lot better. Three years ago, she went into rehab and cleaned up enough to get off probation. Then, when her parents, who are still very much alive, wouldn’t take her in, she stole a thousand dollars from them and came to California. Do you know what her father said when the police told him his daughter had been murdered?”
Gordon, Johnny and Peter looked at him and at each other.
“Her father said, ‘I’m surprised it took so long.’ ”
Sharon headed toward the table to take their order, but Gordon waved her off.
“But the worst thing of all is that when we celebrated her 27th birthday last month, she was really 30. She lied about her age, goddamit! I can understand lying about all the other stuff, but she had no reason to lie about her age. I would have loved her just as much if she was 30. It wouldn’t have mattered. But she lied about it anyway. That really hurts.”
Van Holland suddenly seemed to become aware of the drink in front of him and he downed half of it in one gulp.
“If only I’d checked her references.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Peter said after a moment of silence. “My fifth wife hired a private detective to look into me, and she married me anyway. Six months later, she called our marriage the worst mistake of her life. Doing the research doesn’t always give you the right answer.”
10
SITTING ON THE SEPARATE BEDS in their cabin, while Peter had his customary two large nightcaps, they went over the events of the day.
“I would have liked to have asked Charles if he ever saw any indication that Wendy might have been into the occult,” Gordon said. “It may not have had anything to do with her death, but I’d like to know.”
“This probably wasn’t the time to bring it up,” Peter said. “And I doubt he’d have noticed. He was smitten by her.”
“Bewitched, bothered and bewildered,” Gordon said. “The song could have been written just for him.”
“Did Johnny Mercer do that one?”
“Rodgers and Hart.”
“Whatever. I think you’re going down a blind alley with that line of thought.”
“Why?”
Peter took a moment to frame his response.
“What Charles told us tonight added to the story but I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t have to know exactly what Wendy did in Syracuse to know she was bad news and that she was taking him for a ride. Trust me, I’m developing a radar for that sort of thing. And while there may be some faux witches in these parts, I don’t think Wendy was one herself.”
“Because?”
“Because she wasn’t spiritual enough.”
Friday May 12
1
PETER DREW THE BLINDS just after 6 a.m. and looked outside. Between the lingering darkness and the low mist clinging to the ground, it was hard to tell whether or not it was raining softly.
“Just another sunny day in paradise,” he said. “Rise and shine, Gordon.”
They took turns shaving and showering and left for the lodge shortly before seven. The light was better by then, and the fine rain that was falling could easily be seen through the cabin windows before they left. A damp chill hung in the air, but there was no wind.
Don greeted them from the lounge.
“Breakfast won’t be ready for a few minutes, but there’s a pot of coffee in here if you’d like to get started on that.”
They each took a cup. The fire in the fireplace was beginning to take off, its hiss and crackle filling the room like audible smoke. So early in the morning, with the dreary weather outside, the lounge gave off a sense of comfort and security.
“So how’s it going, Don?” Gordon finally asked.
“As well as you can expect, given that one of my guests was murdered and the police have taken over the place. We have two parties coming in tonight, three more tomorrow, and two on Sunday. If they don’t hear about this situation and cancel, I’m not sure where I’m going to put them.”
“Bad for business, is it?” Peter said.
“You bet it is. I mean, I know the deputies have to do their job. Don’t get me wrong. It just seems they could be making more progress.”
Gordon said, “Has Rogers said anything about how long he’ll be here?”
“As long as it takes is all I can get out of him. That’s not much help if you have to tell a caller whether or not you can get him a room on Wednesday.”
Gordon decided to change the subject. “Could I ask you a question, Don? Have you ever heard anything about witches in these parts?”
Don put down the wine glass he was wiping off.
“It comes up from time to time,” he said deliberately. “Some of the people I know in town think there’s a gathering of them active in the area. Me, I figure it’s just a subject to keep the conversation going on long winter days.”
“You’ve never heard anything but idle talk?”
“If you mean who’s involved and where they meet — no. I mean, really. It’s not the thirteenth century any more. Even if it’s happening, could anybody really be afraid of it? It would just be some women fooling around harmlessly in the woods.”
“Sort of like a bridge club, but outdoors,” Peter murmured.
“You could say that. But that reminds me. There actually was a witch disclosure when we bought this place. Sharon did a double-take when the real estate agent told us about it. The agent said there was rumored to be a witch’s curse on the property and the owner was required by law to disclose it.”
“She also told us,” said Sharon, walking into the room with a fresh pot of coffee, “that the ghost of Harry Ezekian’s son might put in an appearance. We’re still waiting for the first sighting. What’s this all about?”
“They asked about witches,” Don said.
“Just curious,” Gordon said. “We’ve been picking up on some of the local lore. Have you heard anything about a group of witches active in the area?”
“No, and I wouldn’t pay any attention if I did. Wait! Now that you mention it, there was one thing, but it was over a year ago. I was at the grocery stor
e, and the checker tried to tell me that she thought Mrs. Maurillo was a witch. I considered the source and figured it was just someone trying to put down a powerful woman.”
“That’s been the case with witch-hunting through the ages,” Peter said. “Who’s Mrs. Maurillo?”
“De Ann Maurillo is the principal of the high school, and a very nice lady from what I can tell. I think it was mean to say such a thing about her. And cruel, too, considering what happened to her husband.”
2
AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE, before Johnny arrived, Gordon filled Peter in on what had happened to the late Mr. Maurillo.
“I don’t know what to make of that,” Peter said, “but I’m beginning to feel better about the breakup with the Wiccan physical therapist.”
When Johnny arrived, they told him they still hadn’t heard from Rogers and didn’t know what to expect for the day. Gordon tried to pump Johnny about the discovery of the previous afternoon, but Johnny had not much to add.
“A lot happens in these woods,” he said. “Yes, it does. There’s probably not much that would surprise me in that regard.”
Drew and Alan drifted in a few minutes later and were seated at the next table.
“So what do you hear?” Drew asked. “Are we going to be allowed to leave — ever?”
“Eventually, I’m sure,” Gordon said.
“How long do you think this investigation is going to take?”
“As long as it takes. Your guess is as good as mine.”
Alan was looking through his fly box. “I’m thinking of working with two nymphs,” he said. “One six inches under the other. Anybody had any luck with that?”
The discussion momentarily paused, then Johnny stepped in.
“It can be a good way of seeing what’s working,” he said. “Indeed it can. But I’d be sure one of the two is a Pheasant Tail nymph. Size 16 or 18. You can’t go wrong on this river with a P.T.”
Wash Her Guilt Away (Quill Gordon Mystery Book 2) Page 18