by Marc Olden
But there were other changelings. And Rupert Comfort knew their identities. For that matter, so did Bofil and the coven.
Only three days left. Rupert Comfort left his chair and crossed the room. Picking up the phone, he looked at his sleeping wife and then began to dial.
On the third ring the phone was picked up at the other end and a voice said, “Hello?”
Rupert Comfort recognized the voice, but following his instincts—which urged caution—the Druid said in Shelta Thari, “Earth, water, firmament, fire and nyu; and the nyu is God and life and intellect.”
The voice replied, “From the first four are all death and mortality; and from the fifth are all life and animation, all power, knowledge, and motion.”
Rupert Comfort smiled. “I see you remember your teachings.”
“I had the best teacher. You. I miss you, I really do. How is——?”
The voice used Rowena Comfort’s Celtic name.
“Fine,” said Rupert Comfort. “She’s sleeping now. I take it you can talk.”
“Yes. If someone asks me who I’m talking to, I’ll just say a friend. There’s someone else here with me but she’s sleeping.”
“Good. You sound a little sad. Is it because you miss the village?”
“Yes.”
“My wife and I feel the same way. But it’s necessary for people like you to leave us and go out in the world to see that strangers don’t come and harm us.”
“I know. But I wish I didn’t have to leave.”
Rupert Comfort smiled. “We’re proud of you. We really are. Your friends talk about you and ask about you quite often.”
The voice perked up. “How is——and——?”
“Growing bigger every day, which is what happens with you young ones.”
“Couldn’t I see you two while you’re here, at least for a little while?”
“Afraid that’s impossible. We have so little time and so much to do and besides, it could be dangerous. We don’t want people to suspect you and if they see us together—well, something might go wrong.”
“I hate that word.”
“What word?”
“Changeling. It … it sounds so strange, as if I’m … well, different.”
“You are different, but in a way the world will never understand. Perhaps one day you can come back to the village. Some changelings do, you know.”
“Oh, could I? I’d like that very much. Then I could be with both of you again and it would be like it once was. I don’t like it here. The people aren’t very nice.”
“I know.”
“You know who called me just before you did?”
“No.”
“Mr. Bofil.”
Rupert looked at his wife. She was awake and watching him. It was as if she sensed they now faced new danger.
“What did Mr. Bofil want?”
The voice said, “He asked me if I had heard from you. I told him no. He said if I did, I was to telephone him right away and tell him what you said. He sounded a little upset.”
Rupert Comfort exhaled. “Did he now. Upset about what?”
“Well, I’m not sure. I know Alison Sales was with him because while he was on the phone with me, he yelled at her. He told her to stop crying, that the doctor was on the way and if she didn’t stop crying he would—I didn’t hear the rest ’cause I think he put his hand over the phone or something.”
“I see. Did he mention Cornell Castle’s name?”
“Yech! I don’t like him. I’m glad I don’t have to go to coven meetings. Anyhow, it would be impossible for me to get away. I heard Alison say his name once, but that’s all. I think she said something about him being blind, or maybe she meant in a bind. I couldn’t hear clearly.”
“But Mr. Bofil did say he wanted you to call him if you heard from me?”
“Yes,” said the voice. “Mr. Bofil was worried. Most of the time he’s quite calm, though I don’t like him much. I don’t like the way he looks at me sometimes.”
“Yes,” said Rupert Comfort. “We know about some of his habits. Just be careful and remind him that you come from the village and no one has the right to abuse you. Tell him if he does anything to you he’ll have to answer to me.”
The voice sounded grateful. “I’m very glad to hear that. I wanted to talk to you but I knew I mustn’t try to. I knew I must wait until I heard from you and I’m so glad you called. Did Mr. Bofil tell you about the book? Is that why you called?”
“What book?” Rupert Comfort’s wife stood next to him, an arm around his shoulders.
“Why, the Book of Shadows, of course. He knows where it is. Didn’t he tell you?”
Robert Seldes said, “It wasn’t very hard to figure out who’d taken the book.”
He eyed Marisa with hatred. “I want it back.”
“You’re not getting it back,” said Joseph Bess.
Robert, his eyes still on Marisa, never acknowledged the detective’s presence. “Bess, when I want some shit out of you, I’ll squeeze your head.”
Bess finished sipping coffee, then scratched his unshaven jaw. “You must be tougher than you look. Or tougher than you smell. You always go around smelling that sweet? I’m in no mood for snappy patter, Seldes. I’ve had a hard morning and so has Miss Heggen.”
Robert snorted. “A hard morning. What did you do, Detective Bess, bust some old lady for joyriding in a wheelchair?”
Bess sighed. “No. Mr. Seldes. I stopped a man from trying to kill me—the only way I could.”
Robert was quiet.
Marisa said to Bess, “More coffee?”
The detective rubbed his unshaven jaw again, then nodded.
When Marisa had gone to the kitchen, Bess said, “She’s still shook about almost getting killed.”
Robert crossed his legs. “She has something of mine and I want it back.”
“You don’t listen. I said you’re not getting it back.”
“And who are you to tell me anything?”
“The book’s evidence.”
“Oh? Evidence regarding what? Or am I allowed to ask questions concerning my own property?”
Bess leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “The book’s evidence in several murders.”
Marisa returned with his coffee and stood behind Bess’s chair, her hand on his shoulder. Robert noticed that and sneered.
He said, “It appears Marisa’s managed to involve you in her little psychodrama. Has she told you about those wicked, wicked Druids who have pursued her to America and plan to sacrifice the two of us in some sort of fiery ritual?”
Bess said, “She’s told me about the white-haired man and the woman with him, yes. And I believe her.”
Robert’s laugh had no joy in it. “Jesus, it’s catching. First her, now you. No wonder the crime statistics keep going up in this town. The police department’s hiring one loony tune after another.”
“It’s your privilege, Mr. Seldes, to believe what you want. Or not believe. All I can tell you is that the facts indicate Marisa—Miss Heggen’s telling the truth.”
“Really? I suppose you believe that Alison Sales and somebody called Cornell really came here this morning to kill her. It’s possible Alison may have dropped by, but to kill Marisa? Come on.”
“We found blood in Miss Heggen’s apartment,” said Bess. “Two different blood types. The doorman saw a man and a woman go upstairs. They told him they were police, which is a crime right there. He saw them leave and when they left they were bleeding.”
“Marisa could have, let’s say, gone a little nutso.”
Bess said, “We’ve run a check on Cornell as a first and last name and we’ve turned up a possible suspect, a man with a criminal record who fits Miss Heggen’s description of her assailant. He’s got a record for theft and homosexual procuring as well as blackmail and assault. We’re trying to locate him now.”
Robert shook his head, “My, my. You are a busy little bee. Does this assailant have a full n
ame?”
“Cornell Castle. No recent address, but we’re working on it. Have you seen Alison Sales recently?”
“This morning, if it’s any business of yours and I doubt that it is.”
Marisa said, “Did you tell her I had the book? Yes, you probably did. You often talk in your sleep, you know.”
Robert said to Bess, “You still haven’t finished telling me why you won’t return my property.”
Bess said, “There were two murders in Central Park recently, both committed by a man and a woman. We have an eye witness who saw them do it and who gave us their description. Two severed hands were taken from the corpses, we think by this same man and woman. Marisa saw the couple herself. I’m talking about the white-haired man and the tall woman. She saw them with Nathan Shields just hours before he died, supposedly in an accidental fire. And she saw them at Kennedy Airport yesterday when she went to meet you. She feels they were there to kill you.”
Robert said, “I still don’t see—”
Bess put a finger to his lips. “Shhhh. You will, Mr. Seldes. You will. So far we have two witnesses who know what this man and woman look like. And don’t forget those severed hands. One turns up near Mr. Shields’ farm. The other turns up on a fat teenage boy named Gregory Vandis, who Marisa and I caught breaking into her apartment.”
“I heard,” said Robert. “Marisa took him two falls out of three.”
“There’s the killer couple, there’s the hands, and there’s one Gregory Vandis, now dead. And there’s Marisa’s belief that the killer couple and a few other people have been following her, you, the Shieldses, and Larry Oregon in connection with the Book of Shadows. Since the couple are murder suspects this makes your book evidence in a murder case, and I don’t have to give you a damn thing. There’s no lawyer in this country who can get it back for you, capeesh?”
Robert nodded. “I see. Well …”
He stood up. “I guess that’s that. I suppose if I tried to take it back by force right now, you’d do me grievous bodily harm.”
Joseph Bess smiled and said nothing.
“You would,” said Robert.
He glared at Marisa. “You finally found somebody crazy enough to believe your story. Is this your way of getting back at me because I won’t marry you?”
Marisa folded her arms across her chest. “Robert, the last thing I do each night before falling asleep is to thank you for not marrying me.”
“I see. Well, now that we’ve got that all straightened out, I suppose I should be going. Detective Bess, I’ll ask you again: Give me the book.”
Bess looked at him and said nothing.
Robert’s smile was malicious. “I’ve got a lawyer who enjoys dumping on people like you. He’s a prick and he just loves peeling the skin off people. Legally, of course.”
“Of course,” said Bess.
“I’m going to turn him loose on you, on both of you, and we’ll see what happens then.”
Bess said, “While you’re turning him loose, ask him how he likes the idea of you being an accessory to murder.”
Robert frowned.
Bess said, “Marisa told you the white-haired man and the woman were killers. I’m officially confirming that they are. We’ve got a witness who saw them kill two men. Marisa saw them stalking you and as I’ve already mentioned, we can link the couple and one Puerto Rican right hand to a kid who tried to break into Marisa’s apartment. That kid, by the way, was also murdered. The white-haired man and his girlfriend might have done it, the same couple who’ve been after a book you’ve been sitting on. Marisa’s told you a lot of this so you know enough to be accused of withholding evidence in a murder case.”
Bess aimed a forefinger at Robert. “That’s right, sport. It’s a crime. Accessory after the fact. We can make one hell of a case against you for impeding a police investigation. Suck on that.”
Robert chewed a corner of his mouth and nervously eyed the detective. Seconds later, Robert left the apartment without saying a word.
“He won’t give up,” said Marisa. “The book means too much to him. Is it really evidence?”
“Only if I turn it in, which I’m not going to.”
“But you said—”
“I say a lot of things. I just don’t want Robert to have it. I’m keeping it.”
It took Marisa only a couple of seconds to realize what he had in mind and when she did, her eyes widened in horror. “Joseph, no. Oh, no. Please don’t.”
He sipped his coffee.
“They’ll come for you,” she said.
He shrugged.
“Joseph—”
“For the first time, you’ve given me something I can take to the department. You’ve identified Alison Sales and Cornell Castle and you’re ready to swear out a complaint, against them. Attempted murder, aggravated assault. That’ll do for openers.”
“The book …”
Bess winked. “I’ll be careful. Maybe I’ll hire you as my bodyguard. You’re a tough lady.”
“Will you be serious for a minute? These people aren’t playing around. They’ll kill you. Look what they’ve tried to do to me, what they’ve already done to Nat and Ellie, to Larry.”
“And to Gregory Vandis,” said Bess. “It’s beginning to look like he put up a fight, but whoever punched his ticket was a little bit better. Tell you something else, I bet Gregory’s dead because somebody didn’t want him talking to strangers, and it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s the same somebody who sent Alison and Cornell who-sis—”
“Castle.”
“Castle, over here to get the book from you. What was it they said? Someone important, with political clout, a ‘changeling.’ Somebody who wanted to break away from the Comforts—”
“Somebody who planned to kill the Comforts, from what I can gather. There’s nothing comforting about the Comforts, believe me.”
Bess grinned. “Will you be serious for a minute?”
Marisa playfully slapped him on the shoulder.
“Hey,” he said, “you’re going to make me spill this wonderful coffee over my crummy looking suit.”
“Speaking of your suit, how did it get that way? Or can you tell me?”
Bess told her about his fight with Raymond and Raymond’s death.
“I don’t give a shit about Raymond,” he said. “I think of Gina and kids like her and Raymond doesn’t bother me even a little bit. Gina’s never been the same since, since …”
His voice trailed off. Then he looked at Marisa. “Anyway, we’re trying to find out who told Murray Train that we were waiting outside in the hall to kill him. We suspect Bofil was behind it. Raymond might have proved embarrassing to a man who sees himself as senator in the near future.”
“Can’t you make Murray talk?”
“Murray wants a deal. He’s holding out. He’ll give us a name if we go easy on him. He faces a manslaughter charge for pushing Fancy down the stairs and we also have him for resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer. Working something out with Murray might be the only way we’ll ever get close to Bofil. What’s wrong?”
Marisa hugged herself and shivered. “I don’t know. It’s not what happened, or almost happened. Funny thing. Fighting back like that—you know, cutting up Alison and Cornell—I feel good. That’s a horrible thing to say, isn’t it?”
Bess shook his head. “I understand. You fought back. That’s why you feel good. If you hadn’t fought back—”
“I’d be dead. No, what’s bugging me is I’m unsure about something. Alison learned from Robert that the book was missing, right?”
“Sure.”
“I mean Alison and Robert were … well, they were. You know what I mean. So that’s how she knew. Yet there’s something buzzing around in my head, something Alison and Cornell said while they were here and I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Don’t tell me you’re suddenly seeing changelings everywhere. Next thing you know, you’ll have me seeing them. I don’t know much ab
out the subject, except what you’ve told me, but I suppose anyone can be a changeling.”
Marisa nodded, her mind elsewhere.
Bess said, “Any idea who this mysterious political figure—changeling might be? Tell me it’s Bofil, so I can simplify my life.”
Marisa waved him away. “Life’s not that simple. No, it was something those two said, something I’d mentioned earlier that they knew, but shouldn’t have known. God, I’m so mixed up right now I can’t remember my middle name.”
“Which is?”
“Why did you ask me that? I hate it and never use it.”
“Come on.”
“Doris.”
Bess grinned. “Doris?”
“See what I mean? Heggen’s a Norwegian name, which fits since we’re mostly Norwegian. Marisa’s Italian and you can keep Doris. Ugh! It reminds me of Boris, which is why I never use it.”
Bess stood up and shook his head. “Doris. I guess you want me to keep quiet about that.”
“If you don’t want ground glass in your granola, yes.”
“Doris,” mumbled Bess as he walked over to a nearby closet, opened it and took out the shopping bag containing the Book of Shadows.
“Wonder if we’ll find a Doris in this book,” he said. “And you couldn’t make heads or tails of anything in it?”
“No more than you can. If there’s some sort of list in its grimy looking pages, I couldn’t find it,”
Bess took the book out of the bag. “My guess is it’s written in a few foreign languages, maybe even some codes. The changeling wants it and the Comforts want it. Maybe I should run off a few copies so everybody can be happy.”
Marisa said, “I wish there was some other way besides your holding on to the book. Those people have an incredible spy system. They can find out just about anything they want to know.”
“The coven,” said Bess, still eyeing the book. “They obviously do most of the leg work and pass on their information to the Comforts. Now from what you tell me, the coven and the changeling both want to go into business for themselves, and to hell with anybody else.”
Bess looked at Marisa, “Uh, I don’t know how to say this, but I’ve been thinking about what you said, about them coming for you because they still think you’ve got the book. If you stay here, you’re right, you’ll be in trouble. I was wondering, if … if you … well, I’ve got a spare room. Actually it’s Gina’s room, but the two of you could … I mean, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I just feel I could keep an eye on you better, at least for the next couple of days. My sister-in-law could chaperone us, at least part of the time. Look, forget it. It was just a thought, that’s all.”