Kiss the Witch

by Dana E. Donovan

  He unlaced his hands and folded them upon the desk. “You think this is funny?”

  I shook the smile from my face. “Of course not.” I looked at Carlos. He remained surprisingly composed. I wanted him to take over, but he missed the relay pass, or perhaps purposely dropped it just to see me squirm.

  “Detective, this is a serious matter.”

  “I understand, Mister Ferguson. I promise you we will take this case very seriously. So please, tell us exactly what is missing.”

  “All of it.”

  “All of it?”

  “Detective, we only produced a small amount of QE647 for testing, about 800 cc`s. Whoever stole it also stole the digital research documents before erasing our computer drives and backups. He then ran a sophisticated shredding program on our entire systems to prevent us ever reclaiming data off the erased drives. He left us nothing. We are absolutely wiped out.”

  “I don’t understand. Who could do that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? It is an inside job.”

  “One of your employees.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

  I looked to Carlos. This no longer seemed like such a difficult case. “You want this one?” I asked.

  He gestured a wave as if offering the floor to me. “It’s all yours.”

  I returned to Ferguson. “Who in your employ could have pulled this off?”

  He held up three fingers. “If you asked me yesterday, I would have told you that only three men, other than myself, had access to the sample compound, the files and the password to our security system’s mainframe needed to disable the alarms, shut off the cameras and erase the surveillance tapes.”

  “What changed since yesterday?”

  “Two of the three men died yesterday.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Mark Williams, my executive program coordinator fell off his balcony in a drunken stupor.”

  “Oh my.”

  “Oh my is right. The second man, Rick Delaney, my operations and logistics manager, died last night after a freight train T-boned his car at a railroad crossing.”

  “Yes. I heard about that accident on the radio this morning.”

  Carlos added, “That cannot be coincidence.”

  “Hardly. Who else Mister Ferguson?”

  “Detective?”

  “You said three men other than yourself had access to the material, the data and security system.”

  “Yes, of course. The third man is Howard Snow. He’s the senior research supervisor.”

  “Can we talk to him?”

  He shook his head. “Howard failed to show up for work this morning. I had Personnel call. He does not answer his phone.”

  “That’s your man,” said Carlos.

  “If he’s not dead,” I said. “Carlos, call Spinelli. Tell him to get a black and white over to Snow’s house and have them bring Snow in for questioning.”

  “Okay.”

  “And while you’re at it, have him send someone here to dust.”

  “For prints?” said Ferguson.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “No. No dusting.”

  “Why not?”

  We have some very important investors walking the facility later this morning. I don’t want them knowing we were robbed.”

  “You are going to lie to your investors?”

  “I am going to wait until a more opportune moment to tell them.”

  I looked to Carlos and gave him a nod. “Okay, you heard the man. Go ahead and get Spinelli working on bringing Snow in.”

  “Got it,” he said, and he excused himself to make the call outside in the hall.

  I said to Ferguson, “You know this is beginning to smell a bit fishy. What are the odds two of your top employees die the same night someone robs you? Have you called the FBI in on this?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “They told me it was not an FBI case, that I have no evidence an interstate crime has taken place. They told me to call the State Police, who in turn told me to call you. Seems that because I suggested this was an inside job, they consider it an internal problem and therefore a local complaint.”

  “But this could be a lot bigger than just some stolen sweetener.”

  “Thank you. It is good to see you appreciate the gravity of my situation.”

  I stood and offered my hand. “Mister Ferguson, I promise I will leave no stone unturned.”

  “I know you won’t. Thank you, and thank Detective Rodriquez for me, too.”

  “I will.”

  I turned and headed for the door when instincts stopped me and turned me around. Ferguson was just sitting back down. He looked up at me. “Detective?”

  “One more thing, sir.”

  “Certainly.”

  “You mentioned three men other than yourself had access to the compound, the files and the security mainframe.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Naturally, I have to ask you.”

  “You want to know where I was last night.”

  “I do.”

  A smile came to him slowly. “Last night I was in Toronto, Detective. I flew back early this morning on the redeye. Would you like to see my ticket stub?”

  I crossed the room and put my hand out. “If you don’t mind.”

  He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and produced a boarding pass for the Toronto to Boston redeye run. I examined it briefly and returned it to him. “Thank you.”

  “No. No.” He pressed it back into my hand. “Keep it. I don’t want you second-guessing anything.”

  I stashed the ticket in my back pocket. “Thank you again, Mister Ferguson.”

  “You’re welcome, Detective.” He scoffed lightly. “You know it’s funny.”

  “What’s that?”

  “McSweeney, my secretary.” He rolled his eyes before dropping a dead stare to the floor. “My former secretary, I should say. The poor dear died recently. Horrible accident at home. Anyway, she made those reservations for me. You know she never used to book me on the red eye. Knew how much I hate night travel. The one time she does and this happens.” He looked up at me. His eyes were wet, but his cheeks were dry. “I can’t even give her hell for it now. Can I?”

  I shook my head. “No, sir. I guess you can’t.”

  Out in the hall, Carlos was just hanging up with Spinelli. As we started for the elevator, I asked him, “Spinelli sending a unit out to Snow’s house?”

  “It’s on its way.”

  “Did you think of telling him to check out Biocrynetix Laboratories, too?”

  “I did. I also asked him to see what he can find out about Mark Williams and Rick Delaney.”

  “Good.”

  “So, what do you think?”

  “`Bout what?”

  “Ferguson. Is he telling the truth? About the super sweetener, I mean.”

  “I don’t know. I suppose so. You know something that sweet is worth stealing. Just about every processed food these days uses high fructose corn sweetener. If they invented something four-thousand times sweeter, it could revolutionize the food processing industry.”

  “Yeah, but you see that’s just it. I know it’s super sweet and all, but why produce only 800cc`s of it? That’s like this much.” He spread his thumb and index finger to indicate a portioned amount in a lab beaker. “This close to going public with it, I should thing they would have produced gallons of the stuff in drums and tested it in hundreds of food products already.”

  “Hmm, I see your point, Carlos. You know that often big product rollouts are impossible for companies to keep completely under wraps this close to launch date. I wonder if Spinelli can find something about QE647 on the Internet. Why don’t you call him back and ask him if––”

  “Already did.”

  “You already asked him to check it out?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay. That’s good.”

  A slick grin creased his fac
e. “I’m getting good at this, aren’t I?”

  I doubled-tapped him on the cheek and his grin fell away. “After thirty years, my friend, I should hope so.”

  We hopped into the car and headed back out. “Spinelli was right,” he said. I think he was sulking.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t give me enough credit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t. You don’t give either of us credit.”

  “I most certainly do. Didn’t I just say you did a good job?”

  “No. You said Okay. That’s good, but you didn’t say good job, Carlos.”

  “What? Do you really need affirmation from me for a job well done?”

  He tilted his head and offered a half shrug. “Be nice.”

  “All right then, job well done. Nice work.”

  He scoffed at that. “Oh, like it means anything now that I had to pry it out of you.”

  I felt my jaw slacken. I was speechless. I never heard Carlos complain about my treatment of him before. He certainly set me straight a time or two in the past about Spinelli, reminding me to call him Dominic and to treat him like the equal he is. After all, the man went through so much, getting shot in the line of duty, then hooked on pain pills and completing rehab for his addiction. I suppose I owed him that much. But to hear Carlos tell me I do not give him enough credit made me think. Perhaps he was right. Was it a consequence of my return to prime? Being young again, filled once more with all the spit and vinegar that I had lost as an older man; had it eroded my patience, my sense of compassion, my civility? I looked at Carlos. His hands remained on the wheel at the ten-to-two position, his eyes unflinching on the road ahead.

  “Have I changed?” I asked him. “Am I that different now?”

  He shook his head, still unwilling to take his eyes off the road. “No,” he said, flatly. “You’ve always been an ass.”

  “What?”

  He broke up laughing, which started me laughing. I felt instantly better, and thoroughly expected him to tell me at any moment he was kidding. He is such a goof like that sometimes, his sense of humor oddly refreshing. Surprisingly though, he did not do that. He simply kept his focus on his driving, and as his laugh wound down to a dull smile, we settled into an uncomfortable silence.

  A mile or two down the road, I broke that silence. “Spinelli said that?”

  Still not looking at me, he said, “Dominic. Yes, he said that. He told me to watch for it, that you are quick to razz me for slipping up, but slow to compliment me when I do well.”

  “But you know I think the world of you, Carlos.”

  “That’s what I told Dominic.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes, but the truth remains. You suck at handing out compliments.”

  “Wow, what can I say? I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be. You can’t help who you are. I just thought you should know.”

  That shut me up for another six blocks. At the turn off on Lexington, I asked Carlos if he would not mind swinging by the house. “I want to run in and get that promise stone for Spin…. I mean Dominic.”

  He looked at me and smiled. “Sure. No problem.”

  As we pulled up to the house, I felt a strange compulsion to invite Carlos in to say hi to the girls. I thought he would decline, knowing Spinelli would have Howard Snow back at the precinct ready for questioning. I was wrong. Perhaps he knew I expected him to say no.

  “I’d love to say hello to the girls,” he said. The wise-ass smirk he gave me proved I was right.

  “We’ll have to make it quick,” I told him, keying the lock in the door. “I want to make sure we have time later to visit both the Williams house and the site of Delaney’s wreck.”

  I pushed the door open and stumbled blindly into a darkened room, illuminated only by the daylight pouring in from behind me. Carlos followed unusually close with his hand on the back of my shoulder. “Did you forget to pay the electric bill,” he asked.

  “No,” I answered, brushing his paw off my shoulder. “Back up, will you?”

  “Close the door!” Lilith shouted, her voice rolling down the hall like distant thunder.

  “Lilith. What the hell are you doing? Why are the lights out?”

  “Forget it, Ursula.” Again Lilith’s voice, only now she was walking it towards me. “Turn the lights on. Killjoy is home.”

  The hall light came on just as Lilith brushed passed me. She headed straight for the front windows and zipped the blinds open.

  “Lilith.” I followed her around as she continued opening blinds and flooding the room with sunlight. “What are you doing? Why are you and Ursula running around in the dark?”

  She turned sharply on her heels to face me and I nearly mowed her down trying to stop. “Once again, Tony, we were doing something you should do more often yourself, but don’t.”

  “Practicing witchcraft?”

  She batted her eyes at me, clearly trying to be cute. All I could see, though, was blatant mockery. Ursula emerged from the hallway carrying what looked like a dagger, its blade, long, narrow and waved like a crumpled fender. It took me for a start; I will tell you that much. It had a hilt carved of bone, notched for each finger and topped with a pommel of polished teak.

  “`Tis dark sight is all, Master Tony,” she said, waving the dagger like a wand. “When shadows lurk in shadows, one can see but naught. `Tis only light by dark sight doth shadows grow and thus we see.”

  “What?”

  “It’s called dark sight, basic level one shit,” said Lilith. “You gather energy from around you and use it to see in pitch darkness.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Aye,” said Ursula. “What light doth come in wake of morrow lingers still yet night doth borrow.”

  I pointed at Ursula. “Again, I’m sorry dear, but what the fuck?” To Lilith I said, “Can’t you teach the girl modern English. She will never fit into society talking like that.”

  “Yes and you will never fit in with our new coven unless you exercise witchcraft more often.”

  “I told you, I have a job that takes priority.”

  “And that’s all right. But you spend more time clipping your toenails than you do practicing witchcraft.”

  “You told me to cut my nails because you said I stab you when we….” I looked at Carlos and then at Ursula. “You know.”

  “Have sex, I know. It’s okay. You can say it. I think Carlos and Ursula know we have sex, Tony.”

  “All right. I’m just saying.”

  “And I’m just saying. You need to practice witchcraft more often and try to be more tolerant when I practice it.”

  “Why don’t you compromise,” said Carlos, who until now seemed content just standing back watching the show.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sure.” He pointed at Ursula and then at me. “Lilith, why don’t you promise to help Ursula with her modern English, and Tony, you promise to practice more witchcraft?”

  I looked at Lilith. Her hooked brow told me the Cuban Doctor Ruth might have something there. “It is not a bad idea,” I said.

  “No, not bad,” she replied. She looked at Ursula. “Would you mind, Urs?”

  She gathered her lips in a ripple, considered it briefly and answered, “Methinks not, my blood. If thee wish it so, I shall try but gladly.”

  Lilith nodded.

  “Great,” I said. “Done.”

  Ursula pointed the dagger at me and shook it loosely. “But hark thee my words, lest thou forget. Thrice be thy luck of bad and not if thou profess and squander.”

  I shook my head. “See, this is what I mean. I have no idea what the hell she just said.”

  “She is telling you not to fuck up,” said Carlos.

  I gave him a warning look. “Who asked you?”

  He didn’t even blink. “Got anything to drink?” he asked.

  Lilith gestured toward the kitchen. “Iced tea in the fridge. Help yourself.”r />
  “Thanks.” He crossed the room, tapping my arm as he walked by me. “Want some?”

  I waved him off. “Lilith, what is that thing Ursula is holding?”

  “What, this?” She put her hand out and Ursula passed the dagger to her.

  “Yes. That.”

  She held it up for my inspection. “It’s called an athame. Every witch should have one, including you. Mine is over a hundred and fifty years old.”

  “Does Ursula have one, too?”

  “She did.”

  Ursula said, “They took it when they hanged me. I kept only my witch’s key, which I hid up my––”

  “Uh-uh. I don’t need to hear that, Ursula. Lilith. I came home to get the thing for Spinelli.”

  “Thing?”

  “The thing you told me not to forget.”

  “The stone,” said Ursula. “What say thee, pray tell, wait and I shall gather it.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  She ran off to the bedroom to get the stone. I turned to Carlos, who was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. “Almost ready, amigo?”

  “Almost,” he said, and he tipped his drink back to finish it, allowing the ice to slide down the glass and dam against his nose. He placed the empty glass on the kitchen table when he was done, something that would have earned me demerit points from Lilith. Carlos received barely a second look. “Ready now.”

  I nodded toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Ursula returned with the stone, presenting it in cupped hands like a fragile flower. “Hear, hear,” she said. “To my beloved thee shall bring. Yes?”

  I scooped the stone up with equal reverence. “Yes. Of course.”

  I slipped it into my pocket.

  We started out the door, when Lilith called back. “Don’t forget about tonight.”

  I turned slowly, hoping I might remember what I obviously forgot. The look on my face was enough to sour hers. “Tonight?”

  “Tony. This is a big deal. You cannot forget.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Tonight, right, the coven thing.”

  “Yes, the coven thing. Tonight is the new moon. We have to do it tonight. You promised me.”

  “I know. I know. I won’t forget.”

  Carlos asked, “What’s the coven thing?”

  I looked at Lilith, confident she could explain it better than I could. Truth was I could not explain it at all.