Joe Mac was chuckling, “Yeah, kid, I think you’re gonna do all right.”
Jodi paused a long moment, studying Joe’s stoic countenance, before she said more seriously, “Tell me something, Joe. If you don’t mind.”
“Sure.”
“Were you ever married?”
After a moment, Joe Mac nodded, “Yeah, we had forty-one years together. I was … happy. And I guess she didn’t mind me too much, neither.” A pause. “She died a while back. That’s when I moved to the barn. Sold my house. What about you?”
“Ah,” Jodi sank deeper into her chair, “I’ve had bad luck with guys. My dates have been mostly pigs, drunks, losers, wimps, or just plain crazy. It’s got me to the point that I don’t trust anybody. Or I don’t trust my feelings.” A pause. “I don’t know. I don’t dwell on it. It’s too depressing.” She felt it necessary to add, “I really don’t understand it. I’m a nice person. I think I’m even a nice cop. I don’t abuse my authority. I’m fair to everybody. I treat people like I’d want them to treat me. My friends said I wasn’t tough enough to be a cop. But I think you can do this job and still be a nice person.” She paused. “Most of the time.”
“You can be,” Joe Mac nodded ponderously. “The secret to doing this job is to own the job. Don’t let the job own you.”
Jodi continued to watch. “What do you mean?”
Joe Mac made a growling sound and shrugged. “I mean that at the end of the day your soul still belongs to you whether you pull the trigger or not.”
“Whether I pull the trigger or not? Wow. That’s kinda cryptic.”
Head bent, Joe Mac laughed, “When the time comes, you’ll understand.” He raised his face. “Let’s get back to the precinct. Go over those files. Marvin might not even call us today. Might not call us ‘till tomorrow.”
Jodi stood and lifted her purse onto her shoulder. In a moment, they were ambling down the sidewalk to a much thinner crowd. They had traveled two blocks when a vague premonition compelled her to glance over her shoulder. They walked yet another block when she reached into her purse and wrapped her right hand around the grip of her Glock.
A sweeping blue-black shape as large as an eagle suddenly blocked out the sidewalk and the city beyond as Poe landed directly in front of them.
“Hey, buddy,” laughed Joe Mac.
Jodi smiled, “Hey there, Poe! What ya been doing, big guy?”
With a deafening shrill Poe exploded from the sidewalk and barely cleared Jodi’s head. She spun to see Poe quickly close the distance to a nearby tree and when he reached it he began diving behind it, screeching, and in seconds a figure ran from behind the tree futilely trying to swat Poe with a hand. In another moment, the man rounded the far corner and was lost from their view but not from Poe’s view; the last image Jodi caught of Poe, the gigantic raven was savagely tearing at the man’s head with his beak and talons.
A high-pitched scream carried from down the block.
Only then did Jodi realize she was holding her Glock in plain view; she’d drawn it when the man emerged from hiding.
“Joe?” she said. “I think somebody’s stalking us.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
“It means we’re on the right track. If nobody was paying any attention to us, I’d be worried.” Joe Mac turned his head as if he could see. “Best keep your eyes open.”
“Nobody’s stupid enough to attack two cops.”
“The problem, kid, is that stupidity looks exactly like courage to a fool when he’s getting paid enough.”
“Hey!” shouted Jodi.
A big figure rushed them from between two cars and – without question – Joe Mac turned into it and threw a sledgehammer fist that hit the man dead in the chest.
Jodi ripped out her Glock for a clear shot.
“Joe get out of the way!”
With a look of shock the man staggered up and Jodi saw a knife in his hand but Joe Mac was standing solidly between her aim and her target. And in the same breath, with Joe Mac standing hard, both hands raised in fists, the man turned and ran fast and low, evading any chance Jodi had at a clear shot. In seconds he was twenty cars away and kept moving until he cleared the distant gate and was gone.
“Damn!” yelled Jodi, raising her gun above her head in both hands. “I wasn’t gonna kill him, Joe! I just wanted to question him!”
Joe Mac’s teeth gleamed angrily. “He was just a punk.” He sniffed. “He don’t even know who hired him. Just like that fool behind that tree.” A pause. “We ain’t close enough yet for this crew to bring out the big guns. But we’re on the right track.”
“We still could have questioned him, Joe! We gotta do this by the book!”
With a frown Joe Mac rumbled, “I shoulda’ told you already. I must be getting senile. But you ain’t gonna end this one doing it by the book. There won’t be no interrogations. There ain’t gonna be no arrests.” He paused. “When you confront something that is truly evil, you’ve got two choices. You let it go. Or you kill it.”
Jodi’s cell phone rang and she fetched it. “Yeah! Wait! I’m … I’m sorry! Yes, this is Strong. Great. Wait a second.” She pulled out a notepad and pen. “Okay, go ahead.” When she was finished, she closed the pad and looked at Joe Mac. “We got us a real Druid. He’s out on Long Island. He said he’ll see us around midnight.”
Joe Mac asked, “Is midnight the witching hour?”
At the last word, Poe landed with a thunderclap on the fence to Jodi’s side, and his eyes were instantly darting across the sidewalk and street and cars. Jodi saw his fearsome black talons were covered with a red wetness that looked an awful lot like blood.
Jodi muttered, “Is midnight the witching hour, Poe?”
With a powerful clap of his magnificent wings, Poe erupted into the air and in seconds was soaring in slow circles above their heads. It was the classic formation a bird of prey takes over the dead.
“I guess so,” she whispered.
* * *
It was almost midnight when Jodi parked the car on a rise overlooking the address Marvin had given them.
They were in north Westchester County and deep in the countryside that had been the birthplace of a thousand ghost stories over the centuries. It didn’t escape her attention that this was once was a region made famous for witches and witch hunts as well as the notorious and regretful scandals that followed the puritanical bloodshed.
For the most part Joe Mac had been surprisingly talkative during the two-hour ride. He had told her a dozen stories of how he had solved the most difficult murders of his storied career so that Jodi felt she was the recipient of an ad hoc education in homicide investigation worth more than the police academy and the FBI mentorship combined. But when Joe Mac suggested they park at a distance and study their intended destination instead of just driving through the gate “like a couple of amateurs,” she began to wonder why and finally asked, “So what am I supposed to be looking for, Joe?”
“Does this place have a gate?” Joe Mac asked.
“Yeah, it’s got a guardhouse and a gate. I see one uniformed guard. Can’t tell if he’s armed. The place looks like forty, fifty acres. One house is visible, but it’s just a bunch of lights behind the trees. Looks like a rich person, for sure.” She lowered the binoculars. “And the snow is really beginning to pick up. I’m not joking. We might not be going back to the city tonight if this don’t let up.”
“What time is it?”
“Fifteen ‘till twelve. Almost midnight.”
“That’s close enough. Let’s go on in, then. And I know you’re probably great at interviewing people, but listen to me for a second.”
“Another lesson?”
“You bet. Now, we don’t know what we’ve got, so if you start feeling like backing out and coming back later with ten more detectives, just say you’re ready to go and we’ll leave. One: Never push a bad situation. Two: If it feels wrong, it is wrong. Back out. We can come back
with more men. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Otherwise, just be yourself. We don’t know that these folks have anything to do with this. And, far as I know, there ain’t nothing illegal about hugging trees, so let’s not get antagonistic unless there’s a reason.” Joe Mac’s face was bent slightly forward, the broad corners of his mouth turned in a frown.
Suddenly Jodi knew but asked, “Joe? Are you carrying a gun?”
“You bet.”
Jodi almost laughed, but the gravity of it stopped her. Then she asked, “What do you plan to do with it?”
“Nothing. I’m blind. But if it comes down to it, I’d rather have it than not have it.”
“Okay,” Jodi laughed.
“One more thing,” Joe Mac added.
“Yes, Obi-wan?”
“No matter what happens – no matter what he says – act like you already know it. If you show surprise, he’ll know that he holds the cards.” Joe Mac half-turned his face toward her. “Act like we’re just here to confirm stuff. Got it?”
“Got it. But why?”
“It’s psychological. If they feel they can pick and choose what to tell us, that’s exactly what they’ll do. And that’s the same for anybody. It’s instinct. Nobody likes to go buck naked commando. But if they’re convinced that we already know the score and we’re just here so they can help themselves before things get ugly, then they’ll tell us everything they know. So let him do most of the talking. And don’t ask a lot of questions. A question lets him know what we don’t know.”
“Okay,” Jodi said, biting her lip. “You ready?”
“You’re the boss.”
“Yeah. Right.” Her cell phone rang. “Wait a minute.” She answered and heard Rollins: “Where are you guys?”
“Rollins?”
“Yeah. It’s Rollins. Professor Mason told me you guys went to Westchester to interview someone who’s in some kind of coven or cult. Is that what you’re doing?”
“Marvin told you that?” Jodi exclaimed. “I told him not to talk to anybody!”
“Yeah, but that didn’t include me, did it?”
Jodi glanced at Joe Mac and didn’t like what she saw. “No,” she said finally, “that didn’t include you.”
“So who are you guys talking to?”
With a sigh, Jodi said slowly and distinctly, “We’re up here in Westchester. We’re going to interview someone inside a local cult who we think might know something about the murders. We don’t need any backup. We’re not in trouble. And we’ll let you know what we find as soon as we get back. Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay. Let me know one way or the other.”
“All right. Bye.”
She hung up and waited for Joe Mac to speak but he didn’t.
He didn’t have to.
Two minutes later Jodi stopped at the decidedly royal gate, and a guard walked up with a faint wave and a smile. Jodi raised her badge, “Detective Jodi Strong and Detective Joe Blake. I believe we have an appointment?”
“Yes, ma’am; you’re expected.”
The guard stepped back, clicked a remote, and the gate opened. Then they slowly wound their way through fast-gathering snow to what loomed up as a Mediterranean-style mansion on a hill. They got out and Jodi knocked.
As they waited, Jodi turned, gazing up. “Good grief! It’s really coming down! Can you feel it? We might have to find a hotel or a restaurant for the night. I don’t have any snow chains, and we’ll never get down this mountain without them.”
Joe Mac said nothing, so she glanced over to see him standing at the edge of darkness. Unmoving, he was a singularly melancholic image cloaked in black from head to toe, his black walking cane in his black-gloved hand; she didn’t think anyone would answer their door if his Charon-like form was all they saw, so she positioned herself in front of the peephole.
The door opened, and a man in a white shirt and khaki pants stood holding a glass of red wine. He smiled a becoming smile; “Hello! I’m Anthony Montanus. And you would be Detective Strong and Detective Blake?”
“Yeah, I’m Jodi.” She motioned. “And this is Detective Joe Mac Blake. He’s an advisor. May we come in?”
Montanus stepped aside. “Of course. May I offer you something?”
He soundlessly closed the door.
“Sure,” said Jodi. “Some wine?”
“Chardonnay?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Scotch if you got it,” said Joe Mac.
“I do indeed. Please take a seat by the fire. It’s getting cold out.” Perfectly relaxed and courteous, Montanus stepped to a cupboard and began pouring drinks. “I was quite fascinated when Professor Mason called this afternoon. I hope that I can be of some service. Do you take ice in your scotch, Detective Blake?”
“It’s just Joe,” said Joe Mac. “Yes, thank you.”
Jodi felt a thrill of alarm. “What did Marvin … I mean, what all did Professor Mason tell you?”
“He said you wanted to talk to someone familiar with local groups who adhered to ancient Celtic beliefs,” Montanus answered without any hint of suspicion. “I told him that I would be more than happy to talk to you.”
“Oh,” Jodi said before she could stop herself. “Professor Mason told us that you might be a little reluctant to talk. He was actually kinda hesitant to call you at all.”
Montanus laughed, “Yes, some Druids are unreasonably secretive. But I’m not one of them. Neither was my wife.” He delivered a glass of wine and a scotch. “Cheers.”
Jodi toasted. “Thank you.”
The wine, she had to admit, was exquisite; it was the kind of wine people pay high dollar for but never enjoy. “This is excellent, Mr. Montanus.”
“Tony, please. Thank you.” He smiled, “I’m not one of those people who pay five hundred dollars for a bottle of wine, keep it in the cellar for fifty years, and then die without ever having enjoyed it. I’d rather enjoy all the things I can afford while I’m alive and leave nothing undone, unsaid, or unsung.” He laughed. “And, now, I did get an indication from Marvin that this was of a rather serious nature. Am I right?”
Joe Mac said flatly, “You’re right.”
“I thought so.”
Everything Jodi heard and saw indicated that Montanus’s relaxation was genuine because he quite simply behaved as if he had nothing to hide. Then he stunned her with, “This is about all the murders that have taken place in the city over the past four years, isn’t it?” He waited, watching Jodi’s face. “These murders that the press attributes to ‘The Hangman?’”
Never act surprised …
Jodi closed her mouth; those words from Joe Mac could not have been spoken at a more appropriate avenue. She was convinced she’d prevented herself from revealing anything. That is, unless Montanus read the split-second she bit her lip.
“Yes,” she said. “How did you know that?”
“I’ve been expecting a visit from the FBI or the police for some time,” Montanus continued with a sip. “But I don’t mean to presume. Why don’t you ask me whatever it is you want to know?”
“What do you know about the murders?” Joe Mac asked.
“I don’t think I know anything at all that would help you solve the crimes,” Montanus said slowly. “I presume – something I hate to do – that you suspect the culprit of these crimes is someone familiar with Celtic beliefs. That’s a simple presumption. But you might also suspect that it’s someone associated with the Druids. And while that might very well be true, it won’t be anyone in our group.”
Joe Mac seemed to absorb that before he asked, “Why not?”
Montanus sighed as if he’d had this discussion many times; “The peace-loving members of my particular Druidic group have had this discussion among ourselves many times. It was also a deep suspicion of my late wife.” His brow hardened as he continued, “The people in my group have long suspected that someone with beliefs tied to Gaelic traditions was executing these innocent people in some de
mented belief that they are at war with the Hebrew god. We’ve kept our suspicions to ourselves until now. But perhaps the time has come for me to tell you what we think.”
Joe Mac said nothing, but Jodi felt it was time to ask, “How many people are you talking about? I mean, how many people are in your particular group?”
“Oh,” he mused, “perhaps thirty. Maybe a few more.”
“And this is like a religion?”
“No, no,” Montanus shook his head, “it’s just a reverence, you might call it, for Nature. There are no gods or demons or angels or principalities that might damn you for all eternity. It’s simply a Nature-based way of trying to live harmoniously with the world.” He concluded with some emphasis, “We do not sanction violence. We never have.”
Joe Mac: “But you folks have suspected that these murders were somehow associated with a Druid? Why is that?”
DARK VISIONS Page 7