THE WITCH'S LADDER (Detective Marcella Witch's Series)

by Dana Donovan

  Lilith surveyed the room with a glance, tallying the eyes of both believers and non-believers staring back at her. It seemed split somewhere down the middle. But there, conspicuously wedged among the believers, if she could trust her instincts, stood her newest supporter: me. I listened intently with an open mind, more jury than judge if I could help it. Regardless of which side of the fence anyone stood, all hung breathless on her word.

  “As I mentioned, divination through hepatoscopy is as ancient as civilization itself,” she told us. “And though I’m no expert on the subject, it seems to me that something about these killings doesn’t add up. For instance, why is it—and tell me, Detective, if you haven’t asked yourself the same thing—when Travis and Barbara were killed, their livers were cut out and taken, yet the two homeless men had their livers cut out and left behind?”

  Most in the room understood that the question called for no immediate answer, but Chris offered a possible theory nonetheless. “Maybe the killer didn’t have enough time to finish what he started when he killed the two homeless men.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Gordon. “They were killed in a dark, lonely alley a week apart. The killer had plenty of time to cut them up into little pieces if he wanted to.”

  Michael said, “All right, by the same token, perhaps in the case of Travis and Barbara, the killer didn’t have enough time, and so he took the livers with him to read later.”

  “That’s good, Michael,” Valerie answered. “I can believe that. It makes sense. What do you think, Detective? Is someone killing these people just to read their entrails? Or do you still think it’s a case of ritual sacrifice?”

  I tapped the brim of my hat without answering, turned and started walking towards Leona Diaz, still the quietest one in the room. She sat alone at the far end of the table, closest to the corner by the door. Until then, few had noticed the fright on her face. As I approached, Leona stiffened her back and shoulders. She glanced several times at Doctor Lieberman, perhaps looking for reassurance, but his smile appeared to offer no immediate comfort. I reached the other end of the table and knelt beside her.

  “Hola, Leona. Buenos nochas,” I said, my voice trained softly. “Por favor, escusa mi Español. Para me, su sido un largo tiempo.”

  Leona’s mouth pinched up at the corners, but stopped just shy of a smile. “Please, Detective,” she answered, nearly in a whisper. “Mi Ingles, es not so bad.”

  “Gracias. Porque no es preciso mi Español.”

  “De nada.”

  “Leona. Doctor Lieberman tells me that you can sometimes be in two places simultaneously, that you bilocate. Is that true?”

  “Si, Detective, it is true, but I do not have power over such things. It happens when I sleep, or if I am hypnotized.”

  “I see. Then tell me, while experiencing this bilocation, have you ever gone to Suffolk’s Walk?”

  Leona pulled back sharply, gasping as though the wind had been sucked from her lungs in a single instant. Her complexion grew flush. I reached for her hands, which clung like vice grips to the arms of her chair. Terror blazed in her eyes and I thought for a moment I had seen the devil behind them. Valerie Spencer let out a shriek, perhaps evoking the vision that so horrified Leona.

  “What is it, Leona?” I asked. “What do you see? Tell me what you see.”

  Her stare grew distant. Her hands trembled. She began reciting the Lord’s Prayer, first in English, then in Spanish, until eventually the words became undecipherable, neither English nor Spanish, but rather an utterance of nonsensical gibberish.

  “Glossolalia!” Shekina cried. “She is speaking in tongues. She is possessed with the Holy Spirit.”

  “Possessed?” I turned to her. “Why is she possessed?”

  “She is communicating with the Holy Spirit. Glossolalia will prevent Satan from interfering. She most certainly cannot hear you now, Detective.”

  Astonished beyond words, I turned back and watched Leona fall into a deep, spontaneous trance. I imagined the struggle going on in her mind, and wondered if she had transported herself back to the scene of the crime at Suffolk’s Walk.

  “What do you see, Leona? Tell me.” But she would not, or could not acknowledge my words. She continued speaking in tongues, clutching her rosary and repeating the chants like a mantra, drawing strength from its words or protection from its source.

  I panned the room, hoping for some indication as to where Leona’s episode of glossolalia might take her next. I studied the faces of those looking back and saw only concern on everyone present. Everyone that is, but for Lilith Adams. Strangely, Lilith seemed not only unconcerned, but also amused. Her hands twiddled in mechanical sequence as she tightened another knot in the rope she had been working on earlier. I stood up and started across the room. She hastened her efforts, tying another and yet another knot in the line as quickly as she could. She pulled taut the last of forty knots just as I reached her, looked up and tossed the line directly at me. I snatched the rope in mid-air as it sailed toward my face.

  “So what’s this?” I asked, holding the rope up by the first knot like a string of minnows on a fishing line.

  “What does it look like?”

  “Looks like a rope with a bunch of knots.”

  “Bravo. You see? I guess that’s why you’re the detective.”

  “Yes, but something tells me it’s more than just a bunch of knots, isn’t it?”

  Akasha jumped to her feet, pointing. “It’s a witch’s ladder, Detective, and it’s the second one she has made. If she made it for you, then she is supposed to hide it from you. Once that is done, you have only days to find it and untie the knots or you will die.”

  I looked back at Lilith, my brow hooked in surprise. “Is that right, Ms. Adams?”

  She scoffed. “Not quite, Detective, but the glitter twin has it half right. The type of ladder she speaks of is the Ladder of Death. Like any witch’s ladder it can be a string of forty beads or forty knots tied in a line, similar to the one you now hold in your hand. As Akasha explained, the maker of the ladder might hide it from her adversary as a sort of time bomb. Depending on the strength of the spell, one might have days, or perhaps even months to find it. The more time, the better, of course. The fun is in watching the poor soul hunt for the ladder before his time runs out.”

  “Sounds charming, but you don’t think I’m buying any of this, do you?”

  Small pockets of snickering broke out like chirping crickets, difficult to pinpoint, but impossible to ignore. I turned around and it suddenly stopped.

  “You don’t have to buy anything, Detective. You asked me. I’m telling you.”

  I turned back. “Fair enough. So let’s say I’m still listening. You described the ladder of death. If this isn’t one of those, what is it?”

  “What you’re holding there is another ladder, Detective. It’s the Ladder of Will, and it’s my gift to you.”

  “Ladder of Will? Why would I want this?”

  “As the name implies, it should grant you control of the forces at will. It’s an incredibly powerful tool, one you should not take lightly.”

  “Control of what forces?”

  “Nature, physics, perhaps even your own destiny.”

  “So, it’s a tool, is it?”

  “Yes. You see it was first used by sailors centuries ago. A nice witch, such as myself, might give it to a handsome young sailor. If this sailor went out to sea for long periods and could find no breeze to push him home, then he would simply untie one of the knots. A single knot would give him a gentle breeze. Two knots would deliver a strong gust. Of course, if he were foolish and wanted to get home quickly then he might feel tempted to untie three knots.”

  “Three knots, huh?”

  “Oh, yes. Big mistake––three knots.”

  I chuckled. I had learned how to temper my skepticism and remain open-minded in the course of my investigations, but never had anyone offered me help from such an unlikely source. With some reluctance,
I put aside my doubts and indulged Lilith further. “All right, Ms. Adams. I’ll bite. What happened if a sailor untied a third knot?”

  “Well, then, he would unleash the fury of Mother Nature. That’s all. The winds would blow in cold like arctic ice. The waters would churn and the seas would roll, tossing his vessel on the swells like a cork until the ocean swallowed it up.”

  “Swallowed it up?”

  “Yup.” She wet her lips and swallowed.

  “The ship?”

  “Not pretty, eh?”

  “All right, if that’s so then answer me this. What would prevent someone, a stranger let’s say, from happening along and finding this piece of rope and untying the knots all at once? Would he then not unleash the wrath of nature unwittingly on himself?”

  “Not at all, Detective. First, the person needs to know what it is, and then he needs to believe in what it can do. Otherwise it’s useless.”

  “Okay and what of the last witch’s ladder you made, the one Akasha called the Ladder of Death? If you made it for me and hid it, what good does it do if I don’t believe in its powers?”

  Lilith stretched a wicked little grin across her lips. She seemed prettiest when she smiled like that. Her eyes thinned to the size of dime slots as dimples pinched her cheeks. “And if it were a Ladder of Death, why would you think I made it for you?”

  “Ms. Adams, you seem to forget. As a detective, I observe things. The last time I came here I noticed you tying knots into a piece of rope much like this one. It looked like you were concentrating on me with great persistence as I spoke. It would seem a fair assumption. Would it not?”

  “Perhaps, but as you pointed out, the matter is moot if you don’t believe, unless you do believe. Do you?”

  “Should I?”

  Lilith gestured for the rope, pointing at the first knot. I looked down at it. I imagined I could put Lilith in her place by obliging her request and playing along. So I worked my fingers on the rope and untied the first knot. From nowhere, a microburst of wind blew across my face. The phantom squall knocked my hat to the floor, ruffled my hair, and for a moment, seemed to dance on my head like a tiny tornado. I grabbed for the thing, but in an instant, it was gone. Then somebody gasped.

  “Look at Leona!”

  I turned around.

  Leona’s hair stood up straight in a twisted spike as though the little tornado had become frozen in mid-swirl on top of her head. Her rambling gibberish ceased. She opened her eyes and emerged from her trance, though still obviously dazed. She appeared confused, as not to know where she was, but smiled gradually as she started to recognize her familiar surroundings.

  I turned again to Lilith. Her grin appeared saturated with pleasure. “Now you believe,” she said. “Remember though, you must use the knots wisely. Untie only what you need when you need it.”

  “That was a coincidence,” I said, but even I heard the lack of conviction in my voice.

  “You know, Detective, coincidence is just another way of explaining the unexplainable. You can untie another knot and see what happens, but remember what I told you about the foolish sailor.”

  “This is ridiculous.” I wadded up the witch’s ladder and stuffed it in my pocket. “I haven’t time for this nonsense. Do you know what I’m thinking right now, Ms. Adams?”

  Lilith smiled. “Sure, Detective, I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “You’re thinking you’d like to get the hell out of here. Now that I just said it, though, you can’t leave because that would prove me right. But you know that by staying here you still prove me right. Yes?”

  I snarled. “No, you’re wrong,” were the words that came out of my mouth, but what I thought was, No, you’re wrong, you bitch.

  “Yes. I’m right,” said Lilith. “And I know I’m a bitch. Thank you very much.”

  The snickering that followed reminded me that I was fighting a losing battle in the war of the minds. I looked at Lilith and shook my head. “Remind me never to play chess with you, Ms. Adams, will you?”

  Lilith rolled back and laughed aloud, and for the first time I thought it sounded truly genuine, not a laugh of satisfaction, or even amusement, but—dare I say it—admiration. I couldn’t know it at the time, but I had just won over Lilith’s soft side. To her ears, my comment signified nothing short of surrender. She reached out and pulled me in by my lapels until our noses nearly bumped. I melted immediately at her touch, lost myself in the enchanting pools that were her eyes; my senses cast aloft by the scent of her hair and the soft whisper of her breath on my lips.

  “Let me tell you a secret,” she cooed, and my knees nearly buckled beneath me. “We all have it in us, even you. The trick is learning how to turn it on or tune it out. The second part is easy. They can’t read your mind if you don’t let them. You have to learn to tune them out. It’s that simple.”

  I knitted my brows in bemusement. “Sorry,” I said, maintaining the whisper and feeling intrinsically obliged to allow her cheek to brush mine. “I don’t think I follow.”

  “It’s like this, Detective. Think about your favorite color.”

  “My favorite color?”

  “Don’t question me. Just do it.”

  “Okay. My favorite color is….”

  “Green,” said Lilith.

  “Yes, that’s right. But how—”

  “Never mind that. Now I’m going to ask you another question, but I don’t want you to draw a mental picture in your mind. I want you to think about anything else.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Think about anything other than what I am asking you to think about. It’s not that hard. If I say blue, you think red. You got it?”

  I nodded. “I s`pose.”

  “All right then. What kind of car do you drive?”

  I thought about it, or more accurately, not about it. Lilith peered over my shoulder, observing the group in a loose huddle, watching, wondering what we were doing.

  “You ready?” she said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay. Let me see. You drive…you drive Canada?”

  I smiled and nodded at the world map pinned on the wall behind her.

  Lilith tightened her lips in a struggle to refrain from smiling back. She slapped me affectionately on the cheek before pushing me away in mock anger. Then she pointed her finger in a scolding fashion in front of the others and warned, “And don’t you forget it.”

  Before turning away, I flashed a quick little wink. It was fast and subtle and missed by all but Chris Walker.

  “Ha. I saw that.” Chris shouted. “What was that?”

  “What was what?” said Valerie.

  “He winked. Detective Marcella winked at Lilith. Did you see it?”

  “He did? What was that about, Detective? Did she put a spell on you?”

  Akasha sprang to her feet. “I told you so, people. Lilith is in up to her neck in this thing. Now she is casting spells on Detective Marcella.”

  “Whoa, folks,” I said, waving my hands to signal a cease-fire. “Nobody’s casting spells on anyone. I never said I thought Lilith was under suspicion.”

  “No, but you forget, most of us here can read minds.”

  “Then I’m sorry, Akasha, but you’re either reading between the lines or skipping pages all-together, because Lilith is under no more suspicion than the rest of you.”

  “Detective, don’t let Lilith fool you. She’s a witch. She has an overwhelming interest in the subject of divination and cannot escape the fact that she knew two of the victims personally.”

  “Yes, but all of you knew two of the victims as well. For all I know, any one of you might have committed the murders and are looking to throw blame at Lilith.”

  “That’s enough,” said the doctor. “I refuse to stand here and listen to you accuse my people of being cold-blooded killers. Now, unless you have specific information you’d like to share, I think you—”

  “Doctor, I’m not accusing anyone of anything. I’m simply doi
ng my job. The first thing a cop does in a homicide investigation is look for a motive. If we can determine a motive we can begin looking at suspects, or more importantly, we can begin ruling out suspects.”

  “Meaning we are all suspects. Is that it, Detective?”

  “At this time, everyone in town who does not have an alibi is a suspect.”

  “What about Leona? Surely you don’t suspect her?”

  “Again, you have to understand. Leona was with both Barbara and Travis on the nights they were killed. A young woman fitting Leona’s description showed up at the other two murders just prior to those homicides. I’m not suggesting she killed anybody, but if several witnesses can place her at all four murders… Well, let’s just say that bilocation might prove a hard sell to a jury.”

  Doctor Lieberman knelt by Leona’s side, offering comfort by holding her hand. She appeared physically and emotionally drained by the experience and still unaware that discussions involving her were taking place. It soon became obvious to me that I couldn’t question her further about Suffolk’s Walk. A quick visual of the room told me that the group, likewise, was in no mood to discuss matters further. So once again, I thanked Doctor Lieberman and the group for their time, said goodbye and found my way out.

  I later learned that that evening during one of the experiments, the twins, Akasha and Shekina, played some kind of prank on Gordon Walsh. I never gathered the full details, but I know it caused an upheaval so great that Doctor Lieberman reportedly put his foot down hard, scolding the girls for making a mockery of his experiments. The girls complained that they were simply having fun, to which he returned, “You are always simply having fun. But there is a time for fun and a time for work.” He went on to say that he was disappointed with all of them, adding, “I honestly wish I had just half the psychic powers that you have, for it’s truly a gift, and if you put your minds to it, there is nothing you can’t accomplish.”