Bones of a Witch

by Dana Donovan

  As I waited on the boardwalk, leaning over the railing and looking out over the milky white swirls made skittish by the gentle lapping of waves on the rocky edge, I whispered low into my microphone and called for a sound check.

  “Carlos, you copy?”

  He came back, “Copy Little Buddy. You’re looking good.”

  See what I mean? Gilligan be damned. “How `bout you, Tony, copy?”

  He returned, “You know, kid, I remember when you used to address me as Detective Marcella. You forget that?”

  “No, Tony…I mean, Detective. It’s just that you haven’t been a detective for a couple of years, and then there’s the fact that you’re, ahm….”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, sir, I am older than you now.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “Of course, I know I’m not; that is to say that you’re still, I mean your age is—”

  “Forget it, kid, I’m only messing with you; trying to get your head in a better place. I thought you sounded nervous.”

  “No, I’m not nerv—”

  “Break it up kids.” Carlos came back. “Got a bogie at three o`clock. Play it cool, Dominic. Don’t forget we got you covered. On your word we rush him.”

  “Got it,” I said, though I suspect my words had gotten trapped somewhere between my throat and my lips and nothing really came out at all. I was so nervous I could pee. All I kept thinking about was that damn wolf knife. Lilith said she had seen one before. Were there more?

  I turned my head discreetly to the right and saw a shadowy figure emerging from the fog like an apparition. Maybe was, for all I knew. I suddenly felt woefully under gunned and unprepared. I reached under my coat and wrapped my hand around a .38 snub nose that Tony had lent me; said it wouldn’t show as much as my Glock would.

  The man approaching stepped under the glow of the second streetlight from the pier. I could see him better now, though the fog was still thickest along the stretch of boardwalk we occupied.

  “He’s getting closer,” I whispered, not sure if I had spoken into the microphone loud enough. “Did you guys copy?”

  Tony came back, “We copy. Hold steady. It might not be him. Don’t want to scare him off if he’s watching.”

  Carlos added, “He’ll probably try stabbing you in the belly.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, the forward thrust, it’s the power position.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  Tony replied, “He means that your vest should resist a puncture.”

  “I wasn’t planning on giving him first strike.”

  “Shhh, he’s too close. Shut up.”

  I looked over and saw the stranger now barely ten feet away. I turned to him slowly, keeping my head down to shadow my face with the brim of my hat.

  “Steady, Dominic,” I heard someone say. I was so scared I couldn’t tell if it was Tony, Carlos or my own brain dispensing the advice. From beneath my coat I thumbed the hammer of my revolver and cocked it back. The stranger’s walk seemed leisurely, but his body remained stiff. I noticed he kept his hands in his coat pockets, which gave me a minor sense of relief. To produce a knife with an eight inch blade would take a fairly drastic move on his part. He could not do it subtly, I thought; surely no quicker than it would take me to pull my gun.

  “Give him an opportunity,” a voice said, and I was sure it wasn’t mine that time.

  At six feet out I saw the man begin to remove his right hand from his pocket. I began to slip my own out from under my coat. But at just four feet away his hand came up empty, no knife, no gun; not even a glove. I left mine partially out, the butt of my revolver exposed, but slightly.

  “He’s reaching,” said Carlos. “Shoot!”

  “No,” Tony said. “Wait.”

  The man continued raising his hand all the way up to the brim of his hat, which he tipped ever slightly, his eyes meeting mine as he said politely, “Evening, Miss.”

  I was still holding my breath as he passed by, my heart beating so loudly in my chest I could barely hear Tony and Carlos congratulating me on my nerves of steel for waiting it out like that. I hadn’t the heart or the balls to tell them they were wrong. The truth was I had panicked. I saw that his hand was empty, but I was so scared I fired my weapon at him anyway. I had pulled the gun out from under my coat only partially, and when I squeezed the trigger, the hammer came down in a fold of coat material, preventing a solid strike on the firing pin.

  Now my hands were shaking like a gimp with Parkinson’s. I eased the hammer back and dislodged the bulk of coat material from beneath it. Then I pulled the mic up to my lips and I said quietly, “That was close, guys. I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

  Carlos came back. “What do mean? You’re doing great. Keep it up.”

  “No. You don’t understand. I almost sh—”

  “Quiet.” This from Tony. “Someone else is coming. Look alert.”

  “Forget alert,” said Carlos, “try looking sexy like Lilith.”

  I turned back to the river and glanced over my shoulder toward the second streetlight. There, another figure floated into the lamp’s glow on a creeping bed of fog. I swear his feet never moved. Carlos and Tony might have seen it differently, but I’ll stick to my guns on that one.

  Once again I reached discreetly under my coat and un-holstered my weapon, careful this time not to snag the hammer on any unruly folds of material.

  “Let him near,” I heard Tony say, his voice calm and soothing, as if calling my approach on the putting green at the eighteenth hole. “Just play it cool. He’ll likely try to talk to you first. If he makes any sudden moves we’ll rush him. Don’t worry.”

  I waited until he had crossed into the shadows between streetlights before turning towards him. Then I slipped my hand out from under my coat and tucked the .38 by my side. He moved in closer to the railing, indicating to me that he did not plan on stepping around me. Without caring much now whether or not he heard me, I said to Carlos and Tony, “It’s him. I know it. Move in.”

  “Not yet,” came the response from the cavalry. “Let’s be sure.”

  I remember thinking as he approached how much larger he appeared than I expected: six-four easily, and well over two hundred pounds. I’ve taken self-defense classes in the academy, and for a little guy, I handle myself fairly well. But in a one-on-one, hand-to-hand with this mug, I reckoned I’d certainly have my hands full.

  He came out of the last shadow and stepped into my light where the intimacy of our encounter seemed all too surreal. I kept my head down slightly, working the brim of my hat as I had before to conceal the details of my face. But I could see his face now, and see it well. He was older-looking and more weathered than I imagined; bearded grey and drawn from age as if time and gravity had conspired to pull him down but he would not let it. Old? Yeah, but not just in years. Like Methuselah, this guy had seen the gates of hell and snubbed its keeper.

  “Wait for it,” said Tony, his voice more conscience now than coach. I got the sinking feeling that he somehow knew about my previous mishap with the .38.

  The stranger slowed his pace by halve strides as he neared. I could see him working hard to establish eye contact, and when he came to a stop within arm’s reach I nearly died.

  “Ms. Adams,” he said, “a word of advice for you.”

  “Now,” said Tony. “Take him!”

  I took a step back, leveled my weapon and assumed a shooter’s stance. “Freeze, Mister! Hands up! Police!”

  He fell away slightly, but otherwise complied, putting his hands up where I could see them and remaining remarkably calm, a cue I could have taken from him if I weren’t flying so high on pure adrenaline. “Don’t move!” I heard myself shouting. “Don’t move a single muscle.”

  Tony came up behind him then and slapped the cuffs on his wrists. “It’s all right, Dominic. I’ve got him now. Stand down. Good job. Good job.”

  “We got him, Tony,” I said,
my voice as giddy as a schoolboy’s. “He thought I was Lilith. Didja hear him? Ja hear him call me Ms. Adams?”

  “I heard him. Dom.”

  Carlos came running up behind us with two uniforms and a K-9, their weapons drawn, and the dog charging against his choker till his bark was hoarse.

  I pointed the .38 at our prisoner. “We got him, Carlos. We got Lemas Winterhutch. Didja hear what he called me? Ya hear him call me Ms. Adams? He’s our killer all right.”

  “Yes, Dominic, we heard him.” He holstered his weapon and motioned for me to lower mine. “Tony’s got him now. You did good, though. So put your gun away before someone gets hurt.”

  I could feel the stupid grin on my face melting away as I looked down at my gun, realizing my finger was still on the trigger and the hammer was still cocked. “Of course,” I said, swinging the .38 out over the water and seating the hammer down. I pulled my coat open and packed it away in its holster.

  Meanwhile, Tony had finished cuffing and patting down our prisoner. “He’s clean,” he said, motioning for the K-9 handler to back off with the dog. He spun the prisoner around so that he was facing us with his back against the railing. Carlos stepped up to him and looked him square in the eye.

  “What’s your name, and don’t give us Lemas Winterhutch. We know that’s not it.”

  “It’s not,” the man said. “Indeed, why would I profess to be that heartless killer?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My name is Emanuel Hilton. I am the pastor of Our Lady of Grace Church.”

  “Bullshit. You’re no pastor. You’re—”

  “No, he is,” said Tony. We turned to Tony and saw him thumbing through the man’s wallet. “He’s got all kinds of ID here. Emanuel J. Hilton, pastor: Our Lady of Grace Church, Salem Massachusetts.”

  I could see Carlos’ brows crowding over his eyes. “The pastor is a killer?”

  The man laughed. “Oh, quite the contrary, my dear Detective, I’ve come here to help you catch your killer.”

  Tony nudged in closer. “What do you know about this case, and what business have you coming up here from Salem?”

  “What business have I? Detective Marcella, the men of Ingersoll’s Witness have been my family’s business since 1692. I’ve made it my life’s pursuit to hunt these men down and bring them to justice.”

  “You know my name?”

  “Detective Anthony Marcella? Of course, I know all your names.” He looked at Carlos, “Detective Rodriquez,” then me, “Spinelli,” and he gave me a wink. “Graduated top of your class at the academy; congratulations.”

  “No, I’m not buying it,” said Carlos. “How did you know we would be here tonight? And how did you know that Lilith was supposed to be waiting here?”

  “I have friends, Detective, friends in politics, the media and in your own department. As I’ve said, I have made this pursuit my life’s work.”

  “No, that’s too easy. If you knew we were going to be here, then you would have known that Dominic was posing as Lilith, yet you approached and called him Ms. Adams.”

  “Please,” said Hilton, “I am a man of the cross. Look.” He directed our attention to the crucifix around his neck. Carlos reached up and took it in his hand. It was extremely large, larger than any I’ve ever seen hanging around someone’s neck. And more peculiar, the stem of the cross came to a point as sharp as a dagger. “That cross has been in my family since the Mayflower. I wear it to remind me of my roots in Christianity and to whom I serve. That’s why I came here tonight; to warn Ms. Adams of the danger she is in and to advise her not to take her nemesis lightly.”

  “He did begin with an offer of advice when he approached me,” I said.

  “No, I don’t trust him,” said Carlos. “It’s too polished an answer. I think he’s the witch hunter.”

  Tony spun him around and unlocked his handcuffs. “Still, Carlos, we can’t hold him. He’s not armed. He didn’t try to do anything to Dominic but talk to him. Besides….” he turned Pastor Hilton back around after removing the cuffs, “he’s too tall.”

  “Too tall to hold?”

  “Too tall to be our perp. Remember from the video, our guy’s only five-five. The good Pastor here is—what?”

  “I’m six-four and a half,” Hilton said.

  Tony splayed his hand as if to present a clear path of freedom. “There you have it then. Good evening to you sir.” Hilton took a single step out of the circle when Tony snagged his coattail and tweaked him back. “But let me offer you my own words of advice, Pastor. The next time you meddle in official police business I will throw you in jail.”

  Hilton pulled his coattail straight and started off into the night. I looked to Carlos. He seemed perplexed, but in an angry way. Tony pulled his coat sleeve back and checked his watch. “It’s past our meeting time now,” he said.

  I checked mine too. “Ten minutes,” I said. “You think Winterhutch has seen us out here with that guy?”

  “Yeah, it’s almost certain he got here early and did his own stake out before making his move. If he was here, he’s gone now.”

  Carlos asked, “What do we do next?”

  Tony had no answer for that, but as he shook his head, we heard a woman’s scream coming from the other end of the pier. Carlos got on the radio and ordered all units to follow us down the boardwalk. We ran, all of us, as fast as we could, but were too late. In the gutter, outside a novelty shop where a neon sign blinked the word CLOSED, there lay a young woman, thirtyish, brown hair, blue jeans and jacket, her throat slit from ear to ear. Nearby her Chihuahua cowered in an alleyway, afraid to emerge into the glow of the sputtering neon.

  We stood over the woman for a while after Tony had checked and found no pulse. It seemed obvious we had screwed up something awful, only none of us knew what we could have done differently to prevent it. Carlos placed the call to the medical examiner. Tony secured the immediate area and I secured the Chihuahua. She shivered in my arms so hard I thought she might break. When they finally covered the victim up and carried her off, I thought the poor thing’s whimpers would break my heart. Fact is it did.

  Carlos Rodriquez:

  Dominic and I were reviewing the files for the Melissa Evans case, the young woman murdered on the boardwalk the night before, when Tony walked in. He looked tired, unshaven and possibly even dressed in the previous night’s clothes. I’ve seen him like that before, in the old days, but not since he and Lilith went through that rite of passage thing. During the Surgeon Stalker case he came in the office looking similarly worn nearly every day. Then again, that case dropped more dead bodies on our laps than New Castle had seen in two hundred years. I wasn’t going to say anything. I knew better, but Dominic’s still green in these matters. I could see him getting ready to say something to Tony, and well, frankly he’s never going to learn for himself if I keep stopping him. I let his leash out and he damn near hung himself with it.

  “Geez, Tony, what gives with you, man? You look like crap. Whatcha do, sleep in the gutter?”

  I watched Tony’s eyes roll up from his coffee mug and settle on Dom like lasers. “What gives?” Already Dominic could sense the quicksand shifting beneath his feet. “We stood not forty yards from where a woman was accosted and murdered last night. Do you realize how close that is?”

  Dominic swallowed and then croaked out a timid, “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s less than half the length of a football field. On a clear night we would have seen it happen. If her dog farted, we would have heard it. That woman needed only break away for ten seconds and we would have been on that guy like greased spit. Can you understand that, Spinelli?”

  “Yes sir. I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “What? What’s there to imply? I look like shit because I sat up all night beating my head against a damn wall wondering what I could have done differently. How about you? Did you give it a second thought when you got home, or were you just so glad that it wasn’t you who—”

  “To
ny.” I slid my chair out and snapped to my feet. He looked at me angry-like at first, but reeled it in quickly.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He turned to Dominic and gestured a toast of sorts with his coffee mug. “Dom, listen. I didn’t….”

  “It’s okay,” Dominic said.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Yes really, it’s alright. I was out of line. You’re under a lot of stress. We all are. And I imagine with Lilith in the middle of it all you’re especially—”

  “Don’t.” Tony put his hand up to stop him. “First thing’s first. Let’s not automatically assume that last night’s killing is the work of the witch hunter. It could be a coincidence: a botched robbery, maybe.”

  I pointed at the photos and reports sprawled out on my desk. “Actually, Tony, we were just going over that.” I turned a photocopy of a driver’s license towards him. “That’s our girl, Melissa Evans, thirty four, single. She lived in an apartment over the novelty shop.”

  “She lived alone?”

  “I guess just her and her dog.” I looked over at Dominic. He smiled at Tony and shrugged.

  “Yeah, I have the dog at my place,” he said. “It’s a Chihuahua. They’re extremely smart, you know.”

  Tony smiled thinly. “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, I thought I’d keep her until someone comes forward and claims her.”

  “I see.”

  “Hey Dominic,” I said, “tell Tony what you named her.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think—”

  “Com`on, tell him. He’ll get a kick out of it.”

  “Yeah,” said Tony. “Tell me. I could use a good kick about now.”