Call Of The Witch (10 page)

“
Oh, that. Sure. All
right, so what’s Jose got to do with it.”

“
Raul Martinez reminds me
of him.”

“
What? He looks like your
brother?”

“
Not so much, but he’s
just like him––like he was.”

“
Oh?”

“
My father died when I was
just a boy. Jose was supposed to look after my mother and me. He
made that promise to my father on his deathbed. But he was just
like Raul. He stole whatever money my mother made and spent it on
women, booze and gambling. I can’t tell you how many nights we went
to bed hungry because of him. When I turned thirteen, I went to
work in the sugar fields. I earned two pesos a day, not bad seeing
that back then a peso was worth one American dollar. Even with the
foreman skimming fifty centavos off the top it was pretty good pay
for a kid. I told my mother I was saving up so that one day we
could both move to the United States.”

“
Is that how you got
here?” I asked.

“
No. My mother never made
it. After two years of working in the sugar fields, I had saved up
over four-hundred dollars. By then, revolution was in the air. I
told my mother we needed to leave before Castro reached
Havana.”

Carlos shook his head. I could see his eyes
were on the road, but his mind was thousands of miles and decades
away.

“
My mother didn’t want to
go without Jose,” he continued. “She told him about our plans and
about my money. Naturally, Jose couldn’t resist. He took the money.
My mother tried to stop him. He knocked her down; split her head
open on a wrought iron table. Then he just left her there. I came
home and found her dead. She’d bled to death. That night I stowed
away on a freighter bound for Miami. From there I thumbed all the
way to Massachusetts. One day Lionel Brewbaker found me picking
through garbage behind his store and he gave me a job, just like he
gave Karina Martinez a job.”

He took his eyes off the road long enough to
look at me, and long enough for me to see the tears he tried not to
show. I reached over and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Your
mother would be proud of you, Carlos.”

He nodded, thinned his lips and returned his
eyes to the road. We didn’t speak again for another ten miles. By
then, I had decided to call Spinelli and have him see what he could
dig up on Raul Martinez. I pulled my phone out and noticed the
battery was dead. I asked Carlos for his phone. He obliged, handing
it to me without a second thought. After going through his list of
contacts and not finding Spinelli, I said, “I don’t see him. You
don’t have him in here?”

“
Yeah I do.” He glanced
only briefly at me to make sure I knew what I was doing.

I toggled through the list again, starting
with D for Dominic and ending in S for Spinelli. “I don’t see
him.”

“
Oh, right,” he said.
“Look under N.”

“
N? For
Spinelli?”

“
No, for New
Guy.”

“
You have Dominic listed
on your phone as New Guy?”

“
Yeah.”

“
Why?”

“
`Cause that’s what I put
him under when he first came to work with me. You know, Spinelli’s
a strange name. Hard to remember.”

“
What about
Dominic?”

He shook his head. “Couldn’t remember that
either. Kept wanting to call him Damian. Used to piss him off.”

“
What, and calling him New
Guy didn’t?”

He laughed at that, even snorted a little. “I
didn’t call him New Guy. I’d just say stuff like, ‘Hey, you got
them reports done yet?’ Or, ‘Thanks for the coffee, Man. My treat
next time.’”

“
How long did that go
on?”

“
I don’t know. `bout a
year.”

“
A year? You worked with
the man for a year before you learned his name?”

“
No, I knew it. I just had
trouble remembering.”

“
You know it now, don’t
you?”

“
Of course.”

“
So why do you still have
him listed as New Guy?”

He looked at me as though I had just told him
I could fly. “Because that’s how I know where to find him.”

I knew better than to go any further. I left
it at that and continued toggling through the list to the N`s.
Before getting there, though I slowed down around the letter L,
thinking I might find his girlfriend, Lauri Shullit listed there.
When that didn’t pan out, I looked through the S`s once more and
again came up empty. I was about to riffle through the G`s,
thinking he might have listed her there generically as Girlfriend,
when he turned to me, suspicious I think.

“
Still can’t find
it?”

I toggled up quickly to the N`s. “Uh, I found
it. Here he is. New Guy.” I hit send. Dominic answered on the
second ring.

“
Carlos, what’s
up?”

“
Dominic. It’s
me.”

“
Tony? Where’s Carlos.
Everything all right?”

“
Everything’s fine.
Listen. I want you to see what you can find on Karina Martinez’s
son, Raul.”

“
Same last
name?”

“
Yes, same last name.
Check for priors, anything outstanding. The usual. If this guy has
so much as a delinquent parking ticket, I want to know.”

“
You got it, Tony. Is that
it?”

“
Yeah, that’s it.” I
paused and came back. “Hey, how’s Ursula?”

“
Oh, she’s okay.” I could
hear the surprise in his voice. “Thanks for asking.”

“
If you want to go home
after you look up––”

“
No. That’s all right. She
called me a little while ago, said she was fine. She felt the baby
move.”

“
Really? The kid moved,
huh?”

“
Yeah. She said it scared
her at first, until she realized what it was.”

“
All right then. Well, if
you’re sure you don’t need to go home.”

“
Tony, I’m good. You know
we all have work to do. When Kelly’s home where she belongs, then
that’s when I’ll go home.”

“
Okay.” I took a breath,
not certain how to respond to that. “Let us know if something
interesting comes up.”

“
I will.”

I hung up, feeling uneasy about something,
but not entirely sure what. Carlos saw it on my face as I handed
him his phone. He tucked it back into his pocket, his attention
focused back and forth between the road and me.

“
What’s wrong,” he asked,
after realizing I had nothing to volunteer.

“
I don’t know. Tired, I
guess.”

“
So, Ursula felt the baby
move?”

I smiled at that. “Yeah. I suppose that means
her blood pressure is starting to tic up a bit.”

“
That’s good
then.”

I shrugged lightly. “I guess.” We drove a
little further. “Hey, you don’t think it’s too early for Ursula to
be feeling the baby move, do you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Three
months? She’s a small woman. If she swallowed a Mexican jumping
bean I suspect she’d feel it thumping around in her belly until it
came out the other end.”

I laughed. “I suppose you’re right. Listen;
speaking of that, we haven’t eaten all day. What do you say we
swing by a drive-thru somewhere and grab a quick bite?”

“
Thought you’d never ask,”
he said, and before I knew it, we were speeding down Route 1 in
Danvers, eating take-out chicken from a bucket and sipping
milkshakes through straws as thick as rigatonis. Carlos was in his
element, one greasy hand on the steering wheel, another holding a
greasy chicken thigh and a milkshake between his legs. I cinched my
seatbelt tighter, tucked a napkin into my collar and settled back
to enjoy the ride.

Dmitry Kovalchuk owned the Swan Lake Dance
Studio on Route 1 in Danvers. The studio operated out of an old
two-story brick and mortar built in the twenties. Three smaller
shops facing the street occupied the first floor. Dmitry’s studio,
windowless in the front, encompassed the entire second.

We entered through a side door and climbed a
flight of wooden steps that delivered us to the back of a wide-open
dance floor. We spotted Dmitry across the room working with several
young girls in tight leotards. The girls appeared to be warming up
for dance, stretching and working a ballet barre mounted against a
twelve-foot mirrored wall. We observed Dmitry touching all the
girls, but his paws seemed especially fond of one in particular. He
caressed her forearm and shoulder, swept her hair off the back of
her neck and then ran his hand down the small of her back and over
her bottom. He then whispered something in her ear before laughing
and patting her ass. The girl was not amused.

Carlos poked me with his elbow and said, “Did
you see that?”

I acknowledged I did.

“
That’s totally
inappropriate, if not illegal.”

“
Come on,” I said. “Let’s
go talk to him.”

We stepped from the shadows and started
across the dance floor where the lights were much brighter. Dmitry
saw us approaching in the mirror. He straightened up, put his hands
to his side and met us half-way.

“
Da. How I can help you?”
he asked. He seemed more bothered than afraid, as I expected he
should have been after seeing our badges and IDs`.

“
I’m Detective Anthony
Marcella,” I said, “NCPD, and this is Detective Rodriquez. We’d
like to talk to you.”

Dmitry glanced back over his shoulder,
perhaps to make sure the girls were far enough away so as not to
hear our conversation. Four of them were still working the ballet
barre; one had dropped to her knee to address her slipper. Another
had just arrived and was putting hers on.

“
But of course,
Detective.” His accent was thick with Russian charm. “What do you
wish we talk about?”

“
Kelly Brewbaker. When did
you see her last?”

“
Kelly?” His eyes fell
away. His brows lifted. I could see him thinking about it, if only
for a moment. His answer came with a passive shrug. “I see Kelly
Thursday night.”

“
This past Thursday? Two
nights ago and you had to think about it.”

“
What, I am busy man. Have
much to think about.”

“
I’m sure. You’re certain
it was Thursday.”

“
Da, certain. I know this
because Thursday is for girls six-to-nine years. Kelly, she has
nine years. Friday is girls ten-to-twelve; Saturday, girls thirteen
and more years.”

Carlos gestured a nod at the girls working
the ballet barre. “So then some of those girls over there are only
thirteen?”

“
Some.” Dmitry answered.
“Some older.”

“
That one.” He pointed.
“In pink leotards. Is she thirteen?”

Dmitry knew without looking who he meant.
“Da, thirteen. Fourteen next month.”

“
You had your hands all
over her. You palmed her ass. Do you think that’s
appropriate?”

“
What? Dat girl?” Dmitry
laughed, and I thought I might have another Raul Martinez incident
on my hands again. But before Carlos could grab Dmitry by the neck
and choke the living daylights out of him, Dmitry said, “Dat is
Natasha. She is daughter. I would not touch ass of student who is
not mine.”

That hardly seemed enough for Carlos. “I
don’t see how that matters. Natasha is a young woman. She’s
developing in places not even a father should touch. So I’m telling
you now, lay your hands on her like that again and I’ll––”

“
Carlos.” I pulled him
back by the sleeve. “I think he gets the point.”

“
Right,” he said, and he
backed down easier than I thought he might.

I turned back to Dmitry. “Mister Kovalchuk,
you say you saw Kelly Thursday night. Can you tell me how she got
here?”

He shrugged. “What do I know? Same as always.
Da? Mr. Brewbaker drops her off, comes back in one hour. I see her
next week. Is dat simple.”

“
Is that what happened? He
dropped her off and came back later for her.”

“
Da, he dropped…. Nyet.
Wait.” Dmitry pressed his finger to his chin, pondered a second and
then pointed at me. “You know….” He shook that finger lightly. “Now
I think, he did not pick up his Kelly.”

“
Oh?”

“
Mrs. Brewbaker come––pick
her up.”

“
Amanda
Brewbaker?”

“
Da.”

“
Why did she come for
her?”

“
Why I should know, you
tell me. He did not come. She come. Makes no difference to
me.”

“
Was Mrs. Brewbaker
alone?”

“
Alone? Nyet. She had
friend.”

“
A gentleman
friend?”

He dismissed that suggestion with a wave. “A
gentleman? Please. Even in my country dis man would be what you say
here, scum.”

“
Excuse me?”

“
Da, he is scum man.
Greasy hair. Tattoos like Russian sailor. Not for little girl to
see. But, she is mother of little girl. Is not my business. I say
goodbye, give Kelly pat on bum and….”

“
You what?” said
Carlos.

Dmitry fell back a step, splayed his hands in
front of his face and assumed a defensive posture. “No, is joke,
Detective. What, like saying bye-bye. Yes? I did not pat bum. Is
funny, da?”