Season of the Witch (16 page)

“Someone may die if you don’t help me.”

She shook her head slowly, dazedly. “I . . . didn’t do anything. Don’t know.”

“The young girl that lives in that apartment,” I pointed to Lena’s place. “Have you seen her? Remember, she gave you food for Jerome?”

“Jerome?”

“That’s right. Jerome. She helped you feed your dog, Jerome, remember?”

“I loved him so much. Jerome was my baby.”

“I need you to remember. Lena gave you food for him. Do you remember her?”

“She was a pretty little girl. And so nice.”

“Right. I’m a friend of that nice girl. I’m worried because she isn’t home. No one has seen her. Do you know where she is?”

“I don’t know; they went away.”

“They? Who? Was Lena with someone?”

“Those two men were mean to her.”

“What two men? When?”

“Two men, I guess it might have been yesterday, or . . . I think the day before. I don’t know. My memory isn’t too good, but they took her somewhere. They all got in a big car. She was crying.”

“Which way did they go? Can you describe them or their car?”

“It was too long. I can’t remember.”

“Please try to remember.”

“It was a big car. Her boyfriend was with her but she was still afraid.” Mary finally raised her eyes to mine. “One of them was Big Daddy.”

Chapter 13

I beat a path back to the office as quickly as I could. I put a call through to the West Precinct. Keeler was out. I asked to speak to Magnuson.

“Chief Magnuson is unavailable.”

“Any detective will do then. This is urgent!”

After what seemed an eternity, another voice came on the line. “Detective Varner.”

Detective, my name is Roland Longville. I need to get through to Detective Keeler or Chief Detective Magnuson. It’s urgent.”

“Can you tell me what this is concerning?”

“There’s a young girl whose life is in danger. Keeler will know who I mean.”

“Detective Keeler’s out on a call. The chief is in a meeting right now. I can get him a message, though.”

“All right, but I need you to get in touch with Keeler if you can.”

“I’ll try, Mister Longville. Give me your information.”

As I gave him the details, my mind was racing as I tried to think of all the places I could look for Big Daddy. When I finished giving Detective Varner the message, I thanked him and hung up. Then I opened my desk drawer and picked up my .45 Smith and Wesson and dropped it into my coat pocket. I was headed toward the door when the phone rang.

“Mister Longville, this is Lucinda.” The voice sounded nervous and strained. “I’ve talked to Danny, and he wants to meet with you. How about where you and I met last time. I’ll be waiting there in our car, in about an hour. Please be there. Stand outside, and I’ll meet you and take you to Danny.”

I looked at my watch. It was 5:45.

I climbed back into my winter gear and departed the relative warmth and security of the Brooks Building, the worry for Lena weighing heavily upon me. With each step I heard the rattle of the pain pills in my pocket. They were the cure that I dare not take. I dare not lose what remained of my mental alertness.

This was my second promise via phone to be led to Itchy Danny Weber. I was sure Lucinda intended to keep her word to me, but somehow I had a feeling that the story couldn’t end happily for Danny.
 

The wind was whipping the rain as I headed down, blowing it sideways along the side windows. Still, the parking lot was pretty crowded when I got there. Good advertising, no doubt.

After all the lying and killing, Danny was ready to talk. The heat was getting too close. Lonnie’s men had been working overtime, all right. What kind of kid was this Danny? He had managed to worm his way to the top of his profession—thievery—and been employed and close to both of the most powerful criminals in the city. Now they were both hunting him.

The wind buffeted my car and made weird moaning sounds as I passed over into the emptied streets of the North Side once again. The denizens were recuperating after the previous night’s excesses, and would be ready to do it all over again in a few hours.

I loitered around outside, freezing in the cold wind. The aging biker from the night before was nowhere to be found. Presently, I saw Lucinda coming up the street in a light blue raincoat. I was surprised once again at how similar she looked to Lena, the same small, slight frame, the same dark hair. I got out of my car and went over to her. The illusion held, but weakened a bit. She still had the light in her eyes, the sheen to her hair, those things I rarely saw in Lena. A part of me wondered how long that those things would last for Lucinda, given her occupation.

“Lucinda.”

“You wanted to know where to find Danny? I’m willing to tell you, if it will keep him out of jail.”

“I can try, Lucinda. But jail is the least of Danny’s worries. I promise I’ll do what I can, but that money has caused enough misery. It’s time to end this.”

We got into my car. I drove north on Highway 280, following her directions, and we got off just north of downtown, near the massive brown monoliths of the projects just off the 21
^st
Street Bridge. I was anxious to put an end to Danny’s odyssey, and find Lena. Her situation was weighing heavily on my mind. I wanted to know she was safe.

We went a few streets west, toward the north end of the downtown district, where the restored brownstones evoked Greenwich Village. I parked and we got out of my Buick. I followed Lucinda up some apartment building steps. At the entrance, she buzzed apartment seven from a button above a mailbox that had been emblazoned with a big pink “L”. There was no response. She buzzed several times. Lucinda wrinkled her brow.

“He’s supposed to be here. Oh, Danny, don’t have run off again.”

We climbed up another flight of stairs and walked to apartment number seven. The door was unlocked. It opened onto a stylish apartment.

She went in first. “Danny? Are you here? Danny?”

My head ached and I felt slightly uneasy. Some part of me already knew what we were going to find. I followed her in, and heard her scream.

And there he was. There was no more cause for worry on his part.

He of the nervous itch and many questionable associations, he who had almost killed me because he thought I was Hazelwood, someone whom I myself had killed, lay waiting for us in the center of the floor. He was past all concern, his silver skin laced with his golden blood.

He had crawled naked from the bedroom, where even the most cursory examination revealed that he had been stabbed several times. The stabbing had probably begun as he lay sleeping. The telltale arcs of the knife were written in blood droplets on the ceiling, and the blood-soaked sheets and carpet.

Gently, I turned him over. A broken necklace hung around his neck.

I checked his pulse, his heart, though I knew what I would find. He was already far away and dreaming. The body was very cold.

The stabbing hadn’t done the job. Beside Danny on the floor lay a blood tire iron that had been used to finish him. It looked painfully familiar. I involuntarily put my hand to my throbbing temple and leaned against the wall.
 

I went back to the bedroom. One thing was abundantly clear. Two people had lain in that bed, and their actions had also left their imprint, the turn in the covers, the crumpled pillows still in place despite the extremity of the scene. It made it clear that whoever had been there had tried two approaches to get what they wanted. As I stood in the doorway, it came to me, and my blood turned as cold as the blood on the walls of that sad little room. It was just a whiff, but there it was, the scent of jasmine.

A million thoughts rushing through my mind, I went over and sat heavily on the couch. Lucinda was already sitting there. She did not cry, or scream, or approach Danny’s still form. After a moment she put her face in her hands, and let out a long breath. It sounded like a death rattle.

You’ve got to pick up every stitch.

I called the police. A bored female voice informed me that I had reached the West precinct. I told her the address and what had happened, and hung up.

“Lucinda.”

I had to say it several times.

“Yes.”

“Where is the money?”

She didn’t move or speak.

“Lucinda, please. More people are going to die if you don’t tell me.”

She exhaled again, a long, low, beaten sound. She was more like Lena all the time.

“Danny hid it . . . he told me yesterday. I’d threatened to leave him . . . money—which he’d gotten from somewhere. I—I guess Eve has it . . . now. He wore a key around his neck, on that chain. It looks like she took it.”

I told Lucinda what to tell the police.

I knew one thing, deep down in my soul: Harry had played me for a sucker. However, I guess that he knew he was one, too. So was Hazelwood, so was Longshot Lonnie, and so was poor dead Danny. I got up and went out of there. As I headed toward the door, Lucinda looked up.

“Where are you going?”

“Eve will be trying to leave town soon, as soon as she gets the money. And all of her suckers will be trying to latch on.”

“What does it matter now? Danny’s dead; she killed him.” Her voice seemed to come from far away.

“There’s no way that I’m going to let her get away with this. She has a lot to answer for. It isn’t over, yet.”

Chapter 14

There was no Muzak in the elevator this time. My prior visit to this building, I had been greeted by Eve in the dusky darkness, her naked skin smelling of Jasmine. I knew she wouldn’t be there now. I was looking for someone else. I never even made it to the door. I saw him coming down the hall. Harry saw me approaching and immediately turned and headed back to the apartment. I broke into a run, easily overtaking him.

“Damn limp,” he cursed, looking down at the ground.

“Come on, Harry. We don’t have time for this. Eve’s already got the money. Danny’s dead. The whole thing is over. She’s splitting on you. Lying won’t help you.”

Harry looked at me and his face was purple with rage. “You go to hell, this is all your fault! I didn’t—”

His hand went towards his pocket. We struggled. I was far stronger than he, though, and wrestled the .38 revolver from his grip. I shook the gun at him, barely able to contain my rage.

“You didn’t tell me the truth, and you say this is my fault? It was you who came to me and lied to me. Told me you’d been betrayed. You and Eve planned all of this, I sure as hell didn’t. Whatever else has happened, whoever else has lied,
you
involved
me
in this. Maybe some good can come of this yet, but not if we stand here blaming each other. You two planned to get this money that Danny had stolen, to get away. Maybe you would have if Eve hadn’t found Danny first. Now she doesn’t need you. She can make it on her own.”

“So—what do you want from me? She’s gone. There’s over two million dollars there, and she knows where it is, we all knew that. But now she has the key so she can get it. You’ll never catch her.”

“Come on, Harry, you know better than that. Tell me where the money was hidden. Eve still has to go get it, then get out of town. Other people are most likely following her, Harry. I think you know who. You are the last one who can stop this.”

Harry stood for a minute, his face dark and brooding under his long rock star hair.

“Harry—”

“Birmingham Airport. A locker there.” I barely heard him.

“What are you doing here, then, and why aren’t you with Eve?”

“Longshot had men following us the other day. We ditched them. We agreed to split up, let them follow one of us, so the other could move around freely.”

“Let me guess. That was Eve’s idea, and she’s the one who gets to move around freely, right?”

“She loves me! If she went to get the money, she wouldn’t split without me.”

“Harry, Danny’s dead. Eve killed him after she got the key from him. She wants that money for herself, she’s wanted it for herself all along. We’ve all been used.”

He stood, wavering for a second, the revelation slowly washing over him. Somewhere deep inside him a fateful decision was made; a change came over his face.

“It’s locker 316 at the South Terminal.”

I yanked him toward the elevators.

“Then that’s where we’re going!”

On the way to the ground floor he maintained a sullen silence.

I maintained a firm grip on his arm when the doors opened, and as we made our way through the lobby. Outside, I pushed him in the direction of my car.

“That’s not far. We can make it. Get in.”

I knew that Longshot’s men would be looking for Eve. If they found her, would Lonnie play it cool enough to follow her to the money? Or would he try to beat it out of her? Something told me I didn’t want Lonnie to find Eve first; he was too much under her spell.