Season of the Witch (4 page)

We all had a little laugh. My stomach growled. Something smelled good in the kitchen.

“I guess that a better question would be where you two met.”

“What is this, the third degree?” She smiled at me, her eyes sparkling.

“Eve.” Harry hissed, sounding scandalized, like an old mother hen.

“I’m only kidding, honey.” She reached over and squeezed his hand without taking her eyes off me. She smiled at me again, and I felt slightly dizzy. “We met in a checkout line,” she said.

She paused for a minute, then stood suddenly. “Well, let’s get this show on the road! Don’t move; I’ll get everything. I insist.”

We spent the remainder of the evening talking about old times, and new ones. Apparently, the two of them had discussed the topic of marriage and were very committed to each other. I gathered they were waiting on the recovery of certain funds.
 

Finally, I complimented Eve on her culinary skills and stood. I bid them good night and waited while Eve retrieved my coat. As she handed it to me, she kissed me on the cheek and held my hand. Jasmine filled my senses. “You’ll have to come back sometime,” she whispered. And then, backing away, she gave me a toothy smile.

I looked back as I headed toward the elevators. Eve was still standing there. She tossed me a little wave and the door slowly closed.

* * *

I made my way back to Lena’s apartment building. By comparison, Harry and Eve’s place was a palace, indeed. I went to Lena’s door and pushed the buzzer. The lights were out. I buzzed again, but there was no answer. I briefly considered gaining entry by illegal means, but decided that wasn’t warranted in this situation. It was beginning to annoy me that she was making herself so unavailable. Junky schedules are not normal people’s schedules; I would need to adapt. I loitered for a while in the shadow of the old brownstone, but it was obvious that she was gone for the night. I had an uneasy feeling that I should know where.

An old woman squatted in the doorway, a couple of empty wine bottles next to her. She wheezed and hugged herself against the cold. As I turned to walk away, I heard her whisper to herself, “Jerome . . . Jerome . . . Oh, where’s my little doggie...” Her voice faded into the hiss of the freezing rain that started pelting down.

Time to spend a little less time enjoying Eve’s cooking and get back to detective work.

I pointed the old Buick towards home and turned on the radio, letting it keep tempo with the cold rain that splashed on the windshield. The station came in loud and clear. A woman was singing, her voice as soft and sweet as the ghost of innocence:

Heaven please send to all mankind,

Understanding and peace of mind.

But, if it’s not asking too much

Please send me someone to love.

It was Sade. I hadn’t heard the song in a long time, but by the time I crossed the bridge headed north, I was singing along.

Chapter 3

It was very cold the next morning. As I shrugged on my heavy winter coat, I caught a whiff of Jasmine and smiled to myself. I stepped out of my apartment complex into the stiff wind that cut down the empty street from the north. Head down against the icy gale, I headed toward my Buick.

Nothing like a simple little case once in a while.

I should have known better. I had determined that if I could not find Danny, I could at least find someone who knew him. It was on the Cahaba Bridge that I began to notice that a tan Ford was staying a constant three cars behind me, no matter how fast or slow I drove. I found that I was mightily irritated by a strange person following me on an otherwise unblemished morning. I slowed abruptly and pulled over to the side.

I watched him go by; the driver casually averted his face, but I saw him well enough. He was a white man in his mid-thirties. His hair was trimmed very short and he wore a neat mustache. He did not look familiar to me, but everything about him and his vehicle said certain things: first, he was a cop; and secondly and most important, he was watching me. Watching and not wanting to be observed.

Now who might you be?

I tried to follow, but he was on to me and had his escape well planned. He took a sharp right on 21st Street, past the crosswalk full of slow moving pedestrians, then took several quick right turns. There was no use trying to follow but I had the make, model and tag. Maybe that would get me something. Nothing like a little mystery in the morning.

I entered my empty outer office and walked past Deborah’s vacant desk. She had been my secretary for two years until she had left when the right man had come into her life and asked her to marry him. He hadn’t been crazy about her involvement in my line of work. I hadn’t run an advertisement for a replacement for her old job since she had left; it would have seemed too much like trying to replace an old friend. I hadn’t removed the desk from the outer office, either. It at least gave me the illusion that I wasn’t alone in the building.
 

I was about to give Broom a call regarding the license tag number when I noticed I had a message. I pressed the button.

“Roland, it’s Harry. Something urgent has come up. Please come by as soon as you can. I’ll be at the apartment in about an hour and a half. We need to talk. Please be there.” I dialed Harry’s number, and got a busy signal. I then called Broom, down at the North Precinct. I got the desk Sergeant, who told me Lt. Broom was out but was expected back within a half hour. I decided to drop in on him before seeing Harry.

Lester Broom was the biggest, toughest cop in Birmingham, which was saying something. Broom’s weight and height were subjects of considerable speculation. He was a giant of a man, with a giant reputation. He knew everything about Birmingham that a homicide detective needed to know, which meant that he knew almost everybody and every little thing about them.

He also possessed a vast web of contacts throughout the city, many of which were unknown even to me. If he didn’t have the goods on you, he could get it in a matter of minutes, which was very useful leverage. Broom had seen every kind of case a cop could conceivably experience. We’d been partners for six years, my entire time as a detective. We owed each other and respected each other. In short, we were best friends.

I parked across the street from the North Precinct building, right in front of the big placard that read, “Protect, Honor, and Serve.” Twelve or so years before, I’d been sworn in as a peace officer in front of that placard. Five years later, I’d been sworn in as a detective in the chief’s office. Now I was a guest, and there were new faces, people who didn’t remember me. Things change.

I caught sight of Broom’s hulking figure hunched over the coffee maker. I knew his early morning coffee ritual by heart. He’d be pouring himself a quart of the stuff, in his mighty flagon-style mug that was inscribed simply, “Broom.” He would then drown within its murky depths a single lonely lump of sugar. He had three of these every morning. I walked up behind him, and gave him my customary greeting.

“Freeze!”

“Hey, Roland, what’s shaking?” Broom asked calmly without turning around.

“Just me, must be this weather.”

“Don’t blame me. I just work here.”

“Work? That’s not what I hear. By the way, you got any friends over in the Motor Vehicles Department?”

“Yeah, there’s a girl who works over there, I think she’s in love with me.”

He offered me a cup of black coffee.

“Thanks. Well, Invite me to the wedding. I hope you guys are happy. I’ve come to ask a favor.”

“But speak, O mighty one.”

“There’s a problem I need you to check out, if you can. First though, I’ve got a question for you that’s a little strange.”

“Like you’ve never done
that
before?”

“Do you happen to know if there is a cop watching me? I’ve picked up a shadow, and he certainly looks like one of our fraternal brothers.”

“Anything is possible.” Broom’s expression was his usual deadpan, as was his delivery. Which meant he was turning things over in his mind. “Is that the problem?”

“Well, it is a problem, worse if it’s a cop. Try license number DPQ-214, and see what you come up with.”

“Okay, pal, I’ll have to get back to you on this if it’s a police tail. My money is it’s nothing official. Someone would have told me first. I probably won’t be able to get this for you before tonight, when my love interest comes on.”

“That’s fine.”

Just then Detective “Mack” McMahon waltzed in. He poured himself a cup of coffee and came around the desk, smiling.

“Well, Roland Longville. How goes it in the Private Eye biz?”

“Hi Mack. Everything’s going well.”

Broom was staring hard at McMahon, who eventually felt the pressure of his gaze and turned around.

“What?” Was all McMahon could muster.

“Where are you, McMahon?”

“Uh . . . what?”

“I said, where are you?” Broom asked again, with absolutely no expression.

“I, um, I’m in your office, Les.”

“That’s what I thought.”

McMahon turned and looked and me quizzically. It was my turn to be deadpan.

“Well, Mack, isn’t there somewhere else you should be?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Les.”

“Hear that, Roland? We don’t know where we should be. Because we don’t read our duty roster. McMahon, might I suggest you go take a look? If you do, it’s completely within the realm of possibility you might find that you are
supposed
to be relieving a detective at this very moment—one who has been on a stake-out for twelve hours.”

McMahon quickly bailed out the door.

Broom watched him go, shaking his head. “What’s the good in being Irish if you can’t be stupid.”

“I thought you were Irish.”

“Do you have some kind of point?” Broom smiled his wry smile.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on him, Les. He’s a good cop.”

“Good cop, yes, but new detective. He’s got a lot to learn.”

“Give him time. He’s young.”

“Well, he’s no Roland Longville.” Broom smiled his granite smile. “You took to this like a duck to water. You were born to be a detective.”

“Aw, come on. I had a great teacher. Anyway, there aren’t many of us old school guys left in the Precinct nowadays.”

“Yeah, I miss the old days. The world’s going nuts out there, Roland. Back then even the crooks knew the rules. Now, it’s a snake pit. You got preschoolers killing each other, families killing each other.” Broom stared out of his window, drinking his coffee and peering out into the mystery of the rain.

“Those are mean streets, brother.”

“There are bad guys on both sides now. The world is lucky to have curmudgeons like us, muddling along, keeping things straight.”

Broom smiled his grim little smile. “You gotta break ’em to make ’em.”

He stood and put out his hand. He might have been getting older, but his grip was still a vise of steel. After goodbyes, I moseyed downstairs to my Buick.

* * *

I made it to Harry’s building in about fifteen minutes. The building still felt like morning, though it was almost noon. The light shone a glorious gold through the windows of the lobby, warming the damp cold that the rain of the night before had left. The elevator Muzak for today was “Tears of a Clown,” and I sincerely hoped that Smokey Robinson had never heard it. I wondered briefly if somewhere in the gargantuan building there was some bellboy DJ who coldly determined what golden oldie would get murdered next. I went up to 7635 and rang.

“It’s open.” Eve’s voice, from within somewhere. I pushed the door open. It still felt like night in there; there were no lights on. I heard someone stir within.

“Back here.” I looked around and my breath caught in my chest.

Eve stood in the bedroom doorway in a black negligee, a very brief one at that. She was looking at me with a direct and penetrating glare that I tried very hard not to notice. There was one of those heavy silences that can only hang between a man and woman in a dark quiet room.

Feeling very stupid and uncomfortable, I muttered, “Eve . . . I’m sorry if I woke you. Harry called . . . and asked for me to come by . . . I thought he’d be here.” My mind raced over the implications of my own words.

Anything is possible.

She ran a hand through her long golden hair, slow and languorously, and stood regarding me with that smoldering look.

“Well, he isn’t.” She moved forward with one supple move, like a panther. The mysteriously pursed lips turned up in a sleepy smile. Her hands rose to her shoulders. Despite my silent prayers to the contrary, Eve slowly hooked her thumbs beneath the straps of her ethereal garment, pulling it down, down. It made a slight but audible whisper as it slid across her smooth, pink skin. Then she was naked, in the dim light, nothing between us but the warm air.

She was still moving toward me and I stood there, my mind frozen. She came so close I could feel her hot breath on me. Goosebumps crept up my arms, the back of my neck.