The Witch's Ladder (23 page)

I stumbled to my feet, wasting no time in accepting her offer and exercising as much courage as I could muster. I put my hat on and walked briskly for the door, resisting the urge to run like hell. I stepped outside and heard the door slam behind me. Following that, a thunderous commotion of breaking glass and furniture raised a hellish ruckus from every room in the house simultaneously. I imagined a cyclone had formed from within, wreaking havoc upon havoc, blowing out windows and sending debris flying out into the street. I feared for Lilith’s safety, yet somehow I knew that she stood in no greater danger than I.

Bits of glass whistled past me, pelting the little garden gnomes as I retreated to my car. I hopped into the front seat just as one of the gnomes took a conical projectile through the heart. I started the car and threw it in reverse when Lilith’s front door flew open wide. To my utter astonishment, I witnessed a tiny white kitten darting from the house and into the neighboring woods. I rolled down my window and only then realized that the devastating sounds of destruction coming from the house had mysteriously stopped. As quickly as it began, the fury had ceased. I sat back in my seat and laughed to myself.

So much for that, I thought. Witches today have no sense of humor.

One of the garden gnomes that had escaped the wrath of flying debris peeked out curiously from behind a windmill and watched as I pulled out of the driveway and headed back to the station. It had been a most interesting afternoon, one I knew that no one would ever believe. Yet that didn’t matter, not as long as I believed, and I did. I believed in Lilith’s powers as a witch; a witch’s power over nature, and the power of the witch’s ladder over both. With that in mind, I reached for my coat pocket to make sure I still had the witch’s ladder in my possession. A smile of reassurance settled over my lips when I felt it still there.

Fifteen

After leaving Lilith’s, I headed back to the police station to tell Carlos what happened there. I found him back in the corner by my desk. He looked unhappy to see me, but I get that from him sometimes.

“
Carlos. You’re not going to believe what just happened to me. It’s the most amazing thing. I just came back from the Adam’s place and—”

“
He’s dead.”

I stopped and blinked back the moment. “What?”

“
The Walsh kid.” He handed me the report. “We found him this morning. He hung himself in his cell.”

My jaw went slack. I took Carlos’ report, but did not look at it. The sounds of a busy precinct bustled all around me, yet only Carlos’ words rang in my ears over and over. ‘He’s dead. Dead. Dead…’

Carlos stood quietly, his loss for words no doubt filling him with a sense of awkwardness. I walked back to my desk and dropped into the chair, my distant stare fixed forward, though focused on nothing in particular.

“
I’m sorry, Tony,” he offered, knowing how I would blame myself for the tragedy. “I should have had a suicide watch on him.”

“
No, it’s not your fault. He wasn’t your collar. It wasn’t up to you to place a watch on him. It was up to me. Damn it!” I pounded the desk with my fist. “I failed him, Carlos. He was just a kid.”

Carlos neither agreed nor disagreed. A response either way would not have been the right one. Instead, he gazed impassively at the floor, nudging the desk leg with his toe and giving me room to vent. But I wouldn’t have it. I screwed up and I knew it. Venting wouldn’t change a thing, and it certainly wouldn’t help Gordon. If I needed to, I thought, I could beat myself up over it later. I tucked my anger up my sleeve and cleared my throat.

“
Does his kin know?” I asked.

“
His kin?”

“
His father, mother, family.”

“
Tony, he has no kin.”

“
What?”

“
I thought you knew. I mean—”

“
Never mind. Call Father John at Saint Andrews. Tell him to start planning a funeral. Have him bill me for whatever expenses the church incurs.”

“
What about you? You okay?”

“
Yeah, I just need time to let it sink in. How about getting us some coffee while I look over this report?”

“
You got it, Tony.” He walked away and came back later with some hot coffee from the machine in the lounge. He handed me a cup. “Tell me what you were about to say earlier. Something about me not believing what happened to you?”

“
What happened to me?”

“
You said something amazing happened.”

“
I did?”

“
When you walked in.”

“
That’s right. I started to tell you. Carlos, the most amazing thing happened to me at Lilith Adams’ place.” I pulled him in closer, assuring his undivided attention. “I read her thoughts.” I said, bubbling with exhilaration. “I asked her a question and as she thought about the answer, I read it.”

Carlos shook his head and laughed guardedly. “I know you’re putting me on.” He looked over his shoulder. Several of our fellow officers glanced discreetly in our direction, some smiling. “The guys are listening, Tony, so I’ll give you a chance to retract your statement before the entire department labels you a loon.”

“
A loon? Why? Because I’ve got an open mind? Because I’ve seen things my brain can’t explain? The truth is out there, Carlos, and I’ve seen it.”

“
Tony, if you’ve seen things your brain can’t explain, then maybe it’s because your brain has been influenced by the mystique of what goes on in that workshop.”

“
No. You’re wrong. I read her mind.”

“
Did you?” Carlos reached up and broke free of the grip I had on his lapels. “Tony. Is it possible that you asked Lilith a question to which you already knew the response? Then when she answered as you predicted, you simply thought you read her mind?”

“
No, Carlos. That’s not it at all, my friend. Although she did answer exactly as I predicted, the image I saw while reading her mind was another thing altogether.”

“
That doesn’t make sense.”

“
It makes perfect sense. I asked Lilith about the contents of a bag, which Burke reported he saw the group holding the night Doctor Lieberman was murdered. Lilith told me the bag contained cookies, but what I picked up from her in a flashback was that it contained bloody towels.”

“
Oh, you picked that up from her did you?”

“
That’s right. I picked it up as a memory flash back. That’s what she was really thinking when she answered. You see, she said one thing, but thought another. People do it all the time, you know.”

“
Maybe you experienced a fluke or something. I mean sometimes when I’m interviewing a suspect, I get strong vibrations and I imagine—”

I shook my head. “No, no, no, Carlos. I’m telling you. What I saw was more than just vibrations, although I certainly felt those, too. No. I saw bloody towels and Michael Dietrich killing Doctor Lieberman.”

“
You saw what?”

“
You heard me. Michael Dietrich killed Doctor Lieberman with the handsaw. Lilith was there. She witnessed it. I’m telling you she had a flashback. I saw the whole thing just as she saw it that night.”

Again, Carlos grinned, probably expecting me to yell “Gotcha” or “April fools” at any moment. But the moment passed. Nothing. I peered anxiously into my partner’s eyes, waiting for validation through concurrence, but Carlos was not buying.

“
Tony. Do you really expect me to believe any of this? Because if you do, then I think you—”

“
I’ll tell you what. I’ll make you a bet. You find me that bag, and if there isn’t a bloody towel or two inside, I’ll buy you lunch for a week. How’s that?”

That turned his soft grin into a smile. “Lunch, at the Black Angus?”

“
Any place you like.”

“
All right. You got a deal. I’ll find your bag of cookies.”

“
Okay, but if you do, and instead of cookies we find bloody towels, you owe me lunch for a week.”

Carlos considered the offer, tempted but cautious not to jump on it too soon, knowing how I seldom lost a bet. “All right,” he said. “Answer me one thing first. Tell me how you were able to read Lilith’s mind.”

I pulled the witch’s ladder from my coat pocket and held it up proudly. “This is how.”

He reached out, took the knotted rope and wrapped it partially around his neck like a hangman’s noose. “What the hell is this?” he scoffed, mocking its obvious usefulness for only one thing.

“
It’s a witch’s ladder, and it’s very powerful.”

“
A witch’s ladder? And with this you were able to read Lilith’s mind?”

“
Yup, that’s right my little Cuban amigo. And that knotted piece of hemp is going to help me solve this case.”

Carlos laughed robustly and half the precinct turned their heads to see what was so funny. “All right, Tony. You got it. We’re on. But remember. I can eat a lot of steaks.”

I took the witch’s ladder back, stashed it in my pocket and smiled as though I had already won the bet. Carlos smiled, too, thinking the same thing, and for a minute the two of us stood there, looking at each other, smiling and bobbing our heads like a couple of dashboard Chihuahuas, smiling and bobbing—bobbing and smiling, and thinking do I want fries or a salad with that T-bone?

Twenty minutes later, I was back on the road. This time I set out to see the most unlikely suspect in the case. Jean Bradford.

Except for the report about the brown paper bag and my flashback of the bloody towels, I would not have considered seeing Jean again for questioning. After all, the report I received on the plaster footprints suggested only five women were present on the night of Doctor Lieberman’s murder. Considering that Lilith, Leona, the twins and Valerie would have accounted for the five, it left no room in the equation for Jean. Still, I couldn’t see the harm in having a talk with her anyway.

I arrived at Jean’s house just as it started to rain. I pulled my collar up around the back of my neck and started up the walk. As I passed a parked car in the driveway, something in the back of my mind clicked. I remembered that Jean drove a beat-up old Plymouth sedan with rusted fenders, missing hubcaps and bald tires. The car in the driveway was a shiny new Cadillac. On the dashboard, driver’s side, I noticed a valet-parking ticket for New Castle Downs, dated the night before. On the front seat, cast arbitrarily about, lay countless programs, newspapers and more valet-parking receipts.

I continued along the walkway to the front door where I knocked square-knuckled with three firm raps. A voice inside hollered, “Come in, Detective. It’s open.”

I entered, closed the door behind me and wiped my feet on the mat just inside the entry.

“
Hello?” I called.

“
Back here,” Jean replied, her voice booming from down the hall. “In the kitchen, please come in.”

I followed my nose toward the aromatic scent of pasta sauce cooking on the stove.

“
Ms. Bradford?” I poked my head into the kitchen and found Jean sitting at the kitchen table, combing through the sports page.

“
Oh, there you are,” she said cheerfully, though barely looking up.

I crossed the room and looked over her shoulder. She had been recording all the winning horses from the previous day’s races in a small notebook. “I see you play the ponies.”

It seemed like an undertaking, but she finally managed to peel her eyes away from her task to look up at me. “Yes, well, sometimes I do get caught up in it a bit, especially when I’m on a winning streak, as I am now.”

“
Oh, are you?”

“
My, yes, I should say so. Didn’t you see my new car out front in the driveway?”

“
The Cadillac? Yes of course. Don’t tell me you won that?”

Her face lit up. “I did, or should I say I won the money at the racetrack to buy it. I put five hundred dollars down on a long shot. It paid sixty-to-one. Can you believe it? The horse’s name was Jean’s Turn. It felt like an omen. I had to bet on her.”

“
Wow. That’s wonderful.”

“
Thanks.” She winked and pointed to a seat at the table. I pulled the chair out and sat down. She refocused her attention on the sports page and continued making notes for that evening’s race. “Was there something you wanted to ask me, Detective?”

I watched her circle one of her picks: a horse named Wild Card. Ironic I thought, as I began to look at Jean in just that light. Something seemed amiss, not terribly wrong, but out of place just the same. A similar feeling crossed me back at Lilith’s place. I couldn’t put my finger on it then either, but somehow I knew she had been expecting me, and expecting questions about the bag.

“
Yes, there is something I wanted to ask you.”