Polterheist: An Esther Diamond Novel (12 page)

“
Arthur,”
Lopez said with a scowl. “I can’t help feeling he’s got to be the evil mastermind behind this whole thing.”

“Evil?” I blurted involuntarily, having the subject on my mind today.

“It seems like he
has
to be the bad guy. He’s the least likely person, which is always the one whodunit.” He added sheepishly, “And you especially can’t tell anyone I said
that,
Esther.”

“I won’t,” I promised. “It’s not a convincing theory, it’s just evidence that you read too much Agatha Christie.”

“I like Agatha Christie,” he said. “I find her books relaxing.”

I leaned back in my chair, also trying (without success) to get comfortable. “Tell me, Miss Marple, is there anything other than Arthur’s cunningly obsequious personality that makes him a suspect? Does he—do any of the Fensters—have a motive?” A bright idea occurred to me, courtesy of
Crime and Punishment
. “Hey, could this be an insurance scam?”

“No, they’re having trouble with their insurance claim because they didn’t report the first two heists.” He shrugged. “And our accountant thinks they’re under-insured, anyhow. This seems to be due to cash flow problems—problems that are being made worse by losing three big loads of merchandise in the busiest shopping weeks of the year.”

“So I guess it’s not an inside job?” I said. “Not unless the Fensters are trying to commit collective fiscal suicide.”

“In all honesty, I think their business acumen will ensure their collective fiscal suicide,” he said. “But I do think there must be someone on the inside. These heists are
very
smooth. Planned and executed well. Someone knows which trucks have the most valuable merchandise, when they’re on the road, and which part of their route is the most vulnerable—where no one will see the hijacking. It’s not easy to escape in a huge, heavily loaded truck, after all, if someone witnesses you seizing it at gunpoint and calls the cops right away.”

“That’s why you’re looking at Fenster employees,” I realized. “You think someone who has access to that sort of information could be involved.”

“So we’ve got to analyze Fenster’s operations,” he said with a nod. “Figure out how many different ways there are to access that information and then figure out who can get to it . . .” Lopez started to look discouraged. “In a flagship store the size of a small country, with hundreds of employees and lax security, plus satellite stores and an internet business . . .”

“I’m guessing you might not be home for Christmas?” I said.

“I won’t be home for Christmas anyhow,” he replied. “I’m scheduled for a ten-hour shift that day.”

“Who did
you
piss off?”

Lopez smiled and shook his head. “I’m single and don’t have kids. That pretty much makes Christmas Day my shift, along with any Jewish cops on the squad.”

“Oh, I see.” He may not have a wife and children, but I knew his parents still lived in Nyack, a suburb across the Hudson River, where Lopez had grown up. They probably thought his living so close to them, here in the city, meant they’d get to see their youngest son on holidays. “Are your parents disappointed?”

“They’re used to it by now. It’s been this way most years since I joined the force. I always go out to their place right after I get off work, so I’m there for Christmas night. That’s when we have dinner and exchange gifts.”

“You go out to Nyack after a ten hour shift?”

“It’s better than hearing the recriminations if I
don’t
go,” he said with a wry smile. “Anyhow, I like to go home at Christmas. I don’t mind the trip.”

I knew that his family was close, so that didn’t surprise me.

There was a long moment of companionable silence, and I realized, not for the first time, how much I missed him.

But I didn’t seem to be good for him. And, more to the point, I had nearly gotten him killed at least twice. Maybe three times, depending on how you looked at things. In any event, there
was not going to be
another time.

“Would he be lying in agonized paralysis awaiting his death now if not for
you?
”

I drew in a sharp breath when my imagination replayed those memories, sending a familiar and unwelcome chill through me.

Get out of my head, you murdering bitch,
I thought.

“Are you all right?” Lopez asked me, noticing my sudden shift of mood.

“Huh? Oh. Um, tired, I guess.” I glanced at the clock. “I think I’ll hang up my pointy ears for the night and go.”

“You’re sure you don’t want a lift home?” he asked, standing up. “Because I can easily—”

“No. I could use some air. The walk to the subway will do me good.” That statement had the merit of being true.

Thinking of another bitch who had rattled me tonight, I said to Lopez as we left Miles’ office, “And thanks for, you know, helping me out with Elspeth. She . . . she kind of gives me the creeps. And not just because she’s one of the crazy people who made my life so needlessly interesting during
The Vampyre.”

Lopez grunted in agreement. “Meeting a girl like her almost makes me scared of having kids. I mean, what if they turn out like her?”

“Is your mother still nagging you for grandchildren?” I asked, guessing what had put the thought of having kids in Lopez’s mind.

“Oh, only every time she gets the chance. It’s become a mania with her. Especially since Tim and Michael are sticking to their stories. Those bastards.”

I knew that he had two brothers, each of whom had invented a pretext to shut their parents up about grandkids. One had recently decided to claim he was gay, and the other said he was contemplating the priesthood. These lies struck me as short-term thinking, destined to be unmasked over time; but apparently they were holding up so far. Which left Lopez to bear all the parental pressure alone on this front.

“But I have to admit,” I said, “meeting Elspeth’s father makes me appreciate my own dad.” I wasn’t close to my father, but he was an okay guy. We didn’t really connect, but I knew he meant well. “Actually, meeting the whole Fenster family makes me glad to have the family I’ve got—which doesn’t happen that often. I might even call Wisconsin when I get home and say hello to my parents.”

Probably I’d come to my senses and do no such thing; conversation with my mother usually makes me so tense I can’t relax for hours afterwards. But it was rather nice to feel a nostalgic twinge of missing my family. It was a rare event, and rather pleasant.

I smiled as I added to Lopez, “Or maybe the sentimentality of your gentile season of love and joy is just getting to me this year.”

“It must be the Christmas spirit at Fenster’s,” he said dryly. “Oh! By the way, Happy belated Hanukkah, Esther.”

“Thank you.” It had been over for a week.

“Did you do anything special for it?”

“I was working here the whole time. I sang Hanukkah songs for the crowds, but I only know three. Well, two and a half, really. So it got a little monotonous.”

“Oh. I’m guessing you have to know more Christmas songs than that for this job?”

“Yes. Luckily, I do know a lot of those. I went to public schools, and I sang in the choir every year.” I shrugged. “And it would be just churlish to try to pretend that Christmas doesn’t have lots of great music, after all. I like Christmas carols.”

“Do you do anything for Christmas?” he asked curiously.

“Well, given the hours I’ve been working lately, I think this year I’ll probably just sleep all day. But I usually follow the Diamond family tradition of watching some movies and then getting Chinese food.” I added, “Christmas is kind of a bond between Jews and Chinese for that reason.”

“Well, at least you’ll eat better than I will,” he said with a grin. “I love my mom, but she’s not much of a cook, to be honest.”

“And, of course, eating Chinese food on Christmas day also keeps me in touch with the theme of most Jewish holidays, which is: ‘They tried to kill us, but they failed, so let’s eat.’ Except for Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, when it’s: ‘Let’s celebrate being Jewish by fasting.’ You missed a
lot
of fun by being raised Catholic.”

“Obviously.” He walked beside me down the hall toward the ladies locker room as he asked, “So when you were growing up . . . No Santa, no tree, no presents?”

“No Santa or tree, certainly. I don’t think my father would care either way, but my mother would probably burn down the house rather than let Christian symbolism in the door. Jewish identity is very important to her.” I added, “But my parents understood that being Jewish children at Christmas could be a strain, so we did get presents. Mom called them ‘holiday gifts for good behavior,’ but since my sister and I were getting
presents,
we went along with that.”

We paused outside the locker room.

“I guess this is your stop,” Lopez said.

“Yes. Um, I . . .” I tried to think of what exactly I wanted to say in farewell. Although he had been the one to break up with me, I was the one who later decided we should stay apart when he seemed to be thinking maybe we should try again. And since memories of nearly getting him killed haunted me, I was still inclined to stick with that decision. So I definitely didn’t want to say something that might lead him on. But I also wanted him to know . . . “It’s good to see you.”

“I’m glad to hear that, since I’ll be a fixture around here for the time being,” he said. “Investigating shipping warehouses, abandoned Fenster trucks, and hijacking sites is chilly at this time of year, so I
thought
being assigned to investigate here at the store meant I was pulling the lucky straw. But that was before I met the Fenster family.”

“Armed robbers would probably be easier to work with,” I agreed.

We said goodnight, and I went into the ladies locker room to change into my street clothes and get my purse. Then I realized I still hadn’t clocked out. So I went into the break room to do that.

An older man in Fenster maintenance coveralls was hovering near the coffee machine in there, standing with his back to me as I entered the room. He was average height and very stocky, and the short hair under his duckbill cap was nearly white.

I walked over to the punch clock on the wall and reached for my employee card. The man turned his head to look at me. Then, moving swiftly, he seized me by the shoulders, startling me.

“Finally!” he said. “I been waiting for you.”

I found myself staring into the face of a notorious Gambello hit man.

10

“L
ucky?” I said incredulously. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Oh, you know, at Christmas,
everyone
comes to Fenster’s,” he said with elaborate casualness.

“Huh?”

“What do you
think
I’m doing here?” Now he was exasperated.

“Um, Christmas shopping?” I guessed in confusion.

“You mean you don’t know about the hijackings we’re being accused of?” he said. “Where have you been? It’s all over the news!”

“Yes, but—”

“And OCCB sure ain’t hovering around this place because they suspect Santa of loan-sharking.”

“No, but—”

“With the cops snooping all over
our
business, who’s going to catch the bozos who are
actually
pulling these heists and getting away with the swag while everyone’s busy casting unfair aspirins on the family?”

“Aspersions,” I said. “You cast
aspersions,
not—Never mind. What family do you mean? The Gambellos?”

“What other family
would
I mean?”

I took a steadying breath. “Wait. Back up a step.”

He did so.

“No, I meant . . .” I cleared my throat. “Let me see if I have understood you correctly.”

“We ain’t got time for that!”

“We’ll have to
make
time for that.”

“No, we gotta get out of here before I’m recognized. I just been waiting for
you.”
He added accusingly, “And you sure took your sweet time! What the hell were you and Detective Lopez
doing?
No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. None of my business.”

“Wait!” I said as he grabbed my arm and tried to drag me toward the door. “I have to clock out.”

Lucky hovered impatiently while I did so, then pulled his cap low as he led the way into the hall after checking to make sure the coast was clear. Then we descended to the ground floor via the stairs, at my insistence, rather than taking the elevator. At the bottom of the stairs, with no one else around, Lucky unzipped the coveralls and stripped them off, revealing winter clothing underneath.

“Ah, no wonder you looked so stocky,” I said.

“Let’s go.”

We exited the building through the employee entrance and started heading toward the subway station. It was damp and cold out here, but I was glad to be outside, under the real night sky, and not dressed as an elf who never felt the cold.

Alberto “Lucky Bastard” Battistuzzi was a semi retired hit man in the Gambello crime family. Due to the strange twists and turns of fate, he was also friends with me and Max.

Lucky had acquired his nickname due to surviving two attempts on his life as a young man, both times because an attacker’s gun jammed. Earlier this year, I had been present on a third such occasion, too, when a killer stuck a gun in his face and pulled the trigger—and the gun jammed rather than firing. This old guy really
was
lucky.

“All right,” I said, “let me see if I interpreted your garbled comments correctly back there. You’re telling me the Gambellos are not responsible for hijacking those three Fenster shipments—”

“Three?” he repeated in surprise. “There’s been a third heist?”

“Yes, there have been three, not two,” I said, looking at him with interest. “It’ll probably be in the media soon.”

Apparently the cops hadn’t revealed the first heist to the Gambellos. Lucky’s surprise about the number of trucks seemed to confirm his claim of the family’s innocence. But I hadn’t thought he was lying about that, anyhow.

Oh, sure, if I walked up to Lucky and asked him if he or his associates were committing felonies, he’d lie to me and deny it. Of
course
he would. But it would make no sense for him to risk waiting around for me tonight in a place where he might be seen and recognized by an OCCB cop like Lopez, all so he could lie to me about something he certainly knew I would never hunt him down to
ask
about. (I did not make a habit of prying into Gambello business, after all.)

I continued, “And you’ve evidently come to Fenster’s to investigate this matter, because you don’t think the cops will solve the case as long as they keep looking at the wrong perps, i.e. the Gambellos.”

“Yeah.” Lucky pulled a knitted wool cap out of his pocket and put it on his head as we walked along. “That’s what I said.”

“That’s not at
all
what you said, but I guess I got the gist of it anyhow.” I added, “So you infiltrated the staff by impersonating a maintenance man?”

“That disguise was a mistake,” Lucky grumbled.

“Because you don’t know how to fix things?” I asked.

“No, because it don’t seem like
those
guys ever fix things.”

“Ah. Yes, that much is true.”

“I couldn’t get much investigatin’ done today, because
every
place I went in that store, as soon as anyone saw me, they practically did a full body tackle to get me fix something for them.” Clearly scandalized, he added, “That place is really falling apart, Esther. You should be careful there.”

“You don’t say?”

“Then, late in the day, some big prop on the fourth floor went haywire—”

“I know.”

“—and everyone on maintenance was rounded up for that. When I got there, I looked around for you. Stella told me you’re working in Holidayland until she’s got more hours for you.”

“It’s Solsticeland these days,” I said.

“It didn’t used to be like that,” he said in a negative tone.

“Nondenominational?”

“
Dark.
They should call it Gloomyland. I liked it better the way it was back when we used to take my daughter there.” Lucky was a widower, with one grown-up daughter who lived in California with her husband. “Oh, by the way, before I forget. I ate at the restaurant yesterday. Stella sends her love and says right after New Year’s, she’ll have plenty of shifts for you, so hang tight.”

“Okay.”

“Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yeah, Gloomyland. So I spotted you, but I couldn’t get near you, because you were with OCCB’s golden boy, the one who solved them doppelgangster killings in spring.” He added, “Well, you, me, and Max solved them, actually. But your boyfriend did a pretty good job, too. Made his bones at OCCB, and all that.”

Since Lucky had been around on the day Lopez broke up with me, he knew he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore. Lopez hadn’t
ever
been my boyfriend, really. We had only gone on a few dates. But I let the phrase pass, rather than distract Lucky from his account by digressing into that subject.

“And what with the OCCB so unjustly determined to pin these hijackings on the Gambello family, I didn’t exactly want to announce my presence in Fenster’s to the cops.”

“They could so easily get the wrong idea,” I said. “What with the Gambello family’s history with the Fensters, and all. How petty of the cops to cling to that old stuff.”

“Yeah,” Lucky said indignantly. “It would be just like them to think I’m casing the joint for the next hit, instead of trying to find clues to expose the perpetrators.”

With so many maintenance men milling around in the general confusion after the enchanted tree had attacked, I wasn’t surprised that I hadn’t noticed one who was keeping a low profile and trying not to be seen by my companion. And Lopez was certainly observant enough that it was wise for Lucky to stay out of his sight.

“And, Esther, was that a
zombie
I saw you talking to?”

I frowned for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant. “Oh! No. That was Elspeth Fenster.”

“That dead-looking girl is a Fenster?” he said in amazement. “Jeez, old Connie was really losing her grip on things in her declining years, wasn’t she? Back in her prime, no
way
would she have let a family member go around looking like a messy corpse!”

“It’s the goth look, Lucky. It’s a thing.”

“It’s a
creepy
thing. I got a strong stomach and I ain’t scared of corpses, but I swear if that girl snuck up on me in the dark, I’d scream like a girl.”

“You called her grandmother Connie,” I noted. “Did you know Constance Fenster?”

“Only by reputation—and that old broad had quite a rep, let me tell you.”

I paused at the entrance to the subway station. “I’m going down to the Village. I have to see Max.”

“Ah. Right. About the . . . whatever it is that’s haunting Fenster’s? Good idea.” Seeing my surprised look, he said, “Oh, come on, sure I know.”

“
How
do you know?”

“Well, I grant you, it’s not obvious in the public parts of the store, where you work—”

“Oh, actually, it’s gotten
very
obvious in some instances.”

“—but sneaking around in the empty back halls and guts of that place, like I was today, you feel it
real
quick. Well, I
did, anyhow.” He nodded. “There’s something at Fenster’s that didn’t used to be there. Something that don’t belong there.”

I recalled that Lucky’s grandmother had been a white witch back in Sicily, and that he accepted supernatural phenomena with equanimity. I supposed he was more sensitive to mystical energy than I was; I hadn’t sensed anything until the enchanted tree had tried to
eat
me.

“Yes, that’s what I’m going to see Max about. Whatever is . . .” I nodded, realizing that Lucky had used the right verb. “Whatever is haunting Fenster’s, it’s very dangerous. It tried to kill me today.”

“What?” His eyes widened in alarm.

“Or if it was just trying to scare me, then it certainly did a great job of that.” I added, “It also terrorized one of the Santas today, and I think it may have threatened a little boy.” Considering what had happened to me, I was no longer at all sure that Jonathan had been frightened by a harmless gnome statue due to his overactive imagination. It seemed entirely possible that what he’d described to us this morning was
exactly
what he had seen.

“We gotta go see Max,” Lucky said with conviction, all business now. He took my elbow and accompanied me down the steps of the subway station. “I won’t put up with something evil threatening Santa Claus and little kids. That’s crossing the line.” After a moment, he added courteously, albeit as an afterthought, “I won’t put with something killing you, either, kid.”

“Thank you, Lucky. I’m touched.”

* * *

Zadok’s Rare and Used Books occupied the first floor of a charming old townhouse on a quiet street in the West Village. Max lived on the second floor, and his laboratory was in the basement.

Specializing in occult books, the shop had a small but devoted clientele. I didn’t think it earned much money, but it was only a sideline for Max, in any case. His real work—his lifelong vocation for over three centuries—was confronting Evil in this dimension. And although I was unfamiliar with the specifics of his financial situation, he certainly seemed to have a healthy cash flow. I supposed that if he had invested prudently back in the eighteenth century and then let his assets grow, he was reaping comfortable dividends from that strategy by now.

Although it was getting late, the shop was still open for business. As Lucky and I approached it, we encountered a couple of people leaving, their arms loaded with their purchases. Apparently Max was enjoying some good holiday trade.

We were about to enter the shop when Max toddled up to the front window to hang up the “Closed” sign. His face broke into a smile when he saw us, and he opened the glass door.

“My friends! What an unexpected pleasure. Come in!”

Dr. Maximillian Zadok (Oxford University, class of 1678) was a short, slightly chubby man with innocent blue eyes, longish white hair, and a tidy beard. Looking at him now, I wondered if his resemblance to Santa Claus played a role in Lopez’s overall suspicion and dislike of him. I found this an intriguing theory, which merited further exploration at some point.

Fluent in multiple languages, Max spoke English with the faint trace of an accent, reflecting his origins in Central Europe centuries ago. Although he was nearly three hundred fifty years old, Max didn’t look a day over seventy.

“Come sit! I’ve made a pot of tea,” he said. “Unless you’d like something stronger?”

I agreed to accept a cup of tea and some cookies. Lucky didn’t want anything but a chair.

Alerted to our presence by her trusty canine hearing, Nelli came trotting down from the second floor to greet us.

Nelli was Max’s mystical familiar. She had emerged from another dimension in response to his summons for assistance in fighting Evil. A relatively new arrival in this dimension, she was still working out some of the details of her partnership with Max—such as the conflict between her pleasure in chewing on his things and his desire that she should refrain from doing so. And once Nelli chewed on something, the game was pretty much over, since her jaws seemed big enough to fit around my whole head. Fortunately, though, she was a sweet-natured beast. Well, unless she was confronting Evil. Or possessed by a dark spirit. Or facing a boa constrictor. Or encountering a mystical phenomenon which she found threatening. Or . . .

“Hello, Nelli!” I patted her head. “How are you?”

Roughly the size of a Shetland pony, Nelli was well-muscled beneath her short, smooth, tan fur. Although her long, square-jawed head was very large, her immense, floppy ears nonetheless seemed much too big for it. And when she wagged her long, bony tail with reckless abandon, no one was safe.

Nelli greeted me with a burp and drooled a little.

“Oh, dear,” Max said over his shoulder while pouring a cup of tea for me. “I’m afraid we’re out of cookies, Esther. That’s odd. I could have sworn . . .” Realization dawned, and he turned to look accusingly at Nelli.

She returned his gaze innocently, wagging her tail. Then she bounced around a little, greeting Lucky with delight. He was a favorite of hers, and he hadn’t been around for a visit lately. Her long, pink tongue hung out of her mouth as she presented him with her head, imperiously waiting for him to scratch her behind the ears.

Lucky and I sat down in a couple of comfortable, prettily upholstered chairs that were near the gas fireplace. Max rummaged around in the little refrigerator where he kept refreshments for customers, hoping to find something else to offer me in place of the vanished cookies. The fridge sat near a large old walnut table that had books, papers, and other paraphernalia on it.