Witch House (15 page)

“We thank thee,” said Ursula, addressing the
ghost after he completed his rounds about the table and stopped
behind her. “Thou hast by light of fire welcomed mine and worthy
souls of gentle kind. We call to thee for want of naught, but to
free what thou doth hinder. Speak now, thane, what say ye might and
I shall lend my body to thy will.”

At this point, we were all looking at Ursula
and her shadow ghost. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lilith give
a nod, which Ursula returned. The ghost then moved forward,
disappearing into Ursula’s body and turning her skin stony
white.

“What is your name?” asked Lilith.

Carlos, Dominic and I looked at her sharply
and realized immediately to whom she was speaking. Our heads
ping-ponged back to Ursula in time to hear her respond in a voice
not her own.

“John.”

“Hi John, I’m Lilith. I see you know
Ursula.”

Ursula smiled. She moved her hands to her
chest and began rubbing her breasts. “Yeah, she’s purdy.”

“Yes, I know she is, now keep your hands off
her, John, or I’ll send you back.”

She dropped her hands and folded them on the
table. “You ain’t the boss of me.”

“I am for the next few minutes.” She snapped
her fingers and the three red candles on the table flared at her
command, blinding us briefly before dying back again. “So, what’s
your gig, John? Why are you so pissed?”

John replied, “You are in my house. Why?”

“We came to see the house because it’s for
sale.”

“Nuh-uh. I ain’t sellin` it.”

“It’s not up to you. You are gone now. The
house doesn’t belong to you anymore.”

“Does too!” he shouted, and when Ursula
slammed the heels of her palms on the table, the three candles
teetered. “You all think I don’t see what’s goin` on here, but I
do. I see.”

“You see what?”

“You all are protecting him.”

“Who?”

She crossed her brows in scorn. “I didn’t do
nothing`. He didn’t need to shoot me.”

Lilith leaned in on her elbows, squinting
lightly, the candlelight reflecting in her eyes like dancing
nymphs. I knew she was not looking at Ursula, rather into her,
beyond her soul and through the veil concealing the parasite
within. “Who shot you, John? Is he still out there? Is that why you
are angry?”

Again, Ursula’s fists rocked the tabletop,
spilling hot wax down the sides of the candles and onto the cloth.
“Don’t play dumb with me.” She looked to Carlos and pointed.
“You!”

“Me?” I could see the lump in his throat
withdraw when he swallowed.

“You’re a cop, ain’t ya?”

“Yes.”

“You stinkin` bag-a-shit. What are you doin`
in my house? You should be out lookin` for the prick that did this
to me.”

“Hey, just a minute now.” Carlos pulled back
in his chair, adopting a more defiant posture. “I don’t even know
you, Mister. Maybe if you tell us—”

“No!” Ursula sprang to her feet, kicking her
chair out from under her butt and sending it across the room. “Get
out of my house, now!”

Spinelli jumped up and grabbed her by the
shoulders. She palmed his chest and shoved him into the wall. I
stood; Carlos stood. Ursula put her arms out, and without touching
us, drove us both back into our seats. She stepped back and whirled
her hands above her head, spinning out a swarm of flies as thick as
rain. I yelled to Lilith, “Do something!”

She stood, clapped her hands twice and
snapped her fingers. Once more, the candle flames surged, setting
the room alight in a triangle-shaped tower of fire that scorched
the ceiling raw. “Be gone!” she cried, and at once, the flames
retreated. The swarm of flies pooled overhead in a thick black
cloud, hovering and heaving as a single breathing entity. I looked
to Ursula. She seemed dazed and unaware. Spinelli returned to her,
clasping her hands within his and pulling them to his chest.

“Ursula? Are you all right?”

She smiled at him softly. “Methinks now, for
thee hath only to hold me.”

“I will,” he said, “I will keep you
safe.”

Lilith said, “How `bout keeping it in your
pants, Romeo?” She looked up at the ceiling. “Those are horse
flies. Any second now they are going to descend on us and
feast!”

Carlos stood with arms splayed and began
herding the two toward the door. I reached for Lilith’s hand.
“Coming?”

“Sheeah, it was my idea.”

We made it as
far as the living room before the massive blizzard of flies began
pouring down on us. They bit Carlos first; perhaps being the
tallest made him an easier target. He let out a yell as though
someone had stabbed him. I thought he was overacting until the
son-of-a-bitches got to me. Then I felt his pain, like a jab in the
back of the neck with a rusty nail. Spinelli fell victim next, and
then Ursula, their cries echoing Carlos’ and mine throughout our
retreat. We charged the front door hard and fast, spilling out onto
the front lawn, bent in a crouch and swatting indiscriminately.
Once outside, the flies all seemed to vanish, and if not for the
welts on my neck, I might think they were never there at all. We
stood in a loose circle there, half-moaning, half laughing, rubbing
our wounds to numb the pain; all but for Lilith. I noticed her
standing idly by, watching us quietly with one hand on her hip, the
other relaxed by her side. I said to her, “What’s with you? You
didn’t get bit?”

She treated the question like a nuisance. “Of
course not.”

We all stopped to look at her. “Why not? You
were the last one out. They should have sucked you dry.”

“They didn’t bite me because I didn’t panic.
They can smell that, you know.”

“What?”

“Sure, when you panic, your blood pressure
goes way up. When that happens, your blood rises close to the
surface of your skin. That way when they bite you, they get more of
what they are after.”

Carlos said, “Why didn’t you tell us that
before? We could have all just walked out of there calmly.”

“Oh, come now,” she said, grinning. “What fun
would that have been?”

I dug the car keys out of my pocket. “Say
goodnight, boys.” I pointed to Lilith. “Don’t forget. We have a
deal.”

She folded her arms at her chest. “I didn’t
forget.”

I watched her expression morph into something
devilish, the way it does sometimes when she is planning a surprise
for me. That alone did not worry me. When I noticed her teasing
grin turn seductive, however, I knew I had more coming than what I
bargained for.

The next day I found Carlos and Spinelli
upstairs at the Justice Center; both waiting on a report from me
regarding the night before. Spinelli wanted to know what, if
anything, Ursula said about him after she got home, and Carlos,
well he just wanted to know if Lilith and I
made up
, as we
had planned. I told him, “I’m not going to talk about that.”

“Tony,” he said, “you have to. You know I
live vicariously through you.”

Dominic inquired, “Did she say anything about
us holding hands?”

“Who, Lilith?”

“No, Ursula.”

Carlos returned, “Well, you guys did sleep
together, didn’t you?”

I looked at him strangely. “Me and
Ursula?”

“You and Lilith.”

“Yes.”

Dominic, “What about Ursula?”

“No!”

“No what, no she didn’t say anything about
me?”

“No, I didn’t sleep with her.”

Carlos grabbed me by the lapels. “Did she
want you to sleep with her?”

“Carlos!”

“Come on, Tony, she
is
just like
Lilith.”

“She is not,” Dominic insisted. “Ursula is a
proper lady.”

I said, “What, Lilith isn’t?”

“No…I mean, yes, of course she is.”

Carlos, “So, you are not going to tell me
about last night?”

I pulled my lapel free of his grip. “No, I am
not going to kiss and tell.”

He pointed. “Ah, so there was kissing?”

I smiled, as I reminisced. “Oh yes, there was
kissing.”

“Kissing in special places?”

“No, just in the bedroom.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.”

“Tony….”

“Forget it.”

Dominic, “Does she like me?”

“Lilith? Sure.”

“No, Ursula.”

Both Carlos and I answered, “Yes!”

He backed down, smiling like a fool. I came
around the desk and took a seat. “Can we get some work done
now?”

Satisfied, Spinelli opened a file folder he
had lying on the desk and handed me the coroner’s report from
inside it. “No surprises here,” he said. “The coroner lists
Landau’s C.O.D. as a single gunshot wound to the chest, a .38 to be
exact. It pierced his heart, killing him instantly. He was dead
before he hit the ground.”

“So much for little miracles,” I said.

Next, Spinelli produced a manila folder from
atop his filing cabinet and dropped it onto the desk. “And there is
this.”

“What is it?”

“It’s what you asked for yesterday.”

“Refresh my memory.”

He picked up the folder, opened it and
spilled its contents out onto the desk. What I saw was a
hodge-podge of photos, faxes, on-line printouts and miscellaneous
documents. He picked up a photo of a woman I recognized as
Stephanie Stiles. “How `bout we start here? You remember Ms.
Stiles?”

“I do.”

“This is her mug shot from last year.” He
thumbed through the pile and isolated half a dozen others. “These
are hers, too. This one is from two years ago, this one four, this
one six; I can go on. The point is that she is a regular
downstairs, mostly misdemeanors: disturbing the peace, drunk and
disorderly, bounced checks—that sort of thing. She does have a
couple of arrests for possession, but they didn’t stick. Near as I
can tell, she does not work, hasn’t is twenty years.”

“How does she pay her bills? Is she turning
tricks?”

Carlos laughed. “Are you kidding, with a mug
like that?”

Spinelli put his index finger up in gesture.
“I don’t think so, but hold that thought. I’ve done some checking.
It seems that someone is paying Ms. Stiles bills for her.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know yet, some beneficiary
perhaps.”

“Her boyfriend?” I said. “We know she has
one.”

He shook his head. “I doubt it, and you will,
too, when you see who her boyfriend is.”

“You know?”

He fished deeper into the pile of photos and
flipped over a black and white surveillance shot. “Recognize this
guy?”

I looked at the photo, hardly believing. “Is
that Sergeant Powell?”

“Yup. Bernie from I.A.D. took that picture
just last night. Powell showed up at her door around midnight and
stayed till after one-thirty, and for most of that time, the lights
were off.”

“Internal Affairs is watching him again?”

“Watching him still. They’ve never
stopped.”

“So, this Bernie guy, he just gave you a
picture from an ongoing investigation?”

He turned away and blushed. “Actually, Bernie
is woman, Bernice Walker.”

“Oh, I see where this is going.”

“Where?” asked Carlos.

“She likes him.”

“Yeah?”

“So, she likes me,” said Spinelli. “That
doesn’t mean I like her.”

“You’re just using her.”

“No, it’s not like that. We, you know, help
each other. She’s in my network.”

“Network?” I turned to Carlos. “Where did you
find this kid? He has contacts in every branch of government.”

Carlos threw back his shoulders and smirked
confidently, as though he knew that about Spinelli before they
teamed up. “You know, Tony, I have always said that—”

“Yeah, whatever. Dominic?” I handed the photo
back. “Does I.A.D. have any photos of Powell from the night before
last?”

“When Landau was killed?”

“Yes.”

“No. They don’t tail him when he’s on duty.
Remember he worked the graveyard shift that night.”

I sat back in my chair and followed a dust
spec ascending on a column of air all the way to the ceiling. “Yes,
I remember,” I said. I let my gaze fall slowly, collecting memories
of a conservation I had with Powell the day before. “Carlos, do you
remember when we came up on that 10-54 yesterday, and Powell met us
at the perimeter?”

He nodded with some hesitance. “Yeah.”

“I asked him how long he had been there, and
when he went to check his watch, he realized he had forgotten
it?”

“Sure I remember that. You suppose it was his
watch that Stiles threw at Landau?”

“That’s what I’m guessing.”

“Do you figure he knew that Stiles and Landau
were engaged?”

“I don’t know; if he did, that might give him
a motive for murder.”

“And if not,” said Spinelli, “it’s one hell
of a coincidence.”

I leaned back and laced my fingers behind my
head. “Why do you think it’s not Powell paying Stiles’ bills?”

He laughed. “I have seen his financial
statements. He simply cannot afford it on a sergeant’s pay.”

Carlos said, “Maybe he uses his winnings from
gambling.”

To that, Spinelli replied, “Impossible. At
any given time, he owes more to the casino than he makes in a
year.”

I pointed at the rest of the papers in the
pile. “Anything else here we should know about?”

“No, just the other photos you asked for. I
found some good ones of Kemper, DeAngelo and to play it safe, Judge
Cardell, too.”

“I thought you said the judge was dead.”

“He is. Like I said, I am playing it safe.
Oh, and you will find the reports that Powell submitted over the
last few days. I read them all. There is nothing unusual about
them.”

“All right then, keep digging. See if you can
find out who Ms. Stiles’ mystery benefactor is.”

Carlos asked, “Why are you so hung up on
that, Tony. What are you thinking?”