Witch House (31 page)

Ursula returned. “Lilith is busy, Master
Tony. Mayhaps a call by hour’s end will find her free.”

“No, Ursula, tell me what the hell is going
on there? Did she bring an animal into the apartment?”

“Fare thee well, sir. My heart to Master
Carlos, too, if you please.”

In the background I heard, “Ursula, hang it
up!” The call went dead. I turned to Carlos, my jaw slack and my
body numb.

“Well?” he said.

I took a breath and swallowed. “I think she
brought a dragon home.”

“A dragon?” He laughed guardedly. “There’s no
such…. Really?”

I winced uncomfortably.

“They have those at the pet store now?”

I shook my head and collected my wits. “No,
I’m sure it’s just Ursula’s speak. You know, everything is a
metaphor with that woman.”

He nodded to appease me. “Yeah, I’m sure
that’s it. So, what do you think?” He held up the candy wrapper.
“Will the whisper thing work?”

I took it from him. “We will soon find out,
won’t we? You wait here? I’ll be right back.”

I got out of the car and headed upstairs to
Stephanie’s apartment. I knew I did not have a lot of time before
Tarkowski showed up, but I did not need much. All I had to do was
give her the wrapper and watch her open it. The rest would take
care of itself.

The moment I stopped at her door, I knew she
was home. The rank of cigarette smoke spilling out through a crack
in the window told me that much. It may have been the only thing
keeping her smoke alarms from going off. I had been in barrooms
clogged with more smoke than the human body could tolerate. This
was worse. What kept her body upright remained a total mystery to
me. I knocked on her door and waited. It opened with a flurry of
chains and unlocked unlatches.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, sounding
disappointed. Her cigarette had burned down to the filter with the
ash several inches long still hanging on. It fell when she flicked
her hand to dismiss my presence. “Go away, Detective. I’m
busy.”

“Wait. I don’t want to come in. I have
something for you. It’s from Frank Tarkowski. I want to give it to
you.”

“You have something from Frank?”

“Yes, it’s a present of sorts.”

“Where is Frank?”

“Oh, he’ll be along. He wanted me to come by
first and give it you.”

She regarded me with mistrust. “What is
it?”

“I don’t know.” I held up the wrapper. “He
put it in here and told me not to look inside.”

“A candy wrapper?”

“It was all he had to put it in. He insisted
I give it to you, though, along with a message.”

She opened the screen door and took the
wrapper. “What’s the message?”

“The message is, ‘Inside this wrapper is
everything I feel for you in my heart’.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes—no. He also said that he would be along
in a few minutes to hear what you had to say about that.”

“Did he?” She smiled, her yellow teeth dimmed
further by the cigarette smoke streaming past her face. “Well,
let’s see what’s in there.” She unrolled the wrapper and held it
with her eye to the opening. “What is this, a joke? It’s
empty.”

I grinned devilishly. “It is now. I’ll see
you.”

As I turned and headed away, I heard her
grumbling on about that heartless bastard, Frank, and how she would
tell him a thing or two the next time she saw him. Did I feel badly
about it? Sure, I did, but I felt better about myself; not because
I pulled off a successful act of witchcraft, but because like a
good cop I thought fast on my feet to prevent the flight of two
dangerous suspects in a murder case.

I joined up with Carlos, who had slid in
behind the wheel while I was gone. “You want to drive?” I said.
“That’s okay with me.” I jumped into the passenger seat. He reeled
back and he gave me a dirty look as though I had just dragged in
with me the stink of a six-day-old outhouse. “What’s your problem?”
I asked.

“You.” He said.

“Me? What did I do? Oh, no wait. I see
Tarkowski pulling in.”

We slunk down low in our seats and watched
Frank Tarkowski whip his vehicle into a parking space directly in
front of the stairs. He hopped out, leaving the car door open and
motor running, and ran up the three flights in a sprint. Carlos
tagged my arm and said in a hush, “Spot me, I’m going in.”

“Going where?” I said, but he was already
gone. I watched him sneak around the side of Tarkowski’s car and
climb into the front seat. Meanwhile upstairs, Frank and Stephanie
began arguing out on the balcony, their hands waving in animated
gestures, their shouts ricocheting down the stairwell in angry
echoes. I heard Frank shout something about her revolving door,
though later Carlos swore he said F`n whore. He may be right.
Whatever the case, the encounter ended with her stepping back into
the apartment and slamming the door in his face. As he started down
the stairs, I called to Carlos in a whispered shout, “Carlos! He’s
coming!”

Carlos backed out of the car ass first, and
in a crouch, scuttled across the parking lot and into the cruiser.
We kept low and out of sight as Tarkowski hopped into his truck,
peeled out in reverse and then dumped it into drive, squealing his
tires the entire distance of the parking lot.

“Wow, Carlos, that was close,” I said, after
poking my head up to make sure the coast was clear. “What were you
doing in his car?”

He smiled slyly, with a look I seldom get
from Carlos. “I found this.” He held up Tarkowski’s passport and
wallet.

“You stole his wallet and passport!”

“Shhhh, I didn’t steal them. I found them.
They must have fallen out of his car after he left the door
open.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What? I’ll turn them in at lost and
found.”

“When?”

“When we don’t care anymore whether or not he
leaves town.”

I pitched my head against the backrest.
“Whatever, come on, let’s go now.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, see I need you to get out of the car
now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s nothing personal. Maybe you can catch a
bus back to the office.”

“Carlos, what the hell do you mean? I’m not
getting out of the car.”

“Well, I am not going anywhere with you; so,
you might as well get out.”

“Are you upset with me? Is this about the
wallet and passport?”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t think
so.”

“Then why ask me to get out?”

He scowled in contemplation. “I don’t know. I
just don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

“You don’t…. Oh, I get it. Carlos, did you
look inside the candy wrapper while I was on the phone with
Ursula?”

He turned away bashfully. “Ahm….”

“Tell me the truth now.”

“Yes,” he said. “I might have.”

I laughed. “Carlos, it’s all right. You
opened the whisper box on yourself. That’s why you don’t want to go
anywhere with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure, it’s no big deal.” I looked up at
Stephanie’s apartment. “It’s funny. Just getting an empty wrapper
from Frank was enough for her to blow her stack. Who’d have
guessed? I didn’t need to use witchcraft.”

“Yeah, who would have guessed?”

“All right then, let’s go now.”

“Uh-uh.”

“What?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Carlos, I told you it’s all right. You
opened the whisper box on yourself. You’re not mad at me. You’re
under a spell.”

“So?”

“So shake it off!”

“I can’t!”

I will skip the calamity of events that
followed. Suffice to say there was no way Carlos was going to let
me ride back to the office with him until I made another whisper
box to reverse the spell. That one I fashioned from an old beer
bottle I found in the gutter, using my thumb as a bottle cap. The
spell worked so well that he followed me around all afternoon like
a lost puppy. I had to smack him on the nose with a rolled up
newspaper just to get some privacy in the restroom back at the
Justice Center, but that’s a story for another day.

I know I say this sometimes, but not enough.
Dominic Spinelli is a credit to the department and his profession.
How he found out that Frank Tarkowski was getting ready to leave
town will remain a wonder to me always. For a new detective, he
sure has a lot of friends in lofty places, and many more in not so
lofty places, I am sure. That said, I am afraid that I also
occasionally take him for granted. His innovative methods and
resourcefulness notwithstanding, it is easy to forget sometimes
that one must make allowances for his youth. To deny him that is to
burden him with the expectation of cognition beyond his
experiences. After all, through our years we age, through our
mistakes we grow.

We were back in the detective’s lounge when I
asked Dominic if he collected any suitable DNA samples from John
Davis’ uniform. He said he had, and that technicians were already
down in the lab testing it against the bones we found in Johnny
Buck’s casket.

“That’s good,” I said. “How soon before we
know anything?” His attention drifted away as if tethered no longer
to our conversation. I assumed he was calculating his answer, but I
soon realized that his thoughts were miles away. I palmed his
shoulder and shook him lightly. “Dominic?”

He blinked and came back, seemingly unaware
of his diversion. “What?”

I suppose that was the first time I really
noticed something was wrong. “The DNA, how soon before we know if
we have a match?”

“Yeah, right the technicians are downstairs
in the lab testing it against the bones now.”

“I know. You said that already. How soon
before we have a match?”

“Oh, I don’t know, tomorrow maybe.”

I looked to Carlos, who clearly shared my
misgivings. To Dominic I said, “Are you feeling okay?”

He looked at me, and it was then I saw it.
All the years I was a cop, exposed to just this kind of thing,
trained to see the telltale signs from those who were trying to
hide it; yet I had not noticed the obvious standing before me.

Dominic was hooked.

“Please,” he said. “I’m fine.” He turned with
a nervous twitch, rubbed his nose with the back of his wrist and
sniffed. “It’s these damn allergies. They got my head in a fog.
I’ll be all right.”

He went into his shirt pocket and pulled out
a bottle of what I had assumed all along were his allergy pills,
but when his shaking hands could not open it, I reached out and
took it from him. “Here,” I said, “let me help you with that.”

“No, that’s all right, I have—”

“Dominic.” I held the prescription label out
for Carlos to see. “These aren’t allergy pills. They are
prescription pain pills.”

“I know that.” He snatched the bottle back
from me. “I take these because I am still in a lot of pain from
when I was shot.”

“That was last year.”

“Yes, but I’m still in pain.”

“I suppose you are. I see you popping these
all the time. Are you sure you have it under control?”

He stepped back and gave me a look like the
one Carlos gave me in the car back at Stephanie’s place. “What, am
I not doing a good job? Am I dropping the ball on you?”

“No, I didn’t say that.”

“Then leave me alone. I know what I am doing.
I have a prescription for these.”

“I’m sure you do. It’s just that Oxycontin is
a powerful narcotic. If you think you need help, we—”

“Tony, I’m fine. I appreciate your concerns,
but I have everything under control. Now, can we get back to work?
This case isn’t going to solve itself.”

“All right, fine.” I referred to Carlos, who
simply shrugged, as if saying to me let it go for now. I forced a
grin of assent. “Let’s move on then. This business with Frank
Tarkowski, where does it leave us?”

“With a boatload of suspects,” Carlos
remarked. “We need a way to thin the herd. They can’t all be
guilty.”

“Ah, but they can,” said Dominic. “It is
conceivable that every one of them is in on a conspiracy to get the
money from the robbery that they all believed Landau had hidden
somewhere.”

“Yes,” I said, “but only one of them pulled
the trigger on the gun that killed him.”

Carlos tossed his hands up in a sigh. “So,
it’s back to that. We need the murder weapon. Otherwise, there is
no way we are going to narrow down our list of suspects.”

“I’m afraid you are right,” I came around the
table and took a seat. “Unfortunately, the gun used to kill René
Landau is probably lying on the bottom of the river somewhere. We
need to accept that we may never find it.”

“Or might we?” said Dominic, a sparkle of
mischief in his eye; and I did not think it was the drugs this
time. “What if we announced that we found the gun? That might force
the killer’s hand to make a move he hadn’t planned on making.”

“That might flush him out?”

“Exactly.”

Carlos said, “But we don’t have the gun.
That’s the whole point.”

“Yes, but the killer doesn’t know that.”

“I’m lost.”

“It’s easy. We put the word out that we found
the murder weapon and that an arrest in the case is imminent. If
the killer believes it, then he might try something to get the gun
back, so long as we make the bait appealing enough, get it within
reach, so to speak.”

“What if the killer still has the gun? He’ll
know that we are lying?”

“Yes, or he will think we are mistaken.
Either way we have nothing to lose.”

“Okay,” I said. “How do you propose we do
this?”

Dominic walked up to the television set and
placed his hand on top of it, “We go on TV and release a statement.
That is the only way to guarantee maximum exposure to assure that
our killer gets the word.”

“That’s not bad. We can use a decoy.”