09 - Return Of The Witch Page 8

  “How so?”

  “She got crazy with it all of a sudden. One minute she’s telling me about some bizarre trans-dimensional journey one of her online witch friends made, and the next, she’s freaking out about this mystic battle between good and evil and…I don’t know, some shit or another. Anyway, that’s what we argued about that night, some stupid game. Can you believe it?”

  He looked up and made sure he made eye contact with me when he added, “And now she’s dead, isn’t she? She crossed the line into a dark place. I told her it would happen. I told her….” He walked to the window and pulled back the blinds. “He’s after me now. I know it. The police don’t believe me, but I know the truth. The truth is out there.”

  I looked at Ursula. She seemed equally puzzled. What could we say to him? Yeah, your wife is dead, but don’t worry, they don’t want you. Hell, I didn’t even know if there was a they. Maybe there was. Maybe they did want him. Maybe they wanted us, too.

  “Mister Burns, did your wife ever tell you that she was a guardian of some sort? In the game I mean.”

  “Guardian of what?”

  “I don’t know. She claimed to be a witch, didn’t she? Did she ever tell you what her role was?”

  “Oh, don’t tell me you believe in that shit, too.”

  “Mister Burns, I’m just saying—”

  “See, that’s the problem with people these days. They can’t separate reality from fantasy. They get wrapped up in their paranoia. Well not me, sister. I have my finger on the pulse of reality.” He pulled the blinds back again and stole another peek outside. “I have a surprise for anyone who thinks he’s going to come in here and screw with me.”

  “A surprise?”

  He rolled his eyes up along the ceiling and down the walls. “I got it wired,” he whispered.

  “Got what wired?”

  “The house. It’s wired to explode. I have a five hundred pound propane tank connected to a detonation charge.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “All I have to do is dial a number and kaboom! The whole place goes up.”

  “Isn’t that a bit overkill? Why wouldn’t you just use a gun?”

  He looked at me as though I had just called his idea insane, which of course it was. “A gun?” he shook his head. “You can’t kill a demon with a gun.”

  “A demon?”

  “Yes! That’s what this is all about, you know. I think a demon came and got Amber, and now he wants me.”

  “Okay, that’s our cue.” I turned to Ursula. “You ready girl?”

  “Aye, `tis time indeed. How fast it doth fly.”

  “Wait,” said Russell Burns. “Don’t you want to stick around and see what happens?” He held his phone up and pointed at it. “I got the number on speed dial. I can show you how it works.”

  “No, no. That won’t be necessary.” I palmed the small of Ursula’s back and pushed her toward the door. “We just remembered we’re doubled parked.”

  Russell Burns saw us as far as the front door but refused to go any further, which suited me just fine.

  Once outside, I came around the car to the driver’s side door. It was there I spotted Ursula’s garden gnome standing by the edge of the driveway, facing the street. I called for Ursula to come around and have a look.

  “Urs, what’s that?”

  She seemed more disappointed than surprised. “`Tis Harry.”

  “I see that. What’s he doing there?”

  “I have not a clue.” She looked at me and shrugged a guess. “Methinks he walks for home.”

  “Sure, and pigs can fly. Go get him, will you? Tell him if he does that again I’ll lock him in the trunk.”

  We drove off, and as I looked back through the rearview mirror, I saw what appeared to be smoke rising up over the treetops. I like to think it was a barbecue at one of Russell’s neighbor’s, a really, really big barbeque, but I knew better.

  “So, what do you make of that nut job back there? You think it’s possible he had something to do with Amber’s disappearance?”

  “Aye, mayhaps everything.”

  “Yeah right? I mean he came out and admitted that he and Amber argued that night. Maybe he read about Terri Cotta’s disappearance in the newspaper and decided to make Amber vanish under similar circumstances, hoping to throw the police off track.”

  “A copycat.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And the red powder? What doth thee make of it, I wonder?”

  “All part of his plan. Why else would he lead us directly to Amber’s desk the minute we walked in, unless he wanted us to find it?”

  “What now?”

  I turned the car north onto I-95. “Now to Newburyport. If we can make sense out of what happened to Miss Wendy Skye, then we can put this bullshit about a quintessential behind us. Are you game?”

  She pointed out the window. “Aye. Let us see what fate doth wait yonder.”

  Chapter 10

  I think the most surprising thing about Wendy Skye’s apartment was that it gave me no strange vibes, no feeling of déjà vu. Nothing about it seemed familiar, though I did find it strange, if not coincidental, that she, too, had a garden gnome standing outside her door. I asked Ursula what she thought of it.

  “It whistles,” she said, puckering to mimic the face of the chubby female gnome.

  “So it does,” I said, thinking the little whore was suggesting something else…. The gnome I mean, not Ursula.

  I gave the door a gentle rap and then stepped back so that anyone on the other side might have a chance to size us up through the peephole. Interestingly, instead of the paranoid welcome we received at Amber’s place, the girl that answered Wendy’s door treated us like homecoming heroes.

  “It’s you!” she said, reaching out into the hall to grab my hand and pull me into the apartment. “Come in. You too,” she told Ursula. “Hurry.” She slammed the door and pushed her back against it tightly. “Did anybody see you?”

  “Yes,” said Ursula.

  “Who?”

  She pointed at me. “My sister.”

  “No, I mean anyone else.”

  “Nobody saw us,” I said. “Why? Who are you?”

  The spunky little chipmunk in a v-neck halter, cut-offs and flip-flops threw her shoulders back and stuck her arm out straight. “Melody. I’m Wendy’s roommate.”

  “Lilith,” I said. We shook. “This is Ursula.”

  “Oh, I know who you two are. You don’t have to tell me. I saw you on the video.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “On the web.”

  “Where on the web?”

  She giggled at that. “Come on. You don’t have to be shy with me.”

  “Shy? Are you kidding?” I looked at Ursula. “Am I shy?”

  “As a pit bull, mayhaps.”

  I snarled back at her. “A simple no would have sufficed. You,” I said to Melody. “Tell me about this video.”

  “It’s on the Witch’s Cauldron.”

  “What’s the Witch’s Cauldron?”

  She pointed across the room at an open laptop sitting on the kitchen counter. “It’s a website for witches run by Paige Turner.”

  “Paige Tur…. Why that skanky old hag. Let me see that.”

  I marched across the room, spun the computer around and peered into the screen. There, repeating in a closed-looped video was a clip of Ursula and me standing at Paige Turner’s doorstep. “That rat bastard gnome.” I called Ursula over. “Look at this, Urs. Paige must have a video camera planted in the gnome, probably in its eye.”

  “My, `tis an awful thing.”

  “I know! Right?”

  She pulled on the hem of her blouse and patted her stomach. “Doth thou see me as fat as a gnome doth see me?”

  “Ursula, that’s not the point. Don’t you get it? The bitch has us plastered all over the web for the whole world to see.” I looked to Melody. “What does she say about us?”

  Melody came over and closed the laptop. “Nothing
much, only that you went to the Eighth Sphere and returned with the powers of the quintessential.”

  “What? That whore! I told her that was absolutely NOT true! Ursula, didn’t I tell her that?”

  “Aye.” She turned to Melody. “Doth thou thinks me fat?”

  The dear girl shook her head and smiled. “Oh, no. I think you’re beautiful. I only wish I was as slim as you and Lilith.”

  “Excuse me?” I stepped back and sized the kid up. “You’re nothing but a pretzel stick. Look at you. A coat hanger takes up more room in a closet than you do. Seriously, eat a burger. It’ll keep the wind from blowing through you.”

  “Really? You think I’m slender?”

  “No, sweetie. A pine sapling is slender. You’re a twig on a bonsai starter bush. Now tell me what else Paige Turner said about us.”

  Melody lifted her bony shoulders and dropped them. “That’s it. Oh, and that you came to her for advice on how to deal with the evil force threatening to annihilate all witches everywhere.”

  “That bitch!”

  “Easy, Sister.” Ursula pressed her hand to my forearm and squeezed it gently. “`Tis not a thing so big thou shouldst give credence to.”

  “I know. You’re right. You’re absolutely right. It doesn’t matter what that old windbag says.” I gave a nod to Melody. “So, are you a witch, too?”

  “Me?” She smiled again and blushed a little too perfectly. “No, I’m not a witch. Wendy is, or was.”

  “What do you mean was?”

  “I think she’s dead now.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “She’s missing, isn’t she?”

  “Is she?”

  “Uh-huh. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  “Nah-uh. I mean, yeah okay, that’s why we’re here, but we don’t know that she’s dead.”

  “Well, she is.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “I’m sorry, but the signs are all there. I read about it on the internet.”

  “What signs?”

  “It’s like this. Wendy knew about the other two missing witches. She also knew about the Pendle Prophecy. Last night I—”

  “Oh, boy. Here we go. The Pendle Prophecy again. Let me tell you something, string bean. All that talk about the Pendle Prophecy is a bunch of bullshit. It’s misinformation spread around by Paige Turner to scare people. That’s it.”

  Melody held her hand to my face to stop me. “Look. I don’t know. I’m just telling it like it is. I returned home from work last night at my usual time. When I didn’t see Wendy, I went to her room to check up on her. That’s when I found it.”

  “Okay, first of all, never put your hand up to my face again. Secondly, found what?”

  “The mysterious dust, just like what they found with the other two witches.”

  “Let’s see it.”

  “It’s in her room.”

  “Take us there.”

  Melody led us down the hall and stopped us at Wendy’s bedroom door. Before opening it, she warned, “Just so you know; Wendy’s not the neatest freak in the house. I swear, sometimes her poor housekeeping just blows me away.”

  Ursula said, “Well, thou art tiny.”

  “Huh?”

  “Forget it.” I pointed to the door. “Open it.”

  I think it’s fair to say that both Ursula and I thought Melody was exaggerating about being blown away by Wendy’s poor housekeeping, but that’s exactly what happened.

  The instant she opened the door, a blast of arctic air hurled us all back, stacking us against the wall and ripping framed pictures off their hooks. It was powerful, yet quick, lasting only a second or two, and awesome enough to make Melody’s comment seem more than coincidental.

  “What the hell was that?”

  Melody straightened her hair and pulled the wrinkles from her halter. “I don’t know. Must have been a vapor lock or something. I told the landlord we had issues with the air conditioning.”

  I looked at Melody. “That was no air conditioning issue.”

  Ursula remarked, “`Twas cold.”

  “See there?” said Melody. She pointed at some of Wendy’s clothes laid out on the floor in a neat spread, as if someone were still in them. “It’s just like the others.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “It’s too exact.” I waved my hand over Wendy’s pants, shirt, socks and shoes, all perfectly arranged, complete with bra and panties still creased with fold marks from her drawers. “Who did this?”

  Melody looked convincingly ignorant. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean somebody set these out on the floor like this.”

  “No! I saw Wendy wearing these clothes when I left for work yesterday. Look at the white powder inside. It’s just like the prophecy.”

  I crossed my arms to my chest and shook my head in dismay. “I’m not buying it. I see no signs of a struggle. Nothing’s broken. There’s no evidence of a shockwave and no sign of forced entry.”

  “The door was unlocked.”

  “Doesn’t matter. This still looks staged. Unless Wendy was already on the floor, lying flat on her back, stiff as a board, then she was not wearing these clothes when she disappeared.”

  “You’re wrong. I saw her wearing them when I left the house.”

  “I don’t doubt that. She probably made sure you saw her wearing them so that you’d make no mistake about it when reporting her missing. You are the one who reported her missing, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what did they say?”

  “Who?”

  “The police.”

  “They didn’t believe me.”

  “No, of course not. Not if you told them what you told me. That explains why they didn’t take any of the clothes as evidence. Hell, did they even take photographs?”

  “Yeah, they took some, mostly of me.”

  “Sure, that’s in case they want to prosecute you later for filing a false missing person report.”

  “But it’s all true. I swear. Wendy disappeared and I know she’d never go anywhere without telling me.”

  “Maybe, unless she wanted you to think that something happened to her.”

  “Why would she want me to think that?”

  “Are you the one who also alerted the newspaper, called and told them about the other women in Salem and Georgetown so that they’d run the story about Wendy?”

  Melody dropped her chin to her chest. “Yes, but only because—”

  “We’re done here. Ursula, are you ready?”

  “Aye, but for a bit ye might wish to gather?”

  “Excuse me?”

  She pointed at the clothes on the floor. “The dust?”

  “No, Ursula. We don’t need it. It’s just chalk.”

  “Oh please, Sister. We art here, why not?”

  “All right, fine. Although I think it’s a waste of time now.”

  I produced another little evidence bag and collected a sample of the white powder from within the folds of Wendy’s clothes.

  I stood and handed the baggie to Ursula, asking her to put it in her purse. To Melody I said, “Listen, you seem like a nice kid and all, and I hope you’re not getting yourself mixed up in anything stupid. But if you really believe something bad happened to Wendy, it’s because she wants you to believe that. I can’t say why, but I can say that something here just isn’t adding up. So, I wish you luck.”

  As I turned to leave, Melody snatched my wrist and pulled me back. “Wait!” I only needed to look down at her hand for her to let go. “Aren’t you going to do anything?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’m going to do something. First chance I get I’m going back to see that old hag, Paige Turner, and then I’m going to kick the shit out of her ugly little gnome. If you see her in the meantime, tell her that’s what’s coming.”

  “No, I meant aren’t you going to do anything for Wendy?”

  “Yes, I know that’s what you meant. The answer is no. Ursula?”

>   Ursula reached for Melody’s hand. “Blessed be thy troubled heart,” she said, patting it gently. “Fare thee well and merry part.”

  “We’ll see ourselves out,” I said over my shoulder.

  As soon as we got back into the car, I told Ursula we were done. “I’m taking us back to New Castle. This investigation is finished.”

  She seemed genuinely deflated. “Have we not one stop more to make?”

  “What’s the point? It’s obvious somebody’s playing a practical joke on us. Frankly, I suspect Paige Turner. If not the mastermind of this magnificent hoax, then she’s certainly the engine driving it, what with her Witch’s Cauldron website and her cockamamie prophecy.”

  Ursula pointed out the window. “Yonder be thy best route home.”

  “No, that’s Route One-A. I’m taking Ninety Five.”

  “`Tis the quaint and scenic route, that One-A.”

  “Yes, but Ninety Five is quicker.”

  “I am in no hurry.”

  “You know Route One-A takes us through Ipswich, don’t you?”

  “Oh? Does it?”

  I took a deep breath and blew the bangs from my eyes upon exhale. “Okay, fine.” I turned south onto Route One-A. “We’ll take a few minutes to check out April Raines’ place, and then we’re going straight home. After that, we put all this behind us and nobody mentions the Pendle Prophecy ever again. Got it?”

  “On my word. Not a mention.”

  “Yeah, right. Not a mention. We’ll see about that.”

  Chapter 11

  When we first left Wendy Skye’s apartment, I had all but convinced myself that any feelings of déjà vu I experienced at Terri Cotta’s and Amber Burns’ place was entirely coincidental. Yet, all that changed the minute we rolled up in front of April Raines’ house in the Little Neck neighborhood of Ipswich.

  “I’ve been here before,” I told Ursula, surveying the neighborhood from my seat behind the wheel.

  “I am not surprised,” she said. “Thou art no stranger to Essex County.”

  “No, it’s not that. I’ve been to Great Neck before, but never out at this end. This place I know from somewhere else, my dreams I think.”