When they reached the end of the corridor, they carried her into the last cell and dropped her unceremoniously onto the bunk.
“Detective Munoz and me, we have to talk to the lieutenant,” Dan told the two female officers. “Meanwhile, we need you to strip this lady and search her. It’s going to be a little awkward because she can’t pry her wrists or her knees apart, but I’m sure you’ll manage. Whatever she says to you—and I mean whatever she says to you—ignore it.”
“Ignore it?” said the black officer tartly. “I wish. I never heard nobody with such a dirty mouth, ’specially an old lady like this.”
Dan laid his hand on Annie’s shoulder. “Ms. Conjure here will give you any assistance you need.”
“Is she from welfare?” asked the blond officer.
“Let’s just say that she’s an expert in cases like these. Or as much of an expert as anybody possibly could be.”
To Annie, he said, “Is she going to be safe here? She won’t be able to work any you-know-what, will she?” He spun his finger around like a magic wand.
“No,” said Annie. “But when these officers have finished changing her clothes, I’ll put a seal on the cell door, just to make absolutely sure.”
“I really appreciate what you did there, back at the house. You were amazing.”
“Thanks—although it wasn’t really me. I mean, I read the incantation, but the magical power that made it work…that came from someone much more amazing than me.”
There was a challenging gleam in her eyes, as if she were daring him to ask her who it was. God? An angel? Or some other supernatural power that he had never heard of?
He looked away, then looked back again. “You did the business, that’s all I care about. Listen—when you’re done here, come upstairs. The desk sergeant will show you where we are.”
“We got her,” Dan announced. “The fourth witch—she’s in custody downstairs.”
Lieutenant Harris was standing at his desk, frowning at a large-scale map of West Grove Country Club. He took off his glasses and said, “You’re kidding me. You found her?”
“She was hiding out in Ben Burrows’s old house, up on Stone Canyon Road.”
“How the hell did you find her there?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so I won’t.”
“Did she give you any trouble?”
“Let’s put it this way—it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but my friend Annie helped us out. The witch has been restrained now with a magical incantation.”
“A magical incantation?”
“Annie did it. She’s very good at magical incantations.”
“Really?”
“Really. And herbal medicine. And spells. She can tell your fortune, and she can cure your back pain, and she can tell you if you’re going to find the woman of your dreams. Anyhow, this magical incantation prevents the witch from casting any spells. And most important of all, it prevents her from sharing her power with those other three witches.”
Lieutenant Harris pushed his fingers through his prickly gray hair. “I’m not sure what to say to you,” he admitted. “You know I don’t believe in any of this black magic malarkey. But…I have to admit to feeling kind of relieved.”
“Sir, it doesn’t matter if you believe in it or not. What matters is that when we go to pick up the Zombie and the White Ghost and Vasili Krylov this evening, we won’t have to face the same godawful creatures that massacred those two SWAT teams. The witches simply won’t have enough power to call them up.”
“You realize I won’t be able to give you any kind of commendation for this? I can’t even mention it in my report. Not without looking like a fruit loop, anyhow.”
“That doesn’t matter either,” said Dan. “The most important thing is that no more officers end up getting ripped to pieces.”
Annie came into Lieutenant Harris’s office, and Dan introduced her.
“I gather we have something to thank you for,” said Lieutenant Harris.
“I didn’t really have a choice,” Annie told him. “I don’t know of anybody else who could have captured a witch as powerful as this one. Besides, if any witch is using her craft to do evil, I have to try and stop her.”
“You have to?”
“I guess you could say it’s my destiny. It’s what my mother taught me to do and what my grandmother taught her to do. Magic is only supposed to be used for good. You know—to heal people when they’re sick. To bring people love and luck and happiness. To make things grow. Magic is the greatest gift that any woman can possess.”
“Well, I can understand the destiny thing,” said Lieutenant Harris. “My dad was a cop and my grandfather was a cop and my great-grandfather was a U.S. marshal. I have to tell you, though, I’m still pretty skeptical about magic.”
“I know you are,” said Annie. “I can feel it.”
“You can feel it?”
Annie held out both hands toward him. “Skepticism feels like thistles. Just like belief feels like polished marble, and love feels like deep, warm water.”
Lieutenant Harris looked over Annie’s shoulder at Dan and pulled a face.
“What can I tell you, Lieutenant?” said Dan. “Even if you don’t believe in witches, you have to admit that Annie’s a damn good one.”
Annie said, “When you go down to the witch’s cell, Lieutenant, you’ll see that there’s a wax medallion stuck to the door with red ribbons hanging from it. It’s a sigil…a magical seal to prevent the witch from sending any of her power out of the building to the other witches. It has some markings on it that look like forks and squiggles and triangles. Those are the signs of an angel called Cassiel, the ruler of the seventh heaven.
“Whatever you do, don’t take it off. I’ve already told those two women officers not to remove it, and they’re going to tell the desk sergeant, too.”
Lieutenant Harris held up both of his hands. “If you say to leave it on the door, young lady, that’s where it’s going to stay. I promise you.”
It was still only 3:25 P.M., so the three of them drove to Ernie’s apartment building on Lincoln Boulevard to freshen up and have a late lunch. Dan hadn’t felt like eating breakfast that morning, but now he was ravenous.
“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he told Annie.
“I’m feeling a little strange, that’s all.”
“Strange in what way? Maybe you’re just tired after all that incanting.”
“No, I don’t feel tired at all. In fact I feel really energized. Like I’ve drunk ten cups of espresso.”
“It’s that high you get after an arrest. Your system’s still full of adrenaline. That’s why some cops beat up on the people they’ve just busted. I usually tell them to go to the gym and work it all off on the rowing machine.”
Ernie said, “Me, I like to eat. I book somebody, I head for the Casa Blanca Café and order the huevos rancheros and the pork gorditas and the chicken-and-cheese burrito. You can’t feel aggressive with nobody after that.”
“Aggressive? I’m surprised you can even walk.”
They parked outside a 1960s apartment block with pale blue walls and red-painted window frames. Ernie led them to a concrete-paved courtyard into which the sun never shone. Two young boys were listlessly playing on a swingset. Ernie ruffled their hair and said, “Carlo, Sancho, say hello to your Uncle Dan. And say hello to Ms. Conjure here.”
“These your boys?” asked Annie.
Ernie nodded proudly. “Carlo is nine in September, and Sancho’s seven next March.”
Annie took Carlo’s hand between hers. “Carlo, that’s a good name. Especially for an auto mechanic. You do want to be an auto mechanic, don’t you?”
Ernie shook his head in admiration. “How did you know that? He’s always been totally crazy about cars. He used to make car noises when he was sitting in his stroller.”
Annie took Sancho’s hand next. “And you, Sancho, you’re going to grow up to be a musician. You’re going t
o play the guitar and sing your own songs, and you’ll be very famous. One day you’re going to be singing a song about a white bird that comes to your window, and you’ll remember this day, and me telling you about it.”
Sancho shyly retrieved his hand and said nothing.
“They’re terrific boys,” Annie told Ernie. “They’re going to make you proud.”
“Uncle Dan,” said Carlo, “can you do that thing with the quarter for us?”
“Hey, don’t bother your Uncle Dan,” Ernie scolded.
But Dan went up to him and reached down into the back of his T-shirt, so that Carlo giggled and squirmed. “Sorry, Carlo…there’s no quarters down there today. But—wait a minute! What’s this? It feels like a flower!” And he produced a dollar bill, folded into the shape of a rose.
“Me too!” said Sancho, excitedly. “Me too!”
“Kids love magic, don’t they?” said Annie, as they squeezed themselves into the elevator.
Ernie pushed the button for 4. “What you said about the boys, that’s really going to happen?”
Annie nodded.
Dan said, “The last time you told my fortune, you had to use tarot cards and tea leaves.”
“I know. I don’t really know how I did that without the tarot, but it seemed so clear. Maybe I’m just getting more sensitive.”
They reached the fourth floor and walked along the red linoleum corridor. Ernie opened the door of his apartment and said, “Welcome to my home.” Inside, there was a pungent smell of garlic and onions, and a woman was singing along to a Frank Corrales record on the radio, “Una Mañana de Abril.”
“Rosa!” called Ernie. “Rosa, we have visitors!”
He led them through to a small living room furnished with two big couches and two big armchairs, all upholstered in rose-patterned fabric with lace antimacassars. On the walls hung oil paintings of Mexican dancers and framed photographs of Carlo and Sancho, as well as a red glass shrine to the Virgin Mary with holy water in it.
Ernie’s wife came out of the kitchen wiping her hands. She was a plump, pretty young woman with curly black hair tied up with a bright red scarf, and bright red lips.
“Dan, how are you?” she said, kissing him on both cheeks, and then once more. “Such a long time since I see you!”
“This is Annie,” said Ernie. “Annie has been working with us. She has a very special gift.”
Rosa shook Annie’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Would you care for a drink? Are you hungry?”
“Hungry?” Dan told her. “I could eat a horse. In fact I could eat a whole team of horses.”
“Horses I don’t have—but I just baked some empanadas.”
“Empanadas…mmm!” said Dan, in imitation of Homer Simpson. “Annie, you don’t know what Mexican food is until you’ve eaten Rosa’s empanadas. Flaky pastry filled with ground beef and chillies.”
They went out onto the balcony and sat together at a glass-topped table. Rosa brought out a large jug of lemonade and a plate of empanadas and garnachas, little cups of tortilla dough filled with black beans and lemon-marinated slices of onion. Dan would have killed for a cold Corona, but they would be going back on duty in less than three hours.
“So what is your special gift?” Rosa asked Annie.
“She can tell fortunes,” said Ernie. “She said that Carlo would be an auto mechanic and that Sancho would be a famous musician.”
“Maybe you should tell Ernie’s fortune,” said Rosa. “He has been trying for promotion for so long.”
Ernie emphatically shook his head. “No…never. I don’t want to see what the future has in store for me. I want every day to be a surprise. Besides, you might tell me something that I don’t want to hear.”
Rosa said, “You’re such a chicken. Annie, why don’t you tell my fortune? Then I will know if I am going to be married to a captain of detectives one day.”
Ernie had his mouth full of empanada, but he pointed at Rosa and said, “Whatever you see, don’t tell me what it is. I don’t want to know.”
Annie reached across the table and took hold of both of Rosa’s hands. She stared into Rosa’s eyes for nearly a minute, while Rosa sat with a shy little smile on her face. At last Annie said, “I’m sorry. I don’t see anything about Ernie. All I see is you and your sons. They’re all grown up and very handsome, and you’re standing in a beautiful garden someplace.”
“Then you must be getting promoted,” said Rosa excitedly. “More money. A house of our own. I always wanted a garden, all my life.”
“I told you I didn’t want to know,” Ernie protested.
“But you don’t know when, Ernesto, do you? It will still be a surprise when it happens.”
“Okay, but not so much.” In spite of this show of annoyance, Dan could tell that Ernie was secretly pleased. He had talked for years of gaining a promotion, so that he could have more influence over the way that the Hispanic community was policed, and he had been studying almost every night since April for his sergeant’s exam.
“Congratulations, man,” said Dan. “I always knew you had it in you.”
Annie said nothing, but gave Ernie a pat on his hairy forearm and smiled.
When they had finished eating, Rosa went inside to wash the plates and tidy the kitchen, and they sat for a while on the balcony, talking about what had happened up at Ben Burrows’s house that morning.
“Raining, inside the hallway,” said Ernie. “And lightning. And thunder. I never thought I’d ever see such a thing.”
“And all those goddamned centipedes,” said Dan.
“And those rats, muchacho. Where did she get those rats from?”
Annie said, “Out of some nearby sewer, most likely. Like I said before, witches can’t create things like rats or toads or centipedes, but they can move almost anything from one place to another, whether it’s living or not. Including themselves.”
“We still don’t know what her name is or where she comes from,” said Ernie.
“Not for sure, no. But I’m ninety-nine percent convinced that she’s a direct descendant of Rebecca Greensmith. The pictures in those old books, they’re not usually very reliable when it comes to likenesses. I’ve seen pictures of Cotton Mather that make him look like somebody’s nutty old grandma. But this woman and the woman in the Hartford witch-trial picture—they look so much alike they must be related somehow.”
“I’m going to interrogate her when we get back to the station,” said Dan. “Maybe you could come along and give me some magical support.”
“Of course,” said Annie. “I was going to suggest it anyhow. You never know what tricks she might try to pull on you.”
They said good-bye to Rosa. Annie gave Rosa the warmest of hugs, and Ernie said, “Looks like those two have made friends.”
“Annie’s a great girl. And so’s Rosa. Maybe when this is over, we should all go out to dinner together. Spago.”
“Let’s deal with those witches first. I’m not having my hands nailed to the table with no knife and no fork.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Newton Ridley was the custody officer that afternoon. As he waddled down the stairs that led to the cells, jingling his keys, he looked back over his shoulder and said, “Maybe you can get her to shut up, because I can’t.”
“What’s she been doing?”
“Making this yelping noise. On and on for hours. Sounds like a dog that can’t get out of the house to do its business.”
They heard her as soon as they reached the bottom of the staircase. A high, weird, ululating howl, which made Dan feel as if his scalp were shrinking. It was both frightening and depressing, and Officer Ridley was right: it sounded more like an animal in distress than a human being.
A man’s voice shouted drunkenly from one of the cells, “Shut the hell up, will you? Just shut up! You’re driving me nuts!”
They reached the witch’s cell. The wax sigil was still in place, with its forklike symbols, and Annie touched it with her finge
rtips as if to reassure herself that it was firmly fixed.
“She’s singing a spell,” she said.
“You call that singing?”
“Well, it’s singing of a sort. It’s a charm to get herself out of there.”
“Don’t sound charming to me.”
“Technically, it is charming. The word charming originally meant singing. In the Middle Ages, women weren’t allowed to sing in church in case they cast a spell on their menfolk. Don’t worry—the charm isn’t working, the sigil is keeping her sealed inside.”
Officer Ridley slid back the inspection panel. “She’s just sitting on her bunk, rocking herself back and forth like a loony. She’s been doing that nonstop since I came on duty.”
“Is it safe for us to go in?” Dan asked Annie. “She won’t be able to escape or anything?”
Annie peered in through the inspection panel. “She’s still restrained. There’s nothing she can do to us while her wrists and her ankles are still bound together.”
“Okay,” said Dan. “Let’s go in and have a little q-and-a session.”
“Rather you than me, Detective,” said Officer Ridley, and unlocked the cell door for him.
The smell of the witch was even stronger than it had been before, and now it had a sourness about it, too, like turned milk. As Dan and Annie entered her cell, the witch turned and glared up at them. Her raggedy cloak had been taken away from her, and now she was wearing a plain orange smock that laced up at the back. The front was already stained dark with spittle.
“So, how it’s going?” Dan asked her. “They keeping you fed and watered?”
The witch continued to howl and rock herself backward and forward.
“I guess you must know by now that this charm of yours isn’t going to work. You’ve met your match, ma’am. Admit it.”
The 5th Witch Page 20
