BURY THE WITCH: Book 10 (Detective Marcella Witch's Series)

by Dana E. Donovan

  “You know what I mean.”

  Across the room, a dog barked. Another answered with a yelp. I craned my neck to see up over a potted ficus. “Do I hear dogs?”

  Spinelli threw a casual glance in that direction, but didn’t actually look. “Oh, that’s Pfeiffer and Donaldson. They brought their dogs in for Take Your Dog to Work Day.”

  “Really? You’d think that’d be a distraction.”

  “No,” he said, “they’re all right. They behave.” Then as a joke, he added, “The dogs are good, too.”

  I gave him the sappy smile he was looking for. He nodded over his shoulder toward the coffee machine. “I’ll tell you about distractions though. That’s when Bill Dickey brings in his guinea pig, blowing off about equal rights for all pets. He set the cage down right in front of Nancy Rieker’s cat, Miss Jasmine. Apparently, Rieker also decided her cat had rights.

  “Did something happen?”

  “Yeah, something happened. Miss Jasmine knocked the cage over, the door popped open and the guinea pig got out.”

  “Did the cat get it?”

  “Almost,” he said, stifling a laugh. “The guinea pig shot across the room and out into the hall. It scurried through that hole in the wall by the water fountain where they fixed that leak yesterday. Miss Jasmine tried to chase it, but got stuck in the drywall. Rieker got down on her hands and knees and pulled the cat out by the tail, only to get the crap scratched out of her once she got her free. Meanwhile, Dickey was running around like a maniac, screaming, ‘My Herman! My Herman!’”

  “His Herman?”

  “Herman is the guinea pig.”

  “Oh.”

  “It was mayhem, Tony, absolute mayhem. Funnier than hell. You should have seen it. Probably going to ruin it for next year, though.”

  “Ruin what?”

  “Take Your Dog To Work Day.”

  “Of course.”

  I took a sip of coffee and set the cup back down. It was awful, as usual, but oh how I loved it. I couldn’t count all the times I sat in the dark with Jerome, wishing I had just one lousy cup of coffee to warm my tired bones. It’s funny how the little things in life are the things you miss the most once they’re gone.

  I must have been sitting there, staring into my cup for an usually long time, because when I looked back up at Dominic, he was looking at me, his brows stitched in full parentheses, waiting for me to return. I shook my head and blinked back into the moment.

  “So,” I said, “did Dickey ever find his guinea pig?”

  Dominic seemed relieved that I chose not to go where my mind had begun to take me. “Not yet,” he answered. “The captain said we could set some traps out later. It gets quiet up here at night. He’ll come out looking for food then.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “If that doesn’t work, we bring in an exterminator.”

  “I heard that!” said Dickey, yelling from halfway across the room.

  “I’m kidding, Dickey!” Spinelli turned his face to me and mouthed, “I’m not kidding.”

  Carlos showed, came in carrying a duffle bag in one hand and his laptop in the other. He tossed the former on the floor and set the laptop on the desk.

  “Hey,” he said. “You moved the desks back. You didn’t have to do that. I would have done it.”

  “I didn’t,” I told him. “Dominic did that.”

  “Oh, just as well. It was his idea to move them in the first place.”

  Dominic started to open his mouth in protest, but shut it quickly after Carlos shot him a look. Already, I could tell things were getting back to normal.

  “Whatcha got there?” I asked, referring to the duffle.

  Carlos gave it a carefree glance and shrugged. “Oh that. It was in my car. It belongs to the department, so I figured I’d bring it back.”

  “Hey,” said Dominic. “Didn’t you borrow that like two years ago?”

  “Yes. What’s your point?”

  I could see by the look on Dominic’s face that just bringing it up was the point. “Nothing,” is all he said.

  “Carlos?” I rocked back in my chair and laced my fingers behind my head. “How did things go with Jerome last night? Did you two have fun?”

  I expected a big grin out of him. Instead, what I got was a curious look, as though he wasn’t sure. “It went well,” he said, “I guess.” He came around his desk and took a seat across from me. “I have to say, though, he seems different now.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “Well...” He flopped back against his chair and made a face as if pondering the merits of inflatable dartboards. “He seems skittish, agitated, always looking over his shoulder and whatnot.”

  Dominic said, “Maybe he’s got PTSD, too.”

  “Noooo,” Carlos scoffed. “That’s silly.”

  “What do you mean, silly? He’s here in a strange land, hell, a strange universe. It’s congested, full of humans and other animals he’s never seen before.”

  “Humans aren’t animals.”

  “We are to him. Just remember what it was like for you in his world. That’s how it feels to him.”

  “Dominic’s right,” I said, blowing across my coffee cup and taking a sip. “As horrible and dangerous as that place is, it’s home for Jerome.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I bet this place is hell for him.”

  I started to add to that, when my phone rang. “That’s Lilith,” I said, checking the caller ID. “I better get it.” I looked back at Carlos and noticed him squirming in his seat.

  “Hello Lilith.”

  “Tony, have you heard from Carlos yet? I’ve been trying to call him all morning. He doesn’t answer.”

  “Yeah, in fact he’s…” I looked at Carlos, who was waving his hands frantically while mouthing the word no. “He’s right here.”

  “At the Justice Center?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s he doing there?”

  “I don’t know, maybe he still works here.”

  “No, I mean why hasn’t he brought Jerome back to the house? We’re supposed to go looking for the portal this morning.”

  “That’s a good question. Why don’t you—”

  I was about to say, ask him yourself, when a god-awful scream made me nearly spill my coffee down my shirt.

  “What the hell was that?” asked Dominic.

  “Lilith, I’ll call you back.” I sprang to my feet, one hand tending to my holstered weapon, the other fumbling to set my coffee down without spilling it all over the place. Carlos was right behind me. We followed Dominic in a sprint down the hall toward the elevator, stopping just short of the women’s restrooms.

  “Whoa!” I heard Dominic shout, as he held his arms out to stop anyone else from advancing.

  “Mother of god!” someone cried. I think it was Nancy Rieker, who was holding her cat, Miss Jasmine, close to her chest.

  “Herman!” Bill Dickey dropped to his knees and began scooping up balls of fur.

  “That’s Herman?” I said, wondering how he could tell from a bulk of bloody fur the size of a baseball.

  “You!” said Dickey, jabbing an accusatory finger at Rieker and Miss Jasmine. “You did this. You and that infernal cat. He killed my guinea pig!”

  “She didn’t do this,” said Rieker. “Miss Jasmine was with me the entire time.”

  I noticed Carlos starting to inch back, his gaze searching the halls.

  “Carlos!” I said in an angry hush. I grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the group. “Tell me you didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  I could tell from the stupid look on his face that he did. “Tell me you didn’t bring Jerome up here in that duffle bag.”

  “Tony, would I—”

  “Carloooos!”

  “All right. I did. So, what’s the big deal?”

  “Big deal? Carlos, he ate a freakin` gerbil!”

  “Actually, it was a guinea pig.”

  Domini
c came up to us. “What’s going on?”

  I shushed him and pulled him closer. “Carlos brought Jerome into the building.”

  “What!”

  “Shhhh.”

  He lowered his voice. “You mean to tell me that Jerome ate Bill’s gerbil?”

  “Guinea pig,” Carlos corrected.

  “What possessed you to do that?”

  “What do you mean?” he said, acting insulted, although I wasn’t so sure it was an act. “It’s Bring Your Pet to Work Day.”

  “It’s Take Your Dog to Work Day.”

  “Well then, that guinea pig shouldn’t have been here. None of this would have—”

  “Look!” Dominic pointed toward the fire exit. The door appeared to open by itself and then shut again. “It’s Jerome. He’s going down to the lobby.”

  “Quick.” I turned Carlos around by the shoulders and pushed him in the direction of the office. “Get the duffle bag and meet us in the stairwell downstairs. Go! Now!”

  He hurried off. I pinched Dominic’s shirtsleeve and tugged him along. “Come on. We have to get to Jerome before he comes out on another floor. If anyone sees him, they’ll shoot first and ask what the hell he is later.”

  We skirted the crowd by the elevator, plowed through the fire door and flew downstairs three steps at a time. “Jerome!” I yelled. “Wait. It’s Bossman.”

  We had just reached the first floor landing when we heard a door at the top of the stairwell slam shut. We stopped and pitched an ear toward the sound.

  Dominic said, “He’s on the roof.”

  We turned around and started back up. As we rounded the platform on level two, we bumped into Carlos just coming through the door.

  “He’s on the roof!” I yelled. “Come on!”

  The three of us shot up the stairs, hot on each other’s heels. Dominic hit the roof first, I fell in second and Carlos came up behind me. We fanned out, calling Jerome’s name.

  There were plenty of places for Jerome to hide. Between the air conditioning units, the elevated skylight boxes, solar panels and the back-up generators, we hardly knew where to start.

  “Jerome!” I called, employing my most authoritative tone. “Get out here, now!”

  “J-man?” Carlos took the friendlier approach. “It’s okay, buddy. We’re not mad at you. Come on out. We’ll talk about it.”

  From behind one of the skylights, Jerome’s voice echoed, “Amigo not mad?”

  Dominic pointed out the skylight in question. We gathered closer and inched toward it.

  Carlos replied, “No, buddy. I’m not mad. Come on now, show yourself.”

  A rustling of roof gravel redirected our attention to a second skylight further away. Jerome said, “Bossman not mad?”

  I shook my head. “No, Jerome. Bossman’s not mad at you. Bossman is angry at Carlos for bringing you to work with him.”

  Carlos said, “I told him to stay out of trouble.”

  “Seriously?” I backhanded him on the chest. “You can’t just tell him to stay out of trouble and expect—”

  “Guys!” Dominic pointed to the stirring of roof gravel indicating retreat toward the corner of the building. “We have him cornered now.”

  “Okay.” I splayed my arms wide. “Don’t make any sudden moves.” I started toward him slowly, waving the others on. “Just follow my lead.”

  We ambled up to the southern end of the building and took a seat on the wall overlooking the parking lot. “You know, guys,” I said, speaking louder than our proximity to one another required. “It’s too bad Jerome ran away like that.”

  “I’m gonna miss the little runt,” said Carlos.

  “I had a big surprise planned for him back at the house later today. I was going to fire up some hot dogs on the grill.”

  Jerome materialized right in front of us. He had camouflaged himself perfectly as one of the solar panels.

  “Jerome like hotdog!”

  “There he is!” I said, holding my arms out.

  “Jerome want hotdog.”

  “You do? Well, I don’t know.” I looked at Carlos. “What do you think, Carlos?”

  He shrugged. “Gee, I don’t know either, Tony. You know Jerome. He’ll probably just run away again.”

  “Hmm, yeah probably.” I asked Dominic. “What about you?”

  Dominic played along. “I agree with Carlos. Jerome doesn’t seem to listen very well. He just does what he wants to.”

  “No,” said Jerome. “Jerome listen. All the time listen to Bossman.” He sidled up to me and took my hand. “Jerome no want to come here. Jerome scared. Not know better.”

  “Well...” I looked at Carlos and gave him a wink. Carlos unzipped the duffle bag and spread it open. “If you promise to behave, and by that, I mean stay out of sight, stay quiet and stay out of trouble.”

  “Yes. Jerome promise. No trouble. You see. Jerome be good, all the time good.”

  “All right then.” I gestured toward the bag. “Get in there. We’ll call Lilith to come get you, and tonight, if she says you’ve behaved, we’ll have hotdogs.”

  Jerome climbed into the duffle bag, curled up into a ball and fell into an immediate state of semi-hibernation.

  “Huh, how about that?” Carlos remarked. “He really does listen to you.”

  “Yeah, deep down he’s a good little squirt,” I said. “He’s just a bit inquisitive.”

  I took my phone out and called Lilith, who, it turned out, was already on her way to the Justice Center. We met up with her a few minutes later down in the parking lot, standing by her car.

  “There you go,” I said, placing the duffle bag across the back seat. “Special delivery.”

  She seemed just a little perturbed. “You’ve caused me to waste some serious time this morning.”

  “Not me,” I said, “Carlos. I didn’t know he was bringing Jerome to work. Besides, I thought you said you didn’t think you’d be able to find the portal.”

  “No, I said I didn’t think I’d find it until the conditions were right.” She rolled her eyes and swept the sky slowly from north-to-south. “I told Carlos last night that some clouds would be moving in ahead of a front, that they might bring some lightning. I couldn’t take the chance of missing the opportunity.”

  “Oh,” said Carlos. “Was that last night?”

  She took a threatening step toward him. I reached out and took her arm. “All right,” I said, “what’s done is done.” I looked up. “There’s no lightning yet. You haven’t missed anything. Why don’t you head out now before the situation changes and see if you have any luck?”

  She eased back and nodded a temporary truce. “Okay, you’re off the hook for now.”

  “Me?”

  “All of you.”

  “What did I do?” Dominic asked. “I’m not guilty of anything.”

  She waved her hand in a broad sweep as if casting a spell over the three of us. “You’re all guilty by association. Now step away.” She looked at the duffle bag on the back seat and shook her head. “Jeez, the things I put up with for you boys.”

  We kept our mouths shut until she got into the car and drove away. It was Carlos who summed it up best when he said, “That went well.”

  Dominic and I nodded. “Yes,” I said, “it went very well, very well indeed.”

  Upstairs, things had finally returned to normal, as much as possible, anyway. Nancy Rieker had collared Miss Jasmine and leashed her to the leg of her desk. Bill Dickey, evidently inconsolable with grief, collected what he could of Herman’s remains and went home to bury them.

  Carlos and I were just about to settle down to review the details of a case he’d been working on earlier, when Dominic alerted us to a call that had just come in.

  “This is it,” he said, searching his desk drawers and pulling out his camera, sketchpad and measuring tape.

  “What’s it?” Carlos asked.

  “A 459,” I said, after realizing what items he’d been gathering.

 
“A burglary?”

  Dominic answered. “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “Jewelry store downtown.”

  “Which one?”

  “Marx Jewelers.”

  “No way!”

  “Carlos?” I said. “Why so surprised?”

  He returned a peculiar smile. “That’s the company that didn’t want to hire me as their night watchman.”

  I looked at Dominic, who seemed as curious about that as I was. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “It’s too early for speculations, but it is interesting.”

  Chapter 9

  We arrived at Marx Jewelers at nine-fifteen. Several black and whites had already established a perimeter, cordoning off the sidewalks out front for thirty feet in each direction and the entire back alley, which appeared to be the burglars’ access and escape route. Spinelli began his investigation there. Carlos and I entered through the front door, where he immediately recognized one of the store’s owners standing alone at the far end of the showroom.

  “Hey.” He bumped my elbow and pointed discreetly. “That’s Oscar Shaul. I’m going to go talk to him.”

  While he did that, I conducted a brief interview with Officer Trevor Baines, the initial responding officer responsible for securing the scene.

  “Morning,” I said after introducing myself. “I take it nothing’s been disturbed.”

  “That’s right, sir.” He directed my attention to the office behind the sales counter. “Except for that door, which the owner says was closed when he got here. He opened it immediately upon arrival after realizing something wasn’t right.”

  “What exactly did he notice?”

  “The alarm.”

  “It was tripped?”

  Baines shook his head. “It wasn’t working at all. The owner told me the keypad by the front door appeared inoperative. As soon as he realized that, he ran to the office and found that the safe had been opened.”

  I looked across the room at Carlos. He was still interviewing his witness, a nervous looking fellow who appeared to be in his late fifties, thinning hair, black framed glasses. “Him?” I asked.

  Baines nodded. “Yes, sir. His name’s Oscar Shaul, co-owner and company bookkeeper. He tells me he usually opens the place around nine, nine-thirty, even though the store doesn’t open until eleven.”