Bones of a Witch

by Dana Donovan

  “Yes, let it ride,” said Lilith, “and take a seat. I’ll have your new assholes ripped in a minute.”

  “How did you get up here?” I asked.

  “Don’t change the subject. Tell me what the fuck happened last night.”

  I pointed to the door. “Dom, shut that before someone calls the SWAT team in here.” He did, and I waited for him and Carlos to take a seat before pulling a chair out for Lilith. “Please,” I said, with a nod toward the chair. She looked at me with serpent’s eyes, but I knew if I could get her to sit, then I might actually have a chance of getting out of there with my balls unbroken.

  After she reluctantly obliged, I pulled the fourth chair out and joined them at the table. I started by giving Lilith that stern eye I used to give her when I still looked older and more authoritative. It never intimidated her, though I used to think it did, but at least it held her attention long enough for me to get my point across. Now it only serves to cast me in a pseudo-serious light that makes me appear more boyish than manly. Still, I’ll take cute over scared if it helps keeps the genie in the bottle.

  “Look, Lilith, what happened last night was regrettable, but unavoidable. We’re dealing with a psychopath here, so nothing is predictable or certain. Now, we don’t know exactly what went wrong. Perhaps he made Dominic and decided to teach us a lesson; perhaps something else tipped him off. We just don’t know. But the reason I didn’t tell you is because of this. I knew you would fly off the handle and say or do something irrational.”

  “Irrational? You think I’m being irrational? Look around, Tony. Do you see sparks flying, winged creatures dive-bombing? Have the windows blown out from percussion rolls? Believe me, this is rational.”

  “Okay, fine. I agree. You’re being rational. My apologies. But you have to admit that last night would not have been a good time to tell you.”

  “Oh, so you thought it would be better if I found out on the morning news that a woman died because of me, is that it?”

  “No, not necessarily. I just thought it would be better if I didn’t have to tell you. Frankly, I wanted Dominic to do it.”

  “Me?” said Dominic, half afraid I meant it.

  “Relax. She knows now. You’re off the hook.”

  Lilith looked down at the photos scattered along the tabletop. “What’s all this?”

  “The men of Ingersoll’s Witness,” I said.

  “Is one of them Lemas Winterhutch?”

  “That one.” Dominic pointed. “Only his real name is James Putnam.”

  She picked up the photo and studied it, absorbing ever detail and burning its image in her mind so that she might never forget. Carlos pointed at the surveillance photo next. “This guy’s the ringleader. We believe he’s calling all the shots and that Lemas is just an enforcer.”

  Lilith examined the second photo similarly. “Is that the best picture you got of him?”

  “It’s the only one,” Dominic replied. “And it cost the Salem PD one of its finest.”

  She looked up at me and then at the others. “I’m sorry,” she said. I know she meant it. She tossed the photo back down on the table. “So, where does this leave us?”

  “I was just asking that question before you walked in. I’m thinking we should hit the streets next.” I nodded at the photos. “We have all these faces and known aliases now. We can show them around to all the motels; see if anyone recognizes someone.”

  “Good thinking,” said Carlos. “We can ask the local new stations to post Putnam’s picture, maybe have them mention how he’s a person of special interest.”

  Dominic suggested we scour the immediate vicinity around the boardwalk for additional security cameras that may have picked up something useful. “I’m talking ATMs, convenient stores, open webcams; stuff like that,” he said. “Anymore, the public is always under Big Brother’s watchful eye.”

  “All right, then. It’s not a lot, but it’s a plan.” To Carlos I said, “We can have some uniforms do the footwork, but I’d feel better if you talked to the TV people. I don’t want word to get out that Dominic was our decoy, just in case Lemas didn’t already figure that out.”

  We were nearly ready to break it up, when Lilith’s phone rang. I knew from the look on her face and that peculiar ringtone that our plans were all suddenly shot to hell. “Is that him?” I asked.

  Her eyes came back from glancing down at the readout. “Yeah.”

  “Put him on speaker.”

  We huddled around Lilith, realizing at once that the dynamics of the case were about to change in a radical way. As we settled in, I gave her the nod. She flipped open her phone, hit the speaker and held it up so that we all could hear.

  “Mister Putnam,” said Lilith. “I don’t usually accept calls from cowards. They simply aren’t worth the dime.”

  “Coward, Miss Adams? Me?”

  “What else would I call a man who only preys on young defenseless women?”

  “What does that say about you? Are you so frightened of me that you need your boyfriend and his homosexual cronies to dress in women’s clothing to try to trick me?”

  I saw Dominic start to rise in protest over that, but I waved him down with just a stare.

  “I’m afraid of no one,” said Lilith, “especially a pantywaist like you.”

  “Then prove it. If you’re such an independent woman, why don’t you come out and fight your own battles?”

  “Fine. Name the time and place, scumbag.”

  “No,” I mouthed under my breath. “Don’t agree to anything.”

  “This afternoon,” Putnam replied. “Go to Jefferson station and wait on the platform for the 5:15 southbound.”

  “You’re on,” said Lilith. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Come alone. If you fail to show, or if I see any cops this time, I will kill not just one innocent bystander this time, but I’ll find a woman and child and kill them both. That should raise some brows on your evening news channels, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. I won’t need anyone’s help to kick your sorry ass, Putnam. And let me tell you; you have picked a fight with the wrong chick this time, buster.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is. So, let this serve as fair warning; I am going to the station where I will find you and kill you with my own bare hands. Have you got that?”

  “Indeed, Ms. Adams. “I do have that.”

  CLICK.

  As soon as she hung up, I put my foot down and told her that I would not allow the meeting at a train station to take place. “It’s too open and dangerous,” I said, “too many innocent bystanders in the way to effect adequate protection for everyone; too many escape routes, too few vantage points for observations, too little time to draft a back-up plan and too many other variables to even discuss in the short time remaining.”

  Of course, that was all academic in Lilith’s eyes. She sat there politely, though, listening, pretending to weigh the validity of my argument. Even Carlos and Dominic nodded at all the right places, signaling agreement to the logic in my judgment. In the end, however, Lilith prevailed without firing a single shot. Somewhere between the definitely not and the well maybe, it was decided that she would go to Jefferson station and wait on the platform for the 5:15 southbound.

  “But you won’t be alone,” I insisted. “We’ll put a man on the platform with you. We’ll dress him up as a homeless guy with a bottle and have him camping out in a corner.” I looked to Spinelli. “The late afternoon trains usually pull four passenger cars. I want a man on each. Get some of the younger guys from traffic to dress up like hipsters or be-boppers or whatever you kids call them, but none older-looking than twenty. Also, I want some undercover females on board looking like average commuters heading home from work.” To Carlos I said, “The next station south is Lexington. Get a couple of plainclothes on the platform there and keep another couple of uniforms out of sight on the sidelines. And if you can, set a couple of marksmen up on the roofs of b
oth stations.”

  Carlos nodded. “Got it, and where will you be?”

  “I’ll be riding up front with the engineer. I don’t want to take any chances with this thing.” I looked to Lilith. “Are you going to be comfortable enough with that?”

  “Pah-leez.” She flipped her hair off her shoulder with a dismissive hand. “Why all the fuss? A boy scout and a feisty Chihuahua could take this maggot down.”

  Immediately, Carlos and I turned to Dominic and cracked a contagious grin. His face grew flush as he sank sheepishly in his chair. “What?” He said, crossing his arms at his chest.

  Lilith leaned across the table and stared Spinelli down until she got into his head. I could see exactly the point where she began to read him. He swallowed hard. She leaned back slowly, folding her arms and locking her fingers under her pits. “I don’t believe it,” she sneered. “You named it Lilith?”

  He winced as if it hurt. “If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “I found out it wasn’t a she. It was a he.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t.”

  “Oh. Did I mention he ran away already?”

  And with that, the world was in balance once more. Spinelli was now on Lilith’s shit list and I was again top dog in the doghouse. I reached out and tapped Dominic on the arm. “What’s wrong there feller? Chihuahua got your tongue?” He shot me a sulking glare. Oh, the good life. Sometimes it gets no better than this.

  Lilith Adams:

  I really don’t know why Tony thought all his precautions were so necessary. I keep telling him I can take care of myself just fine. But as a favor to Carlos, who asked me to humor the boy, I agreed to all the bullshit without pitchin` too big a fit.

  I showed up at the train station around 5:10, just minutes before the southbound to Boston was to roll in. Tony’s wino cop had already taken up a corner on the platform by the stairs, a smart move, I’ll admit, for covering an otherwise easy exit. Across the tracks and over the northbound platform, a department sniper lay perched on the rooftop overhang. His position, I felt, was not so well thought out, as the setting sun was shining directly into his eyes. If he had to take a shot I only hoped he would know what the hell he was aiming at.

  Besides the wino cop and myself, there were only two other people on the platform. One was a middle-aged gentleman, tall, clean-shaven and smartly dressed, but wearing a seriously bad toupee; the other a woman, old and lumpy in all the wrong places and clinging to her handbag with a paranoid eye toward the wino cop who, admittedly, did look scary.

  Exactly four minutes after I stepped foot on the platform, a shimmering light from the headlamp of the 5:15 southbound began dancing on the horizon. An equal distance in the other direction, a similar glint from the 5:15 northbound also flirted upon the tracks. The man and the woman beside me inched closer to the yellow line marking the edge of the platform. Off in the corner I spotted wino cop staging a phony stagger to his feet. I slipped my hands into my pockets, and as I did my phone rang, startling the old woman into clamping a bear hug onto her purse. I took the phone out and answered it.

  “You haven’t much time,” a man’s voice said, and I realized right away it was not Lemas Winterhutch, James Putnam or whatever the hell he called himself. I glanced over at wino cop. He didn’t seem alarmed by the call so I guessed for a moment it could have been one of Tony’s men.

  “Who is this?”

  The voice came back harshly, “Shut up and listen. When I say now, I want you to jump the tracks and cross over to the other platform.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Toe the edge of the platform and get ready to cross.”

  I looked again at wino cop. Clearly he had not a clue as to what was going on. Across the tracks on the roof’s overhang, the sniper lay like a stone, his sights narrowed in on toupee man for all I knew. I had no way of letting him or any of Tony’s men know what was happening. I only imagined that with all of his precautions, Tony had not planned for this contingency. I gathered another look down the tracks in both directions. The trains were slowing, but nearing the station on equal terms.

  “What if I don’t cross the tracks,” I said. “Are you going to kill some mother and child like Lemas said?”

  “Better,” he answered. “I’m going to kill the two girls from your apartment building.”

  “What girls?”

  “Young Abigail and Anne: the children whose balloons you retrieved from the tree the other day?”

  “Snot-nose and whiny ass? Shit, smok`em. Ain’t no skin off my nose.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Try me.”

  “I will. You have roughly ten seconds left to cross the tracks and get to the other platform before the trains pull into the station. Fail and the children die.”

  He hung up on me before I could tell him what a colossal dick he was for dragging a couple of snot-nose whiny ass kids into the equation. It’s not that I cared all that much about them, but I knew Tony would have gotten all bent out of shape if I didn’t do something to stop him. So I toed the yellow line like the man said and I jumped down onto the tracks. I could see wino cop from the corner of my eye snap to attention as if prodded with a sharp stick. Sniper man up on the roof swung his rifle toward the stairwell, perhaps anticipating a rush of bad guys from that direction.

  From down on the tracks the trains appeared much larger and closer than I first thought; maybe because they were. But I didn’t wait around to confirm my instincts. I launched into a sprint like a frightened gazelle, ignoring my cell phone, which started ringing the moment I started running. I imagined it was Tony, wondering what the hell I was doing. I wondered why the hell he was calling me with two trains bearing down on my ass like streaking comets. They were nearly on top of me now, air horns blaring in stereo, drowning out the screams from old lumpy ass back on the southbound side of the tracks. She was still clutching her handbag for dear life, but it was nice to know that she cared enough for me to take her eyes off wino cop for all of seven seconds, which was all it took for me to reach the other platform, scale the wall and pucker my ass on the safe side of the yellow line.

  I turned to face the southbound platform just as the northbound train came ripping into the station, the screech from its wheels tearing at my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. I strained to look through the passing windows to the other side and saw wino cop still on the platform. He had his radio out and was yelling into it, but for the noise I could not hear a word.

  The northbound had nearly come to a full stop when the southbound rolled in alongside it. The squall from its wheels were just as loud but its pitch less piercing to the ears. My phone began ringing again and so I answered it, hoping to give Tony the heads up on the change of plans. Only it wasn’t Tony; it was that dickweed.

  “Drop your phone and get on the train,” he said, though the door hadn’t even opened yet.

  “Can you see me?” I asked.

  He shouted back, “Do it!”

  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  The doors opened.

  “I said drop the phone and step aboard.”

  “Wrong. I’m only holding up one. It’s the middle finger. See?” I waved the bird over my head like a banner. “Ha. Fuck you, asshole.”

  “Do it, Adams. NOW!”

  “All right.”

  I stepped onto the train and rapped the phone against the wall, hoping the jolt would convince him that I had pitched it like he told me to. But as I put it back up to my ear I heard his scratchy voice cawed back. “Lose it.”

  I tossed it out the door just before it closed. A sudden jerk set the train car in motion and I was northbound, my senses heightened and wits abound, ready to bring it all on.

  I looked around the car and noticed it empty, save for a kindly-looking old gentleman sitting way in the back. He seemed only mildly interested in me, puzzled perhaps at my actions concerning the phone. He had been reading the paper when the train first sto
pped, and when he saw me looking at him he returned to the folds of the local section. I turned my eyes away, but kept tabs on him just the same by watching his reflection in the dirty windows.

  The next stop was Willow Junction, so named because of the street it was on and because it was indeed a true junction. At that stop the northbound line ends. From there one can catch the southbound to Boston, the eastbound to Ipswich or the westbound to Lowell; all nice places, but nowhere I particularly wanted to be.

  Just three minutes after rolling out of Jefferson we squealed to a stop at Willow. There I was met by a stocky little runt in an overcoat and fedora, looking like a caricature straight out of a Mickey Spillane novel. I recognized his awkward walk and that stupid hat right away.

  “Lemas,” I said, “at last we meet. Third time’s a charm, isn’t it?”

  He pulled a revolver out from under his coat and pointed it at me. “Walk, Ms. Adams.” He motion towards the stairs with a nod.

  “What, you’re not going to kill me here?”

  This time he gestured with the gun, flicking the muzzle toward the stairwell twice before leveling it again at me. “Walk.”

  “All right, all right, I’m going. See?”

  I started toward the stairs, and could tell from the shadows that stretched ahead of us that he preferred maintaining a two to three foot distance behind me—this, I suppose, was so that I could not turn abruptly and drop a karate chop down on his gun hand; ridiculous I know. Who did he think I was, the Green Hornet? Didn’t he realize how easily I could reduce him to ashes? I gathered something more mysterious was brewing than what Lemas Peckerhutch was letting on, but I couldn’t figure it out. It puzzled me why he didn’t just shoot me on the platform. He seemed eager enough to kill on sight when he thought I was that poor woman in the parking garage. Still, it intrigued me. I know Tony wouldn’t have approved, and maybe that’s exactly why I did it, but I decided to let the sniveling twerp play his game just long enough to see what it was. They say that curiosity kills the cat; well, it almost did.

  Waiting for us at the bottom of the steps was a black limousine, the kind the teenagers like to rent on prom night: long and sleek with dark tinted windows and coach lamps flanking the oversized back door. Putnam opened that door for me, flaring his hand with a bow as if presenting the open gates of Camelot. I smiled with anticipation, wondering when he would lower the boom on my head and stuff me in the trunk instead. I pulled back and offered the honor to him.