Bones of a Witch (7 page)

But perhaps the best clue came not from what we
observed of our perpetrator, but from what the camera mounted
outside the garage door observed as the killer hopped into his car
and sped away.

“Got a licenses plate number.”
Spinelli gleefully announces after working the computer to enlarge
and enhance the vehicle’s tag. And by enlarging and enhancing the
tag, we were also able read the bumper sticker to the right of the
tag which distinguished the vehicle as a rental from
New Castle Budget Car Rentals
down on Lexington.

Now things were really moving. I asked Carlos
to check out the lead by making a quick phone call to the car
rental, while Spinelli showed me the photos he had taken with his
own camera down at the crime scene. Right away I could see that the
kid had a good eye for detail. He not only took pictures of the two
cars and their plates on the ground floor, but also of the eight
others parked on the second and third levels. Along with those he
snapped photos of all the exits, entrances, stairwell, elevator and
the fire alarm box that Lilith pulled. And then there were the pics
of the victim, photos so detailed and graphic that our own
department photographer might take some cues from Dominic on how
it’s done.

But the most intriguing photo of all was that
of the knife, an instrument of such stunning artisanship and beauty
that I could not wait to see it for myself. He had snapped the
picture where the knife lay when found on the ground behind the
trashcan, we had studied earlier in the security videos.
Lilith—being no slouch of a knife enthusiast herself—picked up the
photo and gasped. “Holy shit! What’s this?”

“Sweet, isn’t it?” I said.

“No it’s not. I’ve seen this knife
before.”

“What? Where?”

Just then Carlos came in, out of breath and
excited beyond reason. “I got it!” he shouted. “This is a big
break—BIG BREAK!”

Spinelli jumped up, nearly as excited. “What?
Tell us.”

“I have a name. The guy just turned the rental
in not a half an hour ago. The damn fool used his real name. Can
you believe it?”

Spinelli again, “Tell us, who is
he?”

“Lemas Winterhutch. The man at the car rental
says he’s some foreign guy. Lemas, what is that,
French?”

“No. Winterhutch, I think that’s
English.”

“Winterhutch could be French, too.”

“But it’s not. Tony, tell him.”

“It’s neither.” said Lilith, and we all simply
turned to her and shut up. I watched her take one last look at the
photo before tossing it onto the table. “It’s not even his real
name.”

Leave it to Carlos to dare speak first. “Well
then, w…what is his real name?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, but it’s not
Lemas Winterhutch.”

Spinelli took a turn. “How do you know
that?”

She looked at me so I gave her my two cents.
“Yeah, how do you know that, Lilith?”

She snatched a pen from Spinelli’s top pocket,
flipped over the photo of the knife and wrote out the name, LEMAS
WINTERHUTCH. Just below that she wrote: SALEM WITCH
HUNTER.

“See. Lemas Winterhutch; it’s is an acronym.
The man’s a witch hunter.”

I went up to Lilith, put my hand on her
shoulder and stroked it gently. “What makes you so
sure?”

She reached down and flipped the photo back
over. “That knife is an American classic, though for all the wrong
reasons, I assure you. The blade is made of 924 stainless steel. It
represents the purity of Christianity, particularly the Puritans’
brand as practiced in 1692. The blade is also eight inches long,
representing the eighth sphere where all hell’s children go. The
hilt is finger formed, but you’ll notice for only three fingers.
This represents the Holy Trinity: Father, Son and Holy Ghost. It’s
also made of pure ivory, once again representing the Puritans and
the strength they find in God. But the pommel, that’s the prize.
It’s made of solid gold and is carved in the image of the wolf.
That’s the icon associated with Ingersoll’s Witness.”

I raised my hand to speak, funny I know, but it
seemed the thing to do. “Lilith?”

“I’m getting to that, Tony.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Ingersoll’s Witness is the name of a secret
society of witch hunters. This society began back in 1692. It gets
its name from Ingersoll’s tavern, where the first witch
examinations took place in Salem. After the witch trials were
suspended, the society took up witch hunting in secret with the
prime directive of exterminating witches wherever they find them.
They are men of unscrupulous morals who will stop at nothing to
facilitate their goals, including murdering innocent bystanders.
And it would seem, based on tonight’s events, that one of these
unscrupulous witch hunters has come to our fair town to rid it of
its resident witch.”

Spinelli asked, “But why now? Why has he come
here for you now?”

She folded her arms at her chest and let out a
sigh, as though it all could have been avoided had she only left
well enough alone. “Because, Dominic, I had to go and claim the
bones of my Aunt Ursula, who was also a witch. These men, the
hunters of Ingersoll’s Witness, they watch the news closely. They
scour the papers from Portland Maine to Portland Oregon looking for
news that might alert them to the whereabouts of a witch. When they
think they have found one, they go and kill her.”

“Well,” said Carlos, “this is one witch hunter
who has picked a fight in the wrong town, I’ll tell you that. We
are going to give this guy hell. Am I right, Tony?”

“You’re right, Carlos.”

“Dominic?”

“You know it, man. Lilith?”

The witch in her smiled teasingly. “When I see
this guy again,” she said, “I’m gonna tell him to kiss my ass.” She
turned around, lifted the flap on her back pocket and slapped her
cat’s paw tattoo. “Right there,” she said, “right fuck`n
`ere.”

The look on Spinelli’s face was priceless. You
could have knocked him over with a feather. Lilith turned and
started laughing, and then I started laughing. Finally, Carlos and
Spinelli broke up, too, and I realized that is why she did it. It
was her ass on the line and she knew we were more worried for her
than she was for herself. It’s totally the kind of thing I wouldn’t
expect from any of the old girls I used to date. The old Marcella
girls were prudes. I guess that is why I love the new Marcella girl
so much.

Lilith Adams:

I left the Justice center with Tony feeling
sure that I had convinced them I wasn’t worried about Lemas
Winterhutch. Truth was, though, I left petrified. I’ve known about
the men of Ingersoll’s Witness all of my life. The belief among
witch circles is that no one can escape their vengeance. Once a
witch hunter gets a scent of your trail, there is no shaking him.
Some old timers in the coven believe they employ their own brand of
black magic. Others say they are actually doing the devil’s work. I
for one don’t believe in the devil, but I believe in Ingersoll’s
Witness.

Tony must have sensed my uneasiness, because as
soon as we got back to the apartment he took me in his arms and
held me like he’s never held me before. It felt good. I won’t deny
it, but I have a reputation to protect. I palmed his chest and
pushed him away.

“Whoa. Easy cowboy. Feeling frisky, are
we?

“What?”

“We can do that later if you want.”

“Do what?”

“
Come on. Let a girl settle in
first, will ya?”

I walked to the sofa and plopped down on the
end cushion. Tony followed and took the seat beside me. “Lilith,
that’s not why I hugged you. I just thought you
needed….”

“What?”

He got back up and headed for the kitchen.
“Forget it. You always have to pretend you’re so cool all the time,
don’t you?”

I hate when he thinks he knows me so well.
“What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means.”

He’s right, I do, and he does know me well. “No
I don’t. I’m not acting cool. I haven’t the faintest idea what
you’re talking about.”

He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer.
“Whatever.”

He shut the door and started back for the
living room. I jumped up and met him halfway, folding my arms
around his waist and pulling him into me tightly. “Tony, don’t be
like that.”

“Me? Don’t
you
be like that. I know how worried
you are about this witch hunter. It’s okay to show your feelings. I
won’t think you’re too vulnerable.”

“I’m not worried.”

“Good, because you shouldn’t be. We’re going to
get this guy.”

“I know.”

“
All right then, come on,” He took
me by the hand and started me toward the door. “Let’s go out and
get a pizza.”

“No.” I pulled up short and yanked my hand
free. “Let’s stay in tonight. I’ll cook.”

“You?” He laughed cruelly. “You can’t
cook.”

“I most certainly can. I made you lasagna
once.”

“It was frozen.”

“Not when I served it to you.”

“No, it was nice and hot then. I’ll give you
that.”

“Then stay in.”

He turned his head, but was looking right
through me for sure. “Fine, but we’ll call for takeout. Feel like
Chinese?”

I rocked up on my toes and kissed him. “Love
Chinese. You’re buying.”

It was somewhere between the
Szechuan chicken and the moo goo gui pan when Tony asked me to pass
the soy sauce. I picked it up and moved it to just beyond his
reach. Of course he gave me
that
look. I played dumb and asked him,
“What?”

“I can’t reach it.”

“So?”

“So will you please nudge it
closer?”

I shook my head. “Nuh-ah.”

“What?”

“You can get it. Use your powers. Make it come
to you like I made that girl’s balloons come to me.”

“Lilith.”

“Seriously, you need to start practicing before
your powers fade entirely.”

“My powers are fine.”

“How do you know?”

“I know. Now leave me alone and pass the damn
soy sauce.”

I was about to use some magic of my own to
shove the damn sauce where the sun don’t shine, when my phone began
ringing in a tone I was not familiar with. “Is that my phone?” I
asked, though the look on his face assured me it wasn’t his. I let
it ring four times before he dropped his chopsticks and started
over toward my purse.

“No, no, I’ll get it,” I said. I grabbed my
purse, fished out the phone and answered it.

“Ms Adams?” A voice said.

I covered the phone and mouthed to Tony, “It’s
him.”

He signaled a dialing motion with his hands and
whispered, “Put him on speaker.”

I did, and the conversation
continued.

“Yes.”

“I’m disappointed in you, Ms.
Adams.”

“You? Think how disappointed that poor woman at
the parking garage feels. You think you ruined her day?”

“A causality of war. It happens.”

“You’re a sick bastard, you and your
Ingersoll’s butt-fuck’n` dick whackers.”

“
Tsk-tsk, Ms. Adams; such
language. But you know the truth is that ours is a noble society
with a noble and righteous cause. And if you are familiar with
Ingersoll’s Witness, then you know we will not rest until we have
what we want.”

“And that is?”

“Why, nothing but the complete, swift and utter
annihilation of you and your kind, of course. We will not rest
until we have finished what our forefathers have started back in
1692.”

“Really? You think you can outwit
me?”

“Ms. Adams. We do not need to outwit you; we
need only to make you see things our way.”

“Ha! And just how you propose to do
that.”

His voice dropped to a matter-of-fact whisper.
“It’s quite simple. If you do not surrender yourself to me by this
time tomorrow evening, I will kill one innocent bystander every day
until you do. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Screw you, ya fuck’n` lunatic.”

“I will expect your call tomorrow to accept the
terms of your surrender.”

“Surrender this, asshole. I don’t think you
fully appreciate just who the fuck you’re dealing with. When I see
you—”

CLICK

“Uh, the little shit hung up on me.”

Tony took the phone and dialed back the last
incoming number. I didn’t expect he’d get an answer, Lemas
butt-wipe picked up. It wasn’t a long conversation. Tony did most
of the talking, and man you should have heard him. He was cool but
direct, delivering more promise than threat in explaining to
Winterhutch how he would crush his skull with his bare hands if he
so much as laid a finger on his girlfriend—that’s me. I have to
tell you, I’ve never needed anyone fighting my battles for me; I
still don’t, but something about watching Tony get all serious and
all, his teeth gritting, his nostrils flaring…well, it really was a
turn on. By the time Lemas Winterhutch hung up on him, Tony was
fired up like a Cummins Diesel. I jumped his bones and dragged him
off into the bedroom before he knew what hit him. The next morning
we had cold Szechuan and hot coffee, but not before I fired up that
old diesel one more time.