The Witch's Ladder (22 page)

From the beginning, Lilith contended that the ladder would be useless unless the holder believed in its powers. Several months ago, I would have scoffed at the notion of a simple piece of rope possessing magical powers, but then several months ago I had not yet met the unusual members of Doctor Lieberman’s workshop.

I arrived at Lilith’s home shortly before noon. I don’t know why, but I envisioned a medieval-looking building framed in a tangle of muddy-gray skies. I imagined crumbling brownstone walls, thick with mold and covered in blankets of creeping ivy. As I pulled my car into the driveway, however, a scene very different materialized. I found a house more pleasant than my own with white vinyl siding trimmed in soft hues of peach and gray pastels, and garden gnomes peeking out mischievously from behind miniature plastic windmills along the walkway. I found her lawn, meticulously manicured, green and lush, framing beds of multicolored annuals already in full bloom. It eased my mind and helped set my trepidation aside.

I approached the front entry, stopped at the door and pulled the wrinkles from my coattail. My fist clenched as I reached for the doorknocker, a large lion’s head with a brass ring in its mouth and a snarl so real I almost heard it growl. My knuckles whitened; my arm felt heavy and dull. I drew back on the brass ring, but stopped when I noticed the doorknob turning slowly on its own. The door crept open several inches, moaning on its hinges. I stepped closer. It opened wider, and a tiny white kitten poked her head out, managing to barely muster a squeak.

I looked down and smiled at possibly the cutest little kitten I had ever seen. She bravely ventured outside and approached cautiously on shaky legs, as though just learning how to use them. The irony was not lost on me. I laughed to myself, comparing how only moments ago I, too, felt skittish about the unknown, intimidated like the kitten before me.

I watched the kitten curiously sniff the tips of my shoes, her scrawny tail pointing straight up in the air as she explored yet another new scent in her bold and wondrous new world. A sight to behold, I thought, and one too irresistible to refuse. I made a move to bend down, hoping to befriend the kitten when my foot slipped backward, scuffing the pavement and startling the timid creature. The kitten jerked her nose back with a snap and then turned tail, scampering off into the house, presumably under a nice safe bed.

I straightened up and reworked the creases in my pants. I peeked into the house through the slight opening, pushing on the door gently to open it further. I saw no one inside, and if not for the stereo playing low, I would have believed that no one was home. I pushed again on the door, this time enough to cause it to open fully. It swung back until the doorknob bumped into the wall behind it.

“
Anyone home?” I called, though just slightly louder than the music on the stereo. “Hello? Ms. Adams?”

There was no answer.

I convinced myself something was wrong. Police instincts took over. I reached behind my back, under my coattail where I kept a holstered.38 in my waistband. I drew my weapon and stepped over the threshold in a classic police stance, announcing my presence properly.

“
This is Police Detective Anthony Marcella. If anyone is inside, come out slowly with your hands up!”

Again, there was no answer.

I moved in on a cushion of air, clearing the house room-by-room. Having made a clean sweep of the residence and finding no one, I holstered my weapon and headed back toward the opened front door. I passed through the kitchen and into the living room when a voice called from behind.

“
Leaving so soon?”

I wheeled about on the ball of my foot, reaching instinctively for my revolver.

“
Oh, come, Detective. I hardly think you need that in here.”

I looked around the room and then back at Lilith. She seemed to have appeared from nowhere, and stood in the corner of the kitchen far from any door or window. She wore a long white robe that hung nearly to the floor, and on her feet, unbelievably, were a pair of fluffy white slippers that looked remarkably like the little white kitten I saw on her doorstep earlier. I stood motionless, stunned and a little scared.

“
How did you, I mean what—where did you come from?”

“
Where did I come from?” She laughed, and for the first time it sounded like the laugh of a witch. “I live here, Detective. Perhaps I should ask you the same thing. Why are you in my home?”

“
I came to see you. The door opened. I mean after your cat came out, so I let myself in. I called for you. Didn’t you hear me?”

“
My cat? You’ll have to do better. I don’t own a cat.”

“
Sure you do. You have a cute little white kitten. She looks just like….”

I stopped before embarrassing myself further. Lilith smiled at me hauntingly, shaking her head, as if anticipating my next words. I smiled back, though not as easily. I straightened up and my smile fell away.

“
Never mind. The cat’s not important. I’m sorry for the intrusion, but since I’m here, if you don’t mind I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

She shrugged. “Hmm, I suppose.” She looked back at the kitchen table and seemed to point to it with just the arching of a brow. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll brew us up a nice hot cup of herbal tea. I think you’ll enjoy it. I grow the herbs myself you know, right outside in my garden.”

“
Tea sounds nice. Thank you.” I removed my hat and placed it on the table next to a dandelion centerpiece. “You know, Ms. Adams, before we get started, I feel I should tell you something.”

“
Oh?”

“
It’s about Gordon Walsh. We’re holding him downtown at the station.”

I watched for Lilith’s reaction, but she made no effort to turn around. She continued filling the teakettle with water. When she spoke, her remark came casually over her shoulder. “Gordon Walsh, you say. And why are you holding him?”

“
We’re holding him on charges that he conspired to kill Doctor Lieberman.”

Lilith finished filling the kettle. She set it on the stove and lit the gas burner, all the while humming softly. The unnatural indifference in her attitude struck me as a sign of her uncanny ability to block people out of her thoughts—something she apparently practiced routinely even though she knew I could not read them anyway.

“
Conspired to kill Doctor Lieberman?” she said. “That would imply a conspiracy, would it not?”

“
Yes, Ms. Adams. It would.”

“
I see. I suppose that’s why you’re here this morning. You want to know if I’m a part of that conspiracy.”

“
I’m just here to ask a few questions. That’s all. Of course, you’re not obligated to answer if you prefer not to. But I would appreciate anything you can tell me.”

“
Sure,” she said, and she turned her head in my direction to offer a wink. “Ask me anything you like. I’ll tell you whatever I can.”

“
Whatever you can? Or whatever you know?”

“
Hum… Well that depends on your questions, doesn’t it?”

She turned back and continued preparing the herbal tea. I took the opportunity to sneak my hand into my pocket and pull out the witch’s ladder. I gently loosened one of the knots on the line, keeping it carefully out of sight under the table.

“
I reviewed Officer Burke’s report from the other night,” I told her. “He was the officer on duty at the Center the night Doctor Lieberman was killed?”

Lilith didn’t comment; she continued chopping up her homegrown array of dried herbs and packing them into a tea strainer. The water on the stove was beginning to steam.

“
Anyway, the report says you all left the building the other night, that you gathered around Jean’s car and that she took something out to show you. He mentioned that it looked like a brown bag and that everyone seemed pretty excited to look inside.”

My tone remained calm and direct, and except for the throat clearing, I felt sure I controlled the pace of the interview without letting on how uncomfortable it made me. I watched carefully for even the subtlest of signs that my words might knock Lilith off balance, but she remained unflappable. Meanwhile, under the table, my hands were still busily working the first knot on the witch’s ladder. With a final tug, the knot broke loose. I pulled the ends apart and fired off the next question.

“
So tell me, Lilith. What exactly was in the bag?”

The words barely left my lips when a flash as brilliant and blinding as the sun struck the back of my eyes like a bolt of white lightning. I snapped to attention and a powerful vision streaked through my brain, gripping my senses and numbing my body. It came as a memory, or a flashback of sorts, only not a flashback of mine, but of Lilith’s. I knew immediately that having asked the question so suddenly, Lilith could not help but picture the contents of the bag in her mind. She had to think about the contents in order to concentrate on deliberately giving me a wrong answer. The amazing part came not in knowing that Lilith would conclude a mental image, but that the witch’s ladder really worked.

The moment came as an epiphany and solidified my belief in the powers of the supernatural. I had focused my attention on reading Lilith’s thoughts at the precise moment in which she formed the mental image of the bag, and surprisingly, with the help of the witch’s ladder I could see that image. So even as Lilith searched for a suitable lie, unaware I had breached her defenses, I possessed a clear picture of the bloody monogrammed towels and the reaction of everyone who saw them in the parking lot that night.

Officer Burke’s report stated that he thought the bag contained cookies, and so I tried hard to concentrate on the same thing, hoping to solicit a similar response from Lilith. Time seemed to screech to a halt. At first I feared Lilith would catch on to my game, but I kept a straight face and a steady nerve, and as the image of the bloody towels faded and thoughts of cookies took its place, Lilith at last turned back to face me.

“
Oh, that,” she said, brushing her hair off the top of her shoulder. “That was just a silly bag of…cookies.”

“
Oh?”

“
Yes. Jean baked them that afternoon.”

“
Really?” I said, nodding. “That’s what Officer Burke thought it was.”

Lilith smiled and turned back to her work, never suspecting my use of the witch’s ladder. She continued preparing the herbal tea, satisfied with her performance, and me, satisfied with mine.

“
Did I mention we found the murder weapon used on Doctor Lieberman?” I asked.

“
Did you?” She sounded surprised. “You found the saw?”

Finally, the slip-up I had waited for. “Yes, but how did you know it was a saw? We didn’t release that information to the press.”

She stood frozen, guilt-riddled and speechless, surprised for slipping up so carelessly. She laid her knife down on the counter, took a deep breath and let it out softly. “Of course not, Detective,” she said without turning. “I didn’t hear it in the news. I got it from you. Don’t you remember? I’m psychic.”

I smiled confidently behind her back. It felt good having managed to knock her off guard and set her up for the next question. With my hands still below the table, I loosened the next knot on the ladder and untied it with ease.

“
You know there’s one thing about the handsaw I just cannot seem to picture in my mind, Ms. Adams. Do you know what that is?”

“
Hardly, Detective.” I could hear the frustration building in her voice. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“
It’s Gordon. I just can’t picture him using the saw to cut Doctor Lieberman’s head off. Can you picture that?”

Immediately, her mind flashed back to the night of the murder. Visions of Michael came streaming into my head via hers. I saw him bending over Doctor Lieberman’s inverted body as it swung precariously from the tree limb by Gordon’s jumper cables. The flashback continued with Michael using the rusty handsaw to hack through Doctor Lieberman’s neck, causing blood to spurt and spew like a Texas oilrig onto his shirt, shoes and pants. Visualizing the gruesome imagery, I recoiled sharply and gasped, and in the process unintentionally revealed to Lilith my underhanded maneuver.

“
So, it’s Michael,” I said, fearing nothing to lose by my allegations. “Come clean, Lilith. Tell me everything you know about Doctor Lieberman’s murder.”

Lilith turned on her heels, clutching the knife she used to chop tealeaves so harmlessly just moments before firmly in her white-knuckled fist. She stood stiffly, simmering with anger. The look of betrayal grew cold on her face. Her eyes flared wickedly from ebony to fiery red, searing everything within her gaze.

The walls began to rumble. The floorboards groaned and splintered before buckling beneath my feet. Dishes danced nervously in the cupboards, rattling on shelves precariously hanging on their pins.

“
You would be wise to leave now, Detective,” she murmured through clinched teeth, displaying amazing restraint for retribution.