The Witch's Ladder (6 page)

“
Excuse me, Detective. Would you explain to the rest of us what divination is?”

I looked again at Lilith. “Ms. Adams. Would you care to take this one?”

Lilith looked down at the rope in her hands, which then had fifteen perfectly spaced knots. She held it up to me and pulled tightly on each end as hard as she could, and cinched the knots firmly in place. “My pleasure,” she said, and then hissed like an alley cat, soft and low. I felt sure she meant it as a playful jest, but it came out sounding sexy as hell.

I backed away from the filing cabinet and let her down. She turned to the curious group, threw her hair back over her shoulder and exhaled deeply. “Sure, Michael, I’ll tell you what divination is. Simply put, it’s a means of communicating with the supernatural, mostly for foretelling the future. It’s extremely ancient, with roots going back to the earliest civilizations. Today you see it practiced mostly in paganism, witchcraft and voodoo. For the most part, it’s harmless, and the majority of people consider it superstitious at best.”

Michael nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation, but I was not.

“
Oh, come now, Ms. Adams. Don’t stop there. Tell them how some people practice this art.”

Lilith stiffened her back and took another deep breath through her nose. She squinted low in scorn, rolling her lips inward and forming a narrow horizontal sneer. The corners of her mouth pinched, dimpling her cheeks, and for just a moment, I believed I could actually feel the rumbling of her anger in the floor beneath my feet. Nonetheless, she remained composed.

“
For some, Michael, foretelling the future is as simple as making an observation of natural everyday occurrences, such as cloud formations, or interpreting the way a wave breaks over a sandbar. Others prefer to toss rice or grain into the air and then read the patterns they make in the sand after they fall. As for me, I prefer to pour oil into a pan of hot water to observe the formation of bubbles and rings.”

At that point, you could hear a pin drop. For three years, Lilith participated in the workshop and no one in the group had known as much about her. Chris seemed particularly amazed at the revelation, while Gordon seemed the most intrigued. The twins appeared skeptical, even suspicious, perhaps believing Lilith much too audacious to practice such a benign form of divination as she described.

“
That’s incredible,” said Gordon. “You can actually foretell the future by reading oil droplets in water?”

“
Of course, Gordon, but that’s not all. Do you want to know the best part?”

“
What?”

“
The best part is that the spaghetti won’t stick to the pan.”

A spontaneous laughter erupted; the likes of which I believed surprised even Lilith. It was loud and robust and it went a long way in easing tensions in the room. I found it difficult after that to turn the tables to the serious side once again, but I was making a point, and I had to complete what I started.

“
That’s all very entertaining,” I said, and the clamoring ended almost as abruptly as it started. “But there’s another form of divination, Ms. Adams, isn’t there?”

Lilith folded her arms to her chest and shot me a look of pure disdain. “Yes, of course there is, Detective. Thank you for mentioning it. You’re such a dear.”

I gestured by crimping the brim of my hat, but not actually tipping it. She reached up and gave the brim a flick with her finger before folding her arms at her chest again. It happened so quickly, I barely had time to flinch, and the look of surprise on my face made her smile with satisfaction.

“
I believe what Detective Marcella is referring to is an ancient form of divination called hepatoscopy.”

The word meant nothing to most everyone in the room, save for Doctor Lieberman, who I caught gulping down a grape-sized lump in his throat.

“
Hepatoscopy is the examination or inspection of the liver of sacrificial animals for the purpose of foretelling the future.”

Lilith stepped back, reeling in the shock wave that rippled through the room like falling dominos.

“
My God! Is that what’s been happening here?” Valerie Spencer asked, her hand covering her mouth in revulsion. “Some lunatic is killing us in order to tell the future by reading livers? What kind of barbarian does such things?”

“
Yes,” said Michael, slamming the heel of his fist on the table. “Why haven’t you said anything about this before? This is totally unacceptable.”

“
It’s insane. Absolutely disgusting.” an equally disturbed Chris Walker declared.

Soon, the entire room ignited in chaos and disorder, with everyone yelling at everyone else and no one at all. Even the twins, who usually preferred to communicate via telepathy, were yelling at the men, the women, and at each other. Except for me, Leona Diaz was the only other person in the room not engaged in the ruckus. While I tried to decipher the accusations and innuendoes flying around the room in hopes of hearing something worth noting, Leona remained unwilling or unable to get involved. She sat alone in the corner, biting her nails and watching as wrinkles crowded her forehead.

The commotion continued unabated until Doctor Lieberman finally stepped in. “All right, everybody simmer down,” he ordered. “I need everybody to please take a seat and remain calm, everybody. Now!”

It took a few more pleas of persuasion, but eventually things died down to a restless murmur. Everyone took a seat, if not reluctantly, when Michael’s hand came down hard on the table once more. “Lilith, I ask you again. Why haven’t you mentioned anything about this before? Do you know anybody who might practice this hideous form of divination?”

“
Do I know anybody?” she said. “Hmm… You know I’m sure you just took the words right out of Detective Marcella’s mouth. The answer is no. I don’t. But do you want to know why I haven’t mentioned this before? I haven’t mentioned it because I don’t know anything. Why is it you all assume I would, because I’m a witch? Is that it? Just ask the crazy witch, right? She’ll know. Witches know everything about everyone who ever practiced hepatoscopy. Well, bullshit. I don’t. You asked me before if I thought Detective Marcella was right about the pagan-ritual theory, and I told you I didn’t believe it. Did any of you listen to me? No. Detective Marcella has been doing his job for over forty years, so you all figure he knows what he’s talking about. Yet none of you bothered to ask him how many cases like this he’s investigated in all those years? If you had, then you’d probably find the answer is none. Am I right, Detective?”

I looked at her and shrugged ambiguously.

“
So is this the other agenda you mentioned earlier,” Valerie asked. “The agenda you thought the killer might have for wanting the livers, if not for the pagan sacrifices?”

“
Yes, Valerie. Divination is one of them. I suppose there are many possible reasons why some sick bastard would do this. I just didn’t believe it was for human sacrifice to Pagan gods.”

Several nodded as though they understood, but Lilith appeared to find little comfort in that. Suspicions still ran high. Even I could sense it. When Shekina and Akasha turned to each other in a conspicuous attempt to discuss telepathically what they wished not to share with the others, Lilith blasted them.

“
And you. You little twerps,” she boomed. “Have you no courtesy? Do you think this is a game? If you two have something to say, why don’t you share it with the rest of us? Everyone’s trying to communicate out in the open so that we can all get this off our chests. I think it would be nice if you verbalized for the benefit of the telepathically challenged in the room so that we’re all on the same page here. Is that too much to ask?”

Doctor Lieberman cleared his throat, but did not speak. Lilith acknowledged the doctor’s signal and backed down without protest. Akasha stood, faced Lilith directly and laid it all out on the table.

“
Fine, I’ll tell you what we’re thinking,” she said. “Shekina and I noticed that you seem to know an awful lot about divination. You told us you don’t know who would do this, but you didn’t answer Michael’s question. Why didn’t you mention your theory about hepatoscopy before? Is it because you were afraid we would suspect you in the murders?”

“
Akasha,” said Lilith, “let me explain something. Witches employ many techniques for peering into the future. Divination for the purpose of clairvoyance is just one form of the technique, which is also called scrying. In theory, a skillful witch might engage whatever method of scrying she believes will produce the best results, regardless of ethics, morality or consequence. For gypsies, it’s the crystal ball. For true magicians, shamans and witches, it could likely be shiny objects and stones that they concentrate on, or mirrors reflecting moonlight. Of course, in some rare cases, it could even be the reading of livers and entrails of sacrificial animals, including humans. Now then, I have many ways of seeing into the future. As a diviner, a psychic and a damn good witch, there are plenty of reliable tools at my disposal for scrying, and all are just as effective as the other. I have no need to cause bodily harm to innocent people or animals when these tools are so abundant and free.”

Lilith surveyed the room with a glance, tallying the eyes of both believers and nonbelievers staring back at her. It seemed split somewhere down the middle. But there, conspicuously wedged among the believers, if she could trust her instincts, stood her newest supporter: me. I listened intently with an open mind, more jury than judge if I could help it. Regardless of which side of the fence anyone stood, all hung breathless on her word.

“
As I mentioned, divination through hepatoscopy is as ancient as civilization itself,” she told us. “And though I’m no expert on the subject, it seems to me that something about these killings doesn’t add up. For instance, why is it—and tell me, Detective, if you haven’t asked yourself the same thing—when Travis and Barbara were killed, their livers were cut out and taken, yet the two homeless men had their livers cut out and left behind?”

Most in the room understood that the question called for no immediate answer, but Chris offered a possible theory nonetheless. “Maybe the killer didn’t have enough time to finish what he started when he killed the two homeless men.”

“
That’s ridiculous,” said Gordon. “They were killed in a dark, lonely alley a week apart. The killer had plenty of time to cut them up into little pieces if he wanted to.”

Michael said, “All right, by the same token, perhaps in the case of Travis and Barbara, the killer didn’t have enough time, and so he took the livers with him to read later.”

“
That’s good, Michael,” Valerie answered. “I can believe that. It makes sense. What do you think, Detective? Is someone killing these people just to read their entrails? Or do you still think it’s a case of ritual sacrifice?”

I tapped the brim of my hat without answering, turned and started walking towards Leona Diaz, still the quietest one in the room. She sat alone at the far end of the table, closest to the corner by the door. Until then, few had noticed the fright on her face. As I approached, Leona stiffened her back and shoulders. She glanced several times at Doctor Lieberman, perhaps looking for reassurance, but his smile appeared to offer no immediate comfort. I reached the other end of the table and knelt beside her.

“
Hola, Leona. Buenos nochas,” I said, my voice trained softly. “Por favor, escusa mi Espanol. Para me, su sido un largo tiempo.”

Leona’s mouth pinched up at the corners, but stopped just shy of a smile. “Please, Detective,” she answered, nearly in a whisper. “Mi Ingles, es not so bad.”

“
Gracias. Porque no es preciso mi Espanol.”

“
De nada.”

“
Leona. Doctor Lieberman tells me that you can sometimes be in two places simultaneously, that you bilocate. Is that true?”

“
Si, Detective, it is true, but I do not have power over such things. It happens when I sleep, or if I am hypnotized.”

“
I see. Then tell me, while experiencing this bilocation, have you ever gone to Suffolk’s Walk?”

Leona pulled back sharply, gasping as though the wind had been sucked from her lungs in a single instant. Her complexion grew flush. I reached for her hands, which clung like vice grips to the arms of her chair. Terror blazed in her eyes and I thought for a moment I had seen the devil behind them. Valerie Spencer let out a shriek, perhaps evoking the vision that so horrified Leona.

“
What is it, Leona?” I asked. “What do you see? Tell me what you see.”

Her stare grew distant. Her hands trembled. She began reciting the Lord’s Prayer, first in English, then in Spanish, until eventually the words became undecipherable, neither English nor Spanish, but rather an utterance of nonsensical gibberish.

“
Glossolalia!” Shekina cried. “She is speaking in tongues. She is possessed with the Holy Spirit.”

“
Possessed?” I turned to her. “Why is she possessed?”

“
She is communicating with the Holy Spirit. Glossolalia will prevent Satan from interfering. She most certainly cannot hear you now, Detective.”