The Witch's Key (28 page)

“Here ya go, Capt`n. A little white mule will help
those weary bones. Bottom’s up.”

Spinelli came back with a whispered warning, “Easy,
Tony. That’s corn whiskey. It’ll tear you up quick.”

I took the bottle and made a good show of belting
back a swig that I hoped would stay down. After re-sculpting my
distorted face, I handed it back and thanked him like I meant
it.

He laughed. “Don’t thank me. Thank the stupid cop
that gave me the money to buy it.”

Suddenly it hit me who he was: the old wino in the
alley that Carlos, Spinelli and I stopped to talk to a couple of
days earlier. I had given him ten bucks, not figuring it would last
him the night. But instead of spending it on a meal and a simple
bottle of wine, he stretched it out, buying old-fashioned moonshine
and cheap cigarettes. He looked different now, maybe because he had
not just woken up. That morning he had an eyeful to look at with
the three of us dressed as if we were heading for a Halloween
party. But now I had dressed more convincingly, and the night
shadows were in my favor. He said he thought I looked familiar, and
now I knew why. I made it a point from thereon not to hold eye
contact with him for too long.

“Why did the cop give you money?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Why do they ever? Not because they feel
sorry for you. Know what I mean?”

I laughed. “They ain’t the Sallies. That’s for
sure.”

“Got that, my friend.” He belted back a hit of
moonshine and tried handing the bottle back to me. I passed,
explaining that my stomach hadn’t felt right all day. He nodded as
if he knew well enough about that. “It’ll happen, spearing biscuits
this time of year.”

“What?”

Spinelli said, “He’s talking about fishing out of the
trash. Tell him it ain’t keeping so fresh in the can.”

“`Cause it’s hotter now,” said Smiley.

“Right,” I said. “It ain’t keeping in the can no
more.”

He looked down and patted his belly. “That’s why I
only hop the dumpsters at supermarkets and I only eat what’s on
top. That way I know it’s fresh.”

“Good idea,” I told him, although the thought of that
really did make my stomach turn. “Anyway, tell me what that cop
wanted from you.”

He drew another long drag on his smoke before
flicking the butt into the fire. “Yeah, the cop. There was three of
`em, actually, all dressed like frat boys in drag. Ho, what a
sight?”

“Yeah? Were they asking about all the suicides going
down around here lately.”

From the moment I opened my mouth, I realized I had
made a mistake. Smiley’s posture grew rigid again. His facial
expression hardened like stone. I could see him looking at me now
with renewed mistrust. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” I said, thinking quickly. “It’s just
that a couple of dicks stopped me today to ask about them. Thought
maybe they were the same guys.”

He rocked his head back and narrowed his eyes. “No,”
he said, clearly lying to me now. “They wanted to know `bout some
warehouse break-ins and robberies.”

“Oh, I see.” I nodded lightly. “Yeah, they always
suspect us first, don’t they?”

The vibes I got from him then set the hairs on the
back of my neck on end. I thought I’d break the tension by stirring
up the logs in the fire and acting less interested in his brush
with the cops. It was a move I never should have gambled on. Even a
rookie knows better than to let his guard down like that when he
senses unease in a situation. I leaned forward, letting Smiley’s
silhouette slip from my peripheral vision. To change the subject, I
asked him about the big jamboree coming up that weekend. “It’s
supposed to be the biggest yet in these parts,” I said. “Ever been
to this one?”

I finished poking the logs and rearranging the hot
spots, when I turned around and found Smiley standing over me with
a gun—my gun!

“Easy does it, Mister.” He had assumed a shooter’s
stance.

I put my hands up and backed away from the fire.
“What are you doing?”

“You just caught out of Maine, did you?”

“That’s right.”

“Then how come you know about all the suicides here
in New Castle?”

“Are you kidding? They say word gets around fast in
hobo circles…
Witchit
…does.

“Don’t give me that crap. I know who you are. You
think you’re so clever.”

“
Me? Not nearly.”

“You must `cause I know you figured out I done
it.”

“I did?”

“That’s right. What? I don’t look like a cold-blooded
killer to you?”

“Wow!” I shook my head. “Actually, I’m surprised. I
had no idea.”

“Don’t lie, Mister. You knew it. That’s why you
questioned me in the alley. It’s why you’re here tonight. You knew
I’d be here `cause Gitana’s got a train pulling out tonight. And
you figured I’d catch out on it.”

“I see. And now I suppose you think you’re going to
get me to step out in front of that train.”

“The idea had crossed my mind. You can make it look
like another suicide.”

“What makes you think I would do that?”

He pointed the gun at my knees. “`Cause I can make it
a lot more slow and painful for you if you don’t.”

I shook my head. “I have back up on the way, you
know. You’ll never get away with it.”

“No you don’t, or they’d be here by now.”

“Witchit! Witchit!”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling for backup.”

“All right. That’s it. I’m just gonna finish you off
right here and now.”

He corrected his aim, pointing the gun barrel square
at my chest. Normally, this would be the part where Carlos and
Spinelli show up to save the day. I even grinned in anticipation of
that moment. But timing had not always been Carlos’ strong suite
and I guess Spinelli was no different. I watched Smiley’s eyes
pinch shut, as he pulled the trigger with a clumsy jerk. The gun
went off, splitting the night with a tremendous boom that rocked me
off my feet. I remember lying flat on my back after that, looking
up at the stars, trying to catch my breath. All the while that
incessant ringing in my ears seemed to reverberate in repeating
waves throughout my brain. The next thing I knew, Carlos was
kneeling over me, cradling my head in his palm and pleading with me
not to die. I put my hand up to his face and touched his cheek. It
felt wet with tears and rough with stubble.

“Carlos,” I said, and though the ringing in my ears
had begun to fade, I could barely hear my own words. “Carlos, do me
a favor.”

He choked back his tears and answered bravely.
“Anything, Tony. What is it? Do you want me to tell Lilith you love
her?”

My hand was still against his cheek, which made it
easy to pull back and slap him as hard as I could. “No! Damn it.” I
latched onto his coat lapel and yanked hard. “Help me up, will you?
For crying out loud, pull yourself together.”

After getting to my feet, I saw that Spinelli had
already cuffed and secured Smiley and was heading over to us. “You
all right?” he asked, though clearly he was not as concerned as
Carlos about my well being.”

“I’m fine,” I said, pulling my coat sleeves
straight.

“Man,” he said, “that was close.”

“Close? Dominic, he shot me!”

“Yeah. Aren’t you glad you saddled up?”

Carlos grabbed my arm and spun me around. “Wait.
You’re wearing a vest?”

I turned again to Dominic. “You didn’t tell him?”

He lifted his shoulders and dropped them loosely.
“Was that important?”

“Ah, jeez, Spinelli.” I pointed at Smiley and
gestured his eviction with a hike of my thumb. “Get him out of
here, will you?”

I waited for Spinelli to leave with his prisoner
before facing Carlos. He seemed more embarrassed than relieved,
which was kind of sad considering our long history together.
“What?” I said. “You would rather I died?”

“No, of course not.” He slapped me on the chest where
the bullet had bruised my sternum, causing me to recoil sharply.
Still, I suppose I deserved that.

I caught my breath with much less effort than before.
“Look, Carlos. I didn’t know you didn’t know, but for what it’s
worth, I’m touched. You and me, we’ve been through a lot over the
years. If you didn’t cry, I would be hurt.”

He straightened his back and inflated his chest. “I
didn’t cry.”

I laughed. “You did so. I saw tears.”

“I got smoke in my eyes.”

“You got diddley in your eyes. What is it with you
Cubans that you can’t show emotion in front of other men?”

“I can show emotion.”

“Then show some now.”

“You’re not dead now.”

“I gotta die first to see you get emotional?”

“It would help.”

“Forget it. Go catch up with Spinelli and see to it
that he processes the prisoner correctly.”

“What are you gonna do?”

I waved my hand over the campsite. “I’m going to
douse this fire, pack up my gear and go home so I can take a long
hot shower. Is that all right?”

“Sure.” He gave a nod and then started away. I had
already turned to start kicking dirt into the fire when he came up
from behind and clamped a big old bear hug on me. I had not the
heart to tell him how much it hurt. I just grit my teeth and took
it.

“Glad you’re all right, Tony,” he said into my ear.
Then he let go and trotted off down the path to catch up with
Spinelli.

I snuffed out the fire, thankful that the moon had
come up high enough by then for me to see without the need of a
flashlight. In the breath of tranquility, I found myself keenly
aware of the subtle nuances in the sounds around me. The chirping
crickets and the gentling rustling of leaves followed a rhythm that
seemed in step with my own heartbeat. Off in the distance, I heard
the faint rumbling of steel wheels chattering on the tracks below
the Jefferson Street Bridge. It made me wonder from how far off
someone like Pops might hear a train coming with a night as still
and wind as calm. Had events turned out differently so many years
ago, I might have known the answer.

A short while later I started for the dirt path, my
bedroll tucked under my arm, my thoughts focused again on that hot
shower, when I heard a strange noise. I looked over my shoulder,
expecting to find that a smoldering log had popped a knot
harmlessly into the ashes. Instead, I saw Lilith, dressed all in
black and holding a witch’s key up to her eye. I turned around and
dropped my bedroll, but as I began toward her, she ordered me to
stop.

“You,” she said. “Are you the one?”

“Me?” I pointed at myself, as if it could be anyone
else. “Lilith, I don’t understand. What are you….” Then it hit me.
My mouth went slack and my heart nearly bounced right out of my
chest. “Gypsy,” I whispered. She looked so much like Lilith I could
hardly believe it.

“Are you the one?” she said again.

“The one what?” I answered.

“The one called, Tony Marcella.”

I swallowed back a lump in my throat. “Maybe.”

She held the witch’s key to her eye again. “It is
you.”

I laughed nervously. “What is that, like some kind of
magic window or something? You just look through it and you can
tell a person’s name?”

She lowered her hand, slipping the key into her
pocket. “So, you
have
partaken in the right of passage
ceremony, I see. That is a shame.”

“Is it? Sorry to disagree, but as you can see, it’s
not been all that bad for me. You have to admit, I do look
great.”

Her expression soured the way Lilith’s does when I
try telling her a joke that she does not get. “You are not what I
expected.”

“Hell, what did you? You haven’t seen me in over
sixty years. And from what I understand, the candlelight might have
shown a little funny on my face, as you tried to KILL me. Did you
really try to do that?”

“Yes.”

“That’s insane. What makes a mother do such a thing?
Aren’t there certain maternal instincts that’s supposed to kick in
once you give birth? Didn’t you feel them?”

“I felt nothing.”

“But yet you carried a lock of my hair around on a
chain all these years. So, you must have felt something.”

She stepped closer to me, but I backed away in equal
measure. “I carried a lock of your hair to remind me of the shame I
bared in not fulfilling the duties of my covenants.”

“Why be ashamed of me?”

“Because you are a boy,” she said.

I splayed my arms with palms up for full
presentation. “Well, boyish maybe, I’ll give you that, but I like
to think I can hold my own with the guys down at the Second
Precinct.”

“No!” Her voice grew wickedly colder. “You were born
a boy. That is not how it is supposed to happen. The first born to
a witch must be a girl, or there can be no more witches in the
lineage until the spoiler is eliminated.”

“Oh-ho, I get it,” I said, cupping my hands together.
“That’s why you wanted to kill me. I’m a spoiler. Well, pardon me
for living, MOTHER. And trust me, there is another word I’d like to
insert after mother, but I am a gentleman, after all.”

She moved in closer and again I backed off.

“You’ve kept me in limbo long enough, Anthony. I was
willing to wait for your natural death, but now you’ve gone and
ruined everything by returning to prime. I cannot allow another
day’s delay.”

She reached into her pocket and removed another
witch’s key, one much more similar to the keys that Lilith had and
the ones Carlos found. She pointed it at me, and at once I felt a
peculiar sensation, as if gripped by magnetic forces from all
around me. I tried stepping away, but found my feet unwilling to
move.

“How did you know I had returned to prime?” I asked,
only I thought the words, rather than said them. My mouth, like
nearly all the voluntary muscles in my body, had ceased
working.

“There are information sources for such things.”