Kiss The Witch Part 19

"They?"

"The government."

I looked to Carlos. He gestured an easy shrug. "Mrs. Williams. Are you saying the government murdered your husband?"

"Of course they did."

"But the coroner's report"

"The coroner's report stated he died of blunt force trauma to the head resulting from a fall, which is true. What the report does not state is that someone tossed him over the balcony that night."

"With all due respect, ma'am, from what I understand, the report also put his blood alcohol level at twice the"

"Legal limit, I know. But I'm telling you. My husband could hold his liquor. There is no way he fell over the railing of that balcony on his own. If you ask me, it was those men who came to see him the night before."

"Men?"

"Government men." She took another drag of her cigarette before crus.h.i.+ng it out in an ashtray on the coffee table. "The night before his death, two men came to the house to talk to Mark. They met in the kitchen. Spoke in hushed tones so I couldn't hear their conversation."

"How long did they stay?"

She raised her left shoulder and dropped it lightly. "Not long. Ten minutes."

"Then what?"

"They left, and Mark seemed different after that."

"How so?"

"He seemed nervous. Paranoid even. He didn't go to work the next day. Said he didn't feel well. I asked him to talk about it, but he wouldn't. He went upstairs to his office and didn't come out after that."

"Tell me about his death. Who found him?"

She grabbed the pack of smokes, coaxed another cigarette out of the pack and lit it up. "I found him. I went to his room around six o'clock to bring him something to eat. I knocked on the door. Got no answer. So I went in."

"And?"

"He wasn't there. I noticed the French doors opened to the balcony, which seemed strange because it was raining. The wind was blowing, pus.h.i.+ng rainwater in through the curtains. I went over to shut the doors. I don't know why, but instead of shutting them, I walked out onto the balcony and looked down over the railing. That's when I saw him."

I turned around and looked out beyond the sliders onto the patio. "There?"

She blew a trail of smoke that seemed to point at the very spot. "Yes, Detective. There. Of course, the sliders down here were closed. As I said, it was raining, so I didn't hear him fall."

"Did you let anyone in the house that night?"

"No."

"Did you see or hear anyone else in the house?"

"No."

"Then how could someone have gotten to your husband to kill him?"

"Someone could have climbed the outside stairs."

"The outside...."

I stepped out onto the patio. Carlos followed. Around the corner, we found a wrought-iron spiral staircase leading up to the balcony outside Williams' office. "Did you tell the police about your theory, Mrs. Williams?"

"I told the investigating officer. A pig with an overblown ego and the manners of a baboon."

"What did he say?"

"He blew me off."

"Did you get his name?"

She didn't have to think about it. "Sergeant Powell."

I looked at Carlos. He shook his head and turned his eyes to the ground. I handed her my card. "Again, Mrs. Williams, we are sorry for your loss. We will look into this. I promise. In the meantime, if you remember anything else about the men who came to see your husband, please let me know."

"I remember their car," she said.

"Oh?"

"After they left, I looked out the window. I saw a dark-colored sedan pulling out of my driveway. It had blacked-out windows, half-moon hubcaps, a riveted gas lid and dual antenna on the trunk."

"Wow," said Carlos. "Sounds like a G-car to me."

Williams added, "The plates read CARE-1."

That got our attention.

"CARE-I?" I said. "Are you sure?"

"You think I'm mistaken?"

I shook my head. "Of course not. Thank you for your time."

Back in the car, I asked Carlos what he thought of the widow Williams. He said he thought the old girl seemed sharp enough, but doubted her suspicions about the spiral staircase intruder.

"Why?" I asked.

"Come on. You saw those pictures on the bookcase and mantle. Every one of them showed Williams holding a drink. I believe someone came to talk to him. Maybe upset him enough to drive him to binge drink. But if it were raining, Williams would have had those French doors shut. No one could have gotten in from the outside."

"What if he let someone in?"

"Why would he do that if he was frightened and upset?"

"Hmm, good point. Maybe we should have gone upstairs to look for signs of forced entry through the French doors."

"You want to turn back?"

I checked my watch, remembering Lilith wanted me home by six o'clock in time for dinner. "Better not. We can do that tomorrow. I need to get home. Fact, I should call Lilith now and" My phone rang just as I was reaching for it. "See? That's probably her now."

I heard Carlos making light whipping noises as I answered it.

"h.e.l.lo?"

It was Spinelli. "Tony. Got it."

"Got what?"

"A run on the tags you asked me about. They are not Ma.s.sachusetts tags. They are U.S. government tags registered to the Department of Agriculture."

"Department of Agriculture? I guess that makes sense. The DOA would have an interest in Biocrynetix Laboratories if they were working on a corn syrup subst.i.tute."

"Yes, but listen. Because it is registered to DOA, does not necessarily mean it is a DOA car."

"How do you mean?"

"It's the oldest sh.e.l.l game in government. The Department of Agriculture is the department the government uses for clandestine operations without going underground. By simply cloaking themselves in the fog of the DOA, they appear legit while staying below the radar of Congressional budget and oversight committees."

"Who are they?"

"Could be anyone: CIA, NSA, DoD, Homeland Security. Pick one."

"Which one of those agencies is known for a.s.sa.s.sinating American citizens?"

"Officially? None of them."

"Unofficially?"

"Unofficially, it could be the Boy Scouts of America. I don't know, Tony."

"Okay. I get it. Listen. Before you go home tonight, can you dig up the medical examiner's reports on McSweeney, Gerardi and Brookfield? Look for anything out of the ordinary. Drugs in their systems, alcohol, anti-depressants. We'll get together on it tomorrow."

"Roger that Kemosabe."

I hung up. "Nice," I said to Carlos. "He called me Kemosabe. Do you believe that?"

"What?"

"That's what I call you."

"So?"

"So, what now I'm his Kemosabe?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"It's not very respectful."

"Oh, but it's okay when you call me Kemosabe."

"That's not the same."

"Why not?"

"Because he's just a kid. I'm forty years his senior."

"Not any more. You're about the same age now."

"On the outside maybe."

"On the inside, too."

"You know what I mean."

He shook his head. "No, that's not it."

"Oh really? Then what is it?"

"He meant it as a term of endearment, a gesture of camaraderie between good friends. That is something you can't reconcile right now because of what you did with his fiancee last night."

"What do you mean? I didn't do anything with his fiancee. It's what she did to me."

"Oh, so now you're the victim."

"Yes. No. I mean there is no victim. Nothing happened last night that anyone needs to be ashamed of."

"Good, then you should tell Dominic everything."

"I will do no such thing, and neither will you."

"Okay, but I think"

"I don't care what you think. This is between me, Dominic and Ursula. If my fiancee wants to tell him herself, that's between him and her."

"What did you say?"

"I said if his fiancee wants to"

"No you didn't."

"What?"

"You said if your fiancee wants to tell him. You called Ursula your fiancee."