Kiss The Witch Part 9

"Ah-huh. I knew it. They are F.B.I."

"No. They are wearing $4000 Caraceni's"

"How do you know that?"

"I almost bought one. Wish I did. Bought a Holland & Sherry instead. It's nice. Vicuna wool."

"What?"

"Yeah it's nice stuff."

"What did you pay for it?"

He shook his head. "You don't want to know."

Ferguson finished showing the men out and then returned to greet us. "Detectives Rodriquez and Marcella, what a surprise to see you again so soon. Do you have news for me?"

I shook his hand first. "Actually, we were hoping you might have something new to tell us."

His expression fell into a practiced blank. "Oh?"

"Mister Ferguson, we know about QE647. It is not a corn syrup subst.i.tute. Now how 'bout you tell us what we are really investigating?"

"Please," he said. "Can we go up to my office?"

I looked to Carlos. He gestured with a sweep of his hand toward the elevators. "After you."

Back in his office, Ferguson seemed much more nervous about things than he was the first time we met. He invited us to sit, which we did, although he remained standing, his pacing nearly wearing a rut in the floor.

"If you don't mind me saying, Mister Ferguson, you seem mighty uneasy about something."

He looked at me, started to speak and then returned to pacing.

"Are you all right? Who were those men downstairs, the ones you walked out?"

He stopped at the window, pulled back the blinds and peered out nervously. He let the blinds go with a snap, turned to me and said, "They are watching, Detective. They are always watching."

"Who?"

"Those men and the rest of them."

"Are they organized crime? Are you in trouble?"

"Oh, if you only knew."

"Tell us. That's why we're here."

He shook his head. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Okay, then tell us about QE647. As I said downstairs, we know what it is."

"Then what more can I tell you?"

"You can tell us if it's true. Have you succeeded in creating a viable quasi essence compound, the essence of life?"

"Detective, I signed a confidentiality clause, a contract of secrecy. All I can tell you is that QE647 is a super sweetener. That's it."

"You're sticking to that, are you?"

Carlos laughed. "Ha, good one, Tony. Sticking to that. Funny."

"Mister Ferguson. You signed a contract. Did that contract include murder?"

"Excuse me?"

"Murder. Of your employees, Gerardi, Brookfield, Williams, Delaney and your own secretary, Julie McSweeney?"

"Those were accidents, every one of them."

"Or made to look like accidents."

"I don't know anything about that."

"Come now, Mister Ferguson. You are either very stupid or very loyal. I don't know which."

"I think stupid," said Carlos. "Who would be so loyal as to put their head on the chopping block to take a murder rap?"

"Good point."

"What do you mean? I didn't kill anyone."

"Maybe not, but so far the case is leading us down a road mired in murder, and all the road signs point to you. So, what do you say? Do you want to tell us what we're up against?"

"What you are up against? You are up against a robber who stole company materials and company secrets. Is it asking too much of you to do your job and get it back for me?"

"Why didn't you call the FBI or the State Police?"

"I told you. This case does not warrant a federal investigation, and it is out of the jurisdiction of the State Police."

"That may be true, but still you didn't call them."

"Detective, involving those branches of law enforcement would have resulted in bad press. Do you know how quickly a story like this can go viral on the internet? My investors would not like that one bit, believe me."

"Those suits downstairs, are they your investors?"

He hesitated, but gave it to me. "They represent my investors."

"So they know."

"About the theft. Yes, they know. Of course, they know. They know everything."

"Except who stole your compound," said Carlos.

Ferguson turned his head away. I stood and brushed the creases from my lap. "Mister Ferguson. Something tells me you got yourself in a whole lot of trouble. If it is not of your doing, we want to help you. If you are hiding your culpability, however, we will figure it out. Either way, you need to come clean eventually."

"I think we are done here, Detective."

"All right then, thank you for your time. We'll see ourselves out."

On the ride back to the office, I asked Carlos what he thought about Ferguson's demeanor.

"He's scared," he said, and I agreed. I told him I got the impression Ferguson wanted to tell us more, but could not. Carlos suggested it was because his office was bugged.

"Makes sense," I said. "Think they threatened him?"

"The suits? Oh sure, no doubt. In fact, it won't surprise me one bit if we wake up tomorrow to find that Ferguson had himself an accident." He let go of the wheel and made quotation signs in the air with his fingers.

I nodded. "Yeah, me neither. You know I only wish we had a reason to bring him in for questioning, maybe keep him overnight. At least that way we would know he's safe."

"So, let's go back and arrest him."

"On what charges?"

"We'll say he took a swing at you."

"Lie?"

"Yeah. Isn't that a good cop bad cop thing?"

"No. That's a bad cop bad cop thing."

He soured his face but kept his eyes on the road ahead. It took another mile or so before he turned to me again. "We could invite him."

By then, my mind had drifted off into what-ifs. What if we had stopped the two men accompanying Ferguson to the door and asked to see their IDs? Better, if we asked them for their weapons permits. At least we would have their names and possibly the names of their employers. No telling what Spinelli might have dug up then.

"Did you hear me?" said Carlos.

"What?" I blinked and found myself recalculating our location based on the scenery change outside my window.

"I said we could invite him."

"Invite who?"

"Ferguson. Invite him to spend a night at the jail."

"Why would he do that?"

"Uh, h.e.l.lo. To keep from getting killed?"

"Oh. Yes, Carlos. You do that."

I'm not entirely certain, but I think that later he did.

SIX.

I spent the rest of the afternoon with Carlos and Spinelli going over the accident reports for Williams, Delaney, Gerardi, Brookfield and McSweeney. We had no reports yet on our latest victim, Howard Snow, as the house he was in when it blew up was still too hot to bring in cadaver dogs. So technically, he was not yet dead.

From the way the reports read, one would have no sense of foul play regarding the deaths of the five. I mean, you cannot read too much into a drowning, an electrocution, a couple of deadly falls and a train wreck. As the old adage goes, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck then.... Well, you know.

It was just getting dark when I thought I had better start home to Lilith and Ursula. Though I promised both I would take part in their witch's coven ceremony, I have to admit I was not looking forward to it. Exactly why, I cannot say. It was not because I knew we would be getting naked together. Frankly, I am not that shy, and having seen Lilith naked a thousand times, one might argue I have seen Ursula naked a thousand times, as well. Although I would not put it just that way to Spinelli. And that Ursula had seen me in the buff on that stark occasion meant that we all could accept that aspect of the evening as no big deal.

Boy was I wrong.

I entered the house on a thread of trepidation. I suspect that happens when one comes home to a house lit entirely by candlelight. The sweet smell of jasmine and cinnamon hung in the air in thin wisps. In the background, a CD playing nature sounds mingled like forest whispers with the incense.

Naturally, I a.s.sumed I was late and that the girls started without me. I expected at any moment I would hear Lilith cracking the relative peace with a righteous volley of p.i.s.sing and moaning over my habitual tardiness. Instead, I heard a voice like an angel's, speaking so softly I thought it was only in my head.

"What?" I asked, needing to be sure.

"Come and be welcomed worthy thane. Let our hearts be thy guide, our souls thy light."

"Ursula?" I stepped closer, and my eyes began adjusting to the dim light. I saw her sitting on the floor Indian style, naked, her palms flat upon her knees. But for her hair tied in a bun the way she likes to wear it, I would have thought it was Lilith. To see her completely nude, however, I could not be entirely sure it was not.

I eased my shoes off and kicked them to the side. Her eyes followed them, first one shoe and then the other. I have always realized the striking resemblances between her and Lilith, yet I found myself utterly struck by the indistinguishable similarities now.

Her skin, though blotched in shadows, found a warmth of genuine luminescence all its own. I have seen that in Lilith, but in Ursula, I had not the inkling before to notice it. That and her face, chiseled sharply, yet softened like polished ivory glowing in the light of candles as if sunlight fed their flames.

I watch her eyes come to mine, and I let her see the path they took. Down her neck and upon her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. In my mind, again I contemplated the familiar. Surely, I had seen them before; felt them as Lilith's own hands guided mine over them, across her nipples, soft yet firm. And with a teasing nip, did I not steal her breath away? Did she not shudder at my touch? I know she did. I felt her melting to the warmth of my lips upon her.

Was it real? No. I knew it was not. I told myself to stop, to steer my thought and my eyes to the benign. This was Ursula, or was it? I was not entirely sure.

A candle sputtered at her feet. Shadows of her toes danced in silhouette against her belly. It caught my eyes and I did not turn away. I looked lower still, where the difference between Lilith and Ursula came down to a matter of natural preference, down where her pudendal veil faded into a shadowy nook.

"You're Ursula," I said.

A teasing smile thinned her lips, and if not Ursula's grin, my instincts might have misread it as an invitation.

"You're late," said a voice behind me.

I turned abruptly. A mirror image of the woman before me sat across the room in a halo of candlelight inexplicably bright. "Lilith?" I said, not meaning it to sound like a question. "I didn't see you there."

"Apparently," she said. I knew that tone. She knew what I was thinking. Read my mind. I knew it.