Fury From Hell (27 page)

Chelsea’s voice was rising and Clift knew that the reality was finally sinking in.  He motioned to Yearwood to go fetch the gardener.

“Stagg Rennkler was a good man; a generous humanitarian that used his money to help those much less fortunate.  But, many people in a position such as he was in tend to have some sort of security detail.  This is the thing my partner and I are trying to understand.”

“Of course, of course.  I’m…I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to lose control of myself.  I — I’m just…overwhelmed.  My father…”

Felipe walked in and the woman jumped up pushing Clift aside.  She ran crying into the handsome stockily built gardener’s arms.  The swarthy man stared at her and then looked over at the two men in shock.  His arms went around her and he bent to murmur in her ear.

Clift pushed himself up out of his kneeling position plopping himself onto a nearby lowboy where he rubbed his throbbing knees. They heard snatches of the conversation but knew the moment Felipe found out that Rennkler was dead.  Felipe stilled and sorrow enrobed his face.

Yearwood leaned close and whispered to Clift. “Think we’re done here.  Not going to get much more.”

Clift nodded and cleared his throat still wanting to ask a few more questions. “Ms. Rennkler?”  When she lifted her head and turned to look at him, he went on.  “I know this is a very traumatic time but we need to ask a few more questions.”

Her face didn’t seem to register his words.  Her eyes were vacant and full of sorrow. “Detective?  Who would do such a thing?  He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Yearwood chimed in smoothly.  “We were hoping you could give us some ideas.  Did he recently have a misunderstanding with someone?  Did he buy out a company hostilely any time in the last few months?  Were there any female relationships that were not — flourishing?”

“There was no one other than my mother for Daddy!”  She roared her face contorting in rage.  “Get out!  How dare you insult my father in this way!”

Clift and Yearwood were shocked, but hid it.  Without protest, Clift rose from the lowboy leaving one of his cards on it.  He nodded to them both while motioning to Yearwood to leave.  The detectives saw themselves out without uttering another word.

***

Monday, November 12
^th
— 4:20 A.M.

Jennifer looked at the white siding of the East New York house and shuddered.  In the dark gloominess of Lady Ariella’s Altima the free-standing two-story home looked shabby and haunted.  “You’ve got to be kidding me, right?  You took me from Prospect Heights to
this??”

“Do you really think anyone, including the Fury, would look for you here?”

Chagrined, Jennifer conceded.   The woman had a point.

“As usual Lady Ariella, touché.”

“Let me call them so they will release the bolts on the doors.  There’s a double set of them and a sophisticated security system in place.  It’s all done remotely so we will have our privacy.”

“Um, why do you need such high-tech security?  The stuff you guys mess with doesn’t it walk through walls…or something…?”  Jennifer trailed off.

The High Priestess chuckled.  “Yes, I guess it would seem counterintuitive.  But many of our biggest issues come from regular homo sapiens.  We have a lot of things delivered here some of it very expensive.  In this area, we are under the radar but a big enough percentage of those who live around here are under the poverty level.  If they can get some quick money by stealing our deliveries — they’ll do it.”

With her cop hat back on, Jennifer understood.  She grinned at the agile well-preserved woman.  “I guess the whole spiritual mumbo-jumbo stuff made me forget about the normal realities.  Sorry.”

“No worries.  After the night you’ve had.  I’m very glad you’re able to form coherent sentences.”

“Lady Ariella?  Before you call them, uhm, with all that’s happened that reading that Chad did for me keeps coming back to haunt me…”

“Jennifer, keep yourself positive and know that the Goddess, Herself, is protecting you.  Excuse me, please dear.  I need to make this call.” The High Priestess got out of the car as she dialed.  The door slammed and she walked a few steps away.  Moments later, she put her phone in her pocket and motioned for Jennifer to get out, and locked the car doors.  They approached the house.

Jennifer heard a whirring sound before hearing the deep
schlock
as huge bolt disengaged.  Sliding a custom IDenti-Key in the keyhole, Lady Ariella opened the door and motioned for Jennifer to proceed ahead of her.  Looking furtively around behind her, Lady Ariella followed Jennifer in and locked the door only after confirming that no one was watching.

Inside, Lady Ariella took Jennifer into one of the guest rooms on the second floor and gave her some toiletries.  The older woman shoved her towards the shower.  “Your stuff’s still with Kamali.  Sorry!  I should have taken your duffel in my car.  But when you get out here’s a big T-shirt of mine you can wear.  Just rest yourself on the bed.  I’ll come and get you when the herbal bath is ready, okay?”

Nodding numbly, Jennifer didn’t bother to ask what herbal bath.  She realized now how exhausted she was.  A hot shower and bed were the only things Jennifer wanted to think about.

Fifty-five minutes later when the High Priestess came back with the warm bath specially ordered by the Goddess in a large utility plastic bucket with Betty in tow, the witches found Jennifer lightly snoring on the bed with the T-shirt tangled around her waist and prim hipster underwear covering her entire bottom.  They looked at each other and sighed with good humor.

“I guess she’ll take the bath when she gets up?”

Lady Ariella laughed nodding silently and they both left the room.

***

Monday, November 12
^th
, 12:52 P.M.

Back in the car, Clift and Yearwood were silent for most of the return trip to Brooklyn.  When they emerged from the Holland Tunnel, Yearwood asked the question on both of their minds.

“So you find out your beloved father is murdered but you don’t ask how?  You don’t pump us for info?  Was she in that much shock?”

Clift grunted.  The daughter was hard to read and said as much.

“Come on, Clift.  That was a damned good show!  You can’t believe her off the cuff like that.  Or, do you?”

“I’ve been doing this a long time.  She reads true blue to me.  She wanted to know where he was.  She wanted to know why anyone would harm him.  She fell apart.  If that was acting, she should get an Oscar.”

Nodding, Yearwood agreed silently.  But something was off for him.  “But, there was no surprise.  She didn’t say that she hadn’t heard from him — nothing like that.”

“Kid, not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve.  These money types have a stiff upper lip and can hide their emotions.”

“But that’s my point!  If that’s the case she could be hiding that she was a part of the murder?”

“Doubt a man like that would shut his own daughter out of the gravy train.  But, we’ll check on all of that.  We’ll have another go at her in a couple of days.  But gotta remember she could get a lawyer, and then it would be harder to gain access to her.  Now that we’ve done our job and informed her, she doesn’t have to talk to us unless we pull up something pretty solid.  You know that.”

“Then, we’ve got bumpkus.”

“Maybe Babs will have some good news when we get in.  Let’s go by her first.”

Banging his fists against the window, Yearwood stared out the window wanting…needing something to do to help him fill up the hours faster.  His anger was still smoldering regarding Holden’s rejection, and the Fury was simply adding fuel to the fire already burning bright in his soul.

***

Monday, November 12
^th
, 7:00 A.M.

Stretching, Jennifer awoke slowly feeling refreshed and rested for the first time in several long days.  She sat up and was not surprised by her surroundings.  She remembered everything.  With a slight shudder at some of her recollections, she swung her feet off the bed and padded into the bathroom.  A quick shower chased away the gloom and foreboding she was feeling.  Her duffel bag was nowhere to be seen.  Shrugging she keep on Lady Ariella’s oversized T-shirt and went in search of her new best buddies. Skipping down the stairs she followed her nose to the kitchen where the tantalizing smell of bacon made her want to eat every morsel she could put her greedy little hands on.

“You’re finally awake,” said the High Priestess who was standing by the stove.

Frowning, Jennifer looked around for a clock.  Looking back at Lady Ariella in disbelief she gestured to the industrial wall clock.

“It’s only seven o’clock!”

Smiling, she nodded.  “Yeah, but you’re supposed to be at the precinct in a half an hour.  I’d like to see that…”

Realizing she was being ribbed, she dropped in a chair and snagged a piece of bacon that was sitting under several sheets of paper towels.  “Where’s Betty?”

“Think she’s still zonked out.  Can’t say I blame her.  Me?  I only need a few hours and I can go like the Energizer bunny.”  Lady Ariella was stirring something in a large silver pot with a wooden spoon and it wasn’t oatmeal.

Jennifer watched her carefully.  There was definitely more to the High Priestess’ reduced need for sleep than she was being told but decided to leave it alone.“So this bath thing…”

“Yes, it’s in the fridge.  We made 2 gallons worth.  You need to warm it up to room temperature, or take a bit more and dilute it with warm water — for comfort’s sake — and pour it over your body and air dry.  This way, the herbs remain on your skin.”

“Like a residue?” Jennifer wrinkled her nose.

“I guess you can use that analogy but I’d rather say so that the magic and prayers stay with you for the maximum amount of time.  You do this twice a day: morning and evening.”

“That’s a lot of baths.”

“Very true.  But, we have one of the others buying the herbs we need in bulk so that we don’t run out.”

“How long do you plan on keeping me out here?  And how long do I need to keep taking these baths?”

“The same answer for both,” said Betty, yawning from the doorway.  “Until the Fury is sent back to Hell, or killed.  That’s pretty much the same fate either way, right my Lady?”

Lady Ariella shrugged and continued to stir the contents of the pot.  Betty’s slippers slapped against the gray and powder blue linoleum floor.  Noisily pulling out a chair next to Jennifer, she looked blurry-eyed at her colleague.

“You look ready to go to the races,” retorted Jennifer.

“You don’t look too hot yourself, Princess.”

“Ladies, oatmeal and bacon’s ready.  I have a host of toppings to choose from in the pantry over there. Grab your bowls and come over here.”

Both detectives did as Lady Ariella bade. Betty snagged some brown sugar and raisins and brought the containers to the table.  Eating in silence, Jennifer looked at the High Priestess’ back.  Lady Ariella was busy stirring her pot on the stove; a bit
too
busy.

“Does she ever slow down?”

“Not really.”

Focusing on her breakfast Jennifer let her mind wander to the life she would probably no longer be able to continue.  Her appetite fled.  Sighing she ate half-heartedly knowing the two women would harp at her if she didn’t get something down.  Depressing thoughts kept plaguing her.  What happened during her blackout time early Saturday morning?  With a start, Jennifer remembered that Lady Ariella and Betty had probably asked the Goddess!  Looking up warily, it finally clicked why the High Priestess couldn’t, or wouldn’t come to the table.

Jennifer tried to make her inquiry as light as possible. “You guys must have had some conversation with the Goddess!  She gave you the ingredients to put in the bath to give to me, right?”

Just as she suspected, Betty’s head jerked up and she looked like a deer caught in headlights.  Jennifer
knew
in that moment that they both knew what had happened during her blackout periods.  Trying to hold her anger and frustration back, she took another mouthful of oatmeal and watched Betty keenly as she chewed and swallowed.  Jennifer didn’t bother to turn around to face the High Priestess.  She could hear Lady Ariella’s bustling by the stove had stopped when she had made her not so innocent inquiry.

“Uh, yeah,” said Betty almost stammering.  “Good conversation — as much as you can have with a disembodied spirit, you know?  Tee-hee.”  The attempt at humor withered on Betty’s tongue as she stared into the dark pools of anger in Jennifer’s eyes.

Betty poked Jennifer’s forearm and gave a mirthless laugh in a vain attempt to lighten the mood but Jennifer was done sidestepping the issue.

“Okay, spill it.  What did the Goddess tell you about what I did?  What aren’t you telling me?  I’m assuming I killed more than Derrick Palmer.  From your facial expression and the missing rounds in my gun, I killed three guys early Saturday morning.  Didn’t I?”  She put her spoon in the half-eaten bowl of oatmeal and pushed away the plate of tantalizing bacon but Jennifer’s eyes never left Betty’s.  The emotions that raced across Betty’s face would have been comical if the situation weren’t so dire.

“And don’t
lie
to me.  This is
my life
.  I am going to find out either from you, or from Internal Affairs sooner or later.  Right?”  She turned around and pierced Lady Ariella with a hard look.  The older woman’s face was impassive but her eyes though were filled with a deep sadness.  Turning back quickly to face Betty, Jennifer steeled herself for the news.

Betty broke eye contact and shoved away from the table refusing to look at her friend.  Betty tried to calm her own racing emotions to find the right words to explain it while remembering what the Goddess had said.  She did not want to see her friend crack under the strain that this knowledge would put on Jennifer.

“Jennifer Holden…”

Betty turned around and looked at Lady Ariella whose voice sounded…echo-y.  The expression radiating from the High Priestess was one of pure serenity.  But her eyes were the giveaway.  They were opaque and unseeing.  Swiftly, Betty went to genuflect in front of the High Priestess, thrusting her slippers off, and a sound like repressed tears came from her the older cop’s throat.