Blood Moon argi-9

by M. R. Sellars

  “So, wait a minute…” I said, gesturing with one hand as I scrunched up my forehead. “Let’s back up a second. If she disappeared over six months ago, how did they manage to identify her remains so quickly? There couldn’t have been much left to work with for a visual ID, could there?”

  “That’s just it, Row. She may have vanished last year, but accordin’ to the estimate from the county coroner, she’s probably only been dead between something like twenty-four and thirty-six hours.”

  “And she died the same way as your Jane Doe?”

  “Some strings got pulled, and they took ‘er to the city morgue, so there hasn’t been time for an autopsy. But she’s got a hole in ‘er neck. So I can’t say for sure, but yeah, it looks real possible.”

  “You know that could mean the killer is keeping the victims alive for a while.”

  “That’s one of the possiblities.”

  “Gods…” I mumbled. This was a turn I hadn’t seen coming. “I take it Major Case will be stepping in?”

  “Yeah, already have. And the Feebs too, of course.”

  “So… I guess that means you’re here to recruit me?”

  “I dunno. The way you look right now I’m not sure I want ya’.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, just returnin’ the favor.”

  “Yeah, I figured as much.”

  “So now that you’re not retired anymore, you wanna fill me in? Whether you think it’s important or not, I’d like ta’ know what happened that you’re not sayin’.”

  “Why do I feel like we’ve had this conversation before?” I asked.

  “Prob’ly because we have. Every time you decide you’re gonna quit. Jeezus, you really are out of it, ain’t ya’?”

  “Actually, I was being facetious.”

  “Yeah, well don’t,” he grunted. “It’s kinda hard ta’ tell with you right now. So what gives? What is it you didn’t wanna tell me?”

  I looked down and noticed that my shirt was buttoned off kilter. In my stupor I hadn’t really paid much attention to what I was doing, so I started about the process of straightening out the mess.

  “Okay,” I said as I redid a button while watching my fingers this go around. “Remember the problem I had with my neck?”

  “Yeah.”

  “To make a long story short, when I got home I started bleeding from the general area of the pain even though I had no visible wound.”

  “Bleedin’ from your neck? Jeezus, Row… That’s fucked up.”

  “I’ll agree with you there, but you’ve seen how aggressive the dead can be when they want my attention. It’s not the first time there’s been a physical manifestation.”

  “Yeah, but still… Bleedin’? That can’t be good.”

  “I know. But, fortunately, it didn’t last long, and like I said, there was no wound. All in all it really just looked worse than it was. It had Felicity a little on edge though.”

  “Ya’think?” he spat.

  I ignored the sarcasm and continued. “Either way, the only residual effect was one of my signature headaches and the nightmare about the swan, so I thought I’d be fine.”

  “Why do I hear a but coming?”

  “Because there is one,” I returned. “Cutting to the chase, the same thing happened again today. Right before I had the vision of the second swan.”

  “Today? How bad? How much blood did you lose?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. But it was messy enough that I needed to take a shower to get cleaned up before I hit the sack.”

  “Great. So are ya’ sure you’re okay? ”

  “People keep asking me that.”

  “Yeah, well I wonder why?” he said, the sarcasm creeping into his voice again. “You shoulda seen a doctor after the first time, Row.”

  I shook my head and answered, “Now you sound like my wife.”

  “Great…that just tells me that if you didn’t listen to Firehair, you sure as hell ain’t gonna listen to me.”

  “It would be a waste of time. At the moment, other than the headache, I think I’m fine.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Seems to me that was what ya’ just said about when it happened the first time?”

  “Yeah, I guess I did.” I shrugged. “Well, if I start bleeding again I guess we’ll know I’m wrong.”

  “Fuck me… You ain’t gonna up and die on me or somethin’ are ya’?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it.”

  “Yeah, well we both know all about how your plans work out, white man.”

  “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  Ben shook his head then reached up to massage his neck. “Jeezus… Have you told Felicity about this yet?”

  “You mean the incident today? No, not yet.” I glanced at the clock and squinted. I hadn’t realized until now that I’d forgotten to put on my glasses, which probably explained why the world was still so blurry to me even though the fog around my brain was lifting. I turned back to my friend and said, “Unless she ran long she should be home any minute. I figure I’ll tell her then.”

  “Damn…” he muttered. “You know she ain’t gonna be happy.”

  “Yeah, especially when she finds you here.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who broke the playground ban when you called me.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “But I’m still going to blame it on you.”

  “Why the hell would ya’ do that?”

  “Because you woke me up, that’s why.”

  CHAPTER 11:

  “Okay, so where to from here?” I asked. “Are you wanting me to go look at a crime scene or something? If so I need to make myself presentable.”

  “So I take it that means you actually wanna help?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I grumbled. “I don’t think I’m being left with much choice, am I?”

  He gave his head a vigorous shake. “Hey, I’m not pressurin’ ya’… It’s your decision.”

  “Yeah, right. Do you really expect me to believe that part of why you’re here isn’t to try talking me into helping with these cases?”

  “Well, no… Not exactly… But yeah… Jeezus H. Christ…” he stammered.

  “Okay, Ben, I’ve had enough,” I said, throwing my hands up. “You’ve been acting strange ever since yesterday. You ask questions like you want my help, but then you keep dancing around the subject like you aren’t sure what to do. One minute it seems like you’re pushing me, the next it seems like you’re backpedaling or trying to protect me from something. Why don’t you make this easy on both of us and tell me what the hell is really going on?”

  My friend reached up, smoothed back his hair, and then let his hand fall to his neck. After a moment he sighed and said, “Look, Row, I was tryin’ not ta’ say this, but I’m tired of it too, so here it is… Whether the brass likes to acknowledge it or not, they know damn well you’ve got a major track record when it comes to this sorta shit.”

  “Are you trying to say it’s not just you doing the asking? It’s the higher ups?”

  “Well…” He nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

  “When?”

  “When what?”

  “When did they first ask?”

  “Remember that call I got when we were havin’ breakfast yesterday. Well, it wasn’t just a prelim report from the coroner. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one ta’ get a hinky feelin’ about that Jane Doe. I don’t know for sure who made the decision, but my lieutenant strongly suggested that I try ta’ get ya’ involved if I could. I didn’t bother ta’ tell ‘im you were sittin’ right across from me.”

  “Now it makes sense,” I replied. “No wonder you’ve been so squirrelly.”

  “I’m pretty sure Helen calls it conflicted,” he said.

  “Yeah, that sounds about like her. So, why didn’t you just tell me you were getting pressure from the top?”

  “What would ya’ have done if I had?”

  I shrugged. “I do
n’t know, but…”

  “But what? That’s bullshit and you know it, white man. I got your number, even if ya’ don’t think I do. You woulda said yes because you feel like you owe me.”

  “Well, yeah… You’re probably right. And yes, I do owe you.”

  “Which is exactly why I didn’t tell ya’. You’ve been tellin’ me ya wanted out. Shit, you’d just finished sayin’ it again when they called, and I wanted ta’ respect that. I figured I’d just toss out a few feelers and see if you’d bite. I thought if I kept it all between us and if ya’ came up with somethin’ I could use, maybe I could keep everything from goin’ overboard.”

  I shook my head slightly, even though it hurt to do so. “Hell, Ben, even I can’t do that. It does that of its own accord and nobody can stop it.”

  “Yeah, so I’ve noticed,” he grunted then fell silent for a moment. When he spoke up again he asked, “So how bad did I fuck up, Row? You pissed at me now?”

  “I never said you did.”

  “Yeah, but I feel like I did.”

  “What is it you told me? Get over it? Besides, I think it’s pretty obvious I was going to get dragged into this no matter what I wanted. Your victims are seeing to that.”

  “I’m sorry ‘bout that. I didn’t want this ta’ happen.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s done and we can’t change it.”

  “So what now?”

  “We go back to my first question. Do you need me to go look at a crime scene or something?”

  “Actually, as far as goin’ anywhere, ta’ be honest all we really have is a couple of dump sites,” he explained. “So unless you got some kinda major Twilight Zone inspiration at the moment or you think lookin’ at a dumpster is gonna help, you can prob’ly just relax.”

  “Did you hear that, ladies?” I announced, looking up toward the ceiling. “The man said I should relax. You should too. I’m going to need your help with that.”

  “Who are ya’…” he started then caught himself. “Oh, yeah, never mind.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I really doubt they’re going to listen,” I replied then motioned with my hand. “Come on…”

  Ben followed along as I trudged through the dining room and into the kitchen. If I was going to keep from turning into a blithering idiot, I needed more aspirin and a giant cup of coffee to wash them down. I knew I could find both of them there.

  A quick glance at the time on the microwave reminded me I had yet to give any thought to what I was going to fix for the evening meal. I was already late with getting it started, considering that Felicity would probably be home at any moment, so I didn’t have many options unless we wanted to eat later than usual.

  “I need to do something about dinner,” I told Ben absently. “Are you staying?”

  “Depends. What’re ya’ havin’?”

  “I don’t know yet. But the way my head feels, I’m suddenly seeing carry-out high on the list of possibilities.” I pointed to the stack of menus held to the side of the refrigerator with a large magnet. “Want to see if anything there strikes you? I’m buying.”

  “Ta’ be honest, I appreciate the offer, but I can’t stay,” he returned. “I actually got plans with Constance.”

  “Uh-huh,” I grunted. “You just don’t want to be here when Felicity gets home.”

  “Well, normally I’d say you’re right, but the way you look and after what ya’ told me, I ain’t leavin’ ya’ alone. So I’ll be here until she gets in.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Nope. Ain’t arguin’.”

  “Okay, fine. If you’re just going to stand around then make yourself useful,” I said as I reached into the pantry and grabbed a bag of coffee beans. I turned and tossed them to him then pointed. “The grinder is in the cabinet above the coffeemaker.”

  “How much?” he asked, waving the bag.

  “Better make it extra strong,” I replied.

  I was already turning my back to him as I embarked on a personal mission. The ever-so-brief encounter with the pantry had managed to spark an idea. I didn’t know that it was necessarily a good one, but I hurt bad enough that my tortured brain was blindly following along anyway. I swung the door wider, tugged on the swing-out rack, and then started fumbling around the liquor shelf in the far back.

  “I don’t use all this fancy ass shit like you, Kemosabe. How much do ya’ put in for extra strong?”

  “Just fill the grinder up to the rim,” I called over my shoulder. “Then put the cap on and hold the button down for ten or fifteen seconds until it looks like what you would normally get out of a can. Sound doable?”

  “Y’okay. Full, cap, button, can. Got it.”

  By the time Ben set about the task, I already had my head partially buried in the opening of the deep cabinet, inspecting bottles as I shuffled them around in the dark interior. Even so, behind me I could hear an initial hesitant clinking, eventually followed by an all out dull rattle as he poured the roasted beans into the device. I continued working on the task at hand, and when I finally hit upon what I was after, I wrapped my hand around the neck of the bottle and pulled it out. It was at just about that same moment when I was closing up the pantry that my friend finished replacing the cap and leaned on the grind switch.

  The screaming whirr of the blades was joined by the sharp clatter of the java beans being violently crushed. The blended clamor instantly bit into my ears and ricocheted around the inside of my skull. Unfortunately, as the coffee was ground, the blades began to move faster, and as they did, their pitch increased. In direct proportion, so did my agony. When he finally released the button, even though I could barely see straight, the relief of the relative silence was almost overwhelming.

  I let out a heavy sigh then hooked around the island as he emptied the fresh grind into the filter basket and swung it shut. While he was filling the reservoir on the coffeemaker with water, I was in the process of rummaging through a nearby cabinet for a tumbler. Finding one in short order, I pulled it out then uncorked the bottle of bourbon I currently had death-gripped in my other hand. After pouring roughly the equivalent of a shot and giving it a quick glance, I turned the bottle up once again and didn’t stop until I’d counted to five.

  I set the still open bottle to the side and glanced over at Ben while pointing past him at a basket on the counter. “Do me a favor. Could you hand me that bottle of aspirin?”

  He pulled the bottle out and gave it to me. I popped the cap and shook five or so into my palm while he watched.

  “Think maybe you oughta take it easy with those?” he asked.

  I tossed them into my mouth without answering and twisted the cap back onto the bottle. Settling it on the counter, I picked up the tumbler of bourbon.

  “You ain’t really gonna wash those down with booze, are ya’?”

  I didn’t bother to answer that question either. I simply placed the glass against my lips then tilted my head back. When the tumbler touched the surface of the counter again, it was drained.

  “You’re fuckin’ nuts,” my friend grunted.

  “Want one?” I asked.

  He glanced at his watch. “Thanks, but I’ll wait for the coffee. I still got some time yet before I hafta go.”

  I could already feel the first twinge of the alcohol rushing into my system. It seemed a bit quick for that to be happening already, but by the same token I also knew I was downing it on an empty stomach. At any rate, I wasn’t worried. In fact, I began to wonder if maybe bourbon was a better catalyst for the aspirin than java.

  I turned the bottle up and began filling my glass once again.

  “You sure you wanna do that?” Ben asked.

  I ignored him again and kept pouring. When it was at about the same level as before, I lifted the tumbler, but this time a large hand slipped in and clamped onto my wrist. I shot an annoyed glance at my friend but didn’t fight him.

  “I don’t know what you’re worried about,” I said. “I’m not the one planning on
driving anywhere.”

  “Yeah, maybe so, but have you asked your liver how it feels about what you’re doin’ to it?”

  I half chuckled. “So when did you become the health police?”

  He shook his head. “I keep tellin’ ya’ that I’m just bein’ concerned about ya’, Row. If what I just saw is any indication, you’re eatin’ aspirin like breath mints, and ya’ know damn well you ended up poisoned and in the hospital last time ya’ did that. An’ if that ain’t enough, I haven’t seen ya’ drink like this in forever… Not since Eldon Porter was on the loose at the very least.”

  “That’s because I’m pretty sure I haven’t hurt this bad since then. Hell, to be honest I’m pretty sure I’ve never hurt this bad at all.”

  “Well ain’t there somethin’ else you can do ta’ help with that? Some kinda hocus-pocus or somethin’?”

  “That’s what I was doing until you grabbed my arm.”

  “Yeah, right. I meant Witch stuff… you know…”

  “I’ve been down that road already…” I shrugged. “I guess I could go out on a limb and try Voodoo.”

  “Okay. So how do ya’ do that? There some way I can help?”

  “Sure. You can put the bourbon away and get me the rum instead.”

  “Dammit, Row, get serious. You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do, but I’ve exhausted all those other options, Ben.”

  “Well crawlin’ into a bottle ain’t gonna help.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you’ve said yourself that booze doesn’t fix it.”

  “Yeah, right. When did I say that?”

  Before he could answer, a higher pitched and softly accented voice interrupted. “Several times that I can remember, then.”

  There was certainly no mistaking to whom the Celtic lilt belonged. I looked past my friend as he was turning toward the source himself and found Felicity standing in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. Obviously she’d been there long enough to hear at least the most recent exchange in our conversation. Her eyes were fixed on me, and she definitely didn’t look happy.

  “Why didn’ju come in the back?” I asked, as much out of curiosity as to divert the conversation.