“Well if it was a crime of passion then it would be an isolated incident. There wouldn’t have been any reason for her to insist on me touching Paige Lawson. Unless, of course, there’s a connection there that we’re missing.”
“We haven’t had a reason ta’ look for one. Lawson is an accidental death… Whoa… Wait a minute, back up… So are you tellin’ me Debbie Schaeffer’s ghost had somethin’ ta’ do with that whole stunt you pulled back there?”
“Exactly.” I nodded affirmation.
“So, she like what, talked ya’ into it or somethin’?”
“No, she actually physically dragged me over there and forced me to do it.”
“She did what?” He stared back at me in disbelief.
“Yeah, I know it sounds bizarre, Ben.”
“That’s one word for it… But I guess it doesn’t matter what ya’ call it… I’ve come ta’ the conclusion you’re whole freakin’ life is just one really long episode of the Twilight Zone, Kemosabe.”
“Just since I got involved with murder investigations. Before that I was pretty normal.”
“Says you,” he grinned, his tone softening.
“Look who’s talking,” I returned the jibe. “Anyway, I wasn’t in control of my actions when I went after Paige Lawson’s remains. That was Debbie Schaeffer all the way. That’s the one thing I can remember clear as daylight.”
“See now, I just figured you were seizin’ an opportunity, and that just pissed me off.”
“Yeah, I kind of had the impression you weren’t real happy with me.”
“Uh-huh, well I was pissed when I turned around and saw ya’ standin’ there holdin’ on ta’ Lawson and screamin’ your damn fool head off. And, after what she’d just walked in on, the Doc wasn’t sure what the hell ta’ think. I can guarantee ya’ it didn’t help matters any.”
“Like she said, we probably should have called her before going down there.”
“Yeah, well we all know what they say about hindsight, now don’t we?”
“Can we get back on the subject, then?” Felicity interjected.
“Yeah, let’s,” Ben agreed. “So you’re sayin’ that there’s some connection between Schaeffer and Lawson?”
“There must be.” I nodded and then took a sip of my own coffee before setting the cup down and pushing it away. One taste was all it took to convince me to wait for the fresh pot. “Why else would she have wanted me to touch the body?”
“I get what you’re sayin’, but everything on Lawson points ta’ accidental death,” he objected. “So if there’s a connection maybe it’s somethin’ besides bein’ killed by the same wingnut.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“Ya’ aren’t bein’ much help, Row.”
“Hey,” I shook my head, “I’m doing the best I can. I told you I’m pretty fuzzy on all this.”
“Maybe Paige Lawson knew Debbie Schaeffer somehow.” Felicity said. “Or maybe the killer is a mutual friend or acquaintance.”
“Lawson was a marketing VP for an HMO. What’s she gonna have in common with a college cheerleader?”
“You have a better idea, then?” my wife raised an eyebrow.
“No,” he returned, voice flat as he shrugged. “Maybe they did know each other. If we can’t find a direct connection, then we can make a list and see if any names match up as mutual acquaintances. I know Lawson had one of those electronic organizers in ‘er briefcase. I think Schaeffer had somethin’ too.”
“Do you remember anything else?” my wife pressed, turning her attention back to me.
“Nothing important. Just something about a fashion doll in a prom dress, or something like that.”
“Do what?” Ben looked as confused as ever. Since I was no clearer on what I’d just said than he was, I couldn’t blame him.
“Yeah, it was green and she didn’t like her shoes, or some such.”
“Who didn’t like whose shoes?”
“The doll. Debbie. I don’t know, both of them maybe.”
“You are talking about a toy fashion doll, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Rowan,” Felicity asked. “Are you absolutely certain you’re okay?”
I slid number eleven from the pack and lit it up in an unconscious motion. “Believe me, I’ve been wondering that myself.”
CHAPTER 11
“Are you coming to bed or not?” Felicity called to me from the hallway. “We’ve a long day ahead, then. In case you didn’t remember, Yule is day after tomorrow.”
“You mean, Yule is tomorrow,” I called back while in the process of exhaling a plume of smoke through the crack where I was holding the storm door just slightly open. “It’s pushing five a.m., so it’s already today.”
“Aye, don’t remind me,” she called back with a resigned sigh. “We’ve far too much to do, and we’ll need rest if we’re to get everything done before Friday and still be able to tend the fire through to dawn.”
We’d all finally decided that we were far too exhausted to continue the discussion, and since we weren’t getting anywhere to begin with, it wasn’t a hard call. The caffeine was all we were running on, and I think we’d even started becoming immune to its effects in short order. Our bout of speculation was terminated with the idea that a bit of sleep might bring some more of what I’d seen to the surface. While I agreed with the idea in theory, I most definitely wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of yet another Technicolor nightmare.
Upon returning to Ben’s house, we had bid him goodnight, and I had apologized once again for getting him into trouble with his superiors. His response had simply been for me not to worry, they’d get over it. I hoped he was correct.
Like zombies, Felicity and I had piled into her Jeep and then made the trek down Highway 40 to home. By the time we pulled into the driveway, the minute hand was already well into its climb toward the top of the coming hour. Fortunately for us, true to what Ben had told me earlier in the evening, Briarwood’s finest had seen to the task of discouraging the media from camping on our lawn. How they’d done it without infringing upon the constitutional freedom of the press, I had no idea-I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know either. I was just happy not to have to deal with them right now.
I took a last drag on the cigarette, exhaled, and then dropped the butt in a large can filled with sand we kept on the porch for our friends who smoked. After that I pushed the front door shut and twisted the deadbolt until it gave a dull thunk. “Yeah,” I called out to Felicity as I punched in the code to engage the alarm system. “It’ll be a long night. Not to mention that if you don’t get some rest, everyone is going to think you just got off the boat.”
“What’s that, then?”
“The accent. It’s gotten pretty thick over the past few hours. Kind of obvious that you’re exhausted.”
“I don’t have an accent,” she replied, raising her voice so she could be heard from the bedroom. “ You do.”
“Uh-huh. Whatever.” I chuckled. “Are you done in here?”
“Aye. Did you let the dogs out?”
“Yeah, they’ve been out already. And yes, the back is all locked up.”
“Did you check the answering machine, then? I noticed it blinking when we came in.”
“So why didn’t you check it?”
“Because I wanted to go to bed.”
“Uh-huh,” I harrumphed. “Me too. I’ll check it in the morning.”
“I thought you said that it was morning already.”
“How about, I’ll check it later then?”
“I suppose. And, Rowan?”
“Yeah?”
“Best you brush your teeth and gargle,” she instructed sleepily, her voice fading along a deepening arc. “Maybe twice. I’m sure not sleepin’ next to an ashtray, then.”
*****
Disorientation gave way to longing.
There was only one thing that I cared about.
Her.
She was here.
But was it really her?
No.
She was close, but it wasn’t really her.
Her hair spiraled softly across her shoulders, streaked with highlights from the sun’s rays filtering through the mini-blinds.
She sat motionless, legs crossed, lounging seductively in the chair… Looking at me with lust in her eyes.
Yes, the blinds worked. They were artistic.
But something still wasn’t quite right.
Perhaps it was the sun.
Maybe just a bit less yellow…Yes, that would help.
And maybe tweak the blinds just a bit more.
Yes, perfect.
Well almost.
It would only be perfect when she was really there.
She moaned softly.
Need to hurry.
She whimpered.
Yes, must hurry before she moves.
She slid downward, falling to the side then off the chair, coming to rest as a tangled mess on the floor.
She was no longer perfect.
A flash of light.
Fear.
Pain.
Loneliness.
Lust.
Animal passion.
Needful desire.
Putrefaction sets in within twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Purge fluids escape through the bodily orifices as the organs begin to decompose, and breakdown of the vascular system occurs.
Almost perfect.
If she’ll just stay in one place a bit longer this time.
If only she was really her…
Then…
Then she would be perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
Death settles in, warming itself briefly on the fading embers of a passing life.
I’m cold.
So very cold.
Why me?
Darkness.
A mocking chant in the distance.
Listen everybody; I’ve got a story to tell,
I’m lying here dead, and he just says, “Oh well.”
I called on Rowan; they said he was the best.
They told me, “Go see Rowan,” and forget about the rest.
I called on Rowan, because I was afraid,
But all he seems to want, is to get himself laid.
Dead I am, yes, dead today,
Will Rowan find my killer?
Hell no! Not this way.
*****
I awoke more exhausted than I’d been when I had crawled into bed next to Felicity. According to the clock almost seven hours had passed, but considering how I was feeling it might just as well have been seven minutes. I remained perfectly still, watching until the numerals on the face of the digital timepiece incremented forward enough times to make it officially noon. Of course, since my wife had a penchant for setting clocks a bit fast to avoid being late, it was more like quarter till.
A small voice rattled about between my ears-singing a song or reciting a poem, I wasn’t entirely sure. I couldn’t actually make out the words, and the echo was so faint that I had no choice but to conclude that I was imagining things.
Still, something about it seemed intimately familiar.
My head was throbbing with a dull ache. Not enough to be debilitating but more than enough to get my attention. All in all, annoying, and something that I hoped would disappear in the very near future.
After a moment, I started to sit up on the side of the bed and found myself bound in a wild tangle of sheets. When I finally managed to extricate myself, I wearily twisted my fists in my eyes to force the sleep away. I threw a slack-jawed glance over my shoulder and saw that the bed linens were in a chaotic jumble. One of us must have done some serious tossing and turning, and I presumed that I was the guilty party.
Taking in a deep breath, I started to let out a sigh but was greeted instead by a grating cough. My throat was dry and felt a bit raw. Following the bout of hacking and sputtering, I wheezed in a deep breath and felt it rattle in my chest.
My hand automatically reached for the nightstand and pawed about, coming up empty. At first I really didn’t even know what I was looking for, then it dawned on me.
Cigarettes.
I stared quietly at the floor and picked through the mild twinges in the back of my skull. Reality was setting in and I summoned a bit of concentration before sending it on a quest for memories of the previous night. A quick inventory told me there didn’t appear to be anything new to add to the nonsensical list.
The one good thing-or bad, depending upon your take-that came to mind was that I hadn’t had any nightmares. At least, I didn’t think I had. Something still didn’t feel right though, and I definitely wasn’t catching on to what it was.
“Good morning,” Felicity greeted the back of my head from the doorway. “Or should I say, afternoon, then? Finally decided to join the rest of the world?” Her voice still held a heavier than normal Celtic lilt, and that told me that she must not have slept any better than I had.
“Uh-huh,” I grunted then forced out a scratchy query while thrusting a finger over my shoulder. “Is that clock right?”
“Close enough,” she returned as she ventured farther into the room and made her way around the end of the bed. “Right as it ever is.”
“Damn,” I muttered, “I sure don’t feel like I got seven hours of sleep.”
She laughed, “As it was I only got four myself. What makes you think you’d be gettin’ that much more than me, then?”
Now I was even more befuddled. “We went to bed around five a.m., right?”
“Aye.”
I didn’t say anything else. The comment seemed self-explanatory to me.
“Well?” I finally said.
“Well, what?” she answered as she tugged the bed linens off into a pile on the floor.
“Well, noon minus five,” I offered through my haze, “comes out to around seven. In my head anyway.”
“It does at that,” she replied as she hooked an arm around my neck and slid into my lap. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower and she smelled faintly of roses. The sweet scent tickled my nose as she leaned in to kiss my cheek then whisper, “And I told you then that we should be spending it sleeping. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
I was just about to ask her to explain what she meant when the various pieces of the equation started to fall into place. What had been unidentified variables up until now became known quantities. When the values were added up, the undeniable final product was obviously a prolonged and intense sexual encounter.
Unfortunately, it was one to which I was completely oblivious. Fortunately, I had enough wits about me to know better than to say so, at least until I figured out why.
“Oh, yeah, that,” I lied for effect.
“I’m loving you a whole bunch right now,” my wife whispered softly.
“Yeah, me too,” I said while searching my memory for the slightest inkling of the recent passion and finding none. “Me too.”
Behind my quiet facade, confusion opened the door then politely invited fear to come on in and make itself at home.
It didn’t hesitate to accept.
CHAPTER 12
“I really appreciate you working me into your schedule like this,” I told Helen Storm as we both sidled up to the balcony railing of the outdoor smoking lounge. “I know you’re very busy.”
Felicity hadn’t objected in the least when I begged off from helping clean the house in order to attend a hastily scheduled visit with Doctor Storm. Had it been for any other reason, I doubt I would have made it as far as the front door before she started spouting Gaelic. I still hadn’t told my wife about my amnesia regarding our intimacy, and I wasn’t sure if I would. I wasn’t even positive that I was going to tell Helen about it just yet, even though it was the catalyst for the sudden appointment. Quite a bit was going to depend upon what conclusions were reached over the next hour.
“It was no problem, Rowan,” she answered.
“Well, I felt bad about calling you on such short notice.”
“You should not. That is what I am here for.”
“Even so,” I expressed, “I hate coming off as some sort of needy flake.”
“You need not worry about that. It was not my perception in the least. Really, Rowan, it was a light day for me anyway, and it was quite obvious that something was troubling you.”
I suspected that there had been more to rearranging her schedule than she let on. “Well, I still appreciate it.”
“I know you do, so stop beating yourself up about it. Truth is, I cannot really say that I was surprised to hear from you,” she offered gently. “Benjamin called me early this morning.”
“So is he really that worried about me?”
“Yes he is, but please do not get the impression that he is checking up on you or trying to interfere in your life. He was actually calling me about getting together on Christmas Eve. I could tell he had something else on his mind though, so I pried it out of him.”
“I’ve discovered over the years that’s not always an advisable task with Ben.”
“No,” she mused. “Not even for a friend who is as close to him as you are. But being the older sister who has acted as his confidant for more years than she cares to acknowledge, I can get away with it.”
“I see.” I nodded. “So what did he tell you?”
“Not much in the way of details really. Just that you had experienced one of your psychic episodes last night and that you were not displaying your usual clarity in that regard.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“He alluded that it was something very out of character for you,” she agreed with a nod.
“I’m not usually this befuddled, no.”
“That is what worries him most, I believe-your wife as well. They are concerned that this confusion might interfere with your judgment and, if so, your safety.”
I knew exactly what she meant and offered the unspoken evidence. “Just like it did when I chased Eldon Porter out onto that bridge. Yeah, we’ve been down that road a couple of times already.”
“Then you know that they are merely expressing concern for a loved one. You.”
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