“I had to,” she replied. “I was going stir crazy.”
“I heard. You know, we were pretty worried about you there for a while.”
“Aye,” Felicity agreed. “And I don’t know how I can ever repay you for what you did for me.”
Constance blushed slightly and shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything, Felicity. It’s my job. I’m just happy you weren’t injured. And, it’s good to see you back to your normal self.”
“Here-here,” Ben announced, lifting his glass and taking a swig. As he set it back on the table, he looked at us quizzically. “So… you gonna answer my question or just fawn over the Feeb?”
“You don’t think she deserves it?” I asked.
“Dunno. She’s startin’ ta’ get a bit demanding. Don’t wanna feed the attitude, or she might start actin’ too much like Firehair.”
Mandalay gave him another slap and he jokingly smirked.
“It’s really just a nonsense name, Ben,” Felicity told him as she shrugged. “It’s what Ailleagan wanted to call the place. I like it. It’s fun.”
“Yeah,” he grunted. “Fun. And that just begs the follow-up question—what the hell kinda name is Ale-again? Sounds like someone orderin’ another round at a old timey bar.”
“For your information, it’s Gaelic,” my wife replied. “It means gem or jewel.”
“Then why doesn’t she just call ‘erself Jewel?”
“Because her name is Ailleagan,” Felicity said. “Not Jewel.”
“Yeah… So I take it she’s a foreigner like you?” he quipped.
“I’ll have you know I was born in the United States, and I maintain dual citizenship.”
“Can’t make up your mind, eh?”
“Don’t make me kick you.”
“Ya’ already did as I recall. Still got a bruise.”
“Cac capaill. You do not. But I’ll be delighted to give you one. Maybe two or three if you keep it up.”
“Yeah, whatever. So, anyway, when ya’ get right down to it, you’re all just a bunch of foreigners, ain’t ya’?” He grinned and thrust his thumbs back at himself. “I’m the only one that really belongs here.”
“For someone who denies his heritage on a regular basis, you sure like to play that Native American card when it suits you,” I chuckled.
“Whatever works, white man,” he said with a wider grin then looked around the restaurant and gestured. “So are we ever gonna get some menus or what?”
“No,” Felicity replied.
“Whaddaya mean no?”
My wife simply smiled and left him twisting in the wind, so I explained. “They don’t do menus here, Ben. They plan a meal for the evening and that’s what you get.”
He regarded me with a confused expression. “Bullshit. Very funny.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“Aye, he is,” Felicity added. “Look around. Doesn’t it look to you like everyone is eating the same thing?”
He gave the dining room another glance then faced us again and cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, well seems ta’ be a whole lotta big groups here tonight. They prob’ly got some kinda deal or somethin’.”
“Actually, they probably aren’t big groups,” my wife explained waving her finger around. “Normally you just sit wherever there’s space and eat with everyone else. The only reason we have this smaller table is because I know how you are, and I asked Ailleagan for a favor.” She sat back and regarded him with a faux smug expression. “So, the way I see it, you owe me.”
“Uh-huh. Right. We coulda’ just gone someplace else, ya’know,” he replied.
“It wouldn’t be as good.”
“Yeah, back ta’ that. So you’re really tellin’ me I don’t get ta’ order what I want?”
“Correct,” I replied. “But, you get the pleasure of eating what they serve you.”
“That’s just great,” he snorted. “So what if it’s somethin’ I don’t wanna eat?”
“Then I guess you go hungry,” Constance interjected.
“I’ve never been disappointed by a meal here, Ben,” I replied. “Seriously. Ailleagan is an amazing chef.”
“Don’t worry,” Felicity spoke up. “When I called this afternoon I asked what she was making. They’re serving Spring Chicken Wellington tonight. It’s her signature dish, and it’s absolutely wonderful.”
“Yeah, says you, but is it gonna have somethin’ in it I don’t like?”
Constance shook her head. “Who knows when it comes to you.”
“I ain’t that bad,” he objected. “There’s just some stuff I don’t wanna eat.”
“Unless it’s a donut?” I asked.
“Yeah, right. Very funny.”
“Or anything that isn’t a hamburger or a pizza?” Mandalay quipped.
“Not true. Now you’re makin’ me sound finicky.”
“You are.”
“Yeah, so what about you, Little Miss Sprouts-and-Tofu?”
I chuckled again. “I see the two of you are getting along just as well as usual.”
“Yeah, well I’m cuttin’ ‘er some slack, ya’know,” Ben replied.
“I think I’m the one cutting someone slack here,” she countered. “I suppose I should be grateful you haven’t asked them if they want to see my scars.” She waited a beat then added, “Yet.”
Felicity looked at her with a mildly stunned expression. “He did that?”
“Just once, so far,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “And he was talking to my SAC no less.”
“Ben!” my wife scolded. “That’s just insensitive.”
“Feebs got no sense of humor,” he returned.
“I didn’t shoot you, did I?” Constance asked.
“Yeah, whatever,” Ben chuckled.
“So, Constance,” Felicity said, leaning across the table toward her. “If you don’t happen to have any duct tape handy, in a pinch a washcloth and a nylon scarf make an excellent gag.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she giggled.
“Yeah, you would know somethin’ like that, wouldn’t ya’?” my friend said.
“I can’t imagine you’re surprised,” my wife told him.
“I’m not, but you both know I ain’t inta’ that kinky shit,” he huffed.
“Are we embarrassing you?” Constance asked.
“Yes.” He emphasized the terse answer.
“Good,” she replied with a wicked grin. “If we keep it up maybe I’ll be even with you by next year.”
“Uh-huh,” he grumbled. “So can we talk about somethin’ else?”
“Okay, what would you like to talk about?” she asked.
“Well, you comedians never did tell me what was in this spring chicken thing…”
“Oatmeal, chicken livers, chicken gizzards, and suet,” a woman’s voice said. “All ground up with onions, a few special seasonings, and slowly steamed in a sheep’s stomach.”
Ailleagan was standing behind my friend and now rested her hand on his shoulder. I had seen her coming when she exited the kitchen, but as soon as she saw me looking her direction, she held her finger up to her lips, so I had kept my mouth shut. The look now twisting Ben’s face made me glad I had played along.
“You’re friggin’ kiddin’ me,” he replied, turning to look up at her.
Ailleagan was a petite woman with pleasing curves and an ample bosom. Her hair was a shade or two brighter red than Felicity’s, and it framed a fresh, cherubic face. The sleeves of her chef’s tunic were rolled up to expose intricate and colorful tattoos on her forearms, which continued up to disappear beneath the white folds of the jacket’s fabric.
She looked back at him through her stylish, dark rimmed glasses and without cracking a smile said, “Why would I do that?”
My friend shook his head and held up his hand. “No offense, but that just ain’t my thing. Don’tcha have a coupl’a burgers back there or somethin’?”
“You must be the infamous Benjamin Storm,” she said, holdi
ng her hand out toward him.
He took it but maintained a confused expression.
“And, you must be Constance,” she continued, patting Mandalay on the shoulder. “I’ve heard all manner of stories about you two from Rowan and Felicity.”
“How are you doing tonight?” I asked, giving her a smile and a nod.
“Fine, just fine,” she replied, shooting a wide grin toward us. “So I finally get to meet these two.”
“Aye, finally,” Felicity agreed.
“Wait just a minute,” Ben interjected. “Let’s get back ta’ the food. You ain’t really gonna feed us a bunch of chicken guts, are ya?”
“Rowan’s right,” she replied. “You’re awfully gullible for a cop.”
He looked at me. “You said that?”
“Only about certain things.” I shrugged. “Not the important stuff. Mostly just when it comes to food.”
“Food’s important.”
“You know what I mean. For example, I got you to eat ostrich.”
“Yeah, I still haven’t forgiven ya’ for that one.”
“Relax,” Ailleagan told him, patting his shoulder again. “I just gave you the basic recipe for my personal variation on haggis. We aren’t serving that till next week.”
“What day?”
She cocked her head to the side, looked thoughtful, and then said, “Probably Wednesday.”
“I won’t be here,” he grunted.
“Then I won’t set you a place. Seriously though, Spring Chicken Wellington is just chicken,” she continued. “It’s baked in a pastry just like Beef Wellington. I can’t tell you any more of the recipe than that or I’ll have to kill you, and since you’re a cop…”
“Yeah, I see you’re a funny one too,” Ben told her.
“I like to think so. Now let’s see, where was I… Oh yes… On the side, we’re serving Sicilian green beans sautéed with garlic and diced salami. And for dessert, fudge brownie sundaes.”
“I heard salami and fudge sundae,” Ben said with a nod. “Those I can work with. I’ll let ya’ know on the chicken thing. Usually I have mine fried.”
“Believe me, this will be better,” she said.
“So, Ailleagan, this might be too much to ask,” I said. “But you wouldn’t happen to have any of the sacred pie back there, would you?”
She grinned. “As a matter of fact, when Felicity called I made one just for you.”
“You’re a doll.”
She feigned a curtsy. “I know.”
“Okay,” Ben grumbled. “What the hell’s sacred pie?”
“Oh, you’ll find out. If Rowan let’s you have any, that is,” she quipped then paused and gave the dining room a quick scan before adding, “Things look under control out here. Doug should be out with your dinner in just a minute. I think I’ll go grab a plate for myself and join you.”
“That would be wonderful,” Felicity said.
“So you’re gonna eat with us?” Ben asked.
“Is that a problem?” she answered with her own question.
“No…” he said. “I don’t guess so. Just not used to the chef sittin’ down with me.”
“Welcome to Flipdoodles,” she said with a disarming smile.
“Yeah, thanks,” he grunted. “So lemme ask ya’ somethin’. If you’re gonna eat with us, can I just call ya’ Jewel?”
Without missing a beat she replied, “Can I just call you Geronimo?”
It was obvious from the look on his face and the length of his pause that Ben hadn’t been expecting the quick retort. Before he could answer, she nodded her head and winked. “Ailleagan will do just fine, Benjamin.”
He shook his head and cast his gaze back and forth between Felicity and her. “Ya’know, if ya’ had an accent I’d swear you two were sisters.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” she said with a grin. “I’ll be back in just a minute. Doug might be needing some help, and I still need a plate for myself.”
As soon as she scurried off, Ben looked across the table at my wife and said, “You’re enjoyin’ this, aren’t ya’?”
“Why shouldn’t she?” Constance interjected. “I am.”
“This is gonna be a long friggin’ night,” he muttered.
“I wouldn’t worry,” I told him. “If Ailleagan didn’t like you, she wouldn’t…”My sentence was interrupted by the trilling of my cell phone as it started to vibrate on my belt. I reached for it while finishing the thought. “…she wouldn’t screw with you. Relax. You’re all good.”
I pulled the device up and glanced at the LCD. The caller ID was displaying an unfamiliar number with an out-of-state area code. I pursed my lips thoughtfully for a second and then slid the warbling phone back into the belt holder without answering.
“Screenin’ your calls?” Ben asked.
“Sort of, I guess. I don’t recognize the number, and it’s from out of state. I’ll just check my voicemail later. If it’s a client or something, they’ll leave a message.”
After a few seconds, my cell fell silent and stopped tickling my side.
“Okay, so since according to you your friend apparently thinks I’m okay, is she gonna be pickin’ at me for the rest of the evenin’?” Ben asked.
“No more than Constance or me,” Felicity replied.
“Great. Like I said, long friggin’ night.”
“What are you complaining about?” I asked. “All this attention from three beautiful ladies… I’m a bit jealous, myself.”
“Yeah, right. Ipecackle or whatever it is Firehair always says.”
“Cac capaill,” she corrected him. “Horse shit.”
He wagged his finger in her direction and said, “Yeah, that. Twice.”
The conversation was again interrupted by the jangling tones of a cellular phone, but this time it wasn’t mine. Felicity raised an eyebrow and then reached under the table for her purse. Pulling it up she extracted her cell and gazed at it.
“That’s odd,” she mumbled then held the device over in front of me. “That look familiar?”
I glanced at the number and let out a soft humph. “Actually, yeah. I think that’s the same number I just ignored.”
My wife pulled the cell back then flipped it open and leaned her head to the side as she slipped the earpiece beneath her bright auburn tresses.
“Hello?” she said. A look of recognition spread across her face a split second later, but it definitely wasn’t accompanied by happiness. “Yes, Doctor Jante,” she continued, turning to look at me as she talked. “I’m fine, and you? That’s good… Yes, actually he’s right here, but I am afraid we’re out to dinner at the moment. Is there any way I can have him call you back?… Oh… I see… Just a second then.”
Felicity pulled the phone from her ear and held it out to me. I returned a slightly puzzled look but took it from her anyway. A solid month had passed since we had spoken with the FBI psychologist, so the fact that she was calling, especially late into a Friday evening, piqued my curiosity at the very least.
Constance was already whispering across the table, “Is that Doctor Ellie Jante with the BAU at Quantico?”
Felicity nodded and mouthed, “Yes.”
“Doctor Jante,” I said into the phone, my voice guarded. “This is Rowan.”
“Mister Gant,” she replied. “I’m sorry to bother you this evening. Your wife already explained that you are out to dinner, but I personally felt this was important enough to warrant a call.”
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“That remains to be seen,” she replied. “Annalise Devereaux is asking to have a face-to-face meeting with you.”
I didn’t reply. I simply sat with the phone against my ear and pondered the words she had just offered. This was something I had been trying to make happen for what seemed like forever. But now, just coming off this recent case that still had me questioning myself, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be mired back in the ethereal quicksand so soon.
“Are you still t
here?” she asked.
“Yes, sorry,” I replied. “I’m just… Just a bit surprised I guess.”
“I understand,” she told me. “Normally this is something I would advise against, especially with the way her attorneys were posturing in recent weeks. However, this morning she fired the entire team. And, since you seemed rather adamant about just such a meeting when we spoke last week…”
“Fired?” I asked, a bit of disbelief in my voice. “All of them?”
“Yes, Mister Gant, the entire legal team. I haven’t quite figured out what her ploy is, but on a clinical level she seems to be extremely vulnerable at the moment. If we are even going to think about putting you into a face-to-face with her, now would be the time.”
“By now you mean…”
“I’d like to get you on a plane as early as tomorrow morning if you are agreeable.”
“Tomorrow morning?”
“Yes.”
“If I say yes to this, where am I going?”
“She’s currently being held in the psychiatric wing of FMC Carswell in Fort Worth, Texas while awaiting trial. It’s a federal medical center specializing in female inmates.”
“Sounds lovely,” I huffed then paused for a moment. “Okay… I’ll come… Just let me have my dinner, then when I get home I’ll look into a plane ticket and get…”
“That won’t be necessary,” she interrupted. “The Bureau will handle the travel arrangements. I’m going to have the Saint Louis field office assign an agent to accompany you as well.”
“I said I would be there,” I replied. “Do you think I’m lying?”
“No, Mister Gant. I would just be more comfortable if you had an escort.”
“Okay… Can I have you hold on a second?”
“Certainly.”
I clicked the phone over to mute but held it under the table with my hand covering the microphone pickup just in case.
“What’s going on?” Felicity asked.
“It seems Annalise Devereaux wants a one-on-one meeting with me,” I replied.
“She wants, or you want?” Ben asked.
“Yeah, I know I’ve been pushing for one. But now she’s the one asking for it,” I replied with a shake of my head.
“And you’re goin’…” he returned, the words more an observation than a question.
Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 29