While we waited, Starr went upstairs to check in on Karyl. She returned briefly, having elected not to inform her of Brianna’s death as yet, and told us that the young woman was resting peacefully in the bedroom. Earlier, she admitted, the help of a recently prescribed sedative had been necessary to calm the overwrought blonde, and now it seemed senseless and cruel to wake her only to give her another dose of heartbreaking news. I was inclined to agree.
“Is there someone you’d like us to call for you?” Carl asked in a soothing voice. “A relative? A friend maybe?”
“No. No one, Detective.” She shook her head. “Thank you for offering.”
“Can we get you anything?” I queried and shrugged. “A glass of water? Coffee? Aspirin?”
“No... Yes... Yes, Mister Gant, you could.” She pointed across the room. “There is some brandy in that cupboard.”
At Starr’s request I poured her a stiff ration of the liquor from the heirloom cabinet bar in the corner. Judging from the label on the bottle and the cork that sealed it, the brandy was in reality a rather pricey cognac. She sipped it eagerly, almost gulping at first. Remembering my recent and similar actions with a bottle of bourbon, I urged her to slow down. She nodded, realizing through her distress that I was correct, and set the crystal snifter aside with at least a small amount of the expensive spirits left in it.
Momentarily, she rummaged about in the drawer of an end table then withdrew a small rectangular box and opened it.
“I have to keep them hidden,” she told us with a small, sorrowful laugh as she placed a cigarette between her lips, “Karyl thinks I quit... But I’m sure she knows.”
Carl and I simply nodded mutely and watched her light it with trembling hands.
“Well frankly I don’t give two shits about your goddamned contract!” Ben’s voice echoed into the room as he tersely erupted out in the corridor, “Right now I’ve got two bodies down at the morgue. One of ‘em was thrown off a balcony and the other one was... No, YOU wait just a minute!” his voice rose in pitch again. One thing you never did to Ben Storm was to interrupt him.
His tone lowered to a simmering “I mean business” tenor and he continued, “Look, number one—both of these women were tortured before they were killed. Number two—we have reason to believe the killer is targeting persons with alternative religions. And finally, number three—both of them were members of the same small religious group—the same one that two of your local residents are members of. Now for me, that sets off some alarms. What about you?”
He paused for a moment, and I heard him let out an exasperated huff.
“Yeah... Yeah... Well why don’t ya’ do that... Uh-huh, well trust me, I will... Yeah, I’ll be sure to let Ms. Winston know just exactly how concerned you folks are for her welfare... Yeah, same to ya’.”
We heard him close the flap on the portable phone with an angry snap that was followed immediately by a disgusted mumble, “...And the fuckin’ horse you rode in on, too, ya’ lousy sonofabitch.”
I caught Carl’s eye and jerked my head toward the room’s entrance. He nodded acknowledgement and gave the anguished young woman next to him a fatherly pat on the shoulder.
“Will you be okay for a bit, Ms. Winston?” he asked as she broke her hollow stare and looked up at him. “Rowan and I need to talk to Detective Storm for just a minute.”
“Yes...yes, Detective, I’ll be fine,” she answered mechanically.
“We’ll just be right outside the door,” he added and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before joining me to crowd into the narrow passageway.
“That didn’t sound good,” I remarked in a near whisper as I wedged myself through and leaned against a doorjamb. “What did they say?”
“Awww, they’re all fucked up,” Ben replied, still seething from the conversation with the uncooperative Lansbury Police Department. “They don’t wanna send anyone over unless I can tell ‘em who’s gonna pay for it.”
“Pay for it?” I was confused.
“Lansbury is pretty small,” Carl explained. “Their police department isn’t really a police department per se. Truthfully, it’s not much more than a handful of rent-a-cops hired out through a third-party security firm. All they’re ever worried about is money.”
“So what are you going to do?” I appealed.
“Well, they’re still inside the county, so technically we have jurisdiction…” he mused. “Of course, we’re stretched pretty thin as it is...”
Ben reached up and smoothed his hair back then let his large hand rest on the back of his neck. Slowly his fingers started working on a tense knot at the base, and he grimaced thoughtfully, “Yeah, Carl, I know. Right now I’ve got Martin and Kelly back at the command post contactin’ everyone on the list she gave us.” He cocked his head toward the other room to indicate Starr.
“From what we can tell so far, it looks like they all live in areas with real coppers,” he detailed. “That’ll help a lot, so there shouldn’t be much fuss about gettin’ police protection for ‘em. Of course, they haven’t reached everyone on the list yet.”
He continued working the back of his neck with his large hand and puffed his cheeks out with a fatigued sigh.
“Jeezus, what a mess!” he finally exclaimed. “I guess it’s gonna be up ta’ us to keep watch over these two.”
“How are the higher ups going to feel about you playing bodyguard?” I asked, “Seems to me they get a little concerned over budgets too.”
“Lemme ask you this,” He stared directly into my face and raised an eyebrow, “Do you think this asshole might come after another one of the women in this group?”
“Well, Starr did say that no one else has received any threats,” I offered.
“That she knew of.” He qualified my statement and thrust his index finger at me. “But that’s not what I asked ya’.”
I took a moment to weigh the facts before I replied, “You can’t entirely rule out the possibility that he might go after someone else. Like I’ve said before, there are a lot of Pagans in this city, and I still believe that the eradication of Witches is this guy’s main focus. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be going about the murders in the manner he has so far.”
I let out my own troubled sigh. Ben was seeking my advice, and my nagging doubts were keeping me from giving a singular commitment to this avenue of thought. I knew he was depending on me, and I didn’t want to let him down.
“I suppose I would have to agree though that by killing two members of the same Coven, he’s established something of a pattern. I don’t want to put all the eggs in one basket, but in answer to your question... yes, I think it is very likely that he will target another member of this circle.”
“Well, that’s good enough for me, and I’m bettin’ it’ll be good enough for the chief. He’s the only higher up I’m worryin’ about right now. Whaddaya think, Carl?”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” Deckert nodded as he spoke. “I got a hinky feeling about the whole deal.”
“Okay. So what now?” I inquired.
“Let’s see...” Ben turned his wrist and glanced quickly at his watch. “It’s five after five now... Oh shit! Man, I’m s’posed to have you home in twenty-five minutes.”
“I’ll just have to call Felicity and tell her to go on without me,” I remarked.
Ben looked hard at his watch again as if by doing so he could somehow turn the hands back by sheer force of will. “No way, white man. No freakin’ way. The red squaw would scalp me for sure. I promised ‘er I’d have ya’ home. Besides, there’s nothin’ you can really do right now.”
“I can cancel, Ben,” I insisted. “I’m really not looking forward to it anyway. You know her father doesn’t much care for me, and I can do without that grief at the moment.”
“Yeah, but it’s family and ya’ do what you gotta. Besides, she’d kill us both. Anyway, like I said, there’s nothin’ more for you ta’ do at the moment. Seriously.”
“Are you certain
?”
“Positive. Just let me know where you’re gonna be, and if somethin’ comes up, I’ll get in touch with ya’.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and take Rowan home,” Deckert volunteered. “I’ll hang loose till you get back.”
“You sure, Carl?” Ben asked as he gave him a questioning glance.
“Yeah. No problem,” he returned easily. “Mona’s outta town visiting her sister, so I was just gonna grab a burger and work late anyway. Ya’know, maybe I’ll make a few calls. I got a coupl’a guys that owe me a favor or two. If either of ‘em is off duty, maybe I can get one of ‘em over here on a payback.”
“Good idea.” Ben nodded vigorously. “I’ve got a few markers out there myself. I’ll make some calls too.”
“You guys go on ahead,” Carl ordered and shot me a grin. “Don’t need your wife gettin’ upset... If she’s anything like Mona... Well, you know.”
“Thanks, Deck,” Ben told him as he ushered me toward the doorway, “I shouldn’t be gone more’n forty-five minutes, tops.”
“No problem. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
There are those times when it pays to have a cop behind the wheel. Being in a hurry to get somewhere can definitely qualify as one of them.
Ben dropped me off in front of my house with slightly over one minute to spare.
* * * * *
Felicity reached up and casually cranked the Jeep’s rear-view mirror in a direction I’m firmly convinced the engineers had not really designed it to go. I am also fairly certain that in order to avoid breaking said mirror, the out of specification contortion was something that could only be accomplished by a woman applying makeup while in the driver’s seat. I suppose I should be thankful we were currently parked.
Leaning into the steering column, she frantically brushed what she obviously considered to be a stray hair or two from her forehead and urged them to disappear into the rest of her auburn mane. Still pitched forward, and using only one hand, she spun the barrel of a lipstick with practiced fingers then swiped it across her lips with fluid, almost surgical, precision. Turning her head from one side to the other and inspecting her reflected image from the corners of her eyes, she let out a satisfied purr. Only then did she stuff the tube of gloss back into her coat pocket and return the mirror to a crooked semblance of its proper position. Still, even after seeing for herself, she twisted in her seat to face me and asked, “How do I look?”
“Like a regular Colleen,” I answered. “A real Irish lassie if ever there was one.”
“You didn’t even look,” she insisted.
I groaned assent and turned to give her more than just a cursory glance.
Her fiery spiral tresses billowed out softly to frame her smooth alabaster face. Falling in a silky flow across her shoulders, her hair disappeared in a cascade down her back that I knew reached almost to her waist. A pair of thin braids encircled her crown, neatly held in place by strategically placed, hidden hairpins, until they joined in the back and coalesced into a whirling eddy of loose curls.
She was looking back at me with her eyebrows arched questioningly over sparkling green eyes, and by the dim glow of the map light, I could see the narrow swath of freckles that rode faintly across the bridge of her nose. Her full, red lips were slightly parted, and the corners turned up in a girlish smile. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the cold.
The sight of her was enough to make me forget, if only for a moment, the horrors I had re-witnessed just hours before. I didn’t realize it until she spoke, but I was simply staring at her.
“What?” she asked and started to reach for the mirror once again. “Do I have lipstick on my teeth or something?”
“No.” I caught her hand before she could assault the device any more. “There’s nothing on your teeth. I was just noticing how gorgeous you are.”
“Oh stop it!” she insisted, throwing me an embarrassed glance as she reached over to straighten my tie. “You’re just saying that because you’re my husband and you have to.”
“If that’s what you want to believe, but it’s not true. You’re beautiful.”
She ignored my further comment. “There, that’s better.”
I reached up to loosen the knot she had just cinched around my throat, and she playfully slapped my hand away.
“Don’t. I just fixed that.”
“I hate ties, honey. They’re too constricting. That’s why I work at home, so I don’t have to wear them.”
“You want constricting? Try wearing pantyhose and a lace-up, metal-ribbed bodice. Aye, now there’s constricting for you. Besides, it’s only for a few hours, so deal with it,” she instructed.
“Okay. So long as I get to be the one who unlaces that bodice later.”
“Rowan!” she giggled then winked. “Keep that up and I think it can be arranged… Now, come on. Let’s go inside before we’re late.”
“Yeah, I suppose the sooner we get in there the sooner we can leave.”
“Aye, would you be showing disrespect to me family now?” she jibed with an overstated Irish brogue. Though she had purposely exaggerated the affectation, I knew I would need to get used to it because, after a scant few hours inside, her normal lilt was going to be embellished with the heavy accent for several days. It always was.
I just grinned back at her and unlatched my door.
“By the way, Rowan...” She looked back before stepping out of the Jeep.
“Yes?”
“Thanks. You look kind of sexy yourself.”
* * * * *
“Club soda, twist of lime,” I told the bartender and held up a pair of fingers. “Two, please.”
The family had pulled out all the stops for this affair. From renting a large banquet room at the Westview Regency, to the open bar and traditional Irish food catered specifically for the party. As I had told Ben there would be, plenty of colcannon was to be had, along with mutton stew, spiced beef, potato cakes, and countless other ethnic comestibles. I had no doubt that Felicity’s mother had been in charge of the menu as she was a phenomenal cook.
Both of Felicity’s parents were first generation Irish-American, born of immigrants. Her maternal grandparents were the ones celebrating the anniversary tonight; for her father’s parents had long since passed, well before she and I were married.
As her mother and father both came from large families, aunts, uncles, cousins and other relations were springing from every corner of the banquet hall; some had even come over directly from Ireland for the express purpose of attending this combination party/reunion. Many of them she hadn’t seen for ages. Many I had never even met. Be that as it may, there was definitely no shortage of red hair in the room.
After checking our coats, I was charged with the mission of obtaining drinks for the both of us while my wife skittered about squealing with glee as she and long missed relatives became re-acquainted. Having located one of the two bars and placing my order, I decided to try and make the best of it. Had present circumstances been different, I’m sure I would have been more in the mood for a party. But they weren’t, and I wasn’t.
I was still wrestling with the re-awakened visions of Kendra Miller burning to death in the middle of a public park. I fought, from one moment to the next, with bleak stabs of pain mirroring the emotions I experienced coming from the two young women this afternoon. I steeled myself against the fear I didn’t want to acknowledge. And all of this I did alone, for I hadn’t uttered a single word of today’s events to Felicity. She had been preoccupied with her preparations, and I felt that at least one of us should remain unburdened by thoughts of loathing and death during what was intended as a celebration of love and life. Of the surplus of mental trauma I was struggling to keep at bay, the worst was my own agonized speculation. I couldn’t stop worrying over when the killer would strike next.
How would he strike?
Who would be the victim?
A dull ache through my very being told me that it was going to be soon, and I w
asn’t going to be able to stop the inevitable. All I would be able to do is sift through the aftermath for another misshapen piece of the puzzle and, if it was there, try desperately to fit it into place with the bleak handful we had thus far.
I reached up and worked the knot of my necktie back and forth to loosen it and leaned against the bar. My eyes darted through the crowd searching for where Felicity might have settled. She was clad in festive Celtic attire—much like most everyone else in the room—and with the abundance of auburn curls filling the hall, it took me a few moments to pick her out.
She was wearing, not unlike several of the other women, a slightly shortened version of a traditional chemise and Irish skirt. Her shapely torso was cinched into a low-cut bodice complete with boning and laces. On her feet, she had replaced her snow boots with flat, black slippers secured firmly to her ankles with a criss-crossing leather cord tied in a neat bow.
I finally located her on the far side of the room, arm in arm with two of her cousins, executing a short, quick series of lithe leaps, kicks and jumps. The three of them bobbed up and down in perfect unison as they spun about in mock rehearsal for the dancing yet to come and came to a halt, laughing wildly at a minor misstep. I felt like I had landed in the middle of an Irish dance troupe and was beginning to feel self-conscious and terribly out of place in my grey tweed sport coat and slacks.
“Aye, keeper! Why don’t you be givin’ ‘im a real man’s drink then!” The thick timbre met my ears and was coupled with a rough slap across my back.
A pair of meaty paws proceeded to manhandle my shoulders, and I broke from my glassy stare.
Never Burn A Witch: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 13