All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

  An even hiss filled my ears, beckoning me once again into the land of lucidity. I looked down and noticed the water was still running, so I twisted the handle to shut it off then reached for something to dry my face. Exiting the bathroom, I trudged through the bedroom while blotting my damp skin with a hand towel. I had to pick my way around various obstacles, as I hadn’t yet cleaned up the mess left in the wake of the search. That is, other than to push the pile of clothing on the bed off to the side when I tried to lie down and sleep. I was just stepping into the hallway when the telephone began to ring once again.

  Only a few minutes had passed since Shamus’ last screaming fit, but he’d had a tendency to deliver them in clusters, so I was sure it was probably him for the who-knows-how-manyeth time today. I was so sure, in fact, that I didn’t even bother to head for the bookshelves to look at the caller ID box, electing instead to finish drying my face and then simply stand at the end of the hallway surveying the carnage that still graced my living room.

  Following the third ring, the answering machine kicked on, burping its greeting into the room once again.

  “You have reached the Gant and O’Brien household, please leave a message…” The voice was followed by a shrill tone then a staticky pause.

  Finally, in the wake of the beep, an authoritative voice issued from the speaker. This time, however, it was distinctly feminine and possessed of a heavy Southern accent.

  “I am calling for a Mister Rowan Gant,” the woman announced. “I picked up a message from my office that he was trying to reach me. My name is Doctor Velvet Rieth, and I can…”

  Midway through her first sentence I was already in motion, stumbling frantically through the room as the dogs and cats scattered before me. I hadn’t even needed to hear her name to have guessed exactly who she was, and this was a call I had not only been waiting for but desperately needed.

  Something told me this woman was holding a vital clue that would help me clear Felicity. What it was and why I believed it to be so, I couldn’t say. It was just one of those feelings, and I knew better than to ignore them.

  “Yes, yes, I’m here…” I yelped into the handset, cutting her off before she could finish the message and hang up. “Hold on just a second…”

  For some reason the answering machine hadn’t cut off as it normally should, and a loud squeal had burst from the speaker the moment I lifted the receiver. I was now fumbling with the buttons to switch it off but meeting with no success whatsoever. Frustrated by my frenzy-induced klutziness, I quickly gave up and yanked the power plug from its base with a violent jerk.

  Quiet fell in behind the sudden termination of the racket, and I returned my attention instantly to the handset.

  “Doctor Rieth? Are you still there?”

  “Mister Gant?” she replied.

  “Yes, I’m Rowan Gant. Sorry about the feedback there. It’s kind of an old answering machine.”

  “That’s okay,” she said and then added. “I’m sorry, but do I know you? There’s something very familiar about your name.”

  “No, Doctor, I’m fairly certain we’ve never met.”

  Considering that I had recently heard my name mentioned on the national news in conjunction with Felicity’s arrest, I was trying to tread cautiously. I desperately needed information from this woman, and I didn’t think it would help if she knew my wife was an accused serial killer.

  “Hmmm. Are you sure? I’d swear I’ve heard your name before.”

  “There’s a British comedian named Rowan who’s fairly popular,” I offered. “Maybe that’s where there’s some confusion.”

  “Maybe so…” she allowed her voice to fade thoughtfully.

  There was a brief pause, but from the tone of our exchange, even given the pleasantries, I got the overwhelming feeling that she was somewhat dispirited that I had actually answered the phone. Still, that could simply have been my own mood overshadowing my judgment. After all, she did call back on a Saturday, so surely she was expecting someone to answer. That was unless, of course, she thought she was calling a business number and was hoping for voicemail.

  As my sluggish brain was trying to make sense of what were probably exhaustion-blunted perceptions, she spoke again.

  “Are you there?”

  “Yes. I’m here. Sorry.”

  “Well, I picked up a message from my office saying you had some questions regarding my book and a murder investigation?”

  “Yes, that’s correct, I am…”

  She cut me off before I could continue. “Okay, first off, if you found my book at a murder scene, I don’t know what to tell you. It wasn’t me. Second, there are no human sacrifices in Voodoo practice. And, third, if you found a doll with pins in it at a murder scene, you’re barking at an empty tree, and you need to call someone else.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was testing me, or just looking for a quick out to end the phone call, but I definitely no longer thought I was just being paranoid about her humor. She actually sounded exasperated, as if she’d had those very questions posed to her countless times before. Whichever it was, or even if it was both, I met the commentary with a firm reply.

  “Of course, Doctor Rieth. First, no, your book wasn’t found at a crime scene, at least, not that I am aware of. Second, if I thought I was dealing strictly with a human sacrifice, I would be contacting a Hindu mystic, not that I would expect him to condone it, of course.

  “And, finally, as to dolls and pins, if that were the case, I would want to talk to a Witch since poppets are actually a product of traditional WitchCraft and not Vodoun.”

  I definitely wasn’t going to tell her that the Witch I would be consulting would be me. At least, not quite yet.

  This time, once I finished speaking, there was a much weightier pause at the other end of the line. Still, I made no move to fill its void, instead remaining silent and waiting for her to respond.

  “Obviously you’ve done some homework,” she finally replied.

  “I try to stick to the facts whenever possible.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me,” she offered. “When it comes to the subject of Voodoo, I’m not used to dealing with well informed cops much farther north than Baton Rouge.”

  “Actually, I’m only a consultant,” I said, sticking to the twisted version of the truth I’d given her assistant just in case she was still feeling me out.

  “Close enough when it comes to this sort of thing.” There was an audible shrug in her voice. “So what makes you think Voodoo is involved in your case, Mister Gant?”

  “Several things, actually,” I replied. “A couple of veve for one. A victim profile and method of killing for another.”

  Her standoffish air had dissipated quickly once I had proven my acumen on the subject of alternative religions, but she had remained staunchly businesslike. Now, her demeanor abruptly cascaded into one of urgent and uneasy curiosity. “Which veve?”

  “Ezili Dantó, Papa Legba, and one which has yet to be identified.”

  There was no mistaking the note of trepidation in her voice when she spoke. “What does that one look like? The unidentified veve.”

  Her reaction, combined with what Ben had said the night before, all but confirmed my suspicions. Out of a mild sense of paranoia, I decided to test the theory.

  “What do you think it looked like, Doctor Rieth?” I asked.

  “Why?” she asked, a startled note in her voice.

  “I just get the feeling you might have seen it before.”

  “Look, I don’t have anything to do with…”

  “Calm down, Doctor. I never said you did. Please, just indulge me for a second. What do you think this third veve looks like?”

  “Well, I’m really afraid it might look very similar to a stripped down, simplified Celtic triskele. Basically, a circle with three centrally joined arcs radiating from the center out to the circumference, and a dot located within each third.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “That’s pretty much exac
tly it.”

  “The bondo-veve,” she muttered, almost too quiet for me to hear.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry,” she replied. “It’s just a nickname. Bondo-veve. I call it that primarily because the symbol itself…”

  “…Is used by the bondage and S and M community.” I finished the sentence for her then added, “So, I was right. You’ve seen it before.” The last sentence was spoken as both a statement and a question.

  “Yes, I’m afraid I have.”

  I went out on a limb. “From a homicide in Myrtle Beach?”

  “Yes, and from one in New York as well. At both of them the police found the three veve’s you’ve mentioned as well as obvious signs of some sort of sadomasochistic sex play. But I suppose you already knew that.”

  The reference to New York only took me slightly by surprise since Ben had mentioned that there were several other states with unsolved homicides that were possibly linked. He just hadn’t told me actual names or any real details. Now I had a line on at least one more. Still, I decided not to let on to Doctor Rieth that I hadn’t known about it until now.

  “Pretty much. So, can you tell me which Lwa belongs to this veve?” I asked, voice hopeful.

  “I’m afraid not. That’s the reason for the nickname. The only time I’ve ever seen it is in connection with those two murders…and, now apparently this one.”

  “Actually we have two homicides here we believe to be connected, but the veve was only found at one of the scenes.”

  “Good God,” she mumbled again. “So I suppose this really is what the FBI types call a serial killer.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  “Well,” she said, seeming to regain some of her composure. “I’m not sure what it is I can do for you. Even if I could identify the veve, I don’t know that it would be any help.”

  “Actually, it might. From what I’ve researched, I would have to guess that this symbol is being used to represent a personal ancestor.”

  “I’d be inclined to agree with you, and that’s what I told the other departments. Not that they seemed particularly interested in the arcane facts at the time. They just kept calling it a cult crime.”

  “That’s an easy out for things they don’t understand. Trust me, I’ve dealt with that very same attitude here myself. But, back to the veve…I would think that if we could track down that particular ancestor, perhaps we could find the person who has it on her altar.”

  “So you think the killer is a woman too?”

  “Is that what you were told by the other departments?”

  “They weren’t willing to share that speculation, but the evidence they told me about seemed to indicate such.”

  “Here too. So you’re a bit of an amateur sleuth I take it?”

  “Not really. But, I can put two and two together.”

  “Well, I’m afraid the math gets a bit harder from here on out.”

  “Well, Mister Gant, I’ll count myself lucky that I’m not in your position then. But, as I said before, it seems to me that you’ve done quite a bit of homework on this. I wish my students were as dedicated to their studies.”

  “Let’s just say I’ve got an important motivation. And, yes, the local librarians and occult bookshops know me pretty well right now.”

  “I’m sure…well…I’ll admit you have a good theory. If you could find the ancestor then maybe you could track down a descendent. But, even that could be a dead end because it assumes that the person who has placed this spirit on her altar and elevated it to the status of Lwa is actually a direct descendent. In all likelihood she’s of no relation whatsoever, and that would put you back at square one.”

  “True, but right now I’m more or less at square zero.”

  “I understand, but like I said, I honestly don’t know where you would even start to look for this ancestor.”

  “Actually, I have a few ideas.”

  “Okay, then no offense, but what do you need me for? You definitely seem to have a better handle on this whole situation than the other police departments.”

  “Well, to be truthful, the main reason I called is that I have some questions about something you covered in your book on Voodoo.”

  “You mean about something other than the veve’s?”

  “Yes. Specifically what I’m interested in is possession by Lwa.”

  I could hear what sounded like a frustrated sigh at the other end then she said, “Yes, it really happens.”

  “Believe me, I don’t doubt that.”

  “Then what exactly did you need to know about it?”

  “Well, what prompted me to call you is that in your book you mentioned instances of secondary or collateral possession.”

  “You actually read it, didn’t you?”

  “Not all, but quite a bit of, yes.”

  “Amazing…so what’s your question?”

  “Well, you’re actually the only authority on Voodoo I found who even mentioned collateral possession by Lwa.”

  “Probably because it’s an exceptionally rare occurrence.”

  “But it happens.”

  “Yes, it does. But, as I said, it’s extremely rare. Lwa don’t just hop from horse to horse for no reason.”

  “I’ll accept that, but let’s say we have an instance where it does occur. Do you think it’s possible for an unwitting subject to accidentally become a horse for a Lwa?”

  “I believe that’s pretty much what I just said, isn’t it?”

  “Let me rephrase that…what I’m talking about is someone who is completely oblivious.”

  “So when you say ‘unwitting’ you really mean it. As in someone who is totally out of the loop?”

  “Yes. Completely. Someone who’s not even a practitioner of Voodoo.”

  “Well, my initial reaction would be to say, no. However, I suppose that given the right circumstances just about anything is possible.” She paused for a second before adding, “Hmmm…but, no, it’s not very likely.”

  “But, it’s still possible, correct?”

  “Like I said, I suppose anything is possible under exactly the right circumstances. Now, please excuse my curiosity here, but what has Lwa possession got to do with these homicides?”

  I’m not sure if for some reason I had developed a sort of implicit trust in Doctor Rieth during this short conversation, or if I just needed someone to listen to me. Maybe it was both, maybe it was neither. All I know is that my original plans to conceal my motives for this call were instantly negated as words came rolling out of my mouth before I realized what I was doing.

  “Early yesterday afternoon my wife was arrested and charged with them.”

  CHAPTER 14:

  If Doctor Rieth’s earlier pauses were weighty, the one that now followed my spontaneous confession overloaded the scale. I instantly began to wonder if revealing that particular fact had been wise. Of course, the decision had to have been made subconsciously because it had never been my intention to take the conversation down this dark alley at all. But, here we were and there was no backing up. All I could do about it now was hope any damage I’d just done was manageable.

  “So you lied,” she finally said, her original reserved tone tightly coiled about her voice once again as anger replaced curiosity. “You aren’t really working with the police, are you?”

  “Yes and no,” I replied.

  “Tell me, Mister Gant…if that’s really your name. Are you answering the questions in order, or simply objecting? Because those two words are mutually exclusive.”

  “That’s really my name, and a little of both, I suppose,” I told her. “Yes, I lied to you, sort of.”

  “Sort of? Either you lied or you…Oh, why am I even talking to you?! Good day!”

  “No, no, wait!” I begged. “Please, just hear me out!”

  “Why?” she spat. “So you can lie to me some more?”

  “No. No more lies, just the truth from here on out. I promise.”

  “Forgiv
e me, but just how will I know that you’re really telling the truth? So far, you haven’t exactly established a good track record on that point.”

  I puffed out my cheeks and exhaled heavily as I tried to think of a halfway reasonable response for the extremely reasonable query. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one, so I simply said, “I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

  I’m fairly certain that if she hadn’t been stunned by the brazen reply, she would have laughed and hung up. Luck, however, finally seemed to be throwing me a bone, so to speak, and the tactic apparently worked in my favor.

  “That’s asking a lot considering how this started, Mister Gant.”

  “I know, but I’m desperate and I need your help.”

  “Why me?”

  “Like I said, from the research I’ve done, apparently you are one of the very few authorities on Voodoo, if not the only one, who believes collateral possession by Lwa is possible.”

  “That’s because I’ve seen it happen.”

  “Then I came to the right person.”

  “Are you trying to flatter your way out of this? Because I hate con men.”

  “No, Doctor Rieth, you have no idea how serious I am about this. My wife is being charged with murders she didn’t commit, and I intend to prove it.”

  Again the clicking semi-silence of the open line filled the earpiece. I wanted to continue pleading, but I’d played all the cards I had, which in reality amounted to a hand anyone else would have folded. The woman at the other end of the phone had no earthly reason to help me, and I knew that. What’s more, I was fully aware that she knew it as well; so continuing to run off at the mouth wasn’t going to do me a bit of good.

  “Okay,” she finally said. “You’ve got two minutes to convince me that I should keep listening to you. But I’m warning you, even if I don’t just hang up on you in the middle of this, I’m going to check out your story.”

  “Sounds more than fair,” I agreed. “And, thank you. First off, my apologies for the lie. I just wasn’t sure if you’d talk to me otherwise. In reality, it wasn’t a complete lie; it was more of a half-truth.”