All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

  An almost sickeningly strong smell of whisky flowed in on the wake of the opening door and thrown hand. The odor served as a good indicator of how Austin had come by the mood he was presently wearing. Truth is, he tended at times to fall into the negative stereotype of the drunken Irishman who was happiest when in the middle of a bar room brawl. Not that he spent all that much time drunk, mind you, but whenever he did set about imbibing alcohol, he wasn’t one for temperance. And, unfortunately, violence often ensued.

  My ears detected something that may or may not have been a curse echoing through the room, but at this point whatever he was actually saying was completely obscured by the alcohol slur that permeated his speech. The intent in his tone, however, was unmistakable, so I didn’t waste time trying to figure out the actual verbiage.

  A strong sense of déjà vu invaded my brain as my brother-in-law’s fist arced through the air between us; however, in this instance I could actually explain why I felt like this had happened before—because it had.

  Ben had done exactly the same thing only a couple of years back, also while in a similarly inebriated state. In his case, while the punch landed with far more force than he’d intended, there had been no malice attached. I was reasonably certain I couldn’t say the same for Austin.

  Unfortunately, my brother-in-law’s speech seemed to be the only thing impaired by the whisky. Both his coordination and depth perception appeared to be perfectly sober. Of course, I suppose it could have been that his aim was off to begin with, and I simply chose the wrong direction to dodge. In any event, his incoming knuckles glanced across my jaw, and my head snapped back as an altogether new pain inflicted itself on the lower half of my face. Literally reeling with the force of the blow, for the second time in the past two days I staggered backward across my living room.

  Rattled though I was, I managed to catch the fact that Austin was quickly following the punch through the door and had already cocked his left arm in preparation to launch another fist. Of course, with his anger focused so intently upon me, the thing that was escaping his attention was the fact that I was more or less flanked by a cop and an FBI agent who had already demonstrated that they were more than just a little concerned about my continued well-being.

  I don’t know which one of them was the first to move, Ben or Constance. I wasn’t really in a position to see, and the chaotic tableau was made even more disconcerting by the dogs as they growled and yelped in response to the unexpected attack. I’m sure they were just as confused as me, given that they were familiar with Austin as a friendly face but were now witnessing him as an aggressor. They didn’t seem to know whether they should go after him, or run and hide, so they chose the middle ground of positioning themselves between the two of us and assuming a loud and menacing posture.

  Even with all that, I did manage to catch quite a bit of blurred movement on either side of me before my brother-in-law’s second punch even began its trajectory. As I was falling, I felt Ben’s hand clamp onto my arm then physically yank me up and to the side, pulling me out of harm’s way.

  Had I blinked, I probably would have missed the entire episode, but I somehow remained focused on the flash of motion before me. Constance immediately filled the void from the other side, snatching Austin’s wrist then twisting as she thrust one foot out in his path. In one easy swipe, she took his legs from beneath him, and he crashed face first onto the floor.

  While I’m certain his lack of balance from the alcohol made her task somewhat easier, there was no doubt in my mind she would have been able to subdue him had he been cold sober, ten years younger, and a foot taller. In the end, Austin wound up kissing the hardwood, with his shoulder straining in its socket as the petite FBI agent wrenched his arm upward and held him in place with one knee in his back. She had already filled her hand with a pair of handcuffs and was beginning to apply them when my sluggish brain caught up to the action transpiring around me.

  The dogs had stopped barking but remained stationed between us, an occasional low growl emitting from one or the other as they nervously danced in place.

  “Aye, get the hell off me ya’ goddammed saigh!” my brother-in-law bellowed, his voice reflecting upward from the hard surface of the floor.

  “You need to calm down and cooperate, sir,” Constance instructed, slapping the stainless steel around his wrist and ratcheting it tight. “I think I should also warn you that calling me a bitch isn’t a very good start in that direction.”

  Constance had heard Felicity use that very same expression more than once and knew all too well what it meant. In fact, considering the young woman’s seemingly photographic memory, it was very likely she remembered any and all Gaelic she’d ever heard my wife utter then explain.

  At this particular moment, I was guessing that Austin was using the foreign language simply out of habit, as did most everyone in his family. I suppose it could have been done in a calculated attempt to get one over on Mandalay, but I doubted that. Whichever was the case, however, I was sure the result he was getting definitely wasn’t the one he was after.

  I absently touched my hand to my stinging face, causing myself to flinch. When I pulled it away, there was a healthy swath of blood on my fingers and palm. Judging from that, and the way my mouth felt, I was guessing I had a split lip. Either that or a missing tooth my tongue just hadn’t noticed yet.

  As annoyed, and even downright angry as all this made me, I heard myself say, “Please don’t hurt him, Constance.”

  “That’s up to him,” she returned without looking up.

  “Jay-zuss! Get off me, damn you!”

  “Sir,” she instructed again, switching on her official voice. “I’m telling you again to calm down. I am a federal officer and I expect you to cooperate. Now, give me your other hand.”

  “Not on your life.”

  “I’m not going to ask you again, sir. Let’s not do this the hard way.”

  “Fek tú!”

  “Not on your best day, asshole,” she returned sharply, shifting out of official speak for a moment, then she leaned forward hard on her carefully positioned knee.

  He groaned heavily as she pressed her weight into his lower back, not that she was endowed with that much, petite as she was; but obviously she knew how to use what she had to make her point. With a practiced motion, she took hold of his other wrist and brought it behind his back then quickly applied the other cuff. Once he was secured, she backed off the pressure on his spine and stood up then stepped over him.

  “Are you okay, Rowan?” she asked.

  “I’ll live,” I replied with a nod.

  The space between us was no longer blocked, as the dogs were preoccupied with sniffing at the prone man on the floor, seeing him now as a curiosity rather than a threat.

  “Let me see,” she demanded, moving forward and gently taking my chin in her fingers.

  I brushed her hand away and twisted my head, pulling back. “I’m fine.”

  “You need to put some ice on that,” she pressed.

  “I said, I’ll be fine.”

  “Storm,” she said, shooting him a glance then cocking her head toward Austin.

  “Yeah, I got ‘im,” he replied with a nod. “You get Row some ice.”

  “Isn’t anybody listening to me?” I objected, voice filled with a mix of anger and exasperation, but the words came too late to matter. Constance was already halfway to the kitchen, and she wasn’t slowing down.

  Ben stooped over and dragged my brother-in-law onto his knees by his upper arm, “Come on. Get up.”

  “Jay-zuss, ya’ bastard!” he yelped. “You’re breakin’ me goddamned arm then!”

  “You just don’t know when ta’ shut up, do ya’?” Ben snapped as he finished pulling him up to his feet. “Now, I know I heard Mandalay tell ya’ ta’ calm down. You got some kinda hearin’ problem or somethin’?”

  “Aye, it’s best you stay out of this,” my brother-in-law spat. “It’s personal. It’s not your problem, then.�
��

  “Yeah, well, trust me, I know all about personal,” Ben replied, shoving him into the dining room and planting him in a chair. “And, maybe this is, I dunno. But, the thing ya’ gotta be aware of is you made it my problem when ya’ attacked an innocent citizen right in front of me and then resisted arrest.”

  “Innocent my arse!”

  Ben looked over in my direction but kept himself positioned between the two of us. “Jeezus, Row. I thought you said this is the guy that liked ya’?”

  “I guess he changed his mind,” I replied with a shake of my head.

  Halfway through the motion I stopped, closed my eyes, and groaned. The rattling in my skull still hadn’t subsided, and now that it joined forces with the fresh ache in my jaw, moving just made it that much worse. When I allowed my eyes to flutter open once again, I saw that Mandalay was already heading back through the dining room with a dishtowel in her hand.

  “What’ve you done to my sister, ya’ bastard?!” Austin shouted, lifting up and leaning to the side to look around Ben’s frame.

  Before I could answer, Ben snapped, “Can it!” Then, pushing him back down into the seat he added, “Now, I’m not gonna tell ya’ ta’ calm down again, got me?!”

  I was determined that someone was going to listen to me, so I shot back with, “I haven’t done anything to her, Austin!”

  My own voice rose in volume as I expelled the words, and that didn’t help my head either. However, the sudden rush of anger was enough to at least blunt the pain.

  “Liar!”

  “Goddammit, Austin, I…”

  “You too!” Ben returned, cutting me off while stabbing a finger at me. “Not another word outta either of ya’. Hear me?!”

  Constance interjected her voice into the auditory fray as she came to a halt in front of me. “Stand still, this might sting a bit.”

  With only that comment as warning, she began dabbing at the lower half of my face and lip with a damp towel. I immediately winced and pulled away, reaching for her wrist out of reflex.

  “A bit?” I yelped.

  She slapped my hand away and continued undaunted, quickly adding, “I said, stand still.”

  “Dammit, Constance,” I muttered. “You aren’t my mother.”

  “I’m not your wife either, thank God,” she quipped softly. “But, someone has to look after you, and until we clear Felicity, it looks like I got the job whether I want it or not. Now, hold still.”

  “Bastard!” Austin snipped.

  “I thought I told ya’ ta’ shut up!” Ben snarled at him.

  “I’ll be fine,” I reiterated to Mandalay.

  “Come over this way,” she instructed, tugging on my arm. “I need more light.”

  “Constance…”

  “Jeezus, Row,” Ben urged with a healthy measure of exasperation in his voice. “She ain’t gonna take no for an answer, so will ya’ just let ‘er look at it and get it over with?”

  I didn’t say another word, but I did let out a heavy sigh before following her a few steps over to the floor lamp. Then, giving in to yet another of her demands, I twisted my head so she could have a closer look.

  “Mmhmm,” she hummed. “It’s not too bad. I don’t think you’ll need any stitches.”

  “Thanks, Doctor Mandalay,” I returned, unable to keep the sarcasm from bleeding through.

  She ignored the dig and instead simply produced a second dishtowel from her other hand then carefully pressed it against my lip. It was damp and cold where the fistful of ice it was wrapped around had begun to melt through.

  “Here, hold this on it for a while.”

  “If I do, will you stop mothering me?”

  “No.”

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much I could really say in response, so I sighed again and held the icepack against the lower half of my mouth as I mumbled, “Okay. Fine. If it makes you happy.”

  “Well isn’t that just a pretty picture then,” Austin grumbled. “Just couldn’t wait, could you, ya’ bastard?”

  “Hey,” Ben barked. “What did…”

  “No, Ben,” I snapped, cutting him off. “Let him say what’s on his mind.”

  “Aye, I suspect you don’t want to be hearin’ that, now do you,” my brother-in-law responded with an angry snort.

  “Keep it civil,” Ben instructed, taking a half step to the side, so we could see one another. “Both of ya’.”

  “Actually, yes. I do want to hear it, Austin,” I replied. “Just what couldn’t I wait for?”

  “Her,” he snipped. “Felicity’s in jail, and you’ve already got yourself a cailín here in her house…”

  “A what?”

  “Are ya’ daft?” he spat, thrusting his chin toward Constance. “Your girlfriend there.”

  “Gods, Austin, get a clue. She’s an FBI agent,” I returned incredulously. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  Constance slipped out her badge case and flipped it open as she stepped toward him. “I’ve already identified myself as a federal officer, here’s my ID,” she told him coolly. “And, he’s telling the truth. I’m not his girlfriend.”

  He simply harrumphed in return, giving her credentials only a cursory glance.

  “So, are you trying to tell me everything was just fine until you saw Constance standing there at the door, and that’s why you decided to take a swing at me? Because, I hate to tell you this, but I have trouble believing that.”

  “Aye, I was planning to hit you anyway, that’s a fact.”

  “Yeah, no shit. Want to give me a clue as to why?”

  As an answer he simply repeated his earlier question. “What have you done to my sister?”

  “I haven’t done a thing. Just what the hell makes you think I did something to her?”

  “She’s in jail, ya’ bastard.”

  “Dammit, Austin, you think I don’t know that? I didn’t put her there, you idiot, but I’m trying my damndest to get her out!”

  “That’s not what I’ve been told.”

  “By who? Shamus?”

  “Aye.”

  “Yeah, well why am I not surprised by that? What does get me though is that you believed him.”

  “Well, you might as well get used to it, then.”

  “Really? So when did you all of a sudden start taking his side?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yeah, I think maybe it does. What the hell did he tell you, Austin?”

  “The truth.”

  “The truth, or his truth? Because we both know they aren’t the same thing.”

  “Says you.”

  “Gods,” I muttered, worry filling my voice. “What the hell did he say to you, Austin?”

  “He told me the things you’ve forced my sister to do.”

  “He what?”

  “The devil worship. The sacrifices. Everything.”

  “Gods, Austin, give me a break, will you? You, of all people, know better than that. Hell, you’ve been one of the first to defend me when he’s started in on that crap before.”

  “Aye, but that was before I knew the real truth.”

  My frustration was starting to get the better of me. “Real truth? What real truth? What are you talking about?”

  “Stop lying, you bastard. He still has the letters.”

  The only thing keeping my irritation from reaching a volatile flashpoint was the sudden dousing of confusion applied by his words. “Letters? Dammit, Austin. Just spit it out. What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The letters Felicity sent, begging him to help her escape from you,” he growled.

  “The what?” I snapped back at him, incredulity tightly wrapped about the words. “Give me a break. He doesn’t have any such thing and you know it.”

  “Aye, but I do. I’ve seen them. And, they’re written in her own hand, by God.”

  CHAPTER 20:

  The only thing I truly remember hearing on the heels of Austin’s retort was Ben’s voice as he all but spat the word “b
ullshit” into the room. If my brother-in-law responded to it verbally, either I didn’t hear him, or his words simply weren’t registering because I was no longer paying attention to his rhetoric.

  In fact, I wasn’t paying attention to anyone.

  Of course, even if I had been able to blurt my own objection, once again there was no need, because Ben delivered the comment with enough disdain for the both of us. Besides that, the single word summed everything up in a neat and wholly unambiguous package. There was nothing for me to add.

  It took a moment for me to notice that all normal sound had been replaced by a loud ringing as my blood raged through my body. My ears and face began to feel hot, and the room seemed to waver as an emotional claustrophobia swaddled me in an ever-tightening blanket of anguish. I couldn’t even describe what I was feeling as blind anger, because it went so far beyond that.

  It was a good thing Shamus wasn’t the one in the chair because this was all simply too much. I’d finally had everything I could possibly take, and the fragile self-control I’d maintained thus far was a rapidly fading memory. I couldn’t say for certain what I would have done had it actually been him sitting there, but it’s a good bet that an ambulance and some manner of charges being filed against me would have been a big part of the aftermath.

  I stood there, unmoving. I didn’t even utter a sound as Austin’s words replayed in my head. I simply stared back at him while every painful event in my recently shattered life joined together and came to a dangerous climax. Then, just as I felt myself pitching over that precipice toward a violent eruption, something far more frightening happened.

  Calm swept over me in a comfortable shroud.

  Cold, emotionless, calm, and with it came a strange sense of clarity. It was, however, a form of lucidity that I couldn’t readily identify. I knew full well that while it could in fact be reality, it could just as easily be the edge of insanity. But, at this point, it simply didn’t matter one way or the other.