All acts of pleasure argi-7

by M. R. Sellars

He shook his head and objected. “I may have been drinking, but I was sober enough to know what I saw.”

  “I can’t imagine why daid would make up something like that, but all I can tell you is that they aren’t real.”

  “Are you certain?” he pressed.

  “Aye, do you think I’m daft? Don’t you think I would know if I had written them?”

  I watched as Austin hemmed and hawed for a moment then made a shallow nod in my direction. I’m sure he thought he was doing it on the sly, but I caught it easily, and the significance of the motion wasn’t lost on me.

  “What?” Felicity asked, shaking her head. “Spit it out.”

  “He’s trying to tell you he thinks you might be lying because you’re under duress since I’m sitting right here,” I offered.

  “That’s ridiculous!” she sputtered.

  “I can go in the other room if it would make you feel better, Austin,” I offered flatly, starting to rise from my chair.

  “You, stay put,” Felicity ordered, then she turned back to her brother. “Austin, are you still drunk? Do I look to you like I’m afraid of my husband?”

  “No, but the letters were written in your own hand, Felicity,” he appealed. “How can you explain that?”

  “How can you be so sure?” she countered. “When did you become an expert on handwriting analysis? And, besides that, when did you last see anything I’d written by hand?”

  “He showed me some old letters you sent home from university,” Austin explained. “I checked and the handwriting looked the same to me.”

  “Well, I’m telling you…” she started then immediately stopped herself and cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. After a moment she resumed speaking. “Wait a minute. He had the letters I’d sent home from school?”

  “Aye, that’s what I said.”

  “Did you ask to see those?”

  “No, he just offered.”

  “That’s it then.”

  “What’s it?”

  “Remember when we were kids, how daidi used to have people write down their names, and then after looking at the signature for a minute, he would make a copy with his own hand?”

  “Aye,” Austin replied with a slow nod. “I do remember that.”

  “Shamus was into forgery?” I queried.

  “No.” Felicity shot me a glance and gave a quick shake of her head. “It was just a trick he could do, a bizarre talent. He used to entertain everyone by doing it. Of course, they weren’t perfect, but they were close enough.”

  “So you’re thinking he forged the letters he showed Austin, using your old correspondences from college to work from?” I asked.

  “That’s the only explanation I can think of,” she replied. “Because I damn sure didn’t write them.”

  “Aye, and I suppose if anyone could do it, Shamus O’Brien would be the one,” Austin agreed.

  “That would also explain why he made it a point to show you the old college letters,” I added, directing myself to Austin. “It gave you something to compare them to. It was his way to prove to you that the forged letters were legitimate. But, given what you two just said, I think that move might have just backfired on him and tipped his hand.”

  “But why?” Felicity asked. “Why forge letters like that? I still don’t understand why he would do something so mean.”

  “Because he doesn’t see it as mean,” I offered. “He’s doing it out of love for his daughter.”

  “You’re defending him?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Not so much defending as understanding,” I replied. “Believe me, over the past two days I’ve had my fill of your father. But, like I said to Austin last night when I was trying to convince him that you couldn’t possibly have written the letters-if I had a daughter, and I had any inkling at all that she could be in danger, I would do anything in my power to help her. Even if she didn’t want my help. I can see where that would include forging some type of evidence to help me effect that rescue.”

  “But I’m not. Not from you, anyway.”

  “Agreed, but that’s not how he sees it. I’m not saying he isn’t misguided, and I’m also not saying that I don’t want to wring his neck because I do. But, stepping away and looking at it from a different viewpoint, I can understand how his skewed logic is driving him to do it.”

  “But all he’s doing is creating a bigger rift,” she replied.

  I nodded. “I know. But, remember, he told me himself that he has already contacted someone about having you deprogrammed.”

  “He’d best forget that idea right now,” my wife spat.

  “I agree, but I don’t think he’s going to. I think the fact that he went to the trouble of forging those letters is evidence enough of that.”

  “I’m afraid Rowan might be right, Felicity,” Austin agreed. “He was talking of it yesterday when he showed them to me.”

  “What did mathair say about it then?”

  “She wasn’t happy about it at all.” He let out a small huff. “In fact, when I left the house they weren’t speaking. She had gone upstairs, slamming doors all the way.”

  “So that’s where you got it,” I commented, but my observation was met only by Felicity frowning and rolling her eyes at me.

  “Well, maybe she’s talked some sense into him by now,” she mused.

  A moment of sullen quiet fell over all of us as we sat and sipped our coffee. Finally, Austin cleared his throat.

  “Aye, well how did he sound when you told him they let you go?” he asked.

  “I haven’t called yet,” Felicity returned coldly. “And, now I’m not so sure that I’m going to.”

  Her comment wasn’t an idle threat. As it turned out, she never actually made the call herself. It was the other way around, for Shamus began calling us as soon as her release was reported on the midday news. At last count he had managed to leave six messages. How many attempts it took for him to accomplish that feat was a mystery, however, because the phone itself was ringing non-stop before Austin ever left. Reporters from every television and radio station, as well as newspaper, in the area were looking for an interview-or at the very least a comment from the newly freed and wrongly accused Witch. Felicity ignored those as well, leaving them to me. But, after I doled out more “no comments” than I could tally in my head, I gave up on the annoyances myself and started allowing the machine to get the calls.

  The first two messages from my father-in-law were relatively calm, though they were definitely replete with general concern and a note of relief. But, by the time the total reached the half-dozen mark, he was right back at verbally berating me, this time for keeping Felicity from talking to him, as he was sure that was the case. I suspect Austin and Maggie were all that was keeping him from actually showing up on our doorstep by that point.

  I found myself in a bit of a quandary about the outbursts. On the one hand, I was glad Felicity was hearing him so that she could understand why I felt this was more than just his usual disdain for me. But, on the other, I hated for her to be subjected to listening to his tirades. It was never my aim to alienate her from her family, even if at least one of them thought so. I even started to pick up during one of the rants if for no other reason than to bring it to an end. However, when I reached for the handset, I suddenly found her hand pressing down on the back of mine as she muttered in a cold voice, “Leave it be.”

  It was almost eight p.m. when my wife finally elected to step over to the phone as it once again began to peal. The angry stream of Gaelic which spewed from her mouth the moment she had the device in hand was enough to tell me who was at the other end.

  I decided then that it was a good time for me to work on straightening up the office upstairs.

  CHAPTER 23:

  “Good mornin’,” Ben said as soon as I swung open the front door.

  “It is Monday, isn’t it?” I asked in reply.

  “Last time I checked.”

  “Then shouldn’t you be at work?”


  “I am. Sorta. Here.” He shoved a fold of paper into my hand as he invited himself in. “You got anything ta’ eat?”

  He wasn’t even completely through the door when he handed me the envelope and just kept going toward the kitchen. I looked at it, slightly puzzled at first then suddenly fearful. Felicity’s name was typed across its face, and the return address of the prosecutor’s office was imprinted in the upper corner.

  “This damn well better not be another warrant,” I snapped.

  “It ain’t.”

  “Okay, then what is it?”

  “Look at it.”

  “Let’s not start that again,” I replied, swinging the door shut then following along behind him.

  “Don’t worry, it ain’t anything bad.”

  “Famous last words. So, what is it?”

  “You got coffee on,” he asked, completely bypassing the query.

  “Yeah, actually Felicity just made a fresh pot a few minutes ago,” I replied. “And, you know where the cups are. Now are you going to answer my question or not?”

  “Jeezus, calm down and just open the damn envelope,” he replied as he snagged a mug from the cabinet and began filling it over the sink. “It’s a property release. Ran into the prosecutor, and I offered to save the city some postage.”

  “You just happened to run into the prosecutor?” I echoed, interrupting him. “Isn’t that a little out of the ordinary, even for you?”

  “Yeah, well, kinda.” He shrugged. “I’ll admit it was accidentally on purpose ‘cause I was doin’ some diggin’ and happened ta’ be standin’ in his office, but that don’t matter right now.” He paused to take a swig of the coffee then topped off the cup before sliding the carafe back into the base. “Anyhow, all ya’ gotta do is take that an’ your copy of the property voucher the crime scene guys had ya’ sign then go downtown and ask to see the properties officer. Give ‘em those, show ‘em your ID, coupla’ signatures, and ya’ can pick up everything they took during the search.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. That’s pretty much how it works.”

  “No…I mean, yeah, I know that…I’m just saying that this was awfully fast.” I hmmphed thoughtfully. “I mean, I just talked to Jackie yesterday afternoon about what we needed to do to get our stuff back.”

  “Well, yeah, it’s not unusual ta’ hafta get your attorney involved, but I don’t think ya’ can give ‘er credit for this one. They’re kinda in a hurry ta’ get past all this.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “Yeah, ‘cause they fucked up.”

  “Obviously,” I said with an animated nod. “But what I mean is did you manage to get any details about what finally brought that fact to their attention?”

  He looked around. “Where’s Firehair?”

  “Downstairs starting another load of laundry; she’ll be up in a minute. Why?”

  “I’ll tell ya’ when she’s here too, that way I only gotta say it once. So, look, ya’ got any sandwich stuff or anything? I skipped breakfast.”

  “What happened?” I quipped. “Did coming here cause you to miss out on your donut fix this morning?”

  “There ya’ go with the donut jokes again. Ya’know, ya’ better be careful. Not all coppers got as good a sense of humor as me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Sandwich?”

  I shook my head. “There’s stuff in the fridge. Help yourself, but seriously, Ben, don’t you ever buy groceries?”

  He was already rooting through the shelves of the refrigerator, loading the crook of his arm with whatever happened to strike his fancy.

  “Yeah,” he replied over his shoulder. “But yours are better.”

  “Why? Because they’re free?”

  “Well, yeah, that’s part of it,” he chuckled.

  “You are going to put all that away when you’re done, aren’t you?” Felicity’s voice rang out from the doorway. “We’ve been cleaning since yesterday, and I don’t need you making a mess in here.”

  “And how are you?” Ben asked without turning.

  “I’m just fine, as long as you don’t wreck my house again.”

  He turned toward her and held up his hands. “Hey, it wasn’t me that trashed the place.”

  “Rowan tells me they had badges, so that means they were part of your little fraternity.”

  “Ouch,” he feigned a wince. “Row’s got you hatin’ cops now too, eh?”

  “I have a good reason of my own.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you do.”

  “And, destroying my belongings didn’t help,” she added.

  “Again, not me.”

  “There is the whole guilt by association concept.”

  “Is there any way I’m gonna get outta this?” he asked, looking over at me.

  “Probably not,” I replied. “You’re convenient right now, and there was definitely some damage done during the search. She’s not happy, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

  “I’m pissed off is what I am,” she interjected.

  “Shit,” he huffed. “A lot of damage?”

  “Enough,” Felicity spat. “Besides, any at all is too much.”

  He turned back to the pile of foodstuffs and began untwisting the tie on a loaf of bread. “Bag it, tag it, and make a list, then give it all ta’ your lawyer and tell ‘er what happened.”

  “What good will that do?”

  “Depends,” he replied. “Did ya’ take pictures of the place before ya’ started cleanin’ up?”

  “No.” I shook my head even though he wasn’t looking my way. “I guess we should have.”

  “Woulda’ been a good idea.”

  “Well, it just didn’t cross my mind given everything that’s been going on.”

  “Yeah, I can understand that. Either way, ya’ still need ta’ give the stuff to your mouthpiece. She might be able ta’ get ya’ a coupla’ bucks if the damage can be deemed unnecessary.”

  “Aye, it was damned unnecessary,” Felicity spoke up again, her temper starting to flare. “I can tell you that right now.”

  “Why don’t we change the subject.” I endeavored to shift the conversation away from re-lighting her fuse. “You had something to tell us, Ben?”

  “What? Oh yeah…” He finished mounding deli meat and cheese on a slice of bread and then started twisting the lid from the jar of mayonnaise. “So, Firehair, you got a sister you been hidin’?”

  “No,” she replied flatly, scrunching her brow. “And just where the hell did that question come from anyway?”

  “The DNA tests.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Seems the DNA what hung ya’, sprung ya’.”

  “Cute, but don’t quit your day job,” Felicity quipped. “Would you mind explaining just exactly what you’re talking about?”

  Ben looked over to me. “Remember what Mandalay and I were tellin’ ya’ about the DNA last night?”

  “No. I wasn’t here if you recall,” my wife chimed in an annoyed tone.

  “I was talkin’ ta’ Rowan.”

  “Well talk to me. It’s my DNA you’re babbling about.”

  “Jeezus H. Christ, if it ain’t one of ya’, it’s the other. You wanna take a swing at me too?”

  “If you don’t get to the point, aye, maybe I will.”

  “Felicity,” I interjected. “Give him a chance to talk, okay?”

  She let out a hard breath, and her shoulders drooped in unison with it. “I’m sorry, Ben,” she offered. “I’ve had better weekends if you know what I mean.”

  “S’okay. It’s understandable,” he answered as he placed the dressed slice of bread atop the mound on the counter and mashed it down to a manageable thickness. “So anyway, we were explainin’ to Row about how DNA is used as evidence. The long and short of it is, what they got on you was a partial match. Thing is, it was such a close partial, and since the samples were degraded, it looked like enough ta’ go after ya’.”<
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  “But it wasn’t?” she asked.

  “Well, as it stood, yeah, it kinda was. Up until Saturday afternoon.”

  I asked, “So what happened Saturday afternoon to change it?”

  “Gettin’ ta’ that,” he said then grabbed the sandwich in one hand, took a huge bite and began to chew as he started putting away the makings.

  Felicity watched him as he started placing things back into the refrigerator but by the third item was shouldering her way in front of him.

  “Go sit down and eat,” she instructed, grabbing the mayonnaise from the center of the top shelf and placing it in the door where it belonged. “It’ll be easier if you just let me do this.”

  “I promised I’d do it,” he mumbled as he chewed.

  “No, actually you didn’t,” she replied then pointing in the direction of the breakfast nook ordered, “Now, sit, swallow, talk.”

  “Okay,” he grunted as he choked down the mouthful then picked up his coffee and headed for the table, adding in a much clearer voice, “Whatever you say.”

  “Careful, she likes obedient men,” I joked.

  My wife snipped, “He’d take some serious training before I’d call him obedient.”

  “Jeez, let’s don’t even go there, you two, okay?” he moaned.

  “Then finish what you were telling us,” she urged.

  He hastily complied. “So anyway, got some info in from some of the other homicides the NCIC had linked with the two here. Most of ‘em had squat, but turns out a couple of ‘em had even better samples to work with than us. Because of that they had complete DNA profiles.”

  “So are you saying they didn’t match with me?” Felicity asked.

  “Yes and no.”

  “Make sense, Ben,” she said.

  “That’s the thing. They cleared you because the full profile was different enough from yours. But, it was still damned close, and dead on with the partial from the other scenes.”

  “So that’s why the crack about a sister,” I observed.

  “‘Zactly,” he said with a nod. “Lab guy said the profiles are close enough they pretty much have to be siblings. Uncanny kinda close he said. If they had some of your father’s DNA for comparison that’d probably clinch it.”