Never Burn A Witch argi-2, page 27
part #2 of A Rowan Gant investigation Series
“Truly good friends are a rarity, Constance,” I offered in return. “I count you among mine, and I always have time for my friends.”
She allowed a weak smile to play across her lips and shot me an embarrassed glance then brushed her hair back and sighed, “It was the whole lesbian thing.”
“I kind of picked that up.” I nodded then took a sip of the overly sweetened brew. It had now cooled enough to drink without fear of a scalded tongue, so I toned down my original caution. “Does homosexuality bother you?”
“What? No, no, nothing like that,” she explained. “Just assholes like Roberts that get off on watching two women together and make a big deal of it.”
I mulled over her comment before replying, “Okay.”
“That doesn’t make much sense to you, does it?”
“Not entirely. I’ll grant you it’s not my thing either, but I try to be open minded about that sort of stuff. Either way, it’s not my place to judge the feelings and opinions of others, so if it bothers you…”
She let out an exhausted sigh, and I could feel her reluctance to speak fading into the background. Her anger had quelled, leaving only a sad emptiness in its wake. It was a pain dulled by time but still in possession of sharp barbs that, if brushed against, could open the wound anew.
“This stays between us, right?” She stared at me with deadly serious concern glazing her eyes.
“Of course,” I answered.
There was a short interlude where she searched my face and found only truth behind my answer. She then stared at an unseen spot on the floor while nervously fidgeting the rim of the paper cup between her fingernails. Finally, whatever courage or imagined approval she sought within came into being and she spoke.
“I had an older brother, Rowan,” she began flatly. “His name was Brandon and he was gay.”
“Had?” I couldn’t help but notice the emphasis on the past tense. “Was it HIV?”
“No, not AIDS. I almost wish it had been.” She breathed the acronym as if it could have been a welcome friend. “I know that probably sounds insane but in a lot of ways that would have been much easier to cope with…to understand.”
Constance drew in a deep breath then, like taking a bitter dose of medicine, rushed headlong into the explanation. “Around four years ago Brandon was locking up the bookstore he managed. It was late and he was alone… Classic setting for something to happen I suppose-in fact, to this day when I talk about it, it doesn’t seem real. It sounds like a scene from a made-for-TV movie…
“Anyway, before he ever got his key out of the door, he was jumped from behind by a liquored up homophobe who beat him to death with an aluminum softball bat.”
Her pragmatic explanation poured into the quiet hallway, starkly revealing her personal tragedy for me to witness. A simple dissertation unblemished by the heavy emotions she had incarcerated deep within.
“I’m sorry,” I told her after a solemn pause, then as if to add to the surreal cliche of the stories fold, I automatically asked the obvious. “Did they ever find the guy who did it?”
“Oh yeah,” she replied with a quick nod. “They found him. He was too drunk to cover his tracks or even bother with getting rid of the bat. The police followed his bloody footprints right back to his apartment which, as it happens, was two doors down the hall from Brandon’s.”
She paused and looked over at me with the vacancy of cold grief in her eyes then continued, “The one thing that I’ll always remember is what the sonofabitch said when they arrested him. He said that if Brandon had been a gay woman instead of a gay man, then he wouldn’t have killed him. In his words it was because, ‘a couple of hot lesbos are a turn-on but two fags is just sick.’”
CHAPTER 20
So did ya’ find out what was eatin’ at Mandalay?” Ben asked as we headed toward the building’s exit.
The troubled federal agent had left police headquarters well before Ben had finished with Allen Roberts. Now, more than three hours later, this was the first opportunity that had presented itself for him to ask me about her. She had still been engaged in a lethargic wrestling match with her anger when she aimed herself homeward; however, this was far better than the ten round pugilistic event she had exhibited earlier. I had no doubt that what she really needed at this point was a healthy cry and a good night’s sleep. Unless I missed my guess, some portion of that catharsis was probably taking place at this very moment.
“Yeah, we talked about it,” I said, dragging on my coat as we approached the door. “But it’s something I can’t really get into.” I left my comment at that in hopes he wouldn’t force the issue.
When it came to Ben Storm, I should have known better than to rally behind such a hope.
Muteness oozed from my friend to form an expectant bubble of quiet around us for a measured beat. Just as he opened his mouth to pump me for details, the door swung open and a pair of uniformed officers bustled through. Ben exchanged a quick nod with them as they continued past us with a frosty wind trailing along behind. The rush of cold spilled a full twenty feet into the room before the door was once again completely shut. With the darkness of night, the reprieve of sunshine was over and winter’s breath had returned.
“Yeah, uh-huh. So what’s the deal?” he pressed when he felt they were out of earshot, his words forming an ephemeral cloud of white on the lingering chill.
“Seriously, I promised her it would stay between us,” I replied.
“That’s fine. I’m not gonna tell anyone.” He gave me an animated nod. “Now really, what gives?”
“I’m not kidding, Ben. I promised Constance I wouldn’t talk about it.”
“Look, Row…” He paused as he brought his fingers to bear on the tension in his neck, but only after an unconscious smoothing of his hair. “I admire your loyalty, I really do, but for all intents and purposes Mandalay physically attacked a suspect.” The last words of his sentence were enhanced by the fact that they were spoken in an urgent whisper. His eyes quickly darted to reassure himself that we were still out of earshot. “The brass really frowns on that kinda stuff, not ta’ mention what the media could do with it.”
“I know, Ben, but she didn’t actually hurt him, did she?”
“No.”
“Is he going to be pressing charges?”
“No, I don’t think so. Besides it’d be his word against hers, and there wasn’t a mark on ‘im so they’d have a hell of a time makin’ it stick.”
“Okay then,” I shrugged.
“No, not ‘okay then.’” My friend stabbed a finger at me. “She got lucky this time, but that’s not the point. The point is that she attacked a suspect without just cause.”
“I know she was out of line, Ben, but she was provoked,” I appealed. “You saw how Roberts was getting under her skin, and he just kept pushing even after you told him to stop.”
“What? You mean all that lesbo fetish stuff?” His eyes grew wide as he looked back at me, his index finger still hanging in the air between us. “Is Mandalay a lesbian? Is that what this is all about?”
“No, Ben, she’s not gay. Not that I’m aware of anyway. Besides, what difference would that make?”
“None, but what’s goin’ on? I don’t get it.”
“I’m telling you I can’t say.” My voice had taken on the imploring tenor of my emotional appeal. “I made a promise, and if there is one thing a person has in life it’s his or her word. I cannot and will not break my word to her.”
Ben was growing impatient with me. I could not only see it in his eyes but feel it flowing outward from him as well. I truly wanted to explain to my friend what had made Constance snap like she did. Consciously I knew that simply telling him would most likely get this all over with in a heartbeat. That, however, was not the only thing I was conscious of. What resided most in the forefront of my mind was the fact that I could not betray the trust of a friend- even if it was for another.
“Listen,” he sighed heavily then proceeded to detail his case in a stern, clipped voice, “I hafta work with this woman. I may very well hafta count on ‘er ta’ keep me from endin’ up sleepin’ under a rock with my name chiseled on it. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“Now, I respect your standin’ by your promise, and I know it’s somethin’ that’s very important to ya’. I also have a lotta respect for Mandalay. She’s a good kid even if she’s a Feeb. But the bottom line is that I don’t know ‘er well enough ta’ make a judgment call, so right now that respect hasta take a back seat ta’ reason… What I’ve gotta know is if she’s got some kinda problem that’s gonna affect ‘er ability to do ‘er job.”
“I don’t think you have that to worry about, Ben.”
“You ‘don’t think?’” he demanded. “Think isn’t good enough, Rowan. What I saw in that interview room looked like a potential problem ta’ me, and the last thing I need right now is an unstable Fed on this team. You’ve gotta give me somethin’ more than that.”
“What if I tell you it’s a feeling?”
“No.” He shook his head quickly. “No hocus-pocus, Row. I know that Twilight Zone stuff works, but I need somethin’ more on this one. If you know what’s up ya’ need to tell me.”
“If I could tell you what it is, you know I would. I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to trust me on this.”
“I’m dead serious here, Row. I don’t need ‘er havin’ a meltdown and fuckin’ up this investigation. I haven’t got time for it. Hell, none of us do.”
“She’ll be fine.” I let out my own weighty sigh. “Really. What she needs right now is exactly the same thing we all need-a decent night’s sleep and something to eat besides donuts and bad coffee. That’s all I can say.”
“Yeah… okay…” he finally aquiesced, shaking his head all the while. “But I’ve gotta tell ya’, Row, I’m not feelin’ real good about this at all.”
He continued to work his large hand on the back of his neck as he fell silent. He had made it perfectly clear that he was not at all convinced of Agent Mandalay’s stability. I knew from past experience that his grudging acceptance of my reassurance was going to continue to eat away at him. At the moment it was a prominent, but still small, bother. Very soon it would grow into a malignant vexation that would further poison his perception of the federal officer.
“I know you prefer to shy away from anything you consider touchy-feely, Ben,” I offered, “but, you could call her and ask her yourself, you know.”
“Me ask her what’s up?” he asked rhetorically. “I’m no good at that crap.”
“Well, that’s my only suggestion if you want to know anything more than I’m at liberty to give you.”
After a moment of quiet thought, he took in a deep breath and huffed it out. “So what if I do call ‘er? Is she just pissed or is she gonna cry or somethin’?”
“She might. I don’t know.”
“Jeez, Rowan. I vapor lock when Allison starts ta’ sniffle. I can’t do that cryin’ shit.”
“Ben,” I appealed. “It’s obvious that this is going to keep working on you until you get an answer. You know that I can’t give it to you, but if you talk to her, maybe she will.”
“Ya’think?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” I shook my head. “But it’s worth a try. I’m sure Constance can understand your concerns. She’s just as much a part of the cop fraternity as you are.”
“Yeah…maybe you’re right.” A look of resignation molded itself to his features. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
“I think it would be a good idea.” I told him with a nod, then as much to ease his tension as for curiosity, I maneuvered the subject into a different lane. “So whatever happened to Carl? I didn’t see him upstairs.”
“Oh, he left awhile ago. He took Roberts out to the County lockup since he lived in their jurisdiction,” he replied with a noticeable drop in his stress level.
“What ended up happening with that?”
“Somethin’ ta’ do with pirated software or somethin’ like that,” he explained. “Federal offense so County will prob’ly be turnin’ ‘im over to the Feebs at some point. Guess he’d better hope Mandalay is off duty that day, huh?”
“That would probably be in both their best interests,” I agreed. “So anyway, when are you going to get out of here? I thought you were planning on dinner with the family.”
Ben shot a tired glance through the glass doors at the darkened sky and then rolled his watch face up and gave it a calculating stare. As he let his arm drop, he conceded yet another defeat at the hands of his vocation. “Well, it looks like that idea is in the dumper, not that I expected any different. Guess I’ll wrap up a few things here then go home and have a cold meatlump sandwich.”
“Does Allison know you talk about her cooking like that,” I queried with a smile.
“Hell, white man, she’s the one that named it meatlump. So what about you?” He dipped his head at me. “What’re you gonna do? I’m sure Al made plenty if you wanna come by.”
“Thanks, but I’m beat and I’m liable to crash hard as soon as I get something in my stomach. There’s some leftover Dublin Coddle in the fridge at home, so I’ll probably just nuke a bowl and then hit the sack.”
“Dublin Coddle? Sounds funky. That somethin’ from that party?”
“Yeah. Actually it’s kind of a potato, onion and sausage stew. It’s pretty good.”
“Maybe I should come with you. Sounds a damn sight better than meatlump.”
“I’m sure there’s more than enough if you want.”
“Nahhh.” He shook his head. “I was just kiddin’. If I hurry maybe I can tuck my kid in for a change. Besides, I think I’m prob’ly right there with ya’ on the whole crashin’ thing.”
“Yeah, I thought you might be,” I said. “So how about tomorrow? Where do we go from here?”
My friend’s tone again grew somber. “Well, NARC will keep workin’ the Roofies angle, and I guess we’ll see what we can come up with on the whole Catholic thing. The Archdiocese wasn’t what you’d call thrilled when Osthoff and Martin showed up, if ya’ know what I mean.”
“I can imagine. So you probably don’t really need me down here tomorrow then?”
Ben pursed his lips as he thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Well, I’d like ta’ have you there if we get a chance ta’ talk to that old bum again, but other than that probably not. If you’ve got somethin’ else planned already then go for it. I’d appreciate it if ya’ could stay near a phone though.”
We both shifted out of the way as another pair of officers skirted around us to exit the building.
“I don’t really have anything planned other than getting caught up with some work that’s been piling up.”
“I can understand that… So I’ll be able to reach ya’ if I need to though, right?”
“Yeah, I’ll be at the house.” I nodded as I reached out and leaned on the door.
“Okay, Kemosabe. I’ll talk to ya’ later then. Drive careful.”
“I will,” I answered and pushed the door open. “Don’t stay here too late. And do yourself a favor, call Constance.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll do that,” he called after me as he turned and headed toward the elevators.
With the introduction of the incident with Agent Mandalay, the order of my thoughts had been radically shifted. Now, an earlier unvoiced concern was once again surfacing. I had considered mentioning it to Ben, but with the other events of the day still woefully fresh in our minds, I finally elected to table it for another day. Unfortunately, I knew for certain that it was something that couldn’t wait for very long.
What had gone unsaid between my friend and I was the fact that I was harboring my own troubling doubts as well. They were, however, not about Special Agent Mandalay, or him, or any of the other members of the Major Case Squad. My deep apprehension was about my own effectiveness in this investigation.
I had been on a frightfully uneven keel from the very beginning and had yet to right myself. I had somehow managed to have my moments of attunement, but they were few and far between. Balance was something I still had not signed a contract with. Truth be told, I hadn’t even opened negotiations with it. I was drifting about with no ground and no focus, grasping aimlessly at an ethereal lightning rod and missing at every pass. Thus far, the only thing I had been able to do with any modicum of success was to bleed profusely from preternatural stigmata, spit swimming pool water on the carpeting, and announce that we would soon find another body. That wasn’t really the kind of help that was expected of me, and it was getting us nowhere.
I was fully aware that if I didn’t get myself under control soon not only was I going to be of no help to the police, but I was going to become a severe risk to my own well being. An ungrounded Witch is a dangerous Witch, and as disconnected as I was right now, I was leaving myself open to things I didn’t even want to consider.
It was my own fault I was in this situation and I knew it. I forced myself to make a personal promise to do what it took to get back on track. Now all I had to do was keep my word to myself.
I joined the zipper on the front of my coat as I walked and began pulling it upwards, all the while clinging hard to the warmth of my resolve to spend some time grounding and centering. An angry gust of winter chill made one last assault on the shrinking seam and managed to slip inside the folds of my jacket. Rounding the corner of the building on my way to the parking area where my truck currently resided an involuntary shiver danced along my back, and I quickly flipped my collar up around my ears.
Slowly, dull fingers of pain inflicted an unwanted massage at the base of my neck and began inching along the back of my tightening scalp. My guess was that the handful of granulated aspirin I took earlier had finally worn off, and now the headache that had been making a home inside my skull was being aggravated by the cold.
The fingers slowly transformed into an octet of stinging tendrils as they conquered the crown of my head and thrust their poisonous caress inward. Metered pounding announced its cadence directly behind my forehead, becoming louder with each step I took. Completing the rhythm section of the painful orchestra, the thick rush of blood filled my ears in harmony with the hammering metronome.
