All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation (15 page)

“It’s not that I want to, Ben,” I
offered.

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Look…My head’s not in a very good place
right now. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You talk ta’ Helen?”

“Yeah,” I grunted. “She told me you thought
you were doing us a favor.”

He gave his head a shake. “I did, but
I’m not talkin’ bout that. I wanna know have ya’ talked to ‘er
about you? About what’s goin’ on inside
your
head.”

“A little.”

“A little ain’t enough, Row.”

“Yeah, I know,” I agreed. “But there will be
time for that once I clear Felicity.”

“How’re you gonna do that?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Well, I gotta tell ya’, Kemosabe. I don’t
either, ‘cause no matter how ya’ slice it, it don’t look good.”

“Uh-huh. That’s all I seem to be hearing from
you, my attorney, and everyone else.”

“Sorry. Just bein’ honest.”

“Are you telling me that even you think she’s
guilty?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head,
waiting a measured beat before answering. “I don’t want to,
but…”

I waited for him to finish the sentence,
however, he simply allowed his voice to trail off.

“But what, Ben?” I finally asked. “Can you
honestly say that you think Felicity is a killer?”

“Under different circumstances, no.”

“So what’s so different about the
circumstances now?”

“The cards just ain’t fallin’ in her favor,
Row.”

“Last I recall you had nothing other than
circumstantial evidence at best.”

“I’m afraid it’s gotten a little more
complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“I can’t really get into it, Row.”

“Damn you, Ben,” I spat in a low voice.
“Don’t keep doing this. You can’t dangle that shit in front of me
then clam up all over again. Tell me what’s going on.”

He looked at me with a pained expression that
definitely wasn’t a by-product of the ache in his jaw and then
reached up with his free hand to rub his neck.

“What the hell,” he muttered. “They’ve
prob’ly hit ‘er with it by now anyway. The hair samples from the
scenes matched with…”

I immediately cut him off, countering what he
was going to say. “…I already told you there’s a logical
explanation for that.”

“Let me finish…” he held out his hand to stop
me. “They didn’t just match the samples from the two scenes here.
They also measured up with hairs lifted from a homicide in Myrtle
Beach that happened around a year ago.”

Now I knew what the evidence was Jackie had
mentioned earlier.

I offered a cold rebuttal. “A couple of hairs
aren’t conclusive, Ben. Even I know that. So does your crime lab.
That’s thin and they know it.”

“You’re right, they aren’t,” he agreed. “As
far as just comparison goes. But when ya’ combine ‘em with a DNA
match, they suddenly take on a lot more weight.”

“So, you’re telling me Felicity’s DNA matches
to evidence found at a crime scene in South Carolina?”

“And the two homicides here. Yeah, I’m afraid
so. That’s the word anyway.”

“That’s ludicrous.”

“Maybe so, but from what I’m hearin’ it’s
still a fact.”

I shook my head and stated flatly, “Well,
there’s a simple explanation for that too. It’s a mistake.”

“I wish it was, Row. But, I asked around.
After they ran the two here, they sent samples to Washington. What
I got told was the Feebs ran ‘em three times. Plus, they got the
sample direct from Myrtle Beach and ran that comparison, not
us.”

“I don’t care,” I spat. “They’re still
wrong.”

“Look, Rowan, I don’t wanna believe it
either.”

“Then don’t.”

He sighed and cleared his throat then sat
back against the seat in the booth, regarding me silently. He
tossed the ice pack onto the table then gingerly pressed his
fingers along his jaw line, wincing slightly but remaining
silent.

“She didn’t do it, Ben,” I appealed once
more.

“Okay, Row,” he spread his hands out in front
of him in mock surrender. “Who did then?”

“I don’t know, but I’m damn sure going to
find out.”

“How?”

“To start with, I’m going to track down
a
Lwa
.”

“Row…” he shook his head. “Listen, I know
you’re convinced this evil spirit Voodoo thing has got somethin’ to
do with this…”

“And you aren’t?”

“I dunno. Not quite like you are, I don’t
think.”

“Well, were there signs of a Voodoo ritual at
the crime scene in Myrtle Beach?” I demanded.

Based on my earlier conversation with the
young woman at the university in Louisiana, I knew it was a safe
bet his answer would be yes. Still, I didn’t want to show my hand
just yet. I needed for him to tell me himself.

“That’s not the point, Row…”

“There were, weren’t there?”

“Yeah, there was, but so what? They’re just
gonna say that connects it with the Hobbes murder here. And that’s
not ta’ mention the fact that there was plenty of evidence that the
whole kinky sex thing was involved.”

“It does connect them, Ben,” I replied. “But,
you’ve still got the wrong woman. I don’t know how many times I
have to say it—Felicity did NOT do this.”

“Row, are you forgettin’ what she did to that
asshole she picked up in the club?”

“She didn’t kill him.”

“Yeah, well she damn near did.”

“She was possessed at the time. You know
that.”

“I know you keep sayin’ it, but dammit, Row,
it doesn’t make it true.”

“So now you’re calling me a liar?”

“No, what I’m really tryin’ ta’ say
is
so what
? I wanna believe
ya’, but come on…how’re ya’ gonna prove she was
possessed?”

“Like I said, by finding the
Lwa.
”

“And then what? You gonna have a nice chat
with it and convince it to confess? Somethin’ tells me even you
ain’t that good at the hocus-pocus, Kemosabe.”

“This
Lwa
is either a personal ancestor or someone who
ended up on an altar by mistake, Ben. If I can track down
the
Lwa
, then I’ve tracked
down the real killer.”

“Do I hafta remind you that we can’t arrest
an evil spirit? Not to mention that you’re never gonna get a court
ta’ listen to ya’ with a story like that.”

“I don’t mean the spirit itself. What
I’m saying is the
Lwa
needs a
corporeal being in order to manifest physical actions on this
plane.”

“Do what?”

“It needs a body. It has to possess someone
in order to commit the murders.”

“Yeah, well, I hate ta’ tell ya’ this but you
just got finished tellin’ me that it possessed Firehair. Ain’t ya’
kinda diggin’ your own hole for her with that approach?”

“Hers was a collateral possession, Ben.
Felicity doesn’t practice Voodoo. Hell, she doesn’t know any more
about it than I did when this all started. No…this
Lwa
is sitting on an altar somewhere,
and the practitioner who belongs to it is your killer.”

“That’s a great theory, Row, even if it
is all
Twilight Zone
and
shit…but, even if ya’ could get a judge ta’ listen to ya’, you’re
still forgettin’ one thing.”

“What?”

“The DNA. It’s the smokin’ gun that puts
Firehair at all three scenes. I dunno how you’re gonna get around
that, even if ya’ do find this whacked out ghost you’re
chasin’.”

“I still say they’re wrong, Ben,” I
insisted.

“Row, I told ya’ they ran it three
times.”

“So maybe they got the samples mixed up.”

“That’s not real likely.”

“Maybe not, but it’s possible.”

“Yeah, well anything’s possible, but you’re
grabbin’ at straws here.”

“Well, the only other explanation is that
someone purposely tampered with the evidence.”

“Actually, the other explanation is that
she’s…”

“Don’t say it,” I snarled.

“But…”

“I said, DON’T SAY IT.”

“Yeah fine… So, what you’re tryin’ ta’ say is
that…well…‘you know who’ is the one who did this?” He deliberately
used the verbal evasion in place of Albright’s name. Considering
the location, and recent shifts within the department, he couldn’t
really be sure about the exact loyalties of all of the other cops
in the diner. An outright mention of her wasn’t what you could term
a stellar idea; of course, anyone who might be listening and knew
my history could have figured out exactly whom he meant.

The truth was, Ben had already taken a huge
risk simply by being seen talking to me at such length. Once word
made it up the chain of command, he was probably going to have hell
to pay, especially considering that I now suspected he had done
more than just call in markers to keep himself involved in this
case. In fact, he probably owed more favors than I wanted to know
about.

“Can you think of anyone else with a reason?”
I asked.

“Jeez, Row, I know you two are at odds, but
to go so far as to frame Felicity?” He shook his head. “That’s
pushin’ a whole ‘nother envelope.”

“Are you forgetting she tried to use me as
bait for Eldon Porter? And, as I recall she was actually overheard
saying that if I got killed in the process…what was it? Something
like, too bad, so sad?”

“Yeah, but she had a way outta that. She
could get caught real easy if she tampered with evidence. Besides,
like I said, there were tests done at the Feeb’s lab in DC
anyway.”

“So? The evidence still originated here.”

“Yeah, but not the evidence from Myrtle
Beach,” he reminded me. “It went from them to DC. Never even saw
Saint Louis, much less her.”

“Speaking of Myrtle Beach, how did that even
get into the mix to begin with?”

“NCIC hit,” he explained. “The bondage aspect
along with the ritual stuff. When our two homicides got entered
into the computer, that’s what got spit back out.”

“Great.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t wanna tell ya’ this,
but you’re prob’ly gonna find out sooner or later. The homicide in
South Carolina wasn’t the only hit.”

“What are you saying?” I knew full well what
he had just implied, but I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling
out of my mouth.

“NCIC returned seven other unresolved cases
in various states that have similar characteristics, datin’ back as
far as oh-three. The kinky shit, the mutilation, and in a couple of
‘em some of the Voodoo stuff…” He allowed his voice to trail off as
he ran through the list.

“Are they trying to say Felicity committed
all of these murders?”

He nodded. “They’re definitely lookin’ into
it. Right now Myrtle Beach is the only department to provide
physical evidence that links. That, and they can positively place
her there in the city at the time of the murder from the subpoenaed
airline records.”

“Dammit…” I muttered.

“Just so ya’ know, they’re followin’ up on
all her travelin’. Even if they don’t get any more matches with
physical evidence from the other states, if they can show that she
was in those cities around the times of the other murders…Well,
circumstantial or not, put it together with what they already got,
an’ it’s gonna make a major impression on a jury… And, it ain’t
gonna be a good one, Row.”

I pondered what he had just said and felt my
blood run cold. Instead of getting answers that would help me clear
Felicity, I was just getting more and more signs pointing directly
to her guilt. However, they were all detours I didn’t intend to
follow. I knew my wife was innocent; I just had to prove it to
everyone else. Given what Ben had told me over the past few
minutes, it was obvious that I needed to do so very soon.

“You know that question you asked me
earlier?” I finally asked.

“Which one?” he grunted.

“About if I was feeling better,” I
replied.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, I thought about it and right now I
want to hit you again.”

Intent and want can be very fickle concepts.
More often than not, they are two completely different things, even
though we might try to convince ourselves they are one and the
same. This is true for both the practice of magick and everyday,
mundane life as well. Right now just happened to be one of those
classic instances of diametric opposition.

Put plainly and simply as possible, no matter
what I had just said, I really had no intention of taking another
poke at Ben. He knew that, and so did I. In fact, I’m fairly sure
my fist couldn’t have handled it anyway, so the verbal jab would
simply have to suffice.

On the other hand,
want
is a very strong emotion in and of itself.
Considering that I felt like the man whom I had long called my
friend was still at odds with me and wasn’t listening to reason, I
definitely
wanted
to gift him
with a black eye to go with the welt on his jaw.

Of course, having established that as being
out of the question, and what with me being a magickal
practitioner, I had to admit that other forms of retaliation had
crossed my mind. For instance, if a bag of coffin nails were in my
possession at the moment, I’d be hard pressed not to go ahead and
slip a handful of them into his coat pocket along with a few
muttered words of disdain. Not to kill him as one might surmise but
just to make him miserably ill for a while. Either way, it was an
act that wouldn’t exactly adhere to the generally accepted concept
of “Harm None”, but what the hell. I had already thrown a punch in
the physical realm; I might as well go for broke and take a swing
in the ethereal.