Harm none argi-1 Page 7

  “Were you able to find out what you needed?”

  “Yeah. I managed ta’ fit it into the conversation.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “Hey, no prob, white man.”

  During our conversation, Felicity had remained steadfastly silent. It suddenly dawned on me that she hadn’t expressed any interest in the somewhat cryptic exchange, so I turned my attention to her side of the table. A familiar file folder lay open across an equally familiar envelope near the center. A thick stack of crime scene photographs were spread neatly before my wife. One of the glossy monstrosities was resting carefully between her fingers as she studied it intently. All the while, she absently chewed on her lower lip as she concentrated.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” I sputtered, nearly choking on a mouthful of hot tea.

  “Catching up,” Felicity spoke without looking up from the pictures.

  “Dammit Ben!” I turned to him. “Are you out of your mind?!”

  “Hey!” He held his hands up defensively. “She told me you wanted her ta’ look at ‘em.”

  “It’s not his fault, then,” she stated, deftly laying the photo she was studying on to a stack then looking up at me. “That’s what I told him.”

  “Well forget it,” I exclaimed and started reaching for the grisly prints. “I don’t want you looking at these things.”

  “NO!” Felicity angrily snapped, grabbing my wrist and forcing my hand away. “I didn’t ask you what you wanted!”

  “Wh-wh-what?” I stammered, surprised by her sudden outburst.

  “I’m not letting you get away with it this time, Rowan,” she stated, an emerald fire of determination blazing in her eyes as she held my gaze. “You’re always trying to protect me. I know why you do it…” Her voice softened. “But I’m a grown woman, not a child. I saw what this experience did to you this afternoon, and I’m not going to sit on the sidelines and watch it tear you apart. I’m going to help.”

  “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” I pleaded.

  “And you do?” she shot back. “You yourself admitted that Ariel ripped through your defenses and almost took over. We both know that something like that could kill you.”

  “Excuse me?” interjected Ben, who had remained quietly neutral until this point. “Whaddaya mean, kill ‘im?”

  “If a spiritual entity,” Felicity explained, turning her attention to him, “manages to take control, especially in the case of something such as this, and plays out the last moments of its physical life, it will repeat the event with the channeling host.”

  “Are you tryin’ to tell me that Ariel Tanner’s spirit or somethin’ would kill him?” Ben asked, still confused.

  “Not on purpose,” she continued. “But if she was in control of his physical body and re-experienced her death, the shock could kill him, yes.” She returned her gaze to me. “You didn’t bother to tell him that did you?”

  “I didn’t think I would need to worry about it,” I answered sheepishly.

  “Jeezus H. Christ!” Ben exclaimed. “This is fuckin’ nuts! All I’m tryin’ to do is solve a murder here, and I got some kinda weird ass Twilight Zone episode going on around me.”

  We both turned to look at him as he threw up his hands in exasperation and fell back in his chair. After a moment, he again leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. He quietly looked from my face to Felicity’s then down at the table.

  “Listen,” he said, “I’ve always figured you two for a coupl’a tree-huggin’ agnostics or somethin’, which I got no problem with. You know that. But, I don’t really know much about this whole Wicca-slash-WitchCraft thing, and ta’ be honest, I’m not sure if I wanna know any more.” He paused as if trying to pick his words carefully. “I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but this mornin’ I saw some stuff that I can’t explain. Right now I’m willin’ ta’ accept it. But, I also saw my best friend rollin’ around on a floor clawin’ at his chest like he was havin’ a coronary or some shit like that. Now,” he pointed a finger at me and brought his gaze up to meet mine, “YOU start bein’ straight up with me if there’s some kinda risk involved.” He then shifted his attention to Felicity. “And YOU. Watch his back or whatever you Witches do. Okay?”

  “You can count on it,” she told him, her face spreading into a smile.

  “Yeah,” I added, “you’re right.”

  “Okay,” he said, relaxing and settling back in his seat. “So R.J. and company are s’posed to be here in about half an hour. You palefaces wouldn’t happen to have a slab of buffalo or somethin’ around here would ya’? I’m starved.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Ben had demolished a plate of sandwiches by the time the doorbell rang. At the sound, the dogs immediately shifted into territorial protection mode and yelped riotously. The cats, which had been entertaining themselves in a free-for-all wrestling match, scattered. Salinger, our Himalayan, was the only feline left to be seen, and he was perched well out of reach on the exposed rafters of the living room.

  When Felicity and I remodeled our house, we had vaulted the ceiling in an effort to create a lofty, open feel. The cats had discovered the rafters and learned, to their great delight, that they afforded both a safe haven and a bird’s eye view of everything that happened in the room. Salinger sat upon them now, intently studying the scene below. It was clear he thought something interesting was about to happen.

  I answered the door as Ben assisted Felicity in setting out platters of freshly made sandwiches and honey cakes along with a large thermal carafe of iced chamomile tea, as it had inherent calmative properties. We wanted the surroundings to be as comfortable and hospitable as possible for this group.

  To Wiccans, the death of a brother or sister of The Craft is supposed to be considered a graduation, an advancement to the next level of learning, and therefore treated not as a time of sorrow but as a time of celebration. I assumed the members of the group would be of roughly the same age as R.J. Because of this, I suspected that this was the first time any of them would be dealing with the crossing over of a fellow Witch. This fact, combined with the circumstances of Ariel’s death, was likely to bring on grief as opposed to happiness.

  Once the necessary questioning was finished this evening, Felicity and I would be taking it upon ourselves to offer counsel to this leaderless coven and help them along their path.

  Swinging the door open, I was greeted by a small huddle on my front porch. Apparently, Ariel’s coven believed in safety in numbers, and they had elected to descend upon us as a group. Turning, I commanded our two boisterous canines to sit. They immediately planted themselves where they stood, though Quigley, the Australian cattle dog, continued to whine quietly. With the commotion settled, I returned to the task at hand and pushed the screen door open with a smile.

  “Rowan Gant?” a young brunette queried.

  “That’s me,” I answered. “Come on in.”

  I held the door as the five of them filed in and proceeded to nervously mill about in my living room. I closed the door, turned to our guests, and noticed that there were no familiar faces.

  “How many more of you should we be expecting?” I asked.

  “This is it,” replied the brunette guardedly. She had apparently been elected speaker for the group. “Except for R.J.”

  “I noticed he was missing,” I returned, smiling. “Didn’t he come with you?”

  “No,” she answered. “We aren’t sure where he is. He called all of us and said to be here at seven tonight.”

  “Well,” I proceeded, “I’m sure he’s just running a little late.” I held out my hand to her. “Since he’s not here to do the introductions, I suppose we should do that ourselves. Obviously, you have me at a bit of a disadvantage…”

  “Calliope,” she said, taking my hand. “But everyone calls me Cally.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Cally proceeded solemnly around the group, and I was introduced to Shari
and Jennifer, two blonde young women who were obviously identical twins. Continuing, I met a tall, lanky young man with hair the color of a ripened tomato named Randy and finally, his wife, a statuesque woman with dark, penetrating eyes and coal black hair. Her name was Nancy. I led them through the archway into our dining room and repeated the introductions for Felicity and Ben.

  “So where’s the kid?” Ben asked, referring to R.J. as he surveyed the group.

  “He seems to be running a little late,” I told him, adding a sharp look to encourage a bit more tact.

  “Why doesn’t everyone have a seat and get comfortable,” Felicity interjected, slicing surgically through the tension in the room then motioning to the serving platters on the table. “If anyone is hungry, please help yourself. That’s what it’s here for.”

  We had installed both leaves in the table, and it was more than large enough to accommodate the small gathering comfortably. There was a noticeable amount of distance kept by the group between themselves and us, especially Ben. I had a feeling that the brushed stainless, nine-millimeter pistol nestled under his arm in a shoulder holster played a role there, as he had draped his jacket over a chair, leaving the handgun exposed. He had done this purposely, I was sure, using it as an intimidation tactic on this youthful group.

  It was apparent that the four young women had attempted to apply an appropriate amount of makeup to their faces in order to disguise the fact that they had been crying. It was also obvious, even to a casual observer, that Randy had shed a few tears as well.

  “I’m not gonna stand on ceremony,” Ben announced with a shrug, then reached out and grabbed a sandwich.

  “Aye, do you have a hollow leg or something?” Felicity gave him an astonished look. “You just ate three sandwiches less than forty-five minutes ago!”

  “Don’t get decent food that often,” he told her between bites. “I’m not home that much.”

  “Don’t let Cochise over here scare you,” I told the group. “Dig in. We need to wait for R.J. anyway.”

  Quietly, one by one, they helped themselves to the food before them. They ate mainly in silence; uttering only necessary polite phrases required whenever offered a drink, or more to eat. It was rapidly approaching eight P.M. when the doorbell finally sounded again. Felicity brought the dogs to rapt attention as they once again began to howl, and I excused myself from the table.

  As expected, R.J. was on the opposite side of the door when I pulled it open. He smiled sheepishly and pulled open the screen door.

  “We were starting to wonder about you,” I told him quietly as he stepped inside.

  “I’m sorry, man,” he apologized and looked around nervously. “I saw Cally’s van out front. Is everyone here?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, shutting the door. “We were just waiting on you. Everyone’s in there.”

  I pointed to the dining room, and he advanced around the corner with a solemn expression and joined them at the table. Something definitely seemed different about R.J. since I had last seen him, and I wasn’t sure whether it was good or bad. In any event, before he had ever exited the living room, my ears discerned a low growl followed by a throaty yowl and hiss. I turned and looking up at the rafters, saw Salinger glaring down at R.J., ears laid back and tail twitching. Animals being considered by some as good judges of character, I took note. Something about R.J. had set Salinger off. Fortunately, for the moment, I was the only one who noticed.

  “Where ya’ been, kid?” Ben was asking as I rounded the corner into the dining room.

  “I had some stuff to do,” R.J. answered as he took a seat next to Cally.

  “You couldn’t call?” Ben retorted.

  “I was busy, okay?!” The young man spat indignantly. “It’s not like I’m under arrest or something, or am I?”

  “It can be arranged!” Ben challenged, starting to rise from his chair.

  “All right, all right, all right,” I intervened. My voice rose with each syllable, and I motioned him to sit back down. “Before this goes any further, let’s all calm down. Now, R. J…” I looked over at him. “It would have been common courtesy for you to call and let us know you were running late.” I turned to my simmering friend. “And Ben, no one here is under arrest to my knowledge, right?”

  “Right,” he answered grudgingly.

  “Sorry I didn’t call,” R.J. muttered.

  “I know everyone is on edge here.” Felicity reinforced my intrusion into the dispute. “But going at each other like that isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

  “Listen,” Ben offered. “Maybe I was outta line jumpin’ on R.J. like that, but I’ve just got this thing about bein’ on time.”

  The group looked silently around at one another then back at him. They all seemed too tightly strung but quietly nodded in assent.

  “Okay then,” he proceeded. “We might as well get started then. I’ve already been through this with R.J., so I’ll ask the rest of ya’. When was the last time you saw Ariel Tanner alive?”

  “See, I told you,” R.J. announced haughtily. “The cops are trying to blame it on us!”

  “Do you intend to Mirandize us, Detective Storm,” Cally interjected bluntly.

  “Don’t tell me, let me guess.” Ben threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. “Law student.”

  Cally held her position at the table, but the look on her face showed that Ben had just exposed what she believed to be a trump card. It became immediately obvious why she had been picked as the speaker for the group. Now that he had knocked some of the wind from her sails, I hoped we could get on with what had brought us all together.

  “I already told ya’,” Ben explained. “Nobody here is bein’ accused of anything. These are just routine questions. As for Miranda, since nobody is under arrest, there’s no reason to read anyone their rights. We just wanna talk to ya’ about Ariel Tanner and Devon Johnston. Okay?”

  “There’s no reason for any of you to be on the defensive,” I added. “We’re all on the same side. We just want to find whoever is responsible for Ariel’s death.”

  Once again they cast timid glances between themselves. Finally, someone other than Cally spoke up.

  “So this isn’t just some shakedown ‘cause of us being involved in The Craft?” Randy asked.

  “No,” I answered. “Not at all. Surely R.J. told you that Felicity and I are Witches. I was Ariel’s teacher.”

  “Yes, he did…” Shari said.

  “…But you’re with the cops,” Jennifer finished.

  “So?” Ben interposed, “You got some kinda problem with cops?”

  “It’s usually the police that have a problem with us,” stated Randy, still wearing a befuddled expression.

  “Yeah,” Shari agreed. “Ever since that one cop here in the county started giving lectures…”

  “…About how WitchCraft is evil and the same thing as Satan worship. You know,” Jennifer finished again.

  “Are you two gonna do that all night?” Ben asked staring at the twins.

  “Do what?” they asked simultaneously.

  “Never mind,” he shook his head. “And yeah, I know what you’re talkin’ about. I’ll admit that there are quite a few coppers that don’t understand what you guys are all about. Hell, I don’t even understand it, but I can tell ya’ this… Rowan has been my friend practically forever. Shit, I was his Best Man when he and Felicity got married. I know that Rowan isn’t doin’ anything quote quote evil.” He held up his fingers and made invisible quote symbols in the air before him. “And if you guys are into the same thing he is, I’ve got no reason ta’ believe that you are either.”

  “So are we all clear on where everybody stands?” I asked after an expectant pause.

  “Yeah,” Cally once again spoke, this time with a relaxed smile. “We’re clear.”

  The rest of the group voiced and nodded their agreement, and the tension drained quickly from the room. I had expected a little rough going at first because of Ben’s presence.
The last thing that crossed my mind was that I would come under some kind of suspicion because of my relationship with the police, especially after the way R.J. had behaved toward me earlier in the day. I was painfully aware that the general public misunderstood Witches, but I never imagined that Witches would misunderstand one of their own.

  As the group was settling in, I noticed Dickens, our black cat with the fondness for male visitors, lurking in the shadows. He silently padded forward to the chair R.J. was seated in and then reared back on his haunches as if he were about to climb into his lap. Suddenly, the hair along his back stood on end, and he puffed out like a furry black balloon. His ears laid back, and he dropped back down to all fours then skirted widely back around the chair to investigate Randy instead. “That’s two of them who don’t seem to like him,” I thought to myself and wondered if Emily would make her opinion known.

  “I’m glad that’s taken care of,” Felicity piped up. “Now can we get down to business?”

  “Ben?” I looked over to him questioningly.

  We had discussed this meeting earlier between ourselves and decided that he should take the lead. What we would reveal regarding the case so far was already public knowledge. There had been a leak at the department, and the local paper’s headline for the day had read “SATANIC KILLER LOOSE IN CITY.” The story that followed contained grotesque, sensationalized details of Ariel’s death.

  “As you already know,” he started, “Ariel Tanner was murdered sometime this past Wednesday evening. There were no witnesses, and I’ll spare ya’ the details of her death, except ta’ say that it was particularly gruesome, and whoever did it is one seriously sick bastard. I brought Rowan into the investigation as of Friday evening because of some symbols left at the scene. He was able to decipher what our expert couldn’t and has helped pick out a few clues we might otherwise have missed. Any questions so far?”

  “R.J. said you told him that the murder was connected with The Craft,” stated Randy. “Do the symbols you mentioned have something to do with that?”

  “Yes they do,” I answered. “There was a Pentacle drawn on the wall, and it was shaded with the colors of the four towers, leading me to believe they were hailed.”