I was dragging someone else along for the ride. If I kept it up, I could probably turn pro. Seeing no reasonable way out, I simply blurted, “Ben’s father is in the hospital.”
She creased her brow and cocked her head to the side. “His who? But Ben’s father…”
I opened my mouth and started to cover for her, but before I could get a word out, Agent Drew unceremoniously interrupted us both.
“Look, Mandalay, I already know you’re dating Detective Storm. Hell, everyone knows,” he said with a flat, matter-of-fact tone. “You and Mister Gant can knock off the charades.”
Mandalay shot an annoyed glance over her shoulder then turned back to me and began allowing her concern to show through. “Did I hear you correctly?”
“Yeah. His father,” I told her with a nod. “See, that’s why I wanted to let him tell you.”
“But I thought…” She stopped herself. “Never mind. So, is it serious? Is he going to be okay?”
“Actually, when I talked to Helen last night, they weren’t expecting him to see morning.”
“Okay,” she replied, her outward expression telling me that she was trying to process what I had just said, treating it as simple fact and nothing more. “So, what about Ben?” she asked. “How’s he handling it?”
I shook my head again. “That’s a whole different story, Constance. But, we should probably talk about it later.”
She glanced over at Agent Drew then back to me and nodded. “Okay. Later.”
“My turn,” I declared. “If that’s not what this is about, then what are you doing here? Ben said you weren’t coming back until the end of the week.”
“I’m back early because of the Wentworth case,” she replied. “The Saint Louis field office is short-staffed because of the flu epidemic, just like everyone else. They wanted more warm bodies on this, and I was pretty much finished in DC anyway.”
“I thought the Major Case Squad had jurisdiction on that case,” I mused aloud.
“Yes and no,” she explained. “They definitely have jurisdiction, and they are exercising it to the fullest. But, Wentworth was still a federal judge, so the FBI is launching its own concurrent investigation. At least until we’ve ruled out a professional hit, then who knows.”
My brain was starting to wake up and began making various associations between this new data and the old. Normally that would be a good thing. However, in this case those connections were only producing a new question. “Okay, so why are you standing in MY doorway?”
“From what I understand, Felicity acted as an interim crime scene photographer because of the flue epidemic. This is true?”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Actually, we were both there.”
She fell instantly back into the no-nonsense attitude. “Does she have copies of the crime scene photos?”
“No. Not that I’m aware of,” I told her. “Why?”
“Have the flash memory cards Miz O’Brien handed over to Detective Storm been returned yet?” Agent Drew asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t think so, but I couldn’t say for sure. Ben did stop by yesterday morning with some of the printed photos to get our opinion, but I don’t remember seeing the cards. What’s this about?”
“He wanted your opinion?” he pressed, ignoring my question.
“I’ve been known to consult for the…” I started to explain.
“I’m well aware of your history, Mister Gant,” he cut me off. “Why did the detective need your opinion?”
“Back off, Drew,” Mandalay snapped over her shoulder then looked back to me with a questioning gaze. “Rowan, are you saying there is an occult element to the murder?”
“Whoa, slow down,” I objected. “I’m not saying anything of the sort. He just wanted us to look at something we had noticed while we were on the scene.”
“And what was that?” Drew interjected again.
“Some markings,” I replied. “A post mortem mutilation that formed a pattern.”
“What kind of pattern?”
“Haven’t you looked at any of the evidence?” I asked, befuddled by the line of questioning.
“What kind of pattern?” Mandalay echoed his question, an astringent quality overtaking her voice.
I held up my hands and shook my head. “Okay, stop. Time out. Back up. This is really starting to come off like an interrogation, and I’ve got to be honest, I’m not comfortable with it. Constance, I’m asking you as a friend… Is there some reason I might need to call my attorney?”
She let out a tired sigh as she closed her eyes and gave me a sorrowful nod. “You’re right, Rowan. I apologize for all of this. And, no… You don’t need your attorney.”
“Okay then, so what’s going on?”
“Like I said,” she replied. “Major Case is maintaining that the Wentworth homicide is their jurisdiction, and we aren’t getting the level of cooperation we’d like.”
“So you’re asking about the crime scene photos because…”
“We haven’t even seen them yet,” she finished for me. “That’s right.”
“Didn’t you get any of your own?” I asked, directing the question at Agent Drew.
“No.” His one word answer was laced with chagrin.
“Well, either way, this doesn’t sound like the MCS,” I mused. “They’re usually pretty cooperative, aren’t they?”
“Usually,” Mandalay agreed. “Depending on who is running the particular investigation. And with that in mind, this particular directive is apparently coming from higher up.”
That was all she had to say for me to fit the pieces together.
“Albright,” I muttered, contempt in my voice.
She nodded. “What is it you and Storm always say? Give the man a cigar.”
“Well, Ben told me she was going to end up in the middle of it. I guess he was right.”
“So, now that you understand, would you be willing to fill us in?” Mandalay asked.
“Not that I really know all that much about it, but sure.” I gave her a nod. “Let me just…”
“Rowan!” Felicity’s demanding voice came from the bedroom, cutting me off before I could finish.
I reached up and rubbed my throbbing forehead then motioned for the two of them to come farther into the room and swung the front door closed in their wake.
I pointed back down the hallway and finished my prematurely truncated thought. “…Go take care of that. Why don’t you two have a seat in the kitchen, and we’ll be right there.”
CHAPTER 17:
Felicity had taken the opportunity to freshen up while she was waiting and was standing in front of her closet debating what to wear when I entered the room.
“Here’s your PDA,” I said as I handed over the device.
She took it from me absently and didn’t even bother to utter a thank you. After a moment she glanced at me and asked, “So, who was at the door?”
Her tone made the question sound like a regal demand.
“Constance and Agent Drew.”
The name got her attention, and she turned toward me. “Constance?”
I nodded. “Yeah, she’s back in town. Look, they need to talk to us about the Wentworth crime scene.”
“Why us?”
I gave her a quick rundown of what I’d been told thus far, and as I expected she closely mimicked my own reaction.
“I told them we’d try to help,” I confessed.
“Well, I don’t have the flash cards back yet,” she told me as she made a decision and snagged an outfit from the closet. Tossing it onto the bed, she flipped open her PDA and began tapping the stylus across it as she strode toward the phone.
