couch and ignore the thing, I knew it was entirely possible Felicity was calling to check on me or to give me a schedule update. Maybe they had made up some time, and she was going to be home earlier than expected. I gave the sofa a longing glance then turned and headed for the phone. For good measure I went ahead and stuck the icepack against my forehead. Continuing across the room, I stepped around both dogs who were stretched out for an afternoon nap in the most inconvenient locations they could manage.
I glanced at the caller ID through bleary eyes and saw that it wasn’t Felicity after all. It was Ben. I considered just turning around and heading back for the couch, but I was already standing here, so I figured I might as well answer it.
“Hello?” I grunted into the handset after settling it against my ear.
“Hey, White Man,” Ben returned. “You sound like shit.”
“I feel like it,” I replied. “Headache.”
“Which kind?”
“That’s the question of the day. Actually, I don’t know.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“That sucks.”
“Can’t argue with you there,” I said. “Look, no offense, but I was just about to sack out for a bit.”
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he replied then fell silent.
“Well? Was there something you needed?”
“Yeah, for one I wanted ta’ let ya’ know Constance and I are good for dinner on the seventeenth. Need us ta’ bring anything?”
“Not really,” I replied. “We weren’t going to do anything too elaborate.”
“Ain’t it time for that Witch Christmas thing or somethin’?”
“Winter Solstice. Yule,” I agreed. “Middle of the following week. Normally we’d celebrate the weekend before, but Felicity’s coveners had a hell of a time getting their schedules to jive this year, so they’re all doing individual celebrations.”
“Oh, okay. Makes sense,” he replied.
There was an overwhelming aura of preoccupation surrounding his voice, and that told me he had something else on his mind. The question about Yule had really been little more than a stall tactic while he decided how to work whatever that something else was into the mix.
I decided to give him a hand.
“What’s going on, Ben?” I asked. “I have a feeling you didn’t call just to RSVP.”
“No, I didn’t,” he replied. “Actually, this is kinda an official call.”
“Official how?”
“I need ta’ talk to ya’ about Annalise Devereaux.”
“Unless you’re calling to tell me she’s in custody, I don’t really have anything to say. You already know that.”
“Unfortunately, no. She went completely off radar after your little run in with her. Up until now.”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear, Ben,” I replied.
“Yeah, I figured ya’ wouldn’t be too excited ‘bout that.”
“Why do I get the feeling the ‘up until now’ part has something to do with this call?”
“Because you’re psychic?”
“No, actually I’m not,” I replied.
“Yeah, I know. Look, Kemosabe, I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.”
My voice went flat as I spoke, “Important how? Because I seem to recall telling you I was done, Ben. More than once.”
“Yeah, but I still don’t think ya’ meant it,” he replied.
“Yes, Ben, I did, and I’m not going to bother giving you all the reasons again.”
“Yeah, well ya’ need ta’ talk ta’ me about this anyway.”
“No, I don’t. I’m staying out of this.”
“I’m afraid you can’t. That’s why I called.”
“What do you mean I can’t? Listen closely, this is me hanging up.”
I had the phone halfway to the cradle when I heard him bark, “Don’t be an asshole, White Man! I really need ya’ ta’ listen to this.”
Ignoring the insult, I put the phone back to my ear and demanded, “Why, Ben? Why do you want to drag me back into this?”
“Did I say I wanted ta’ do it?”
“Well, why else would you be making this call?”
“You ready ta’ shut up and listen?”
“Fine. What about her?”
“She killed again…”
“I can’t say that surprises me,” I told him.
“Yeah, didn’t figure it would,” he replied. “But, she added a new twist you need ta’ know about.”
“What’s that?”
“She carved your name in the victim’s chest. Accordin’ to the M.E., it appears she did it before she killed ‘im.”
“My name?”
“Yeah, Row. Your name… And, there’s more.”
“What?”
“The victim’s head was covered with a black cloth bag that was filled with dirt and some kinda dried leaves.”
Before Ben could continue I interjected, “And, the torture was only cursory, nothing to the extent of her other victims. But, when she killed him she did it by bashing his head in with a hammer or something similar.”
Ben fell silent at the other end, but I could hear him breathing. I had thought my ability to surprise him had run out long ago, but in this case it seemed to be operating full force.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” I asked.
“Think maybe that’s why ya’ got the headache?”
I didn’t answer.
“Okay, so what’s it mean, Row?” he asked. “It some kinda Voodoo curse?”
“Hoodoo actually, but yeah. It’s a cross,” I explained, recalling the particulars of the magickal working from my recent research. “It’s old folk magick. She’s seeking revenge against me for something. Everything that happened in the graveyard maybe. I don’t know. Normally the person hexing would use a black china figurine instead of a living human, but we already know she doesn’t operate within normal parameters.”
“That fits. Victim was an African-American male,” he offered.
“I think you’ll find the leaves are from a blackberry bush. The dirt most likely came from the graveyard. She probably has bags of it sitting around.”
“She tryin’ ta’ kill ya’ with Voodoo?”
“More or less,” I replied. “When did this happen?”
“Last night. Medical examiner estimated the time of death at sometime Wednesday evening. The records at the motel where he was found pretty much back that up, although no one saw Annalise, as usual.”
I grunted, “Middle of the week. I guess that would make sense.”
“What?”
“Nothing really. I’d have to look up the actual cross to be certain, but I remember something about executing it over a seven-day period, starting on a Saturday. I was just speculating that she might have chosen Wednesday since it’s basically in the middle. I’m guessing she didn’t want to sit in one place for seven days taking a hammer to a decomposing corpse.”
“Okay, so tell me what ya’ make of this part then. She amputated both his hands. Both of ‘em were still at the scene… Well, kinda… They were missin’ all the bones.”
“Hold on a sec…” I told him.
