“For what?”
“For bein’ brain dead this mornin’.”
I took a sip of the coffee. “What are you talking about?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are ya’ tellin’ me that tastes okay to you?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
“Row, I just watched ya’ put salt in it instead of sugar.”
“I don’t take sugar in my coffee. Except when it’s really bad coffee.”
“So ya’ did it on purpose?”
“Yes. Besides, if you thought I was screwing up, why didn’t you stop me?”
“‘Cause I thought maybe when ya’ tasted it, the look on your face would be funny an’ I could use a laugh.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Jeezus,” he mumbled. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why’d ya’ just salt your friggin’ coffee?”
“It’s an experiment,” I replied. “I’m trying to stop the voices in my head.”
“Voices in your… You mean like the Twilight Zone stuff?” he asked.
“Exactly.”
“Why?”
“I’m retired, remember?” I offered the rhetorical question as my answer. “I’m just Rowan Gant, computer consultant now. No more consulting for the cops. I’m through talking to dead people and chasing down their killers. Finished. Done.”
“Uh-huh… So then why do ya’ keep dunnin’ me about Devereaux every coupl’a days?”
“That’s different. She’s unfinished business.”
“Yeah, right.”
“She is.” I shrugged. “But if it makes you feel better, then you can call me semi-retired for the time being.”
“How ‘bout I call ya’ full’a shit,” he grunted. “So…is it workin’?”
“You mean the salt?”
“Yeah.”
“I think so.”
“Prob’ly ain’t all that great for your blood pressure,” he commented.
“And the pot said to the kettle…” I replied, implying reference to the overabundance of salt he customarily doused on his meals.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“So, since you brought her up, is there any word on Annalise yet?”
He shook his head. “I’ve still got some feelers out, but like I keep tellin’ ya’, you’re askin’ the impossible. Last thing I heard was she lawyered up with some kinda high-dollar dream team.”
“What good will that do?” I asked. “I thought there was a ton of hard evidence against her.”
“There is,” he replied. “But she still gets ‘er day in court, and she’s got more money than God, so there ya’ go… Might not get ‘er off, but they might be able ta’ skate on the needle if they play it right. All depends on how good they are. But what the hell, either way somebody’s makin’ a paycheck.”
I rubbed my neck as the pain ebbed, then I let out a sigh. With a little luck, maybe things were finally starting to loosen up, and I wouldn’t have to deal with the nuisance the whole day.
“Do you think you could get me some of their names?” I asked. “Maybe I could come at it that way.”
“Yeah, I can get that no problem,” he said with a nod. “But I doubt it’s gonna do ya’ any good. You’re pretty much the enemy where she’s concerned. Why the hell would they let ya’ talk to ‘er?”
“I don’t know, Ben, but it’s worth a try.”
“Well, personally I think it’s a waste of time, but then it ain’t my time so whadda I care.”
“Exactly.”
“So lemme ask ya’ somethin’ anyway… Don’tcha figure you and Firehair are in the clear now? I mean it’s been like what? Better’n two months now without a peep?”
“When I’m able to undo that spell, then I’ll figure we’re safe. Not before.”
“Yeah, well I hope that works out for ya’.”
“Just keep trying for me, okay?” I asked. “And if you can get me the names of her attorneys I’d really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, okay. That I can do.”
I switched the subject. “So, enough about that. How’s Constance? We haven’t talked to her in a week or so.”
“Pissy,” he replied. “But other than that, good…” A low trill started and began escalating in volume. Ben reached over to his wadded up jacket and rummaged around in the pocket while adding, “She’s got cabin fever if ya’ know what I mean. They’re gonna let ‘er start physical therapy next week, so I’m hopin’ that oughta help ‘er mood a bit.”
I nodded agreement as he flipped open his phone then pressed it to his ear and said, “Yeah, Storm.”
Wendy appeared at almost the same instant, carrying plates and the carafe of coffee. Settling the hot globe on the table, she shuffled one of the oblong dishes out of the crook of her arm and slid it in front of Ben then placed the other in front of me. Reaching into a pouch on her apron, she pulled out a bottle of aspirin and set it on the table as she topped off our mugs.
“I’ll be right back with your biscuits and gravy,” she told me quietly. “Oh, and by the way, Chuck said since you’ve got to put up with Storm, breakfast is on the house this morning.”
“Tell him I said thanks,” I whispered with a smile.
“…Okay, and you’re sure?” Ben was saying. “Yeah… Uh-huh… Yeah… I’m not so sure I wanna do that…” He glanced up at me for an instant then looked away. “Yeah… I know… But, who… Uh-huh… Okay… I’ll see what I can do, but I ain’t makin’ any guarantees… Yeah… Okay, so when is that? Yeah… Okay… No, I’m throwin’ down some breakfast over at Chuck’s… Yeah… Prob’ly half hour, maybe forty-five minutes… Yeah…okay, see ya’ then.”
“Problem?” I asked as I watched him fold the phone and tuck it away.
“No. Not really,” he replied.
I wasn’t convinced, but then again, I knew better than to pressure him about that sort of thing. Odds are it was work related anyway, so I definitely didn’t need to hear it. Instead of pursuing the topic, I shrugged and reached for the peppershaker, but as I did, a sharp twinge erupted on the side of my neck once again. I pulled my hand back and reached up to massage it as I had done before.
“Neck again?” my friend asked.
“Yeah,” I said, wincing. “I must have really seriously pinched a nerve or something.”
“Maybe you should have it looked at,” he said, while liberally salting the mound of food in front of him.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Or then again, maybe it’s somethin’ else,” he suggested, a mildly cryptic tone in his voice.
“What do you mean?” I asked, shooting him a puzzled look.
He slid the saltshaker toward me then reached for the aspirin. “Ya’ might wanna salt your coffee again.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Sure you don’t wanna salt your coffee?”
“Ben…”
He shrugged. “Okay, don’t blame me, I tried… So I know you say you’re retired and all, but lemme ask ya’ somethin’. Whaddaya know about vampires?”
CHAPTER 5:
“I get it,” I replied, voice flat and clearly humorless. “My neck hurts. Vampires. Witches. Very funny for a Halloween joke. Too bad it’s March and not October.”
Ben shrugged as he tossed back the aspirin. After taking a swig of his coffee, he picked up his fork and said, “Yeah, well tell that to the girl I watched the coroner stuff in a body bag a few hours ago.”
I stared back at him without saying another word. He, however, now appeared to be ignoring me in favor of the “coronary on a plate” in front of him. Of course, what he appeared to be doing and what was actual fact weren’t always the same thing, and I knew that, so I waited in silence.
After swallowing a bite, without looking up he repeated the preamble to his question, “Like I said, Kemosabe, don’t blame me. I handed ya’ the goddammed salt.”
“So you think your homicide case is why my neck hurts?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe.”
“It hurts because I slept on it wrong,” I replied with heavy emphasis on each word.
Unfortunately, I had a feeling what I said was for my own benefit as much as his. There was a familiar peculiarity about the pain that I had been purposely ignoring since its onset, one that transcended the boundaries of the physical. Now, of all things, I had a gnawing bother erupting in the pit of my stomach that definitely wasn’t a mere attack of hunger pangs.
“Whatever you say,” he grunted, not even bothering to try hiding the fact that he didn’t believe me.