All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation (23 page)

He shook his head again and looked confused.
“I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

Before I could say anything else, he shrugged
then turned and continued on toward the police headquarters
building down the street.

I looked after him for several seconds, the
furrows in my forehead deepening. Still puzzling over the
conversation, I gave my own head a shake then turned and stepped
off the curb. After waiting for a pair of vehicles to pass, I
finally managed to get into my truck without being startled and
falling into the street.

I had already turned onto Market and was
three blocks away when my cell phone began to ring. I extracted it
from the cup holder on the center console and peered quickly at the
display. The number showing on the liquid crystal was completely
unfamiliar to me. I considered ignoring it but went ahead and
thumbed the answer button anyway.

“Rowan Gant,” I said, trying to remain
businesslike despite my mood.

“Did you take a goddamned stupid pill or
somethin’ this mornin’?” Ben’s voice hissed into my ear.

“What?” I replied.

“Jeezus, I knew I shoulda just called
you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What’d I tell ya’ yesterday, Row?”

“I’m not sure I follow?”

“Jeezus…Constance is about half an inch from
gettin’ put on administrative leave, white man.”

“Okay, so what’s that got to do with…” I
stopped mid sentence as my brain caught up with what I was being
told.

“I’m thinkin’ you just had an ‘oh shit’
moment, right?” Ben chided.

“So she
is
going to be there,” I returned.

“Ding ding,” he said. “I’d give ya’ a fuckin’
cigar, but right now it’s my turn to be pissed, so I’d probably
shove it down your goddamned throat.”

“Sorry. I’m just not all here right now.”

“No shit. Jeezus! Now, keep your mouth shut
and go home an’ take a friggin’ nap, willya’?”

* * * * *

Ben had made an excellent point, and one that
I actually agreed with for a change. Sleep was something I
desperately needed; the problem was I just didn’t think I had time
for it.

Upon arriving home I went through the motions
of everyday life, if for no other reason than to keep myself on an
even keel. Things like letting the dogs out, making sure they had
plenty of food and water, and carting the kitchen trash out to the
waste can at the back of the house. While they were mundane
activities at best, they felt very much like they were probably the
sanest events in my life at the moment.

A quick listen to the answering machine
revealed a fresh pair of insult barrages from Shamus, one of our
ongoing mystery hang-ups, and several frantic messages from various
members of our coven. I knew I needed to call all of them and fill
them in, but I was tired of explaining at this point. As much as I
hated to leave them hanging, they were just going to have to
wait.

The final voice on the machine turned out to
be calm as well as familiar. It was my mother-in-law, Maggie. While
I knew she wasn’t any more a fan of mine than Shamus, I couldn’t
accuse her of ever being anything but a class act. The message was
concise and even apologetic to an extent, simply asking that I
please call them as soon as I had any new information about what
was happening. She even went so far as to offer to help in any way
they could. My paranoia told me the offer was likely nothing more
than a way for Shamus to try assuming control over the situation
again; however, I tried not to think about that and left the
statement to stand at face value.

Of note was the fact that according to the
time stamps, all of the messages had been left during a relatively
short period very soon after I had left the house earlier in the
day. Following up by checking the caller ID, it became clear that
Felicity had been on target with her comment about her mother
taking care of Shamus, at least in the interim, because she had
been the last caller. Out of a weird curiosity, I even picked up
the handset and checked to make sure the phone hadn’t suddenly
stopped operating.

There was little left for me to do now. Until
Jackie called or I heard from Doctor Rieth again, I was in a kind
of limbo for a few hours. I looked around the room and gave
consideration to starting in on the cleanup but couldn’t muster the
energy to do anything more than simply think about it. Picking my
way around piles of books, I wandered over to the sofa and sat
down, eventually leaning back and letting myself sink into the
cushions.

Sometime after that my body switched to
automatic pilot. The last thing I clearly recall was thinking I
didn’t really have time to be sitting here doing nothing. However,
as exhausted as I was, not to mention emotionally hot-wired,
neither my brain nor my body was particularly concerned with what I
thought.

Sleep fell upon me.

And, when I say fell, I mean it was the safe
and I was the stupid shmuck standing on the sidewalk beneath.
However, there are times when it is better to simply stay put and
get flattened rather than to step out of the way. I suppose, all
things considered, this was one of them.

Of course, this was not to say it was the
best nap I’d ever experienced, but it probably wasn’t the worst
either. I don’t recall dreaming, but in one sense that was probably
a good thing since any such subconscious imagery would most likely
have taken the form of “the nightmare” anyway.

In the end, I awoke in much the same position
I had been in before being set upon by unconsciousness. At least, I
think I did. I couldn’t really remember much of anything other than
the fact that one minute I was awake and the next, I wasn’t. Still,
I found that I was upright, sitting on the couch, and I did
actually have a faint memory of planting myself there at some point
in the recent past. The only thing that seemed to have changed was
the fact that I now had one cat across my lap, one next to me on
the arm of the sofa, and finally a third sitting on the corner of
the coffee table returning my bleary-eyed stare.

“What are you looking at?” I mumbled as I
stretched, but the feline simply scrunched its eyes shut then
reopened them and continued watching me.

I had no idea why I was suddenly awake or
even how long I had been out to begin with. I did know that the
pounding in my head hadn’t subsided in the least, but that really
didn’t mean anything. I could have been asleep for ten minutes, or
ten hours, where that was concerned. Ethereal migraines were happy
to hang around for as long as it took to get their point across,
and it was becoming obvious this one was here for the long
haul.

I tried to look at my watch and found my
wrist to be a mottled blur. Reaching up to rub my eyes, I quickly
discovered the reason; my glasses had fallen from my face. I sent
my hand searching for them and at the same moment heard a sound
that served to kick-start my brain.

“Rowan?” Ben’s voice issued from the speaker
on the answering machine then briefly paused. “Goddammit, Rowan, if
you’re there, pick up the friggin’ phone!”

I got the distinct impression from the
exasperation in his voice that this might not be his first attempt
at calling. If that was true, I was pretty sure I now knew what had
roused me from my impromptu slumber.

I nudged Dickens from my lap and pushed
myself up from the couch, sending my eyeglasses skittering across
the floor as they fell from wherever they’d been hiding. Dancing
through the mounds of one-time shelf contents, I snatched up the
handset and pressed it against my ear.

“Yeah, Ben,” I croaked groggily. “I’m
here.”

“Yeah? So why aren’t you
here
?”

“What?”

“It’s a quarter after seven, white man,” he
returned. “You were s’posed ta’ meet us here at six-thirty, and you
ain’t one for bein’ late.”

“Damn,” I mumbled, remembering the meeting
we’d set up earlier. “Sorry. I accidentally took your advice and
fell asleep.”

“S’okay,” he huffed, a note of understanding
in his tone. “Ya’ prob’ly needed it pretty bad.”

“Yeah, I think so. Listen, I’ll get cleaned
up real quick, and I can be there in half an hour…maybe forty-five
minutes.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Ben grunted. “Just
gargle and put some coffee on. We’ll come to you. You want some
food?”

“Nah, I’m good.” I shook my head for no one’s
benefit but my own. “I’m not really hungry.”

“When’d you eat last?”

“It’s not important.”

“Yeah, it is. When?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, somewhat annoyed.
“Yesterday I think.”

“You gotta eat.”

“Really, I’m good, Ben.”

“You want burritos or tacos?”

“Ben, really…”

“Forget it. We’ll just get ya’ both,” he
continued, completely ignoring me. “We’ll see ya’ in twenty.”

I started to object again, but he had already
hung up. I dropped the handset back into the cradle then stifled a
deep yawn. Turning around I located my glasses and scooped them up
from beneath the coffee table, giving the lenses a quick swipe with
the tail of my shirt before sliding them onto my face. Continuing
on to the kitchen, I set about starting the coffee before I tried
to make myself presentable.

I was already on my second cup when they
arrived.

* * * * *

It seemed that the scant few hours of shuteye
had left me with little more than a crick in my neck and a patent
desire for more sleep. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I did have
something a bit more worthwhile to show for it, and that was a
noticeable semi-softening of my mood. While the respite certainly
hadn’t been a panacea, it did seem to have had a moderate analgesic
effect on my anger. Therefore, by the time Ben and Constance made
it to the house, I really didn’t feel much like hitting him.
Although, to be honest, I really wasn’t sure if it was truly
because the rest had calmed me down or if I was simply still too
tired. Whatever the reason, in the grand scheme of things, the end
result definitely qualified as a positive note on the day.

“Thought you weren’t hungry,” Ben said as he
sat watching me toss down the last of an oversized burrito they had
brought along from the restaurant.

I shrugged while I finished chewing then
swallowed and washed it down with a swig of coffee before replying,
“Guess I was wrong.”

“Told ya’.”

“Yeah, Ben, you’re a stark raving
genius.”

“You’ve got to take care of yourself, Rowan,”
Constance interjected before he could retort.

My mood truly was better, but my mouth
apparently hadn’t caught up to it yet.

“I’ll have time for that after I die,” I
quipped, mimicking Ben’s penchant for clichés.

“You aren’t going to be able to do Felicity
any good if you make yourself sick,” she pressed.

The petite FBI agent was standing in
the doorway that led into the kitchen, her back pressed into the
jamb. She was still clad in work attire, a fitted suit which
certainly accented her figure but did little to hide the
forty-caliber
Sig Sauer
parked
on her right hip.

Though her shoulder-length brunette hair was
neatly styled, it still exhibited an end of day droopiness that
matched her slouched posture and sagging expression. Even though
she was right at a decade younger than either Ben or me, the power
of her youth was visibly running out of steam. Judging simply by
the way she looked, it was obvious that she was wearing down just
like us.

“You get used to it,” I said, responding
again to her attempt at mothering me. “After awhile it just doesn’t
matter. You do what you have to do and get sick later.”

“You’re sounding just like Storm,” she
countered.

“I probably got it from him,” I agreed.

“I’m sure you could pick a better role model
to emulate, Rowan.”

Ben piped up. “Hey! Ya’know, I’m right here
in the room.”

“Uh-huh,” I grunted. “You’re kind of hard to
miss. Besides, I think she’s kidding.”

“Yeah, well I wouldn’t place any bets on
that,” he returned.

“A little sensitive tonight, are we?”
Constance quipped in his direction.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya’?”

“Can you two pick at each other later?” I
sighed and then switched the subject. “So, anyway, what do I owe
you for the dinner?”

“Depends. You gonna eat any more?”

“No, I’m done.”

“Let’s see then, you ate the burrito…,” Ben
mumbled as he reached out and grabbed the sack, inspected the
contents, then stuck his hand in and extracted one of the tacos. He
already had it unwrapped when he added, “Well, near as I can
figure, looks like nothin’.”

“You’re sure?”

“Uhm-hmmm,” he grunted with a nod, his mouth
full.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said after swallowing.
“Besides, the Feeb bought.”

“Ben!” she snapped.

I shook my head, embarrassed by my
chauvinistic assumption. “Sorry, Constance, I thought…Oh, hell,
doesn’t matter. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing, Rowan,” she replied. “I didn’t buy,
he did. He’s just yanking your chain.”

“Great,” I said, shooting him a disgusted
look. “You’ve just got to pick at somebody, don’t you? Did you
forget I’m still kind of pissed even if you did bring me
dinner?”

“Hey,” he grumbled. “Ya’ seemed like you were
in a okay mood when we got here. You’ve even been halfway pleasant.
Well, sorta. Anyway, I figured it couldn’t hurt ta’ lighten things
up a bit more.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I dismissed the comment.
“Light isn’t my thing right now. I’m going to need a lot more sleep
before we go there.”