The Law Of Three: A Rowan Gant Investigation (9 page)

Albright swung her gaze from the young man
back to Felicity and shook her index finger perfunctorily as she
mustered a menacing tone. “We will finish this discussion
later.”

“Aye,” my wife retorted as she gave her a
curt nod, but still never broke eye contact. “I’ll be looking
forward to it, then.”

* * * * *

“Johnathan, could you please turn that down?”
The medical examiner on duty called out to the diener who had led
us back to the autopsy suite, raising his voice to be heard over
the music that filled the room.

On the opposite wall, the young man was
standing at a stainless steel sink performing what must have been
some daily routine considering the mechanically adept way he was
approaching it. Whatever it was, it involved angry-looking medical
implements that appeared as though they would be more at home on
the set of a horror movie.

Aphrodite’s Child’s “Four
Horsemen”
was blaring from the speakers of a compact
stereo nestled on a shelf in an out of the way corner. Considering
the tune was one that came from my generation, it was not the type
of music I would have expected to appeal to someone as young as the
assistant, but to each their own.

He wordlessly abandoned his task for a moment
to step over and spin the knob on the bookshelf sound system. He
dropped the volume out of our range of hearing just as the chorus
was about to inform us as to the color of the fourth horse.

It didn’t matter. Like most anyone, I already
knew the color and what it represented. I found no particular
amazement in the coincidental symbolism either. It was the sort of
thing that seemed to be happening to me constantly these days, and
I’d grown jaded to it.

“Thank you,” the M.E. stated aloud, the tone
sounding as though the words came more from habit than actual
courtesy.

We were standing next to a metal table in the
tiled room. The form resting atop it was zipped partially into a
body bag that could be seen at the foot. From the vicinity of the
waist upward, it was also covered by a white sheet, a necessity
because of the two-by-four that was still attached to the
corpse.

The weathered length of wood jutted out on
either side, exposed for all to see. Randy’s pale hand was twisted
into a pained claw, his wrist mottled purple and swollen where
several circlets of bailing wire held it fast to the wood. Frozen
blood streaked the appendage and glistened wetly as it thawed.

I stole a glance at Felicity. She was holding
her eyes tightly shut with her fist pressed against her lips. Her
visceral anger had been replaced for the moment by bitter
anguish.

I took a deep breath of the frigid air in the
suite as I struggled to maintain control, myself. The smell of
death and raw meat stung my nostrils, and I choked back the desire
to vomit. The fact that a good friend was lifeless beneath the
shroud made this experience different from any other. Even when I’d
helped investigate Ariel Tanner’s death, I had never been in close
proximity to her corpse as I was now with Randy. I wasn’t entirely
sure I could handle it.

If the increasing throbs inside my skull were
any indicator, I would have to say no.

The doctor turned his attention to us. “Now
then, we won’t be starting the post until later this morning…”

“Is Doc Sanders doing it?” Ben interjected,
referring to the chief medical examiner for the city.

“Doctor Sanders is on vacation right now,”
the M.E. replied.

“What about calling her in,” my friend
pressed. “She’s familiar with the way this wingnut operates, and
I’m sure…”

“I am certain Doctor Friedman can handle the
task, Detective,” Albright announced with a thread of agitation in
her voice, cutting him off mid-sentence.

“I’m afraid she is unreachable.” The doctor
was obviously miffed but offered the explanation anyway. “If I
remember her itinerary correctly, she is on a cruise ship somewhere
in the Bahamas.”

“When’s she get back?” Ben forged ahead.

“Storm!”

“Yeah, okay, sorry Doc. You were saying?”

The M.E. sighed and then continued, “We won’t
be starting the official post until later this morning; however, I
assume you are all aware of the condition of the body, so the cause
of death is not likely to be much of a mystery.”

“How did you ID him?” I asked

“His driver’s license,” Lieutenant Albright
answered for him.

“He was nude when I saw him hanging from the
building,” I ventured. “Where did you find that? With the
note?”

“Not exactly,” she replied. “Doctor?”

The M.E. looked surprised. “Lieutenant, since
Mister Gant knew the deceased, I am not certain that…”

“No, Doctor,” she returned. “I insist. Mister
Gant needs to see this.”

Doctor Friedman glanced at me with an
apologetic shake of his head. I had met him before, and this was
the closest I’d seen to real compassion from the man. That made me
fear what I was about to see even more.

His sudden attack of humanity was well
placed, but he just didn’t have the backbone to stand up to
Albright. Without another word, he pulled back the sheet,
hesitating initially before finally executing the deed.

“Awww, Jeeeez…” Ben exclaimed.
“Lieutenant…”

“Shut up, Storm,” she cut him off yet
again.

Eldon Porter wanted no mistakes made in
identifying Randy Harper. In point of fact, he had gone out of his
way to be certain of it.

Bile rose in my throat, and I began to
physically tremble from the sickening mixture of sadness, pain, and
overwhelming anger as I stared at the horror before me.

Felicity yelped, and I heard her behind me as
she began to sob, but she was soon drowned out by the thick noise
of blood rushing in my ears as my pulse began to race.

The means of identification was just what
Albright had said it to be—a Missouri driver’s license. What she
hadn’t warned me of was the fact that it was firmly affixed to the
center of his forehead by a framing nail driven deeply into his
skull. Judging from the lack of severe trauma, Porter had probably
used a nail gun.

I probably would have stood there transfixed
by the appalling sight, eventually falling into ethereal sync with
the final violent moments of his life had it not been for the
anguished scream that suddenly sliced through the room.

My muscles tensed as the unconscious fight or
flight response took over. I instantly flinched, and the action
sent a stab of pain through the shoulder that I’d earlier bounced
off the doorframe on the van. The sharp ache crawled up my neck and
bore straight in to join with the rank and file of my preternatural
migraine. It didn’t help either that I immediately followed the
wince by jerking my head up from the grisly horror on the autopsy
table and shooting a startled glance over my shoulder in the
direction of the scream.

At least I thought it was the direction of
the scream.

The piercing wail glanced once again from the
tiled walls before folding itself into a fading echo that melded
with pained whimpers. I twisted slowly around, searching for the
source of the noise, but found none.

“What’s wrong, Row?” Ben asked.

“Did you hear that?” I answered, asking the
question of myself as much as of him.

“Hear what?”

“That scream,” I explained. “Someone
screamed.”

Under most circumstances, I was perfectly
capable of distinguishing between the real and the ethereal, and
this scream definitely sounded like the former. However, with no
one in the physical realm to whom I could attribute it, and since
it was apparently audible to no one else, I could only assume that
it had originated on the other side. But, something didn’t feel
right about it. I couldn’t explain why, but it didn’t fit. It was
just too real.

I shuddered as I tried to wrap my thoughts
around it. For a split second it made me itch all over.

“You goin’
Twilight Zone
, white man?” he asked with sudden
concern as he nudged my wife. “Felicity, do that thing.”

She was still choking back a sob. “What
thing?”

“That thing where you make him not ‘zone
out,’” he stated urgently. “Ground ‘im or short ‘im out or
whatever.”

“Please, Mister Gant,” Lieutenant Albright
spat as she tilted her head and shot me a disgusted stare. “Spare
us your theatrics. This is neither the time nor the place.”

“I wish I could, Lieutenant,” I answered as I
leaned to one side in order to look past her at the door. “But
trust me, I’m not that good an actor.”

“Come now, Mister Gant. You have obviously
fooled Detective Storm for some time now.”

“Lieutenant,” Ben started. “There’s more to
this than you know.”

“I don’t think so, Storm,” she answered
without looking at him. “I know exactly what is going on here, and
to be honest, it bothers me that an officer attached to my unit can
be taken in by such blatant chicanery.”

“I’m not bein’ takin’ in by anything,
Lieutenant,” he returned.

“Of course you are, Storm. This man is
nothing but a charlatan, and you are blinded by misplaced loyalty.
You have been bewitched by his lies.”

“Don’t go there, Lieutenant,” he responded
with more than a mere hint of anger in his voice.

Benjamin Storm was capable of taking a level
of personal abuse that would set off the most even-tempered of
individuals, and yet he would remain perfectly calm. However, he
had his own set of triggers, among them being an almost fanatical
devotion to his friends and family. Albright’s treatment of me had
been wearing on him with each sardonic jibe she made, and it was
finally beginning to show.

From the corner of my eye, I happened to
catch a thin smirk that passed across the lieutenant’s features and
knew that this was exactly what she wanted. Without missing a beat,
she seized on the trigger and squeezed.

“How does it feel to be personally
responsible for this man’s death, Mister Gant?” she asked.

“Back off, Lieutenant,” Ben instructed before
I had a chance to respond.

“It’s okay, Ben,” I said.

She ignored both of us—or pretended to at
least. “This is the second acquaintance of yours to meet a violent
end, is it not? It would appear that being your friend is rather
hazardous.”

“I said, BACK OFF, Lieutenant!” My friend’s
voice raised a pair of notches in volume and filled the room to
capacity.

“Or what, Detective?” She placed heavy
emphasis on his title as she turned to face him.

“Let’s you and me go have a talk,” he
instructed, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of
the door.

“I think perhaps we should,” she retorted.
“You seem to be forgetting who is in charge here.”

He stepped back and aimed a hand at the exit.
“After you.”

As Albright brushed past him, he turned to
the medical examiner who had been shuffling about in silent
discomfort during the entire exchange. “You wanna get them outta
here, Doc.” The words were more a command than a question. “I think
they’ve seen enough.”

Doctor Friedman nodded and muttered a quiet
“yes” in acknowledgement. Ben then brought his eyes to rest on us
and pointed at me. “You stay on this side of the never-never-land
county line, got me?” He shifted his gaze to Felicity without
waiting for me to answer. “And you make sure he does. I’ll be with
ya’ in a few minutes.”

“Ben, it’s not worth…” I started.

He cut me off as he turned and stalked after
the lieutenant. “Just go with the doc, and do what I tell ya’ for a
change. This ain’t gonna take very long.”

* * * * *

Ben’s voice carried.

Even with several walls and closed doors
between us, it carried, and it did so beyond anything I’d expected.
It rode up and down as if someone was repeatedly twisting a volume
knob back and forth just to see what it would do. You couldn’t
really make out everything he was saying, but at the peaks, you
definitely picked up on the expletives. He even used a few that I
wasn’t sure I’d ever heard before, but I was positive I wouldn’t be
attempting to repeat.

Lieutenant Albright’s stern voice fell into
the low volume valleys between, inching up an octave or so in pitch
but never even beginning to approach my friend’s elevated level of
animated expression. There were enough snippets of both voices to
get the general gist of the argument and that it was yours truly
who sat at the center of the conflagration. No big surprise there,
but still, between the both of them, within the past five minutes
my name had been mentioned seventeen times. Actually, a more
accurate statement would be that it was mentioned by Ben and taken
in vain by Albright.

“He’s screwing up his career.” I tossed the
comment out as nothing more than an idle observation. I didn’t
really expect an answer.

“Aye, but better him than you,” Felicity
replied, giving me one anyway. “At least it is his choice this
time.”

We were sitting in the lobby of the medical
examiner’s office, occupying a pair of seats against the wall
opposite the reception desk. Doctor Friedman had not seemed
entirely sure what to do with us once Ben and Albright left, so he
had parked us here for lack of a better place.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“It wasn’t all that long ago that you were
ready to do it for him, then. Remember the reporters?”

“Oh, yeah, that,” I replied with mild
embarrassment in my voice. “I wasn’t really thinking about the
various consequences at the time.”

“We noticed.”

“That would have been manageable, though,” I
offered. “He could have done some damage control. Thrown it all on
me and distanced himself.”