Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation (22 page)

I drew in a deep breath then let it out slowly.
“Tell you what,” I said after a thoughtful moment. “I’ll make you a
deal. As soon as this case is over we’re outta here.”

“And what about Miranda then?”

“If she’s taken care of, fine. If not, well, I’ll
just carry the jar around in my suitcase, I guess.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah… We need the time away.”

“I’m fairly sure that’s what I was just saying.”

“I know, and I was listening even if it didn’t seem
like it. There’s just one caveat… We can go anywhere you want
except New Orleans. I don’t want you that close to that bitch ever
again. Besides, I don’t even know if I’m exactly welcome there
anymore.”

“Actually, I was thinking more along the line of
home.”

“Home, eh? Well, I guess that will save us the
trouble of packing.”

“Rowan…”

“I know, I know… Just joking again… I get it… You
want to go to Ireland.”

“Aye. It’s been too long.”

“Can’t I just blindfold you and take you to one of
the local pubs and pretend?”

“Joking again?”

“Trying to.”

“Well stop. You aren’t funny.” She underscored the
comment with a grin.

I laughed and nodded. “Ireland it is.”

A hard rap sounded on the windshield to my right,
making me start at the noise. I turned to see Ben peering in at us
from the passenger side of the Jeep. Apparently both of us had been
so preoccupied with our conversation that we hadn’t noticed him
standing there. I popped the latch on the door and pushed it open,
so he reached out and took hold of the upper edge of the frame and
swung it wider. Bending down, he looked through the now open
gap.

“Am I interruptin’ you two?” he asked.

“Well, yeah, sort of,” I returned.

“Too bad.”

“Wow, Ben, thanks for understanding,” I
retorted.

“Yeah, well I been standin’ here forever.”

I glanced at my watch then back at him. “Maybe a
minute or two at the most.”

“Uh-huh, like I said, forever.”

I climbed out of the Jeep, and he moved back as I
swung the door shut. Felicity was already coming around the front
of the vehicle and stepping up on the sidewalk.

Ben glanced over at her then waved a finger at the
Jeep and said “Yo, Firehair… Make sure ya’ lock it up.”

“We’re in front of the police station,” she
replied.

“Yeah, and your point?”

Felicity replied by cocking her head to the side and
giving him a nonplussed stare as she slid her hand into her jacket
pocket. Almost instantly the clunk of the locks sounded next to
me.

“There. Better?” she asked.

“Hey, it’s your shit, not mine,” Ben returned then
stepped back up onto the sidewalk. “By the way, you got any
salt?”

Felicity gave him a puzzled look then quipped, “Not
with me. Why, are you out or something?”

“Here,” he said as he reached into his jacket
pocket. When he withdrew it, small, white paper packets were
protruding from between his fingers. He held them out to her, and
she instinctively cupped her hands beneath his as he let them fall
into her palms.

“I didn’t bother sortin’ it, so there’s prob’ly some
pepper in there too, sorry ‘bout that,” he told her. Then jerking
his head to the side, he motioned up the street and grunted,
“C’mon, let’s get movin’.”

“What’s all this for?” Felicity asked, stuffing the
unsought bounty into her pockets.

He pointed at me as he started turning to head up
the sidewalk. “Ta’ keep his sorry ass safe. Got a bottle’a aspirin
too if ya’ need it.”

“We’re going straight to the morgue, aren’t we?” I
asked, my voice coming out in a flat drone because I already knew
his answer.

“Yeah,” he replied. “We’re goin’ straight to the
morgue.”

* * * * *

I’d made far too many such visits to the Saint Louis
City Medical Examiner’s office over the years, and even though I
had become prematurely jaded to the sight of corpses and the cold
feeling of death, I still never could get used to the place.

Every time I walked through the door of the
innocuous building situated next to police headquarters, it was
like being the unexpected celebrity guest at a morbid party. It
almost always began with a stunned silence that went unnoticed by
everyone but me—simply because the ethereal hush was falling over
the ghostly voices of the dead that only I could hear in the first
place. Of course, the stillness never lasted long. Within moments
the screams, the cries, and the pleading voices from the other side
of the veil would fill my ears in a deafening cacophony.

And then above it all, there was always the one
clear voice of the soul I was supposed to help. That one always
shared with me the most pain, anguish, and even physical torture. I
suppose it needed something to set it apart from the crowd,
although I would have gladly settled for a gentler way of capturing
my attention.

As expected, today was no different. And just as I
had done on each and every occasion, I fought to ignore the screams
in favor of the here and now that was unfolding in front of me.

“Where’s Ceece?” Ben asked the woman behind the desk
in the lobby. We were barely through the door, and she hadn’t even
been afforded the chance to greet us.

“I’m sorry?” she replied.

“You know, the lady who’s s’posed ta’ be sittin’
where you’re sittin’ right now,” he explained.

She nodded as a look of understanding tweaked her
features. “Oh, you mean Cecelia. She just ran out to pick up lunch.
May I help you?”

Ben flashed his badge. “Yeah, I’m Detective Storm.
We’re here ta’ see Doc Sanders.”

“I’m sorry, Detective, I’m afraid she’s also at
lunch.”

“She should be expectin’ us.”

The woman shook her head. “I’m certain she’s at
lunch.”

“She go out too, or is she in ‘er office like
usual?” he asked.

“I believe she’s in her office, but as I said, she’s
taking a break for lunch. She should be…”

Ben held up his hands to stop her and began shaking
his head. “Ceece knew we were comin’, so did Doc Sanders.”

“I’m sorry, but neither of them said anything about
it to me,” she returned.

“Well, they musta forgot.”

“Let me check…” she said as she carefully glanced
over a schedule sheet while running her pen along the side and then
gave it a second pass. She began shaking her head slowly as she
looked up and said, “I’m very sorry, Detective Storm, but you don’t
have an appointment listed here and Doctor Sanders is…”

“…at lunch, yeah, I know. Look… I’m
serious. Ceece knew we were comin’. If that ain’t enough for ya’,
try this on.
My
boss sent us over here to talk to
your
boss. Now I really don’t wanna
have my boss jumpin’ on my ass and then callin’ your boss’ boss,
‘cause in the end the shit’s just gonna roll downhill on top of
both of us. Know what I mean? So just do me a favor… Pick up the
phone and let the doc know we’re here.” He shook his head again.
“She says no, all good. We let her explain it. Okay?”

The woman looked at him with a sideways glance. “Are
you always this intense?”

“Yes, he is,” another voice came from the doorway to
our right, and a definite tone of exasperation surrounded the
words.

We looked over to find Cecelia coming into the lobby
from the back, door slowly swinging shut behind her. Her purse was
slung over her shoulder, and she was juggling a pair of large
carryout bags in her arms.

“Ceece,” Ben crooned with an air of relief.

“Don’t
Ceece
me, Storm. You aren’t supposed
to be here yet,” she snipped as she walked across the lobby and
deposited the bags on the desk. “I told you Doctor Sanders would be
available after lunch.”

“Yeah, well shit happens, ya’know.”

“Especially with you,” she sighed. “Is there really
some pressing reason why you have to see the doctor now?”

“Yes,” he replied.

She stood staring at him expectantly. After a moment
she said, “I take it I’m not going to get an explanation?”

“I can’t get into it,” he said. “Let’s just say the
doc owes me.”

“Owes you? Are you sure you don’t have that
backwards?”

“Nope.”

Cecelia shook her head. “I’m not even going to
ask.”

“Yeah, that’s prob’ly a good idea. B’sides, couldn’t
tell ya’ anyway.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she mumbled.

Ben nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

Cecelia directed herself to the woman at the
reception desk. “Go ahead and buzz Doctor Sanders, Caroline. He
really is supposed to be here.” She paused for a heartbeat then
added with emphasis, “After lunch.”

“I think it’s warmer outside than it is in here,”
Ben mused aloud as he shuffled in place. I was fairly certain his
dance was more out of impatience than an attempt to keep warm, even
though his observation was certainly dead on the mark.

Shortly after the receptionist had buzzed Doctor
Sanders, we were signed in then escorted to the cold storage area
and autopsy suites at the back of the medical examiner’s building.
Unfortunately, we had already been standing here for several
minutes, and it was beginning to look like the M.E. was going to
make us wait indefinitely.

“Yeah,” I agreed with my friend then looked over at
my wife. “You okay, honey?”

She merely nodded in response. She tended to be a
bit more sensitive to the cold than me, so she had already zipped
up her leather jacket and was now pulling on her gloves. I was
almost regretting having left my own coat back at the Jeep even
though I knew there was more to the gelid atmosphere than simply
the physical temperature.

I gave Felicity’s shoulder a quick squeeze then
glanced around at the tiled room. It had been awhile since I’d
ventured this far into the bowels of the building, but little had
changed since then. Stainless steel rectangles still formed an
evenly spaced checkerboard on the far wall, each one a doorway into
a cubicle where earthly remains awaited their turn under the knife.
At the back end of the room were doors leading into the garage
where an overt but acceptable form of segregation occurred on an
almost daily basis. Living people entered and exited in the front,
corpses there in the back. The only thing missing was a sign
reading “Dead Persons Only.”

“I guess Doctor Sanders decided to finish her lunch
first,” I finally said after completing my visual inspection for a
third time.

“Yeah,” Ben grunted. “Sure seems like it. You’d
think they’d at least have us wait someplace warm.”

“Aye, if you hadn’t been so pushy, maybe they would
have,” Felicity offered.

“Just doin’ my job,” he returned.

He was still shuffling about, allowing his gaze to
wander just as mine had, but with one overt difference—he was
avoiding eye contact with me, and Felicity as well. Impatience, I
could understand, but this was more than that. I’d seen him play
the stone-faced cop more than once, so I knew for a fact something
was bothering him that he simply couldn’t mask.

“What are you so nervous about, Ben?” I asked.

“I ain’t nervous.” He shook his head.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well then maybe you got trust issues.”

“These days, you’re probably right, but I’m pretty
sure that’s not it. Why don’t you tell me what this is all about.
What’s really going on?”

“Whaddaya mean?” He shrugged and waved his hand
toward the far wall as he added, “What’s it always about when we
come here, white man? You, a pissed off stiff, and la-la land.”

He finally stopped avoiding eye contact and looked
at me expectantly as his words dissipated on the cloud of steam
that was his breath. I stared back and frowned.

Pissed off stiff. My friend’s less than eloquent way
of referring to the body of a murder victim was just another
hallmark that told me something was amiss. Granted, any corpse I
came here to see during an investigation had some form of brutality
responsible for its date with one of the stainless steel tables.
And, yes, the spirits once housed by the now lifeless bodies were
less than happy about it. But Ben customarily showed at least some
amount of reverence.

Still, I knew exactly what he was trying to say. I
was here, for all intents and purposes, to translate. To tell the
living what the dead had to say, all in hopes that it would shed
light on why they were here in the first place.

But that was obvious. Moreover, it wasn’t what I was
asking, and he knew it.

“No kidding, Ben. I pretty much figured that out
when you herded us up here,” I said. “But you know it doesn’t work
that way.”

“Yeah? So when have ya’ ever
not
gone
Twilight Zone
when you
were here?”

“That’s not my point, and you know it.”

“Maybe not, but it’s mine.”

“Okay, so what if I do? You know how convoluted this
can get. There’s never a straight answer from the dead. I’m not
going to be able to just hand you a name or anything.”

“Yeah, I know that,” he nodded. “Just do what ya’
do, and we’ll go from there. That’s all I’m askin’.”

“Dammit,” I grumbled. “I let you sidetrack me
again.”

“Me? Whaddid I do?”

“You avoided my question. You know that’s not what I
was asking.”

He splayed out his hands in mock surrender. “Sounded
like it ta’ me. You asked what…”

“Stop it,” I said, cutting him off and holding my
own hands up, palms toward him as a sign that I’d had enough. “No
double talk. Just answer the question.”

He shot me a concerned look. “You feelin’ okay,
Kemosabe? You’re actin’ a little freaked.”