“I’m sorry, sir, but all queries regarding Doctor Rieth’s books should be made via the University Press,” Kathy replied, launching into a decidedly prepared sounding spiel. “The address can be found…”
“I understand that,” I spoke up, truncating her instructions. “Please understand that I’m not looking for an autograph or trying to dispute her or anything like that. I’m doing some research regarding a murder investigation here, and I think she might be able to help me.”
There was no reply from the other end, but I could still hear background noise, so I knew she hadn’t hung up.
“Hello?” I said.
“Yes, I’m here,” the assistant replied. “I’m sorry. Where did you say you were calling from again?”
“Saint Louis, Missouri, why?”
“Just curious. Doctor Rieth received a call a year or so back from a police officer in South Carolina regarding a murder investigation.”
My curiosity was immediately piqued. “Really? Do you remember any of the details?”
“No,” she replied. “And, honestly, I really shouldn’t have said anything.”
“That’s okay, I won’t tell,” I replied half jokingly then moved on rather than risk alienating her. “Is there any way I can reach Doctor Rieth? It’s very important.”
“I’m afraid not,” she replied. “She is scheduled to return the Monday after the holiday however.”
I wasn’t excited about the wait, but it was just that time of year, so there was little I could do. I went ahead and asked, “Do you think it would be possible for me to leave a message for the doctor then?”
“Yes sir, I can certainly do that,” she answered. “Which police department are you with again?”
“I’m actually an independent consultant,” I explained then took the truth and wrapped it into an interwoven pretzel before relaying it to her. “I’m currently working with the Greater Saint Louis Major Case Squad.”
It wasn’t a complete lie, but I hoped that the doctor didn’t elect to verify my story because under the current circumstances, I was betting no one would be willing to back me up.
I finished giving her my contact information and bid her a pleasant afternoon before hanging up and pondering what the young woman had just let slip. Hopefully, if and when Doctor Rieth returned my call, she would be willing to share a bit more about what she had consulted on in South Carolina.
I picked up a pen and jotted a quick note about it in a steno pad I had been using for keeping track of my research. I heard the dogs barking outside and wondered for a moment if they were wanting back in the house. I started to get up, but they quieted down before I could get completely out of my seat, so I figured it must be a taunting squirrel or simply a passerby. When I settled back into the chair, however, a familiar prickling sensation crawled across the back of my neck as I felt my hair pivoting at the roots.
I reached up and rubbed the offending spot as I looked around the room. I couldn’t imagine a reason for the brief attack of shivers. It faded quickly so I tried to put it out of my mind.
Returning to the materials I had at hand, I shuffled through the stack of books on my desk and withdrew another one, heavily laden with bookmarks protruding from the end, and flipped it open to the copyright page. I was just about to begin typing in the publisher’s website address in search of contact information for the author when I heard the doorbell ring.
Now I had my answer as to why the dogs had been barking.
I knew Felicity was downstairs in her darkroom and probably wouldn’t be able to answer it. In reality, most of her work these days was digital and didn’t require the somewhat antiquated processes of chemicals and light sensitive papers. However, I had the impression that my wife was finding the familiarity and closeness of her analog workspace a comfort in the wake of her recent experience. Put simply, she was hiding from the world, and while I was willing to condone it for a brief period, I wasn’t going to allow her to do it forever. But, at this particular moment, I wasn’t going to press the issue.
I tossed the book back onto the pile and pushed away from my desk. I found that I had to skirt around Dickens, our black feline, who had elected to take a nap almost immediately in front of the office door. He opened one yellow eye and regarded me silently as I stepped over him, but other than that he didn’t even twitch.
I was making my way down the stairs when the doorbell pealed once again in a rapid staccato.
“Hold on!” I yelled, not that I really expected anyone outside to hear me. “I’m coming, I’m coming…”
I skipped the last couple of stairs near the bottom, making the turn at the landing, and almost jogged across the living room. With a quick turn of my wrist, I unlocked the door and swung it open.
My friend, homicide detective Benjamin Storm was standing on my front porch, along with someone else I thought I recognized as a member of the MCS but to whom I couldn’t place a name. Neither of them looked particularly happy, but I didn’t need to see their expressions to know something was wrong. The warning signs had been there for a while now. I had just been too absorbed, and even more unwilling, to pay attention to them.
Ben reached out and pulled the storm door open, looking at me quietly for a heartbeat or two before saying, “Do you mind if we come in, Row?”
I definitely didn’t like the sound of his voice, and my skin started prickling once again.
“That depends, Ben,” I replied evenly. “Do I have any choice in the matter?”
He reached up and smoothed his hair back, looked down at the porch briefly, then back up to my face. “Actually… No.”
“Do I need to call our attorney?” I asked.
He returned a shallow nod. “It’d be a good idea, Row.”
What transpired in the fifteen minutes following that simple statement set a series of events into motion that, if they didn’t kill me, would undoubtedly leave an indelible scar upon my life, and the lives of those I loved.
CHAPTER 4:
“Dammit, Ben!” I screamed. “Talk to me! Why won’t you tell me what the hell is happening here!”
“Rowan, you know damn good ‘n well what this is about!” my friend shot back. “A dead federal judge and a dead copper.”
“Bullshit! Politics is what it’s about,” I snarled at him. “Who’s behind this? Albright?”
I almost gagged on the name of the cop whose life’s mission seemed to be anything that involved making my very existence unbearable. Captain Barbara Albright, self-appointed leader of the “God Squad.”
Of course, there you had it, plain and simple.
When you took into consideration the fact that she was an old school, fundamentalist Christian with a badge, and I was a Neopagan Witch who consulted for the police department, we were bound to clash. The problem was, it was even worse than that. In plain truth we weren’t just at polar opposites; in many ways we seemed almost to be one another’s arch nemesis. Unfortunately, she tended to take that idea very seriously and more often than not would push things way too far.
She had already interjected her opinions and views into the current investigation, casting aspersions on both Felicity and me. Out of all of my detractors, she had been the one I most feared would skew the investigation. Given how vocal she had already been, it stood to reason that she would be behind this action. However, in my estimation, her habit of pushing things too far had just turned into shoving them completely over the edge and gleefully watching them fall.
“Look, I already said this a dozen times,” my friend spat in reply. “Ya’ got the goddamned warrants right there in your hand. Read ‘em!”
I barked in return as I waved the sheaf of legal documents in the air, “And, I’ve told you every time you said it that I already did and they don’t tell me a fucking thing.”