“Yeah, but…” I started.
“I’m not finished,” she spat, cutting me off. “Now, what you need to do is start listening to me and stop acting like some kind of maniac. You sure as hell aren’t making any friends right now, and you’re trying my patience to say the least.”
“But why can’t I see her?” I demanded, still trying to circumvent her tirade.
“That’s easy. I could have told you that on the phone if you’d bothered to ask. The short list is A: She’s under arrest for two, and quite possibly three counts of first degree murder; B: You aren’t her attorney, I am; and C: Right now you’re acting irrationally and the police have some genuine concerns for your mental stability, as do I.”
“Bullshit. I’m fine.”
“Then like I said, start acting like it and listen to me for a change. Go home. Sit on your hands. Don’t talk to anyone, especially not the press, and just wait for me to call you. End of discussion. Is that clear?”
I shook my head. “I can’t, Jackie. Not right now. Not after what they did to the house.”
“What they…What did they do to your house?”
“It’s trashed. They totally wrecked the place.”
Now it was her turn to do the head shaking. “Did they destroy anything?”
“No…I don’t think so…Not that I could see, anyway, but it looks like a tornado went through it.”
“Did you happen to notice what they took?”
“Some of Felicity’s clothes, my handgun, and some of my books on Voodoo for sure,” I rattled off my own short list. “I tried to tell them the books were mine…”
“Are they?”
“Yes. I just bought them. And, checked some out from the library.”
“The books from the library shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll just have to contact the branch where you checked them out, and that should be enough to get them disallowed. What about the books you purchased? Do you have proof of when you bought them?”
“Yes. I have the receipts.”
“Then don’t worry about it, they won’t be an issue. Anything else?”
I nodded. “I know there was other stuff, but I can’t remember what. They gave me a voucher, but I haven’t really gone over it…”
“Great…Okay, fine. We’ll address that later. Have you got your cell phone with you?”
I rummaged in my pocket to check then nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay, why don’t you go find someplace to get a cup of coffee, and I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”
“Are you…”
“Yes, I’m sure,” she interrupted, finishing the query for me. “Now just go and let me do what you’re paying me for.”
“Yeah, okay,” I answered with a nod.
Her enumerated reasons for keeping me out of the loop had effectively shut me down for the time being. On top of that, my befuddled emotions were now batting me back into depression territory. I knew I was probably shifting back and forth between sounding insane and coming off like a frightened child, just like she said I was, but I couldn’t help it. I was still trying to get a handle on what was happening, but that handle kept staying just out of my grasp.
“You’ll call the minute you know something, right?” I asked, desperate for reassurance. In fact, my voice had an almost pleading tone to it.
“Yes, I’ll call. Now go.”
I gave her another nod then turned and started toward the front door of the building.
“Rowan,” she suddenly called after me.
I stopped and turned back to face her with a questioning look.
“Just coffee, no booze, okay?”
I involuntarily screwed my face into a confused expression then said, “You know, it’s not like I have a drinking problem or something.”
“I didn’t say you did, but I know you, and in your present state, if you drink you’re definitely going to be a problem. Trust me. No alcohol, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” I gave her a nod then started to turn back toward the door but stopped myself. “Wait, Jackie…”
“What?” she asked, her voice sounding strained as she tried to hide her obvious aggravation.
“I forgot to tell you. My father-in-law is taking it upon himself to send his own attorney down here with orders to take over the case.”
“Do you know who the attorney is?”
“Sorry, no.”
“Do you want his attorney to take over?”
“No.”
“Then as long as Felicity is of the same opinion, don’t worry about it. Just let me handle it.”
“It’s possible Shamus, her father, might show up himself.”
“He’s not going to get any farther than you have, so like I said: Don’t worry, just let me handle it.”
“Okay…And, Jackie…Thanks.”
“Yeah,” she replied as she turned, calling over her shoulder, ”You know the old line about the bill, right?”
I watched her disappear into the elevator then continued on my way through the front doors then out onto the sidewalk. The wind was picking up, whipping along the street as it cut its way between the buildings. I could feel the encroaching cold as a burning sting against my cheeks, but even so, I didn’t bother to zip up my coat, simply leaving it wide open to the wintry chill.
I knew I had to do what Jackie said, but I couldn’t get excited about climbing into my truck and putting any more distance between Felicity and me than there already was. While I’m certain “the pit bull” would have been happier if I would at least go a few blocks away, I set my sights on the small diner directly across the street which boasted the bizarre name, Forty.
Residing just to the side of the entrance to City Hall’s parking lot, I knew for certain the place was a hangout for cops. Not just because of its proximity to the station but also due to the fact that I had once commented to Ben about the odd name. In response he had explained that 40 is the Saint Louis city police radio code for a meal break.
Even though I wasn’t holding members of the local law enforcement community in very high regard at the moment, I decided I could bear sitting at the lunch counter with a cup of java. As long as I kept to myself, I figured I should be okay. After waiting for a pair of cars to pass, I stepped out onto the asphalt and jogged across the street.
I had only been sitting at the counter for around ten minutes, my hands wrapped around a ceramic mug and eyes gazing unfocused at my reflection in the black liquid, when the hair on the back of my neck began to prickle.
Amid the drone of chatting patrons, sizzling grills, staticky radios, and even ringing phones, a painful sound pierced my ears, launching me back out of the depression and square into the middle of anger once again.
“Yo, Carl,” Ben Storm’s voice called to someone behind the counter. “Ya’ got that order I called in ready yet?”
CHAPTER 10:
“Heya, Storm, yeah…” the man replied. “Got yer eats right here.”
I shot a quick glance in the direction of the voices and saw Ben standing near the register only a dozen or so feet to my right. He was angled away from me, and given his relaxed posture I got the impression that he hadn’t seen me when he came in, even though he had to have passed within two or three feet of me at the most.
“Lessee, I got a Reuben, two bacon cheeseburgers, and a chicken salad on wheat.” The cook listed the order while parking a large sack on the counter between them.” With a chuckle he added, “You hungry or somethin’?”
“Not really,” Ben responded to the joke. “This is just a snack ta’ get me through.”
“Yeah, right, you sure you don’t want any fries or some drinks wit’ dat?”
“Nahh, this is good.”
The logical side of my brain was telling me to keep quiet and shrink into the shadows. This diner was literally right next to the last place on earth I needed to get into an altercation with him. And, considering the clientele here, being right next to police headquarters was for all intents and purposes just like being in the squad room itself. Of course, those were just the facts I should be paying attention to. The truth is, I had a terrible habit of allowing my emotional half to override the practical aspect of my personality, and that was when I usually got myself into trouble.