Of course, it really didn’t matter who started it. The end result would be the same either way and could easily invoke a repeat performance of yesterday’s events, which was exactly what I was trying to avoid. While I wasn’t willing to place all the blame on Ben, Felicity had made a valid point-he and his case just might be a corporeal trigger. Unfortunately, the fresh stabs of pain inside my skull at this particular moment went a long way toward being a smoking gun where that theory was concerned.
“You still there?” my friend asked.
His tone told me I had paused far longer than I thought. I rocked forward in my chair and managed to spit out, “Hey, Ben… Yeah, I’m here.”
“This a bad time?” he asked, trying to interpret the verbal cue. “You busy?”
“No, not really,” I replied. “It’s just… Nothing… Don’t worry about it. So, how are you this morning?”
“Not bad I guess. Better’n yesterday. I actually got some sleep last night. How ‘bout you?”
“Fine,” I told him. “I’m doing fine.”
I could feel my body tense as a fresh wave of foreboding swept over me. If he didn’t pursue the previous day’s events any further everything should be okay. But I knew it wasn’t very likely he’d stop now. He had a motive for the contact, he always did, and exchanging simple pleasantries was never it. I tried pretending that maybe this call was for the express purpose of giving me the information on the attorney and nothing more, but unfortunately, I wasn’t having much success where suspension of disbelief was concerned.
As expected, his next question made it a moot point to even continue trying.
“So how’s your neck?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“Any Twilight Zone or other weird shit to report?” he asked.
“No,” I lied again and then added a bit of truth to reinforce the statement, “Not that I’d be reporting it if there was.”
“Why not?”
“You know why, Ben. I’m pretty sure we’ve already beaten this conversation to death.”
“Yeah, okay, but really? Nothin’ happened?”
“Yeah, really.”
He paused for a moment then said, “You’re lyin’. I can tell.”
“Okay, Columbo. So what if I am?” I asked.
He chuckled. “I ain’t that short and I dress better.”
“But you smoke cigars and drive a piece of junk,” I offered, hoping to divert the subject.
“Okay, enough with the comedy routine. So seriously, how’s your neck?”
“Like I already said, just fine.”
“Bullshit. You’re still lyin’.”
“You know, for someone who always tells me to stay out of things and let you do your job, you sure sound like you’re trying to drag me into the middle of this one. Just like yesterday.”
“Nope, I ain’t. Just concerned about ya’ is all.”
“Well, I’m fine, so don’t worry so much.”
“Ya’ don’t sound fine.”
“Well, I am.”
“Says you… Did ya’ at least let Firehair know? I mean about your neck hurtin’ yesterday.”
“Oh yeah,” I replied. The words came out on the heels of a low snort that I couldn’t manage to contain. “She knows all about it.”
“Uh-huh, see, I knew you were lyin’.” His voice actually sounded like it held a note of concern. “What happened, Row?
“I’d really rather not discuss it, Ben.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Look, it was no big deal and it’s over. But since we’re on the subject, I guess I should tell you this much-Felicity doesn’t think we should be playing in the same sandbox for a while. She’s decided you’re a negative influence.”
“What? How’d I get ta’ be the friggin’ bad kid all of a sudden?”
“She seems to think you’re a trigger for the latest ethereal crap raining down on my head.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so. What’s worse, I’m inclined to agree with her.”
“Why me?”
“Short version is you’re a cop who’s willing to listen to me and the spirits know that, so they’re more likely to screw with me when they think I have your ear. That’s our theory anyway.”
“That’s fucked.”
“Yeah, but like I said, right now I have to agree with her.”
“Great… So this means what?”
“Basically, until I get a handle on controlling this, you and I need to keep some distance between us while you’re working a case.”
“You seen the violent crime and homicide stats for Saint Louis, Row? I’m always workin’ a case. Usually more’n one at a time.”
“Yeah, well it’s not like we’re married or anything, you know. I think we’ll survive.”
“Uh-huh, yeah,” he grunted. “But you know what I’m sayin’. I ain’t so keen on ghosts screwin’ over our friendship… So how do we fix this?”
“ We don’t.” I shrugged out of reflex. “It’s something I have to deal with. Of course, if it doesn’t work out then I guess the theory is wrong.”
“What then?”
“Honestly? I really wish I knew. But I guess then we’ll be able to have a beer at the same bar.”
“Yeah, friggin’ wunnerful. Damned if ya’ do, damned if ya’ don’t.”
“Yeah, story of my life. And, it’s not exactly turning out to be my week so far, if you know what I mean.”
“Uh-huh… Well since I’m gettin’ the blame, don’tcha think you should tell me what happened ta’ make you two come up with this landmark theory?”
“No.”
“Dammit, Rowan…”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine. Suit yourself,” he grumbled. “Just tell me this, are ya’ sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, Ben, I’m okay.”
“You know I’m just askin’ ‘cause I’ve seen this shit go south with you before.”
“Who’s lying now?” I blurted the question without thinking.
“I’m fuckin’ serious as a heart attack, Row,” he replied. “You think I’m not worried about ya’?”
The tone of his voice was sincere, but I could read something else beneath the words. Ben was nothing if not a loyal friend, and while he didn’t usually pull punches and could occasionally be hard to read, he always had our best interests at heart, even if it didn’t necessarily seem like it at the time. However, none of that stopped him from being a cop with a murder to solve, and I knew it.
“I don’t doubt that you are,” I told him. “But I also think you have an ulterior motive.”
“Jeezus, Row…”
“Am I wrong?”
“What? Are ya’ some kinda lie detector now?”
“Depends. Are you lying?”
“Okay… Fine… Yeah… I admit I’m curious what you might’ve come up with on this case if ya’ went all la-la land, which it sure looked like you were gonna do yesterday. I’ve been through this kinda crap with ya’ a few too many times. I guess I’ve gotten used to gettin’ your opinion when the weird shit pops up. So sue me.”
“At the risk of repeating myself, aren’t you the one who always tells me the cops were catching the bad guys long before I showed up?”
“Yeah, I am,” he replied. “And we’ll keep doin’ it too. But I’m also the guy who told you a good cop’ll use whatever legal and reasonable means he has at his disposal to catch those bad guys.”
“So now I’m ‘Rowan Gant the investigative tool’, am I? Nothing more than a means to an end?” I offered the questions in a rhetorical tone.
I suppose I should have been hurt by what he’d said, but deep down I really wasn’t. Given everything the two of us had been through together, of all people I could easily see the logic in what he was saying. Still, my reaction was knee-jerk, and I knew I didn’t sound terribly pleased.