I furrowed my brow and mumbled, “Curiouser and curiouser…”
“Okay, forget the were. What are you thinking?”
“That I’m being used for something and somebody didn’t bother to clue me in.”
“That crossed my mind as well,” she replied with a shake of her head. “But what?”
“That’s a good question.”
She added, “Another good one would be why.”
“No offense, but I’ve been asking myself that for quite awhile where the cops and feds are concerned. It’s not like this would be the first time I’d been used and abused by someone with a badge.”
Constance nodded, answering in a chagrined tone, “I know.”
She wasn’t paying me lip service. She really was well aware of the backstabbing Felicity and I had endured, not only from the Saint Louis police but the FBI as well. Over the years I had been used as bait for a serial killer without my knowledge, threatened, and even investigated. However, for me, none of that could begin to compare to how they’d tried to railroad my wife for crimes she didn’t commit. And, all of this had been done by the very same authorities that had sought our help in the first place.
But, by the same token, I also had a tendency to be the beneficiary of nebulous bureaucratic intervention just when my hour seemed to be at its darkest. Who was playing the puppeteer was still a complete mystery to me, but to say I felt like I was firmly attached to the ends of their strings was an understatement. To say the least, my confidence in most law enforcement was growing thin. Were it not for Ben and Constance, it was doubtful I would trust anyone with a badge ever again.
After a moment I noticed an unsettled quiet had fallen in behind my friend’s words, so I broke it with a heavy sigh. “I guess I need to go ahead and make these calls,” I said.
She nodded again. “Sure. I’ll see about that coffee and aspirin.”
I was already stabbing out a number with my thumb when she exited the room. A pair of rings later a gruff, male voice came on the line.
“Only been a coupl’a hours. Missin’ me that much, are ya’?” Ben almost cooed the words, an uncharacteristically tender note in his voice.
“Not really,” I replied.
The immediate shift in his tone was almost jarring. “Row?”
“Yeah. I’m using Constance’s phone, but I’ll let her know you’re fantasizing about her.”
He ignored the jab. “You two all right? Everything okay down there?”
“Constance is fine,” I told him. “Me…well, I’m about as okay as I can get under the circumstances.”
“Yeah, sounds ‘bout like you. So, you keepin’ your hands off my girlfriend?”
“Depends. Are you keeping your hands off my wife?”
“Hell yeah, white man. I’m afraid of ‘er.”
“Me too.”
He chuckled. “Well that answers that, doesn’t it? So… I doubt ya’ called ta’ shoot the shit. Guess I oughta ask… What’s really goin’ on down there?”
“I sort of blew it with Miranda.”
“How?”
“Believe me, you don’t want to know.”
“Jeezus, Row, I hate when you say crap like that…”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Then tell me what the hell ya’…”
I cut him off before he could continue to press me on the subject. “I promise I’ll fill you in on the whole story when I have time. But listen, right now I called about something way more important. You know that thing I gave you this morning when we were on the way to the airport?”
“That bottle with the jewelry in it?” he asked. “Yeah, what about it?”
“Where is it?”
“I dunno. Prob’ly sittin’ in the console of my van where I left it.”
“Dammit, Ben…”
This time he interrupted me instead. “Relax, will ya’? I’m just yankin’ your chain. I got it right here in my pocket. You were pretty damn clear about not just leavin’ it layin’ around.”
“You’re sure it’s there?”
I could hear him shuffling around a bit on the other end of the line, then he replied, “Well, now it’s in my hand and I’m starin’ right at it, so yeah, I’m sure.”
“And you can see the necklace in there, not just the salt?”
“Salt. So that’s what that is.”
“Ben…”
“Yeah, yeah, Jeezus… Chill out white man, I can see the goddamn necklace floatin’ around in the salt.”
“Good.”
“Where the hell’d ya’ think it’d be?”
“I’m just checking, Ben. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh… So you really think a friggin’ piece a jewelry is why Firehair got all Twilight Zone weird on us?” he mused, referring to Felicity by a favored nickname.
“Yes, I do,” I replied. “And Miranda just all but confirmed it.”
“How?”
“Something she said. She told me she knew I wanted to ask Annalise about the necklace.”
“So?”
“So I hadn’t even mentioned it.”
“Yeah, okay,” he replied. I could almost see him nodding. “So what you’re really talkin’ about is spooky, dead person, Witch shit.”
“Something like that.”
“Okay, so then ya’ wanna tell me what’s goin’ on? You’re soundin’ a bit ramped up.”
I let out a quiet but heavy sigh. “I’d like to say just me being paranoid, but we know how that usually turns out.”
“Yeah,” he grunted. “Usually you ain’t paranoid, they really are out ta’ get ya’. So, really, fill me in. What’s the story?”
“I haven’t really figured it all out yet, but I have a sneaking suspicion the FBI is keeping me in the dark about something,” I said.
“Mushroom treatment, eh… No big surprise there,” Ben grunted. “What’s Constance think?”
“Same thing as me, unfortunately.”
I could imagine him shaking his head as he breathed, “Fuckin’ wunnerful… Goddamn Feebs.”
“You date one.”
“She’s an exception.”
“Yeah, I’d have to agree with you there.”
My friend sighed heavily and then adopted a curious tone. “So, lemme ask ya’ somethin’. Why are ya’ puttin’ yourself through all this shit? Why don’t ya’ just do some hocus-pocus on this Miranda bitch and be done with ‘er?”
“I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“What’s the deal? Your Witch-fu not good enough?”
“That’s one way of saying it,” I replied. “Hoodoo is some very intense stuff, Ben. It has no moral restrictions, and it’s like the guerrilla warfare of magick.”
“Yeah, so? I thought the stuff you do was pretty serious too.”
“It is, but hoodoo is seriously down and dirty. It can…” I stopped mid-sentence and took a mental step back. Rather than giving him a detailed lesson in magick, what I really needed was a mundane analogy that would get the point across. “Look at it this way,” I said after a short pause. “The particular magick I’m dealing with here is like two-part epoxy. You need both parts to make it work. Same basic principle applies. For me, or even an expert practitioner of Vodoun and hoodoo for that matter, in order to stop what Miranda has set in motion, both parts of the magickal working are necessary. That necklace you’re holding onto for me is only half of it. Without the other, the situation is at best a stalemate.”
“You ain’t actin’ like it’s at its best,” he observed.
“That’s because it’s not.”
“Great,” he grunted. “So what happens if ya’ can’t find the other half?”
“I’d rather not think about that.”
“Yeah… I ‘magine not.”
I swallowed hard and slowly let out a breath. “Yeah… So, listen, I still really need to call Felicity and check in with her. Just do me a favor. Don’t let that necklace out of your sight, okay? And don’t go anywhere near Felicity with it.”
“Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “I kinda got that part already.”
“Thanks, Ben.”
“I’ll put it on your tab. Hey…you do me a favor too. Have Constance call me when you’re done screwin’ around with ‘er phone, okay?”
“Yeah, I will. Later.” I stabbed the end button even as the last word was coming out of my mouth and then began dialing a new number.
A moment later my wife’s near panicked voice issued from the earpiece. “Constance? What’s wrong? Is Rowan okay?”