Free Love Is The Bond: A Rowan Gant Investigation by M. R. Sellars Page A

photographs could be very
embarrassing…”
    “Is that all you’re worried about?” Ben
snapped.
    “No, not entirely, but they are definitely an
issue.”
    “Well, don’t get all worked up about it,” my
friend replied, sarcasm dripping from his words. “I’ll make sure we
wait a few days before we put ‘em out on the fuckin’ internet, now
why don’tcha go chase a terrorist or somethin’.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    “Thanks for not handin’ over the pictures to
the Feebs,” Ben said to Felicity.
    “Aye, no problem,” she replied. “I wasn’t
about to.”
    “Where’s Constance anyway?” I asked. “She
wouldn’t have dreamed of getting pushy like that.”
    I was referring to Constance Mandalay, an FBI
special agent we had worked with several times in the past. Upon
our first encounter, she had been much like Agent Drew. In fact,
she was even worse. Within the course of that first investigation,
however, she had done a complete about-face. She went from being a
hard-nosed femme fatale out to prove herself to being a good and
trusted friend. And in Ben’s case, ever since his divorce, she had
become something even more.
    “Talked to her last night. She’s still
in D.C. Will be till the end of the week prob’ly.” He let out a
harrumph before saying, “Yeah, I’d sure as hell rather be workin’
with her on this. But even if
she was here right now, they’d most likely assign someone
else.”
    “So that means you two are still seeing each
other then?” Felicity asked.
    “Off and on, yeah,” he shrugged. “Right now.
Kinda on. She’s been in D.C. for damn near a month though, so it
makes it kinda hard.”
    “Sorry.”
    He shrugged again. “Nothin’ ta’ be sorry
‘bout.”
    We were standing next to my friend’s
Chevrolet van, keeping out of the way while waiting for the medical
examiner to clear the scene. The vehicle was in far better shape
than it looked from the outside, and he went to great pains to keep
it that way. The side door was presently locked in the open
position, and Felicity was perched just inside on the floorboard,
putting away her camera equipment.
    After a brief quiet I switched the subject.
“So, you were right, Ben. Something’s definitely off kilter in
there.”
    “You go Twilight Zone ?” he asked.
    I shook my head. “No, but that didn’t keep me
from feeling some things. Felicity too.”
    “Yeah, I keep forgettin’ that you get all
freakazoid on me now, too,” he said, looking over at my wife.
    “Once, Ben. Just one time,” she stressed
without looking away from the task at hand.
    “That’s enough for me,” he replied. “So
whatcha get?”
    “There was definitely sex involved,” I
offered.
    “Well yeah,” he grunted. “That was kinda
obvious. Wentworth, or somebody, shot his wad all over the floor
looked like.”
    “There’s more than that,” Felicity
interjected, looking up. “It’s something palpable… Still.”
    I knew what she was implying with that last
word, even if Ben didn’t.
    “I hate to tell you two this, but if ya’ walk
in any one of these rooms, it just plain smells like sex. That’s
nothin’ new. They don’t rent rooms by the hour here for corporate
conferences if ya’ know what I mean.”
    “Aye, but this is different,” my wife
added.
    “Different how?” he asked.
    “Intensity. Urgency.” Felicity shook her
head.
    He shrugged. “Okay. But like I said, that’s
all kinda obvious just from lookin’ at the scene. Got anything
else?”
    “Fear,” I offered. “Or lack thereof, I should
say.”
    “Come again?”
    “From the looks of things, he was executed,
right?” I asked.
    “Yeah, that’s how it looks.”
    “Well, if someone had me bound, blindfolded,
and a gun in my mouth, I’d be terrified,” I offered.
    “Join the club,” he said.
    “That’s just it, Ben,” Felicity told him.
“There was no fear in that room. Only arousal.”
    “How do ya’…” He shook his head as he caught
himself and