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

allowed the rest of the sentence to fade away. “Forget
it. So there was no fear, eh?”
    “None,” I confirmed.
    “And that tells us what?”
    “I don’t know for sure,” I answered with a
shrug.
    “Yeah, well no offense, but I think ya’ know
what I’m gonna say ta’ that.”
    I nodded. “Uh-huh. It doesn’t help.”
    “Ding-ding,” he returned. “Give the man a
cigar.”
    “Well, there did seem to be something
physical that was a bit odd,” I offered.
    “What’s that?”
    “Some kind of lacerations on his torso.”
    “Whaddaya mean ‘some kind of
lacerations’?”
    “Felicity had a better look than I did,” I
replied.
    He looked over at her and raised a
questioning eyebrow. “Whatcha got?”
    “I can’t be sure,” she replied with a shake
of her head. “There’s quite a bit of blood obscuring it, but there
definitely seemed to be a pattern to the lacerations.”
    “What kinda pattern?”
    “Sectional. Almost like a checkerboard from
what I could see. I took a couple of shots, but I don’t think
they’ll show much. Once he’s cleaned up, I suspect it will be a bit
more pronounced.”
    “Okay. I’ll give the coroner a heads up. So
what do YOU two think it means?”
    “Maybe that he was tortured?” she said with a
shrug. “Although, honestly, they really looked superficial. But
like I said. There was a lot of blood obscuring them.”
    “Same here,” I offered. “Just not sure. But
it did seem a bit strange to me, so take that for what it’s
worth.”
    “With you?” he harrumphed. “If YOU think
somethin’s strange, it’s usually not good.”
    “Sorry.”
    My friend reached up and smoothed back his
hair then stood there massaging his neck in silence. Finally he
said, “The number seven mean anything to you two?”
    “Most consider seven to be a lucky number,”
Felicity offered.
    “Reward, money, payoff,” I ticked off some of
the possibilities then added, “There are seven days in a week.”
    “There are seven continents,” my wife
continued. “Seven seas, the dance of the seven veils, seven deadly
sins… Some prophecies speak of seven archangels.”
    I nodded and continued her thread. “They also
mention the seven plagues, the seven seals, and…”
    “Okay, okay,” he interrupted, holding up a
hand and waving me off. “It’s probably just the luck thing. That’s
what I kinda figured anyway.”
    “What is?” I asked.
    “Desk clerk said Wentworth specifically
requested room seven,” he replied.
    “Was it him or his companion making the
request?”
    “Dunno at this point.” He shook his head.
“The clerk said he’s the only one that came in, but we’re thinkin’
it coulda been whoever he was with.”
    “Sounds like a setup to me,” I offered. “That
sort of thing would fit with a contract killing. Right?”
    “Yeah, way ahead of ya’ on that one, Row,” he
replied. “Problem is the clerk didn’t see anyone in or outta the
place.”
    “So she didn’t see whoever he was with
leaving either?”
    “Nope. Matter of fact, she says she can’t
remember seein’ anybody else in the car at all when he checked in,
and he pulled up right out front. Big help, huh?”
    “Well, he had to have been here with
someone.”
    “No shit,” my friend huffed, an overtone of
halfway jovial sarcasm in his voice. “I think we kinda established
that already.”
    “Just thinking out loud, Ben.”
    “Yeah,” he grunted. “Guess we all are.
Anyway, we’re gonna shake down some of the local hoo… uh, working
girls, and see what we can find out.”
    “Let me ask you something,” Felicity
interjected.
    He glanced over at my wife. “What? ‘Working
girls’ is out too?”
    She ignored the sardonic query and launched
into a question of her own. “I’ve been wondering this ever since
you called, and what you just said reminded me of it. How did the
body get found at such an odd hour? I mean there wouldn’t be any
maid service this time of night, and if he