M Sellars - Harm none

“The killer knows something about drugs and how to use them?” Felicity interjected.

“Bingo,” Ben replied. “Which means the killer probably works in a hospital or something.”

“Makes sense,” I chimed.

“Guess what I found out about your lamp-swingin’ buddy?” He looked at me seriously.

“R.J.?” Felicity asked.

“Yeah, R.J.,” Ben answered. “Seems he’s an orderly at County Hospital, in the emergency room.”

“I know that might seem to fit,” Felicity stated, “but an orderly? Would he really know that much about the drugs and such?”

“Can’t say,” he told her, “but if he pays attention and reads a lot, who knows. In any event, he could have access to controlled substances at his job.”

“I don’t know, Ben,” I added. “I agree that something’s going on with R.J. that he’s not telling us, but do you really think…”

“Hey,” he interrupted. “You yourself said that Ariel Tanner thought she knew her killer. Right?”

“She thought she recognized the voice.”

“So add it up,” he continued. “Friend of Ariel Tanner. He has a key to her apartment. Access to controlled substances and a medical background of sorts.” He was counting the points off on his fingers. “Shows up out of the clear blue at the victim’s home Saturday, and finally, he shows up here an hour late last night.”

Remembering a detail from the day before, I quickly volunteered, “But he said he was out of town on a fishing trip with his father when Ariel was killed.”

“Yeah, I know, but I didn’t find him all that convincing.” Ben brushed away my objection. “So I already had a talk with his dad. They didn’t actually leave on that trip ‘til later that night, and ‘Pops’ had no idea where the kid was before that. Based on the approximate time of death from the coroner, he had plenty of time to do it.”

“Didn’t you upset his parents?” Felicity asked with concern. “I mean, implying that their son is involved in a murder and all…”

“Hey, I just told ‘em the truth,” he answered. “It’s just routine. If they get their shorts in a bunch then that’s their problem.”

“Why would he have lied?” I mused aloud.

“Maybe he did it.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Okay, so who knows?” Ben shrugged. “But I intend to find out.”

“If knowing the victim is an important factor, then what about Karen Barnes?” I queried. “Is there anything to indicate that he knew her?”

“Not yet,” he shot back. “Maybe he picked her because of the color of her hair… Maybe because the opportunity was there… Shit, maybe he didn’t have to have a reason.”

“Still,” Felicity objected, “Rowan or I should have felt something from R.J. if he had killed Karen Barnes just before coming here. We’re both Witches you know.”

“What’s that got to do with it?” Ben turned to her. “Besides, why are you so attached to this kid anyway? You act like you’ve known him forever or somethin’.”

“I just have a major pet-peeve about innocent people being railroaded… And in a way, I DO know him pretty well. When I cast circle last night, he was in it.”

“So?” Ben shrugged, obviously not understanding the significance of her comment.

“So a circle is a very intense ritual in The Craft,” she explained. “You are joined with your peers, and you share energies. To be able to hide your true feelings during a circle would take more practice than I can even imagine. I don’t even know if Rowan or I could do it, and we’re both definitely more skilled than he is… No. R.J. was wide open last night. I refuse to believe he did it.”

“Tell that to a judge and see how far it gets ya’,” Ben replied. “Besides, nobody has convicted the kid yet. I’m just gonna ask him some more questions.”

As much as I wanted this to be over, and even with my feelings that R.J. was hiding something, I found the thought hard to comprehend. We hadn’t known him long, but I trusted my wife’s instincts as well as my own. The morose silence that followed Ben’s announcement was abruptly punctuated by Salinger as he leapt to the table and let out a sudden, mournful yowl.

Felicity and I followed Ben, driving in her Jeep. I had imitated his mode of dress by affixing a tie about my neck and wearing a lightweight, tweed sport coat over my jeans. My wife had opted for her no-nonsense look, donning a grey summer suit and black pumps. She also wore glasses instead of her normal contact lenses, which only served to enhance the businesslike appearance she had assumed. The back seat of our vehicle contained a carousel tray loaded with a small selection of slides from the roll I had shot last evening, as well as our slide projector.

“So what do you think about this whole thing with R.J.?” Felicity asked me as she shifted gears and merged with the traffic.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Ben makes it sound pretty convincing, and I did have that feeling last night…You said you felt it too.”

“Yes, I did,” she stated. “But it wasn’t that malevolent.”

“True,” I responded, “you would think that someone evil enough to do what this guy has done would be giving off some seriously bad energies.”

“That was my thought.”

“What about Salinger and Dickens?” I questioned. “Something about him really turned them off last night. I could maybe understand Salinger, but Dickens? He loves everybody.”

“Maybe R.J. has his own cat or something,” she speculated. “If they smelled another animal on him, then that might have set them off.”

“That’s a possibility,” I agreed. “I know Ben says he just wants to talk to him,” I continued, “and I hate to say this, but I think he’s had it in for R.J. since the very beginning.”

“It’s his nature to be suspicious,” she told me. “And I’m sure he’s just being thorough. Just doing his job, you know. Don’t worry, Ben won’t railroad R.J., or let anyone else. You know him better than that.”

“I know you’re right about Ben,” I told her. “But I don’t know if he’ll be able to control the rest of them. You can bet he’s getting pressure from the top on this.”

Felicity looked over at me sadly for a moment and then returned her gaze to the road. I knew she didn’t want to consider the possibility that Ben could succumb to the public-opinion-guided wishes of his superiors when a young man’s life was at stake.

“Shut your window then. The wind is messing up my hair” was all she said.

The command post for the Greater Saint Louis Major Case Squad had been set up in some conference rooms at the Weston city hall, which also housed the small township’s police station. Since we lived nearby, the drive was short. According to my watch, it was approaching eleven when we arrived.

“I’m gonna warn ya’,” Ben said as we walked with him across the parking lot, “these guys have already seen the paper.”

“I suppose they’re expecting some kind of weirdo then,” I returned, referring to myself.

“I expect you’re gonna get some blank stares and snide remarks,” he told me. “But if ya’ keep the Twilight Zone stuff just between us, I think it’ll be okay. I’ll be there ta’ back you up.”

“Well, I appreciate that.”

Ben led us down a long, tiled hallway and signed us in with a dour-faced desk sergeant, who from all outward appearances, should have retired ten years earlier. He less than enthusiastically provided Felicity and I with visitors badges, and we proceeded on with no interruption. Ben opened the door to a conference room then motioned us in. We were greeted full force by what can only be described as an ordered chaos.