M Sellars - Blood Moon

“Yeah, I know, but that’s about all we can do right now. So anyway, can we maybe change the subject? Constantly talking about it really isn’t helping, you know. It’s kind of like offering me a cigarette.”

“Yeah…yeah, no problem… Actually, I did have another reason for callin’. I got that info you wanted on Devereaux’s attorney.”

“Great. I was afraid you might have forgotten about that.”

“Didn’t forget, but it wasn’t exactly high on the priority list until about half an hour ago.”

“Half an hour ago? Why?”

“‘Cause that’s about when a process server showed up downstairs with a subpoena for me from Devereaux’s mouthpiece. Kinda brought it back around, ya’know.”

“Subpoena? For what?’

“Deposition,” he grunted. “They wanna grill me for a while. The bottom-feeders do this crap all the time. Tryin’ ta’ find somethin’ they can twist and use to get their client off. Technicality, or whatever… It ain’t unusual. But, I should warn ya’…they’re prob’ly gonna ask me about Firehair and the whole thing at that motel with Lewis.”

“Great.”

“Just thought you should know. But I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“It’s kind of hard not to.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m tellin’ ya’ don’t. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but I’m still sorry you’re getting sucked into it.”

“Like I said, I’m used to this shit,” he replied with an audible shrug in his voice. “Besides, I worked the case. I was gonna get subpoenaed anyway. I’m just surprised it came today.”

“Why’s that?”

“It ain’t my day off.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“It’s a cop thing, don’t worry about it.”

Obviously there was a hidden meaning in the comment, but I didn’t press him for an explanation. His call actually wasn’t the first I’d received this morning, and a quick glance at the clock in the corner of my computer screen reminded me that I had someplace to be in less than an hour. I simply jotted down the information he had for me then rushed off the phone.

Whether I felt up to it or not, I really needed to make it to this particular meeting. However, it had become apparent over the course of the past several minutes that I was going to need a handful of aspirin deposited into my system before I did anything else.

“Thanks for meeting me here, Maggie,” I said to the woman on the opposite side of the cafe table. “I know it’s been a pain trying to get our schedules to jive, so I really appreciate you calling this morning.”

“It’s no trouble, Rowan,” my mother-in-law replied as she glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry I can only spare a few minutes. I do need to be home soon.”

Maggie O’Brien was petite in stature, just like her daughter. Of course, as was to be expected, there were also several other resemblances between them; therefore, even with a cursory glance there was definitely no denying their familial connection-it was just that obvious. The ever-present Celtic lilt in her voice simply cemented that observation on the audible level. However, within a scant few minutes of conversation, it was easy to see that my wife’s penchant for Gaelic curses must have come from her father’s side and not her mother’s.

These days Maggie’s shag of hair was more along the line of grey highlighted with chestnut, rather than the other way around, as it had been when I first met her quite some time ago. But other than that, she still maintained a far more youthful appearance than her actual years, and almost anyone would be hard pressed to pinpoint her true age simply by looking at her.

“I understand,” I said with a nod. “But I promise this shouldn’t take long.”

“I must admit, you’ve sounded rather urgent on the phone when we’ve been trying to schedule this, so my curiosity has been piqued.”

“I suppose I do owe you an apology for that. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t. Obviously it is something important. But I am wondering about why you insisted on speaking with me privately.”

I glanced around. We were sitting in the back corner of a coffee house, and while they weren’t terribly busy at the moment, that could easily change. For now, however, there were only a few patrons besides us. If I had to guess I would say they were all most likely students from the nearby university. Of course, that assumption was a no-brainer given the proximity of the college. That, and the book bags and notebook computers propped on their tables. Complimentary wi-fi internet access was one of the advertised features of this particular shop, and from the looks of things it was definitely being used.

But, the truth is they didn’t really matter. They were strangers. The people I didn’t want hearing this conversation weren’t. They were family.

“Well, I wouldn’t say private, exactly,” I returned with a shrug. “Maybe just somewhat confidential.”

Even though I had been trying to set up this face-to-face with her for better than two months, I was finding it hard to get the ball rolling. Now that the opportunity was finally here, I had to take advantage of it and I knew that-even though my head still hadn’t stopped pounding and a phantom pain was once again setting up shop in my neck.

“In other words, you wanted to speak to me without Shamus around,” she replied.

“Well, I think we both know I’m not his favorite person,” I said, struggling not to wince as a fresh sting made itself known. Unfortunately, I failed miserably and felt myself physically twitch.

“Are you okay, then?” Maggie asked, furrowing her brow as she looked at me.

I nodded slightly then picked up my overpriced cup of coffee and took a sip, for no other reason than to stall while the stab faded. “I’m fine,” I told her. “Just a headache is all. Tension probably.”

“Did you take anything for it?”

“Yeah. I took some aspirin before I left the house. Hopefully they’ll kick in soon.”

I knew full well the handful of analgesics weren’t going to get rid of the pain, they never did. But if I was lucky, they just might dull it enough for me to function, at least until I was back home and didn’t have to do anything other than stare at a wall.

“You aren’t coming down with something, are you?” she asked.

“Maybe,” I agreed to appease her, just as I’d done when I’d heard the same thing from my wife the day before. As common as the simple question was, the way she asked it gave me the distinct impression Felicity had picked up a few verbal traits from her mother as well.

Before Maggie could push any further, I continued my earlier thought. “So, like I was saying, since I’m sure Shamus would just as soon not have any more contact with me than he has to, I thought we should meet someplace other than your house.”

“He would just have to get over it then,” she replied. “But I certainly understand your not wanting to deal with him right now. We all know Shamus can be very vocal about his opinions, not to mention totally unreasonable as well.”

“Thanks for seeing my side of things,” I said with a slight nod.

There was a time when I would have been shocked to hear her say that about her husband. I had long been under the impression I was merely tolerated by the majority of my wife’s family, especially her parents. I couldn’t be sure of all the factors surrounding the negative sentiment, but I knew the primary reason was because of my religious beliefs since I had been told as much. In fact, I had even been accused more than once of corrupting Felicity, which was laughable given that she had been a practicing Witch long before I ever met her.