M Sellars: Blood Moon

“You forgot the extra onions,” my friend reminded her.

“Actually I remembered but I was hoping you’d forget,” she quipped. “I’ll go ahead and bring you a roll of breath mints with that too.”

“Jeez, you’re a friggin’ laugh a minute today, ain’t ya’?”

“Aren’t I always?” she said with a smile. “How about you, Rowan?”

“I don’t know… Do I want a number three?” I asked.

I had learned long ago that Wendy wasn’t going to let me order for myself. She always asked what I wanted at the outset, but nine times out of ten she would endeavor to talk me into something else. I still had no idea why she insisted on ordering for me because she didn’t do it for everyone, only a select few. In any case, it hadn’t taken long for me to simply roll with it and let her have her way.

“No… I don’t think so,” she returned, shaking her head. “You really look more like you want a number five today.”

I didn’t bother to inquire what a number five was because I already knew all of the single digit selections on the menu were varying numbers of eggs with some combination of breakfast meats and toast. Besides, she’d never steered me wrong yet. Instead I just asked, “Do I want my eggs scrambled?”

“I think you’re in the mood for over hard today,” she replied.

“Okay, do I want a side of biscuits and sausage gravy with that?”

“Definitely.”

I grinned. “Great, I was hoping I did. Okay, sounds good to me.”

Ben waved a finger at me and told her, “Oh yeah, in case he forgets to tell ya’, give him the check. It’s his turn ta’ buy.”

Wendy winked at me as she turned to go put in our orders, “Don’t worry. I’ll give you the cop discount.”

I gave her a quick nod and smile. “Thanks.”

When she was gone I turned my attention to the steaming cup of coffee she had slid in front of me. Leaning a bit to my left I snatched the saltshaker from the end of the table then tipped it up over the brew and gave it a couple of healthy jiggles. After a moment I set it aside and gave the contents of the mug a quick stir with a spoon.

Ben had been watching me the entire time, and now he grunted, “So what’s your excuse, white man?”

“For what?”

“For bein’ brain dead this mornin’.”

I took a sip of the coffee. “What are you talking about?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are ya’ tellin’ me that tastes okay to you?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Row, I just watched ya’ put salt in it instead of sugar.”

“I don’t take sugar in my coffee. Except when it’s really bad coffee.”

“So ya’ did it on purpose?”

“Yes. Besides, if you thought I was screwing up, why didn’t you stop me?”

“‘Cause I thought maybe when ya’ tasted it, the look on your face would be funny an’ I could use a laugh.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Jeezus,” he mumbled. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why’d ya’ just salt your friggin’ coffee?”

“It’s an experiment,” I replied. “I’m trying to stop the voices in my head.”

“Voices in your… You mean like the Twilight Zone stuff?” he asked.

“Exactly.”

“Why?”

“I’m retired, remember?” I offered the rhetorical question as my answer. “I’m just Rowan Gant, computer consultant now. No more consulting for the cops. I’m through talking to dead people and chasing down their killers. Finished. Done.”

“Uh-huh… So then why do ya’ keep dunnin’ me about Devereaux every coupl’a days?”

“That’s different. She’s unfinished business.”

“Yeah, right.”

“She is.” I shrugged. “But if it makes you feel better, then you can call me semi-retired for the time being.”

“How ‘bout I call ya’ full’a shit,” he grunted. “So…is it workin’?”

“You mean the salt?”

“Yeah.”

“I think so.”

“Prob’ly ain’t all that great for your blood pressure,” he commented.

“And the pot said to the kettle…” I replied, implying reference to the overabundance of salt he customarily doused on his meals.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So, since you brought her up, is there any word on Annalise yet?”

He shook his head. “I’ve still got some feelers out, but like I keep tellin’ ya’, you’re askin’ the impossible. Last thing I heard was she lawyered up with some kinda high-dollar dream team.”

“What good will that do?” I asked. “I thought there was a ton of hard evidence against her.”

“There is,” he replied. “But she still gets ‘er day in court, and she’s got more money than God, so there ya’ go… Might not get ‘er off, but they might be able ta’ skate on the needle if they play it right. All depends on how good they are. But what the hell, either way somebody’s makin’ a paycheck.”

I rubbed my neck as the pain ebbed, then I let out a sigh. With a little luck, maybe things were finally starting to loosen up, and I wouldn’t have to deal with the nuisance the whole day.

“Do you think you could get me some of their names?” I asked. “Maybe I could come at it that way.”

“Yeah, I can get that no problem,” he said with a nod. “But I doubt it’s gonna do ya’ any good. You’re pretty much the enemy where she’s concerned. Why the hell would they let ya’ talk to ‘er?”

“I don’t know, Ben, but it’s worth a try.”

“Well, personally I think it’s a waste of time, but then it ain’t my time so whadda I care.”

“Exactly.”

“So lemme ask ya’ somethin’ anyway… Don’tcha figure you and Firehair are in the clear now? I mean it’s been like what? Better’n two months now without a peep?”

“When I’m able to undo that spell, then I’ll figure we’re safe. Not before.”

“Yeah, well I hope that works out for ya’.”

“Just keep trying for me, okay?” I asked. “And if you can get me the names of her attorneys I’d really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, okay. That I can do.”

I switched the subject. “So, enough about that. How’s Constance? We haven’t talked to her in a week or so.”

“Pissy,” he replied. “But other than that, good…” A low trill started and began escalating in volume. Ben reached over to his wadded up jacket and rummaged around in the pocket while adding, “She’s got cabin fever if ya’ know what I mean. They’re gonna let ‘er start physical therapy next week, so I’m hopin’ that oughta help ‘er mood a bit.”

I nodded agreement as he flipped open his phone then pressed it to his ear and said, “Yeah, Storm.”

Wendy appeared at almost the same instant, carrying plates and the carafe of coffee. Settling the hot globe on the table, she shuffled one of the oblong dishes out of the crook of her arm and slid it in front of Ben then placed the other in front of me. Reaching into a pouch on her apron, she pulled out a bottle of aspirin and set it on the table as she topped off our mugs.

“I’ll be right back with your biscuits and gravy,” she told me quietly. “Oh, and by the way, Chuck said since you’ve got to put up with Storm, breakfast is on the house this morning.”

“Tell him I said thanks,” I whispered with a smile.

“…Okay, and you’re sure?” Ben was saying. “Yeah… Uh-huh… Yeah… I’m not so sure I wanna do that…” He glanced up at me for an instant then looked away. “Yeah… I know… But, who… Uh-huh… Okay… I’ll see what I can do, but I ain’t makin’ any guarantees… Yeah… Okay, so when is that? Yeah… Okay… No, I’m throwin’ down some breakfast over at Chuck’s… Yeah… Prob’ly half hour, maybe forty-five minutes… Yeah…okay, see ya’ then.”