M Sellars - Love Is The Bond

“A heart?” I said aloud.

“That’s what we thought it looked like,” Ben replied. “Mean anything to you?”

“Other than the obvious, ‘I heart this’ or ‘I heart that’ bumper sticker reference, not really,” I answered. “I mean it looks familiar…” I paused, letting my words trail off as I reached out and with my finger traced a portion of the pattern in the air over the top of the photo. “The crosshatching and all seems to ring a bell, but I just may be thinking of a Valentine’s Day card I’ve seen or something like that.”

“Well, don’t know if this makes any difference,” Ben offered. “But Doc Sanders thinks these marks were done post-mortem whereas the others on his back weren’t. She’s waitin’ on some lab results to verify that, but she’s pretty sure.”

“That’s odd,” I muttered.

“Tell me ‘bout it,” he grunted.

“They don’t look as precise as the others,” Felicity stated. “It’s as if they were done out of rage.”

“Or maybe the killer’s just got a bad case of peekawhosits,” my friend replied, his tone almost joking. “Got all worked up and went to slicin’.”

“Maybe it wasn’t anger,” I speculated aloud. “If these cuts were made post mortem then maybe it was haste.”

Ben gave a hearty nod. “Yeah, that’s actually kinda what we were thinkin’. But, even so, if the killer took the time to do this before gettin’ outta Dodge, then it’s gotta mean somethin’.”

“Well, like I said, it looks familiar,” I told him. “But, I have to be honest, I can’t really place a meaning on it.”

“The love we feel,” Felicity offered.

“Sorry?” Ben asked.

“The love we feel,” she repeated. “That’s one of the supposed meanings of the heart on the Leather Pride flag.”

“Leather Pri… Jeezus… I don’t wanna…” My friend looked at her, shaking his head, then pulled out his notebook and flipped it open before fishing in his pocket for a pen. “Okay. Go ahead. Leather Pride?”

“When I was dating Bob, we went to a couple of S amp;M/B amp;D conventions,” she explained.

“Ya’ mean like the one the church people were picketing a few years back?” he asked.

She nodded. “Exactly. Either way, just like Gay Pride has the rainbow, the BDSM community has the Leather Pride flag. It’s black and blue horizontally striped bars top and bottom, with a white stripe dividing them across the middle. In the upper left hand corner is a heart. Many in the community say the heart is meant to symbolize ‘the love we feel’.”

“Black ‘n blue,” my friend grunted. “Go figure.”

“Aye, it’s not what you think. Black represents leather and blue represents denim.”

Ben finished scribbling a note then stared back at my wife silently for a moment, then finally said, “You really kinda got into that whole deal, didn’t ya’?”

“Yes, very much so, as long as I was the top,” she replied. “But, I already told you I did.”

He made a quick huffing noise as he closed his eyes, tightened his shoulders, and then feigned a shiver.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He looked over to me. “This shit doesn’t bother you?”

“What? The bondage stuff?”

“Well yeah.”

I shrugged. “Not particularly, if it’s between consenting adults.”

“But…” his voice faded away and he fell silent.

“But what?” I asked.

He pointed to Felicity. “But it’s her we’re talkin’ about here, white man. And you knew nothin’ about this?”

I simply shrugged again in reply.

“I have to keep him guessing, don’t I?” my wife offered. “A little mystery is good for a relationship.”

He shook his head at me and then looked back to her. “Man, I’m just not sure I needed to know this shit about you, Felicity.”

“Well don’t dwell on it,” she told him. “It will just get you all hot and bothered, then.”

“Yeah, right,” he snorted. “So anyway, let’s get back ta’ business. You’re thinking maybe the killer carved a Leather Pride symbol into Wentworth?”

Felicity shrugged. “Maybe. Right now I’m merely speculating just like you. All that’s really there is a heart, but if the killer was a dominatrix, it might make some sense.”

“Whadda you think, Row?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Sounds like as good an explanation as any, for the moment. All I can tell you for sure is that you’re right. It means something.”

“So Wentworth’s not talkin’ to ya’, huh?”

I knew immediately what he meant. “No. Not a word. Not yet, anyway. Why?”

“Dunno. Just got a hinky feelin’ about this one.”

I pointed to the pile of photographs. “So is that feeling why you came all the way out to the county to show us these?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he said with a nod. “Just can’t shake the notion that there’s somethin’ more to this.”

“Me too,” I agreed. “I just don’t know what it is. You know, maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Jeezus, I hope not.”

“Aye, it could be worse,” Felicity said.

“How’s that?”

She shot him yet another wicked grin, but as she opened her mouth to speak, the relative quiet of the room was pierced by a sudden electronic trill that grew louder and more obnoxious with each consecutive chirp.

Ben reached beneath the table, and when his hand came back up, it was wrapped around his pager. He thumbed the device into silence then scanned the liquid crystal display.

“I’m gonna hafta make a call,” he finally muttered before shoving the pager back onto his belt.

“Something important?” I asked.

“You could say that,” he replied.

His demeanor had seemed to change suddenly. It had become muted and almost preoccupied. The switch seemed out of character, and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“Albright?” I asked, grabbing at the first thing that came to my mind that might elicit such a reaction from him.

“No, actually it’s kinda personal,” he replied, his tone flat. “Listen, can I use your phone? Battery on my cell’s close ta’ dead.”

“Help yourself. There’s one behind you, or if you need privacy, take your pick. You know where they all are.”

When he had left the room, I looked over at my wife and raised an eyebrow. “That was weird.”

“Maybe he’s just tired.”

“Maybe,” I agreed with a nod even though I didn’t really believe it. Still, I tried to let it rest and changed the subject. “So… What were you about to say to him?”

“Oh, nothing really,” she replied.

“Uh-huh,” I grunted. “Like I’m going to believe that. You know, you really ought to stop antagonizing him. Maybe he’s not tired at all. Maybe it was you.”

“But it’s so much fun,” she returned with exaggerated sweetness. “Besides. He deserves it.”

“Yeah, well just be glad he likes you,” I told her.

“Actually,” she replied. “He needs to be glad that I like him.”

I didn’t offer a comeback. Instead, I looked down at the photograph on the table and stared at it for what seemed like a very long time. The aggravation in the back of my skull began creeping forward as my scalp tightened, and I felt the first throbbing twinges as it started the short metamorphosis into full-scale pain.

Felicity’s concerned voice filtered into my ears. “Row? What’s wrong?”

The first stabs of real discomfort lanced through my grey matter, and I knew then that the storm I’d sensed earlier was almost upon us. I looked back at my wife and shot her a thin smile then ignoring her question simply said, “Well, I guess you might as well get your fun in while you can then.”