M Sellars - The Law Of Three

“True story,” I agreed.

“By the way,” he said suddenly, thrusting the coffee mug at me like a pointer. “Talked to Deck. He said for you to get your sorry ass up to the hospital and visit him.”

“Carl Deckert said that?” I chided.

“Okay, so he didn’t say that exactly, but I know he’d appreciate the visit.”

“Yeah, we will. How is he doing?”

“Good.” Ben nodded. “He’s good. They had to do a triple bypass, but he’s feeling good. Looks like he’ll be taking an early retirement.”

“How is he feeling about that?” I asked.

Ben shifted to the side as I reached around him and began disassembling the coffeemaker-emptying the grounds into the trash and rinsing the various parts.

“I don’t think it’s settled in yet, but he seems okay with it. Said something about opening up a PI shop or doing some consulting.”

“He’d be good at that,” I offered as I shook the excess water from the filter basket then began reassembling the device for easier transport. “How about Constance? Any word from her?”

“Yeah, she’s gettin' out today. She’ll be on desk duty for a while, but that’s what she normally does anyway.”

I finished stuffing the coffeemaker into the box on the counter, affecting the task one-handed, then hooked my arm around the cardboard container and moved it in with the others on the table.

“So, Ben,” I started as I turned back to face him. “Something has been nagging at me.”

“Whassat?”

“When we met Carl over at that house, he showed me the Witch jar,” I outlined.

“Yeah. That was friggin’ disgusting,” he replied as he screwed up his face for a moment.

“Whatever.” I dismissed the comment. “But there was something else. I was supposed to see some drawings or something that Porter had made?”

“Yeah. Pretty simple stuff really. I’m not sure what you were s’posed to get off ‘em to be honest.”

“So what were they?” I pressed.

“Bunch of stars. Kinda like the one you wear,” he replied and then started in on his coffee again.

“Pentacles?” I asked with a note of disbelief. “Pentacles? Pentagrams? Are you sure?”

“Well, they weren’t exactly like yours,” he told me, shaking his head and shrugging. “They had eight points, and yours only has five, right?”

“Right,” I nodded as I spoke. “But his had eight?”

He rolled his eyes up and looked like he was searching his memory. “Yeah, eight.”

“Protection Hex,” I muttered.

“Come again?”

“That would be a symbol of protection,” I explained. “Something commonly referred to as a Hex Sign. Used most often by the Pennsylvania Dutch and other persons of Germanic descent. They were painted or placed over the doors of barns to protect against bewitching and evil magick among other things.”

“Kinda fits with the jar full of piss then, doesn’t it?” he returned.

“That’s my point,” I told him. “The page from Hexen un Hexenmeister, a Witch jar, a Hex Sign…”

“Yeah, what?” he looked at me expectantly.

“There just seems to be a lot of ties to Germanic folklore,” I answered as I mulled the information over. “Something just feels hinky about it.”

“You mean like hinky ha-ha or hinky hocus-pocus?” he asked.

I bypassed his question. “Did they ever figure out what was up with that flash-boom thing?”

“Flash-bang,” he corrected. “Not yet. There’s still a lot of finger pointin’ goin on. It could be a while before they figure it out. So what about this hinky thing?”

“Why did that go off at that exact instant, Ben?” I asked.

“Who the fuck knows?” he shrugged. “That’s what they are investigating.” He cocked his head to the side and gave me a serious look. “Are you thinkin’ it was on purpose?”

“To create a diversion so I would go in there,” I answered.

“That would mean a dirty cop, Row, and I know you’re thinkin’ Albright.”

“Did you know that Albright is actually the Americanized version of the German surname Albrecht?” I asked.

“Row.” He shook his head slowly. “I see where you’re goin’, and believe me, I think she’s a loon myself but helping a serial killer? That’s some serious shit to accuse someone of, white man.”

“I know, Ben.” I gave my head a quick shake. “But it adds up.”

“For you, yeah,” he told me. “But I dunno what IAD would say.”

“Have you talked to them yet? About the other stuff, I mean?”

“Yeah, they’re lookin’ into it,” he replied then took another quaff of his java. “Good thing I’ve got a friend in there, otherwise it might have been just another cluster.”

“Are you going to tell them about what I just told you?”

“Lemme think on that, Row.” He shot me a wincing look. “Like I said, that’s some deep shit to pile on.”

“I know, but it feels right,” I replied.

“You’re sure it’s not just because you hate each other?” he asked.

“I’m sure.”

“Well…” He paused for a moment. “Like I said, lemme think on it and see where everything goes.”

“Okay,” I replied. I’d spent enough time arguing my point over the past few days. I didn’t have the energy to press it. At least not right now. “So we should get loaded up. Felicity is just going straight to the house.”

He pushed away from the counter and headed for the boxes on the table. “Lead on, Kemosabe.”

“Missed a spot.” Ben pointed at the floor as he made the comment to Felicity.

She was just making the last of her third pass through the house with a bundle of straw that was bound tightly to a gnarled, old tree branch. The broom normally hung on the wall in our kitchen, positioned over the back door, but right now it was clasped in her hands as she moved fluidly throughout the entire house.

“Shhhh, Ben,” I admonished as I shuffled past him.

I was following behind my wife with a large bunch of white sage that had been tied into a smudge bundle. The end was a glowing red coal, and a healthy cloud of pungent smoke was billowing up as I waved the sage about.

Ben coughed slightly then continued to watch us from his seat at the breakfast nook in our kitchen without further comment.

Felicity ended at the back of the house with a strenuous flourish of the broom out the open door.

As she shook it, she held her free hand up, three fingers pointing toward the sky, then began to speak. “Lord and Lady, hear my plea, keep us safe from things unseen. Protect these walls from evil deeds, but allow good spirits to plant their seeds. This cleansing now I do complete, ye things unwelcome must retreat.”

As she finished the recitation, she scribed a pentacle in the air with her fingers then pressed them against her lips and thrust her hand outward as if throwing a kiss. She stepped aside, and I tucked the burning sage between the fingers of my cast-encased hand. With my good appendage now free, I reached into my pocket and withdrew some salt, which I immediately sprinkled across the threshold.

Ben was staring at us with a bemused look when we reentered the kitchen. I had tamped out the sage bundle and left it on a plate in the atrium to cool, so I went over to the sink and brushed the excess salt off my hand.

“So what was that all about?” my friend asked.

“Cleansing,” Felicity told him. “This place felt very weird when I came in.”

“You’ve been gone for almost three weeks. Whaddaya expect? It always feels weird to come home after bein’ away.”

“Not this weird,” I told him. “Something strange was here.”

“Yeah, about ten different coppers that I know of.” He nodded. “And several of them are pretty strange.”