M Sellars - Perfect Trust

I blinked back the imagining and willed away the sudden churning in my gut. “If she’d been out there that long, how’d you identify her so quickly?”

“We had our suspicions based on size, clothing, all that,” he explained, “but positive ID came this afternoon from matching dental records. They were already on hand at the coroner’s office from a check on another Jane Doe, so there was no waitin’.”

“Okay, but all this still doesn’t answer my first question. How did you make the connection with the handwriting?”

“Once this case went from a missin’ person to a homicide and got turned over to the MCS, the investigation went in an entirely different direction.

“The real deal is that most of the time the victim knows the killer. It’s standard procedure to look for anything in the personal effects that could give us a handle on who might’ve done it. So we spent part of the afternoon back at her parents’ house goin’ over everything in ‘er bedroom. The minute I looked in ‘er notebooks and saw that curly-q thing on ‘er I’s, I knew. I had the graphologist in the crime lab verify it, but Jeezus, I friggin’ already knew.”

“Did you find anything else worthwhile?” I asked solemnly.

“Not really. We got a coupl’a leads ta’ run down, but I don’t think they’ll go anywhere.”

“So if you’re pulling me in on this, why are we going to your house instead of the morgue or a crime scene or something?”

“Because right now I just wanna keep ya’ out of the spotlight while I figure out what ta’ do,” Ben answered. “Not to mention gettin’ Firehair on board before I go any further with this.”

“Have you figured out how you’re going to do that yet?”

“I was thinkin’ I might start with beggin’ ‘er not ta’ kill me.”

“What happened to the promise you made me, then?” Felicity asked in a carefully measured cadence that audibly displayed the weakening foundation of her composure. Her outrage was more than palpable; it was literally filling the room with tension, and at the moment, she was ground zero to what I’m certain was soon to be a catastrophic explosion of anger.

The three of us were seated around a small dining table that occupied one wall of Ben’s kitchen at the rear of his house. Felicity was directly across from Ben, and I had taken up residence next to her.

My friend had at least been farsighted enough to send his wife and young son out to a local pizza parlor before my wife had arrived. He was expecting the worst, and it was looking very much like he was going to get it.

What had been a guarded smile on my wife’s lips when she first walked in had morphed instantaneously into a thin-lipped frown the moment Ben outlined the reason for her being here. That frown had grown thinner and more severe with every word that came out of his mouth. The current set of her jaw was visible evidence of her tightly clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry, Felicity.” He shook his head.

“You’re sorry?” she spat incredulously. “You’re sorry? Is that the best you can come up with?”

“Whaddaya want me ta’ say?” He held his hands out, palms upward as he shrugged surrender.

“Aye, for starters I want you to tell me this is all some sort of sick joke, then,” she hissed.

“I wish I could, but…” He allowed his voice to trail off without completing the sentence.

“Then why don’t you tell me you aren’t really dragging him into another murder investigation.”

“Me draggin’ ‘im in? I don’t suppose ya’ noticed that he’s not exactly kickin’ and screamin’ here.”

“Are you two going to spend the whole night talking about me like I’m not even sitting here?” I interjected with a perturbed edge to my voice.

“You stay out of this,” my wife commanded as she flashed an angry glance my way.

“Why would I stay out of it?” I shot back. “I’m the one who’s being talked about here.”

She ignored me and turned back to Ben. “You know how he is. But you’re still bringing him into this even after everything that’s happened.”

“Well, if ya want the truth, he pretty much brought ‘imself into it.”

“He’s right.” I nodded in agreement.

“And how would that be?”

“Well you were there when he handed me that writin’ sample,” he answered.

“So?” she shot back. “You didn’t have to take it.”

“I didn’t see you do anything ta’ discourage it,” he returned. “So you’re just as much at fault as me.”

“Go n-ithe an cat thu is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat!” Felicity snarled.

“Excuse me?” Ben’s face was washed over with abject confusion as he cast his questioning glance from me to my wife and then back again. “What the hell was that?”

“It’s Gaelic,” I told him, having heard the Celtic epithet from her before. “She just said something on the order of ‘May the cat eat you, and may the cat be eaten by the devil.’”

“Do what?”

I glanced at my wife and she was still seething, so I continued with the explanation. “It’s a traditional Irish curse. One that she’s particularly fond of using when she’s angry.”

“Fuckin’ great,” he huffed. “Now I got a curse on me?”

“Not exactly…” I answered. “Besides, it was pretty mild. You don’t really need to worry until she starts tossing in the Gaelic profanity.”

“Damnu, I told you to stay out of it then!” she ordered, shooting her glare my way as she rejoined the conversation.

“Like now,” I said to Ben before casting my own stern look at Felicity and adding, “And I told you, I don’t think so. I’m not some little kid who can’t make decisions for himself you know.”

“Aye, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Look what you’ve done to yourself so far.”

“You know as well as I do that I haven’t got any control over this.”

“Damn your eyes, but you do!” she snapped. “You didn’t have to run off chasing a maniac in the middle of the night!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“But it’s what I’m talking about, then! If I let Ben drag you into this you’ll just do something stupid again.”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell ya, Felicity,” Ben interjected. “I’m not gonna let it get that far.”

“Like you think you can stop it, then?” she chided before mumbling, “ Ta tu glan as do mheabhair.”

“What?”

“You’re crazy,” my wife spat the general translation.

“Maybe so, but what makes ya’ think I can’t stop it?” he shook his head. “Look, Felicity, I wish it wasn’t this…”

“Don’t you ‘look Felicity’ me!” She cut him off. “We had an agreement!”

“I know,” he pleaded. “But…”

“But what?!” she demanded. “It wasn’t convenient for you, then? Fekking breugadair.”

“Jeezus, speak English will’ya’… And, no, it’s just that…”

“Aye, what then? Your career is suddenly more important than your best friend’s sanity?”

“Now dammit, you know better’n that.”

“I’m not so sure I do.”

“Oh come on, Felicity…” I tried to wedge myself back into the dispute.

“No, Rowan.” Ben held up his hand and sharply cut me off. “Stay out of it. This is between me and her.”

“Excuse me?!” I rejoined. “Hello? Do you hear what you’re saying? What the hell has gotten into you two? You’re arguing about me here, so I think I have a right to voice my opinion.”

He didn’t seem to hear me. With each word, their voices had grown louder and even more strained. Ben’s heretofore-defensive posture was starting to lean further and further toward the offensive. I could tell by the look on his face that there was next to nothing holding him back. My wife’s hammering staccato of interruptions were taking a toll on his patience as the escalation of tempers progressed.