Love Is The Bond: A Rowan Gant Investigation (11 page)

“Jeez, Row, I said I didn’t wanna know this
stuff,” Ben appealed to me, cutting her off.

“I tried to stop you,” I told him.

“Well, ya’ didn’t try to stop
her
.”

“Aye, like he could,” Felicity replied. “Now,
can I finish the story?”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” my friend said.

“It’s just sex, Ben,” she stated.

He shook his head. “Apparently not, if you
were… If it was…”

“Kinky?” she asked.

“Jeezus fuckin’ Christ, yeah… ‘Zactly…
Besides, with you two… It’s like… Like… I dunno, like hearin’ your
parents talk about doin’ it.”

“Come on. We aren’t that old, Ben,” she
admonished. “At least, I’m not. You’re both older than me,
then.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it…
Shit. Can we just move on ta’ somethin’ else, please?”

“You’re embarrassed,” Felicity stated with a
grin as she took her glasses off and cocked her head to the side.
She was thoroughly enjoying the fact that she had him squirming.
Maybe even a little too much.

“So what if I am?” he replied.

“It’s funny.”

“No it ain’t.”

She nodded vigorously. “Aye, but it is.”

“Listen, does this even have anything at all
to do with what I came here ta’ show you?”

“Actually, I think it does.”

“How?”

“Well, when I think about it, it all makes
perfect sense.”

He looked over at me as if seeking help. I
just shook my head as I set a full coffee mug and the sugar bowl in
front of my wife then said, “Leave me out of it.”

I was pretty sure I knew where she was
headed, and she was correct, it did make perfect sense. Still, I
wasn’t about to get in the middle the conversation. Not yet,
anyway.

“Jeezzzz… I know I’m gonna regret this…” he
began as he looked back at her. “Damn… Okay, what makes sense?”

“Why I connected so easily with the sexual
energy in that room,” she replied.

“Well yeah, it’s ‘cause you’re a
Twilight Zone
freakazoid just like
Rowan,” he told her.

“Not funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke,” he said. “Besides, it’s
just about as funny as me bein’ embarrassed. Anyway, what’s the big
deal? I thought Row felt it too.”

“I did,” I offered. “But, that’s just it. I
felt it. Felicity, on the other hand, really connected. Up to and
including channeling it.”

“You felt it yourself,” Felicity told him
flatly.

“I dunno about that,” he replied. “Like I
said, it’s pretty obvious what goes on in a place like that.”

“That’s beside the point,” she returned. “You
felt it whether you realized it or not.”

“Okay, I give. How do ya’ know that?”

“You were flirting with me when we arrived,”
she returned.

“I’ve flirted with ya’ before,” he huffed.
“It’s just, ya’know, friendly… Well, you know what I mean.”

“Aye, but you were flirting with me at a
crime scene, Ben. Heavily.”

“Jeez,” he mumbled. She had him more
flustered than I’d ever seen. “Listen, I’m not doin’ the
hocus-pocus, that’s you two, so give it a rest. Now let’s get back
ta’ what you were originally sayin’… If I’m understandin’ the deal
here, you mean because you’re female and the killer is prob’ly a
whor… hook… Fuckit… a prostitute, you tapped into this shit?” His
words were half-statement, half-question.

“That aspect of her profession has nothing to
do with it,” she replied. “But yes, I think the killer was a
woman.”

“Lemme ask ya’ this, how’d’ya know it
wasn’t some kinda gay thing?” He waggled his fingers before her to
represent something mystical. “Wouldn’t that make for some
girly
Twilight Zone
shit
too?”

“Ben,” she snipped. “That’s simply rude.”

“I’m just askin’,” he replied.

“Did Wentworth have a history of bisexual
activity?” I asked.

“Not that we’re aware of.” He shrugged. “Just
coverin’ the angles.”

“Your killer is a woman,” Felicity stated
with unshakeable determination.

“So she’s prob’ly a hooker then.” Ben wasn’t
asking, he was telling.

“Actually, she may be a professional
dominatrix,” she replied.

“Yeah, okay, and the difference is?”

“Professional domination is just that, Ben.
Domination. It’s not prostitution.”

“Tell that to a judge.”

She reached out and tapped the photos. “It
looks as if someone already did.”

“Yeah, right,” he returned. “So what makes
ya’ think she’s a pro dominatrix?”

“Because I’m no stranger to the scene.”

“The scene?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod again. “Fem
Dom.”

Ben began shaking his head and waving his
hands vigorously as he spoke, “Awwww, Jeez, I already told ya’ I
don’t wanna know what you two do when…”

“Whoa… Hold up.” I cut him off then added,
“This isn’t a ‘you two’ thing.”

My stint of neutrality had been immediately
ended by her comment as my curiosity piqued. Now I was going to get
into the middle of things. I looked over at my wife. “So, do you
think you might want to expand on that a bit?”

“Not much to tell really,” she said with a
shrug. “Quite awhile before I met you, I dated a guy for a couple
of years who was heavily into submissive role play. I used to
dominate him all the time.”

“Really,” I replied, surprised but not really
shocked. “You never mentioned that before.”

“It never came up,” she said, shaking her
head. “Does it bother you?”

“No. Just a little surprised, that’s all… Of
course, given your personality I guess I shouldn’t be.”

“Aye. I do have a dominant personality. And I
must admit, I thoroughly enjoyed playing the role.”

Ben groaned as if he had just been struck
square between the eyes and reached up to massage the bridge of his
nose. He started to speak, hesitated, then shook his head and
groaned again. It was obvious that a question was rattling inside
his head, and a large part of him wanted it to remain unspoken.

“What is it, Ben?” Felicity asked.

Her prompting fueled his curiosity, and the
words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “So you’re
actually sayin’ you’re into like whips ‘n chains and all that?”

“Whips, every now and then,” she replied.
“Actually, it was a leather flogger and a belt. Chains, not so
much. Quite a bit of bondage, superior attitude, some verbal
humiliation… But, his real turn on was trampling.”

“What’s a trampoline got ta’ do with it?” he
asked with a puzzled shake of his head.

“Not a trampoline,” she replied.
“Trample-
ing
. He got off from
me walking on him in high heels.”

“
Awww, Jeezus…” My friend held up his
hands again. “Stop. I don’t wanna hear any more.”

“Why?” Felicity pressed. “Are
you
getting turned on?”

“Do what?” he spat, staring back at her with
an incredulous gaze.

“Well, you put on a good front, Ben, but deep
down I think you would probably enjoy submitting to a woman.” She
stated the observation without apology.

“Excuse me?” he almost yelped.

“And, you do have a thing for women’s legs,”
she continued. “You’ve said so yourself. Bob did too, so it stands
to reason that you might very well have the same kind of kink that
he had.”

Felicity was obviously taking more than just
a bit of pleasure from his discomfort. In fact, there was a
recognizable glint in her eye that told me she might even be
getting turned on again. However, I wasn’t entirely sure if it was
sexual arousal or merely giddiness over antagonizing Ben.
Considering what had happened earlier, if it weren’t for the fact
that I’d seen them interact this way before, I would have been
worried. However, they had a tendency to pick at one another on a
regular basis. It was just how they were. Still, I kept an eye on
her just in case.

“That’s different,” Ben said, shaking his
head.

“Different how?”

“You’re supposed ta’ be lookin’ at these
autopsy photos,” he said in an attempt to divert the conversation.
“Not psychoanalyzin’ me.”

“Tell me how it’s different then,” she
pushed.

“Well, ya’know… It’s just different.”

She was unrelenting. “It’s still a fetish.
And it’s called crurophilia, by the way. You know, Ben, the first
step here is just admitting it. I can help. I’d be more than happy
to walk on you.”

“What?!”

“Sure, I’d love to do it. It would be fun. I
can go put on some heels for you, and I’m certain Rowan won’t…”

“Felicity!” he objected.

“Really, Ben. You just lay down on the floor,
and I’ll go change shoes. I’ve got this really sexy pair of blue
pumps, and I could…”

“Dammit, Felicity!” he barked.

“Oh. Would you prefer black or red? I have
those too.”

“Stop it! Just stop!”

“It’s okay. I understand,” she replied with a
wicked grin.

“Jeezus…” my friend muttered, letting his
forehead fall into his hand.

My wife still wasn’t finished. “It’s okay.
Really. I do understand. Constance and I wear the same size. I’ll
just loan them to her.”

“Felicity, goddammit!” Ben snapped. “Will ya’
just knock it off?!”

She shrugged. “Okay, if it makes you
uncomfortable.”

“Thank you,” he spat.

“No. That should be, ‘Thank you,
Mistress’.”

My friend sighed and looked over at me.
“Jeeezus… Row… I dunno how you do it.”

I leaned back against the counter and took a
sip from my own cup of coffee. I couldn’t help but be somewhat
amused by their exchange, especially since it didn’t take the turn
I had feared.

“Actually, she’s not usually as mean to me as
she is to you,” I replied.

“I can be if you’d like,” she offered.

“We’ll discuss that later.”

“Fuckin’ wunnerful,” Ben spat then started
shuffling through the pile of photos once again until he found the
shot he was looking for and pulled it out with a quick jerk.
Holding it up, he continued, “So, you two clowns wanna get serious
for a minute and have a look at this one? Believe it or not, the
reason I came here is ‘cause I’ve got some police work to do.”

“This is what I really wanted you two ta’
check out,” Ben offered, handing a picture to Felicity.

I stepped toward the table and peered at it
over her shoulder.

The image we were staring at was that of the
quadrant on Wentworth’s chest where the series of shallow cuts had
been scored into his flesh. These had been the lacerations I had
first noticed when we were at the crime scene, and they were also
what had sparked that foreboding tickle in the back of my skull.
Now that I was standing here looking at the close-up photograph,
and I could see the wounds in all their unconcealed glory, that
feeling was returning as a full-blown aggravation.

I continued staring at the glossy color page
following the thin, and sometimes faint, marks with my eyes. As I
had suspected earlier, they seemed to form a pattern. At the time,
all I had been able to see was an almost random checkerboard, but
now more detail had been revealed. What I was seeing certainly
wasn’t symmetrical, and was far from perfect, but upon close
inspection it appeared to be the outline of a heart within the
crosshatched slashes.

“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&M/B&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’.”