All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation by M. R. Sellars Page B

Helen, but I’ve got
other things on my mind right now, so if he’s looking for
absolution tell him to try a confessional.”
    “He is not concerned about forgiveness.
He is worried about you .”
    “Could’ve fooled me.”
    “Rowan,” Helen’s voice took on a stern
quality I wasn’t used to hearing when speaking with her. “Stop
this. I know that you have a dire situation with which to cope.
And, after our talk yesterday I think that I, better than anyone,
know the stress you have been facing lately.
    “I want you to understand that I am certainly
not begging sympathy for my brother. However, as both a therapist
and as your friend, I am telling you that you simply must let go of
some of this anger.”
    “I can’t, Helen. It’s all that’s keeping me
afloat right now.”
    “In the short run, I would say that is a good
thing. However, I know you, Rowan. You will not let this subside,
and you will continue feeding it. If you do that, then it is no
longer a good thing. It becomes unhealthy.”
    “Well, we all have our addictions, don’t we?”
I replied, making a veiled reference to her chain smoking. “I guess
this one will be mine for the time being.”
    I was sorry I made the stab as soon as it
came out of my mouth, but what was done was done. I’m certain she
caught my meaning, she was too smart and far too quick not to.
Still, she graciously ignored it. I suppose she was used to people
lashing out when under stress.
    “If so, then I suspect you will again
be needing my services when you finally sink,” she told me in an
almost purely clinical voice. “Because trust me, you are going to
be hitting the bottom very fast and very hard. I am serious,
Rowan. Very hard.”
    “Then I suppose I’ll just have to hope you
can dredge me up and put me back together when the time comes.”
    “I believe we will both be hoping for that,”
she offered and then paused. I could hear her let out a small sigh
before continuing, “You are a very stubborn man, Rowan. I hope you
realize that I did not call to argue with you.”
    I closed my eyes and shook my head. For the
first time in the past few hours, the motion didn’t cause me
excruciating pain. My headache had mellowed down to a dull thud for
the moment, but I wasn’t expecting it to stay that way for
long.
    “I know, Helen,” I told her. “I’m just not in
a very good place right now.”
    “I know. And trust me, Benjamin is truly
concerned for your well being right now. As am I.”
    “Join the club. That seems to be the order of
the day.”
    “Did you have the nightmare again?” she
asked, momentarily switching the subject.
    “Yeah. Three times last night.”
    “And, how did you feel?”
    “Scared.”
    “Yes, but what about the other issue. The one
involving your wife.”
    “It’s a non-issue.”
    “Good. Your faith in Felicity is going to be
monumentally important in the coming days, Rowan.”
    “Yeah,” I grunted. “Tell me about it.”
    I happened to look up toward the stairs as I
made the comment and noticed a crime scene technician on his way
down, arms filled with books.
    He called past me to another tech in the
living room, “Looks like we’ve got something here.”
    I could see that the “something here” he had
in hand was every text on Voodoo and Afro-Caribbean Mysticism I had
purchased, or checked out from the library, in the past week.
    “Those are mine,” I called out to him.
    He continued down the stairs, ignoring me
completely.
    “I said, those are mine,” I stressed. “I just
bought them.”
    Helen was calling to me from the earpiece,
“Rowan? Rowan, what is wrong?”
    The technician finally shot me a glance and
shook his head. “Sorry sir. Now they’re evidence.”
    My hand was already moving to hang up the
phone even as I spoke. “Helen, I’ve got to go.”
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER 6:
     
     
    “Exactly which part of ‘I just bought those’
are you having trouble understanding?” I barked. “And, if