Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation by M. R. Sellars

While Ben still held
R.J. in the hall, I went into the bathroom and found a washcloth.
After running it under cold water, I wiped the blood from my eye
and forehead and then used it as a compress on the gash and the
rapidly rising welt.
    “What’s going on man?” R.J. exclaimed as I
came out of the washroom. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going
on?”
    Ben had him spread eagle against the wall and
had apparently searched him while I was tending to my wound. He was
studying what I assumed to be R.J.’s identification. He nodded to
me and released his grip on R.J.’s shoulder. For the second time
this morning, I was confronted with being the bearer of bad news.
After a brief moment of indecision, I elected to treat it like
removing a bandage and take a “get it over with quickly”
approach.
    “Ariel’s dead, R.J.,” I told him as he turned
to face me, rubbing his shoulder where Ben’s viselike grip had
been. “She was murdered.”
    “She was what?!” he exclaimed. “No way, man,
I don’t believe you. She’s visiting a friend in Chicago for a week.
She can’t be dead.”
    “I haven’t got any reason to lie to you about
something like this,” I replied.
    “He’s serious, man,” Ben echoed as he
returned the wallet to him.
    R.J. stared at Ben, then at me. I could see
in his eyes that the reality was sinking in, but he was still
desperately fighting to deny it. Ben had relaxed his guard, and I
was tending to my wound, so when the young man bolted for the
bedroom door, neither of us were prepared to stop him. He rushed
past me and flung open the door, bursting into the room. He only
managed to travel three steps into the horror before freezing in
place. Ben and I were immediately behind him as he stared at the
blood-soaked bed like a frightened child. The stunned silence was
finally broken as his head dropped and his shoulders began to
heave. I led him gently from the room as he buried his face in his
hands, sobbing uncontrollably.
     
    * * * * *
     
    In the small backyard of Ariel Tanner’s flat,
we waited for R.J. to calm down. I had the impression that Ben
wasn’t necessarily convinced that he wasn’t putting on a
performance for our benefit. Of course, Ben was suspicious of
everyone, and that was one of the things that made him such a good
cop.
    Personally, I could feel the anguish exuding
from the young man, and I seriously doubted that it was an act.
    “When did this happen?” R.J. queried at last,
wiping his reddened eyes with his shirtsleeve.
    “Wednesday,” Ben told him. “Sometime after
six in the evening.” He was holding a small notebook and ever
vigilant, continued, “So, were you her boyfriend?”
    “No,” he sniffed. “Just a friend.”
    “You said you were here ta’ water the plants.
I assume Miz Tanner gave you a key?”
    “Yeah.”
    “When would that have been?” Ben pressed as
he scribbled more notes.
    “Last Sunday. She was supposed to leave last
night, and she asked me if I’d keep an eye on the place.”
    “And that’s the last time you saw ‘er?”
    “Yeah.”
    Ben paused for a second as he turned to a
fresh page, then tilted his head to look directly into R.J.’s face.
“Mind tellin’ me where you were Wednesday night?”
    “I was...” He started to speak and then
caught himself. He almost visibly pondered his answer for a split
second before continuing, “I was out of town on a camping
trip.”
    “Were you with anyone?”
    “My dad. It was our annual fishing trip,”
R.J. answered, then his eyes grew wide with sudden realization. “Am
I a suspect?!”
    “It’s just routine,” Ben told him. “But I’d
prefer it if ya’ kept yourself available.”
    “How long did you know Ariel?” I asked
him.
    “A couple of years,” he replied. “I was a
member of...” he paused uneasily, “...a club she was in.”
    “You mean you were a member of her coven?” I
questioned.
    He stared back at me with a shocked, almost
frightened, expression. He