Read Online Never Burn A Witch: A Rowan Gant Investigation by M. R. Sellars - Free Book Online Page B

Uh-huh... Yeah, I
know ‘im…” He scribbled furiously, stopping only briefly as breaks
in the information coming to him warranted. “Sure. We worked
together a few months back.”
    Ben scrawled a line on the paper and accented
it with a double underline then motioned for me to have a look. The
blue ink scribble read “Carl Deckert.”
    Detective Carl Deckert worked for the county
police department. We had met during the last case I worked when he
had been assigned to the Major Case Squad, Saint Louis’ version of
a violent crime task force. The MCS was formed as a collective of
municipal police departments, all supplying manpower whenever a
particularly heinous or high profile case came along. That case
would then receive the highest priority and the undivided attention
of the officers assigned. The intention was for the squad to be a
trump card, activated only when absolutely necessary.
Unfortunately, these days, they seemed to spend more time active
than not.
    “Yeah... What’s the name of the place
again? Uh-huh... Uh-huh... Got it.” Ben flipped to a fresh page and
returned to scribbling. “Yeah, I took ‘im down ta’ the morgue a
little while ago.” He pointed at me, verifying for me that I was
the him to whom he was
referring. “He identified the symbol and he’s got a theory. It
ain’t a good one, but I’m guessin’ you already figured that out.
Yeah, he’s with me right now... I dunno, hold on....”
    He cupped his free hand over the mouthpiece
and turned his attention completely on me.
    “Jonsey says the chief wants ta’ know if
you’re free ta’ go check out another crime scene.”
    “When?” I asked.
    “Now.”
    I mulled it over for a moment. I had at least
two clients waiting for updates on their software, and I had to
customize it specifically for them. Fortunately, owning my own
consulting firm and working from home allowed flexibility in my
schedule. It didn’t take me long to decide that I could spend a few
hours working in the evening to catch up.
    “Sure. No problem.”
    “He’s okay with it,” Ben said as he resumed
speaking into the phone. “Yeah... No problem. We’re on our
way.”
    He remained silent after switching off the
device and stowing it in his coat, then he gathered up the
notebook. His grim countenance was almost enough to verify what I
already suspected.
    “He killed someone else, didn’t he?” I asked,
following Ben’s example and shrugging into my coat.
    “That’s gonna be your call,” he responded.
“But yeah, looks like it. Meadowbrook Park out in the county. Carl
Deckert’s waitin’ for us.”
    “How was the victim killed?” I pressed.
    “Not sure ‘bout that, but the body was
burned,” he answered. “The vic was found tied to a piece of a
telephone pole in one a’ the pavilion fire pits where it’d been
torched.”
    The itching sensation on my forearm had now
mutated into a knife-edged pain.
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER 5
     
    A sk any number of people
on the street, and they will tell you that they abhor violence and
crime. Then ask those people how they feel about rubbernecking
sightseers who slow down to gawk at automobile accidents, and they
will tell you that they despise them. They will tell you that such
individuals are sick and twisted. They will tell you that such
individuals are morbid and in need of psychiatric help.
    Now, using the very same people you’ve been
questioning, throw in yellow crime scene tape, flashing lights,
police cars and a dead body. Mix well.
    Suddenly the morbid becomes the curiosity and
they, along with scores like them, will flock to the perimeter in
order to catch the tiniest glimpse of what the commotion is all
about. Meadowbrook Park was filled with those people today.
    Normally, the paved road through the park
would remain untouched during the winter; there was no reason to
waste taxpayers’ money plowing a street that wouldn’t be traveled.
Of course, when a murder scene planted itself in the middle