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CHAPTER EIGHT

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Whatever other deficiencies the Bilswift badgemen might have, lack of promptness wasn’t among them. The first car was on the scene barely three minutes after I made the call.

Of course, the cynic in me suspected that could have been because they were the ones who’d been detailed to follow and report on my movements. I thought about asking one of them if that was the case, decided staying quiet would be the better part of valor, and found a partially protected spot to watch while they first did a positive identification on Willie’s body and then began sealing off the crime scene.

Kreega arrived five minutes later in a second car. Naturally, she spotted me practically before she was completely out of her vehicle. She held a brief consultation with the first two badgemen, then stalked over to where I was sheltering. “Roarke,” she greeted me darkly. “Imagine my surprise at seeing you here.”

“Well, I was the one who called it in,” I reminded her. “I didn’t think I should leave without at least saying hello.”

“And we appreciate it,” she said. “Phoned it in with the victim’s phone, I understand.”

I nodded. “I left mine back in the Ruth.”

“Really.” Her eyebrows went up a fraction. “You do that often?”

“Not on purpose,” I said, resisting the urge to add that such things tended to happen when I suspected busybodies would try to trace it. “Don’t you ever forget things?”

“No,” she said shortly. “You leave your weapon there, too?”

“I’m a licensed bounty hunter,” I reminded her. “That entitles me—”

“Yes, I know,” she cut me off. “You have it with you, or don’t you?”

I grimaced. “I have it. And it hasn’t been recently fired.”

“Good to know,” she said. “We’ll check that, of course.”

“Not without a warrant,” I said. “Nothing to hide, but I’m always leery of badgemen who fall into the habit of cutting legal corners.”

“Sometimes cutting corners gets you to the truth faster.”

“Sometimes,” I acknowledged. “But as my father used to say, Cut enough corners and pretty soon there’s nothing left of the cake. Not accusing you of trying that, Detective-Sergeant, but I like to do things by the book.”

“I’m a big believer in the book, too,” she said, giving me a measuring look. “Okay, look. It’s wet and miserable out here, and I have a dead body to process, so let’s just cut past the first few pages, shall we? Let’s pretend you told me your presence here is pure coincidence, that I laughed in your face and threatened to haul you in on suspicion and probable cause, and that you offered me useful information to bargain for your freedom.” She raised her eyebrows. “You do have useful information, don’t you?”

“Well, I think it’s useful,” I said. “Let’s start back at the fish shop. You’ll remember that we concluded that only Tirano could sniff out which buttons the Javersins pushed to open the safe. What we didn’t explore was the possibility that someone else might have set up a concealed camera to record the combination while one of the brothers was punching it in.”

“I guess I didn’t make myself clear.” Kreega waved behind her toward Willie’s body. “I want useful information on this crime.”

“What if the two incidents are related?”

Are they?”

I scowled. It had always seemed obvious to me that incidents involving overlapping groups of participants were almost certainly connected. Unfortunately, in this case, I didn’t have any solid evidence to back that up. “I don’t know,” I had to admit.

“Glad we got that cleared up,” she said with a hint of sarcasm. “How about we start with how the current deceased ended up here?”

“I don’t know the ending,” I said. “But I can tell you some of what led up to it.”

I recounted the events of the evening, from the time I walked into Panza’s Café and ordered dinner to the moment when I followed Willie out into the rain. Kreega listened in silence, occasionally checking over her shoulder to see how the bag-and-tag was going. “But he was fine when he walked out,” I finished. “You can ask anyone who was in there.”

“Trust me, we will.” She held out her hand. “That bounty hunter license of yours—let me see it.”

“My license?” I asked, frowning as I opened my coat and got out my wallet. I started to pull out the license, but she simply reached over and plucked the wallet from my hands. “Sure, help yourself,” I growled.

“You’d be surprised how many people run around with more than one set of IDs,” she said calmly, leafing through the cards and pulling out the bounty hunter license. Taking a step toward the nearest streetlight, she angled it up for a better view. “Says here that you’re supposed to identify yourself to Planetary Control when you first call for a landing slot.”

“That’s if you’re on a hunt,” I said. “I’m not.” I raised my eyebrows as a sudden thought struck me. “Are you saying I should be?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” she said, sliding the card back into the wallet and handing it back.

“Really?” I asked. “A self-described dealer in exotics is murdered, then one of her chief goons also gets himself dead, and you’re saying that neither of them was worth the attention of a professional?”

“What makes you think either killing was by a professional?”

“One shot for Lukki, who supposedly doesn’t carry a weapon,” I said. “Two shots for Willie, who does. Both from plasmics, which are harder to anchor to particular shootings than firearms. Professionalism is all about the details.”

Or the shooter doesn’t have a pattern, or doesn’t know how well a plasmic shot might penetrate a heavy rainfall, or figured our late friend over there was big enough to require a double tap,” Kreega said. “Or the two killings were by two entirely different shooters. I’ve been in this business long enough to know that one pair of data points doesn’t make for much of a chart.”

“I suppose,” I conceded.

“Besides, if it was a hunter, how come no one’s come by to claim Ms. Parsons’ body? Don’t you have to have a body to collect your money?”

“Most of the time, yes,” I said. “Occasionally the client is willing to accept photographic evidence.”

“Mm,” Kreega said, eyeing me. “Still waiting for that useful information you promised.”

“During the hypothetical part of our conversation?”

“Yes, the part right after I hypothetically decided to run you in,” Kreega said pointedly.

“For what?” I asked. “I haven’t done anything except visit your town, eat some barbequed ribs, and take a day trip into the mountains.”

And show up at the scene of two crimes, and have a public scrap with the victim of a third.”

“And I already told you everything I know,” I said stubbornly. “You want speculation, hey, I can do that, too.”

“Thanks, but I already get enough untenable theories from Zilor and Grazimink,” she said. “If you want to—”

She broke off, her eyes shifting over my shoulder. “Well, well,” she said thoughtfully. “She carries a plasmic, too, doesn’t she?”

I turned to look. Selene was hurrying toward us, her wet raincoat glistening under the streetlights, a couple tufts of her white hair peeking out around the edges of her hood. “Are you all right?” she called as Kreega and I both turned to face her. “I saw all the flashing lights.”

“I’m fine,” I assured her, peering at her pupils. Between the gloom and the shadows from her hood her pupils were too hard to see for me to get anything. “What are you doing here?”

She nodded upward. “The rain was getting worse, so I came to see if you wanted a ride.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I said. She’d told me she would come by in three hours; I’d told her to make it four; it had now been less than one. Clearly, something was up besides those rain clouds. “Where are you parked?”

“On the other side of Panza’s,” she said, craning her neck toward the badgeman activity. “What happened?”

“The latest edition of Bilswift’s Traveling Murder Scene,” Kreega said.

“My old sparring partner Willie,” I added.

“Oh,” Selene said, sounding suddenly stricken. “What happened?”

“We don’t really know,” I told her. “He and I had a little chat inside Panza’s, and then he came out here and got himself killed. You getting anything?”

For a moment Selene worked the air with nostrils and eyelashes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Rain this heavy clears out everything.”

“And sends it into the storm drains,” I said, nodding heavily. Even Kadolian magic had its limits. “But what about his—?”

“Are you finished with Gregory, Detective-Sergeant Kreega?” Selene cut me off. “It’s very wet out here, and I’d like to get back to the Ruth.”

“I think I’m finished,” Kreega said, looking back and forth between us. “For now. Just keep yourselves available.”

“No problem,” I said, taking Selene’s arm. “This town’s beginning to grow on me.”

“Wish I could say the same about you.” With a final thoughtful look, Kreega turned and headed back toward the other badgemen.

“We need to go,” Selene murmured as she led the way back toward Panza’s.

“Yeah, I figured that out when you didn’t offer to smell Willie’s inside clothing, the stuff protected by his raincoat,” I said. “And then stopped me from suggesting it. What’s up?”

She gave the area a quick look. “Tirano’s gone,” she murmured.

“Terrific,” I growled. “When?”

“At least a couple of hours ago.”

“And then the rains started,” I said. “So that’s it?”

“Not completely,” she said. “It wasn’t this heavy right away, and there were enough sheltered places along the way that still held his scent.”

“That’s more like it,” I said approvingly. “So you found him?”

She glanced at me and I saw frustration in her pupils. “No, I lost his trail,” she said. “But before that I was able to follow him to the fish shop.”

“And?”

She hunched her shoulders. “I’m afraid,” she said quietly, “that Detective-Sergeant Kreega is going to have a very long night.”

* * *

The fish shop’s side door was unlocked. Plasmic in hand, I eased it open and slipped silently into the dimness inside.

I needn’t have bothered with either the weapon or the stealth. No one inside was in any position to care.

“Single plasmic shot each,” I said, my stomach churning painfully as I eyed the Javersin brothers. They’d died only a few meters apart: Darnell by a prep table loaded with fish scraps and entrails, Bicks midway between that table and the wash tubs. “Fair chance they knew their attacker.”

“Because they let him in, but then returned to their work?” Selene suggested. She was walking slowly back and forth across the prep area, leaning down to sniff at the tables or bending lower to sample the scents from the floor.

“That, and the fact that Darnell has half a dozen knives at hand and wasn’t holding any of them when he was shot,” I said. “So not a random intruder.”

“Unless he picked the lock and let himself in.”

I scowled. Yes, that was indeed another option.

Still, statistically most murders occurred between friends, family, and acquaintances. “Let’s start with the assumption they knew him,” I said. “We can always widen the field to the general population of Bilswift if we have to. What else can you tell me?”

“Not very much, I’m afraid,” Selene said. “The overall smell is overwhelming most everything else.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” The reek was in fact doing its best to curl my own nostrils. I could only imagine what it was doing to Selene’s. “Never seen fish guts decay so quickly. Maybe this is the reverse of the mari-mari ripening schedule.”

“It’s not just decaying fish,” Selene said. “Most of it is the smell of charring.”

I frowned. Now that she mentioned it, and now that I was forcing myself to concentrate, I could smell the stench’s burned organic component. “Where?” I asked.

She pointed to a compost bin at the end of one of the prep tables whose lid was askew. “That one, I think.”

Steeling myself, I walked over to the bin and lifted the lid the rest of the way.

She was right. Smack-dab in the center of the mass of fish waste was a neat grouping of blackened circles. “More plasmic shots,” I reported over my shoulder. “About eight of them, deliberately delivered. More than enough charring to contaminate the scent, but not enough to kindle an open flame and possibly burn down the place.”

“Unusually considerate of them,” Selene said, coming to my side and peering into the bin.

“I doubt respect for the deceased’s private property had anything to do with it,” I said. “Burning down the shop would have brought the badgemen here in double-quick time. I’m guessing they just didn’t want the hue and cry of having two more bodies show up in Kreega’s paperwork, at least not tonight. Any sense as to when this happened?”

I saw the hesitation in Selene’s eyes. “Probably between one and two hours ago,” she said reluctantly.

“So after work hours,” I said. I thought about mentioning that that time slot neatly bracketed the time of Tirano’s disappearance from the Ruth, but it was pretty clear Selene had already connected those particular dots.

Even amid the reek of burned fish she caught the subtle shift in my own scent. “He didn’t kill them, Gregory,” she said firmly.

“No, of course not,” I said, not entirely believing that and knowing she knew I didn’t entirely believe it. “But he was here tonight, wasn’t he?”

Her pupils went dark. “Yes,” she admitted. “But the scent’s centered on the door we came in. I don’t think he came inside any farther.”

“Saw the bodies and headed for the tall grass,” I said, nodding. “A very reasonable reaction. And as a former employee he would have had his own key, which was why the door was unlocked when we got here.”

Selene’s pupils took on a wary look. “A minute ago you thought he might have killed them. Now you’re saying you don’t believe that?”

“I never say never,” I hedged. “But I’ll admit the odds aren’t leaning in his favor. The brothers were shot with a plasmic, as were those poor defenseless fish entrails. You don’t just pick up a weapon like that at the corner all-goods store.”

“Maybe it belonged to one of the Javersin brothers.”

“Probably not,” I said. “I saw a Packard 3mm in the safe this morning. Most citizens who qualify to use a firearm don’t go on to certify with a plasmic, and vice versa.”

“Not usually,” she murmured agreement.

Though there were three spare plasmics hidden aboard the Ruth. Odds were good that they were well enough hidden that Tirano wouldn’t have found them, and well enough secured that he couldn’t get one free even if he did. But those assumptions didn’t take into account the Kadolian sense of smell.

Just as the Javersin brothers’ murders didn’t take into account the mental process of a Kadolian changeling.

“Anything else you can sort out of this mess?” I asked.

“All the scents from this morning are still here,” she said. “You, me, Detective-Sergeant Kreega and the other badgemen, and the two Patth. And the Javersin brothers, too, of course. But I can’t tell whether any of it is new or left over from earlier. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “The way this place smells, I’m surprised you haven’t already run away screaming.” I gazed at the bodies a moment, then turned toward the closed door that led into the office. “What about other visitors? Any scents in here you don’t recognize?”

“There are several,” she said. “But they’re very faint, and could just be from the day’s customers.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” I said. “You say Tirano didn’t come in farther than the door?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I was just wondering if we should check the obvious motive.” I nodded toward the office. “You think you can open that safe?”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” she asked, her pupils suddenly gone cautious. “The longer we’re here, the better chance someone will stumble on us.”

“Not to worry,” I assured her. “Kreega and her badgemen are tied up right now with Willie’s untimely demise.”

“I was thinking the murderer might come back.”

“Oh. That.” I gave her an overly casual shrug. “Well, that would certainly help us identify him. But that’s another point for opening the safe. It would tell us whether there’s anything in here worth coming back for.”

Selene shook her head. “It’s not a good idea, Gregory.”

“A lot of what we do lately seems to be landing outside the point circles,” I said sourly. “Doesn’t seem to be much chance of backing out now. Can you open it, or can’t you?”

She closed her eyes briefly. “Yes,” she said. “It’s a six-digit combination, and I know which of the four keys was pressed three times. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Let’s get at it, then,” I said, heading toward the office. “The sooner we’re out of here, the better.”

The office door was a good solid panel, well-sealed and with only a small crack beneath it. We went in fast, closing the door behind us quickly enough that only a little of the stench from the burned fish got in with us.

As expected, the safe was locked. Selene knelt down beside it, sniffed a few times to confirm her earlier button reading, and got busy. “Darnell Javersin opened it recently,” she said as she worked the buttons.

“Probably putting in the day’s receipts,” I said, moving around the room. As I’d told Kreega, there were three good spots where someone could have set up a recorder without the device being obvious. I reconfirmed those three, tagged a possible fourth . . . 

There was a slight creak of hinges as the safe door swung open. “We’re in,” Selene announced.

“Great.” I stepped over to her and pointed to the four suspicious spots I’d found. “There, there, there, and there. Check them out while I look though the safe. I want to know if you can find any scent in particular by any of them.”

She nodded, and walked over to the first one. Taking her place in front of the safe, I shined my flashlight inside.

The first thing I spotted were two small piles of commarks, not in nice neat stacks but instead jumbled, as if someone had hastily cleared out the registers and just dumped everything in there to count and organize later. The second thing I spotted was the Packard 3mm I’d seen earlier. Money and a weapon, everything a thief might want, still tucked safely away.

Only sometime in the past few hours, the Packard had been moved.

I looked closer, trying to visualize the steps. One of the brothers had taken the gun out of the safe, showed it to someone—possibly as a strong hint for the person to get lost—and then put it back again.

And if he’d held it close enough to the intruder’s face, there might still be some breath or other scent on the end of the barrel. “Selene?” I called softly. “Come here, will you? I need you to check out this gun barrel.”

I moved aside as she joined me. I started to pick up the gun, but she waved my hand aside and simply leaned her head into the opening and close to the Packard. For a moment she held position, her eyelashes fluttering. “Yes, there’s something there,” she confirmed, pulling back again. “The same scent’s also in the prep room, but fainter and harder to detect. I don’t know who it belongs to.”

“Maybe we can eliminate one possibility, anyway,” I said, holding out my left hand to her. I’d only been in contact with Willie for a few seconds as I pressed his gun into its holster and he gripped my hand in hopes of pulling it off so he could get to the weapon. “It’ll be faint,” I warned as she leaned closer to sniff my hand, “but it’s the only extra scent I have at the—”

“Yes,” she said. “That’s him.”

I frowned. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed. “Who is it?”

“Who was it,” I corrected, still frowning. “Our late, not-really-lamented, Willie. What in the world was he doing here, I wonder?”

“Buying fish?” Selene suggested with a hint of strained humor.

“Let me rephrase,” I said. “What in the world was he doing here that would induce one of the Javersin brothers—”

“It was Bicks.”

“That would induce Bicks to haul out their gun and shove it in his face?” I finished. “Could he have been looking for Tirano?”

“Or Galfvi?”

“Okay, or Galfvi,” I agreed. “Or maybe both. We still don’t know which of them robbed the safe.” I raised my eyebrows. “Or do we?”

A flicker of frustration crossed her pupils. “I’m getting some of Galfvi’s scent at the second spot you marked,” she said. “But with everything else in here, I can’t tell whether it’s specific to that place or just general residue from the office itself.”

“Or new or old?”

Or new or old.”

“Got it.” I huffed out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know, Selene. Tirano, Galfvi, now Willie—the deeper we dig into this thing, the more tangled it gets.”

“It does seem to be going that way,” she agreed. “Do you think there may be two different schemes going on?”

“We already know there are at least two,” I pointed out. “Whatever’s happening here with Tirano, plus the portal out there that we’re supposed to be investigating. Add in the murders, and we may have three different wheels in motion.”

“Unless two of those wheels are connected.”

“That would be handy,” I agreed as I closed the safe. “But so far I can’t see how.”

On the other hand, two schemes didn’t need to be connected if one was a deliberate diversion. We were here to look for a wayward portal, after all, and nothing closed down avenues of inquiry and freedom of movement like badgeman scrutiny. If whoever was running the Patth portal hunt had found out we were here and decided he wanted to be subtle about taking us out of the game, this would definitely be one way to go about it. Or possibly we were simply dealing with a psychotic.

Or a changeling.

I got to my feet and gave the office one final look. Distantly, I wondered who would inherit the place now that the owners were dead. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Where are we going?” Selene asked as we headed to the door.

“I thought we’d try Tirano’s house,” I said. “I’m guessing that even in this rain his doorknob will hold enough of his scent for you to spot it.”

“But we don’t know where he lives,” Selene said, her pupils frowning.

“Sure we do,” I said. “He said he lived in a house nearby, remember?”

“And you want me to search all hundred or more of them?”

I shook my head. “He’s a Kadolian who works in a fish shop,” I said. “A place that buys fish every day from the night boats that come into port. If I was in the Javersin brothers’ position . . . ?”

“You’d want him near the docks,” Selene said, her pupils showing understanding, “Close enough to smell the catch before the boats even land and tell you whether it’s worth buying.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Come on. Let’s go see if our boy went home.”


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