The Snows of Montora (The Chronicles of Montora Book 3)

by Ward Wagher

  “Murder?” Frank asked.

  “Yes. Mr. Fillbee Murdock was the victim.”

  “Did Cedric Smith explain to you what happened?”

  “Yes, he did. But I need to hear it from you. Mr. Spanky, could you wait outside? I need to speak to Mr. Nyman.”

  “Does Friend Frank want me to leave?”

  “Yes, Spanky,” Frank said. “Please wait outside until the nice policeman is ready to speak with you.”

  “Okay, Friend Frank.” He turned to Standish. “See you later, Mr. Nice Policeman.” He raised two tentacles into a perfect salute.

  Standish watched as the Woogie slithered out of the room and turned back to Frank. “I didn't know Woogies were capable of sarcasm.”

  “I didn't either, if that's what it was,” Frank replied.

  “Okay, have a seat, Mr. Nyman.”

  Once Frank was in the chair, Standish set a recording cube on the occasional table between them.

  “Now, in your own words, Mr. Nyman, tell me what happened tonight.”

  Frank took a deep breath and began.

  Fifteen minutes and several questions later, Frank wound down.

  “So, no one touched Mr. Murdock?” Standish asked.

  “Well, the toe of my boot had rather substantial contact. I was highly motivated. But other than that, no.”

  “And then he was able to escape in spite of an incapacitating kick?”

  “He wasn't moving really fast. Neither of us moved to stop him at first. We were concerned with Stephanie, mainly. Smith went after him. He waddled back to the boardwalk where he dove into the water.”

  “I see. And you assumed the Dimaton killed him?”

  “I didn't assume, Inspector. I saw it. The beast popped out of the water and Fillbee was in his mouth. I heard the crunch.” Frank shuddered. “Awful sound.”

  “I'm sorry, Mr. Nyman, but we have had no records of Dimatae ever attacking humans. They are quite friendly with some humans, but otherwise ignore us.”

  Frank snorted once and looked around the room. “If I ever see one of those things again, it'll be too soon. One of them took a fancy to me. It was always slipping up when I was on the boardwalk and scaring the daylights out of me.”

  “It apparently saw something in you.”

  “Probably its next meal.”

  “Okay. Let me talk to the Woogie. I will need to interview the girl tomorrow, if she can handle it.”

  “I suppose she will have to,” Frank said. “Please understand, I will do whatever I need to help establish the rule of law here. That goes for me and you both, Inspector.”

  “I understand, and at some level appreciate it,” Standish said. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  It was noon the next day when Stephanie was released from the hospital. Emily insisted she stay at the Wilton Street house until she was fully recovered.

  “I want her to have the second floor suite on the south side of the house,” Emily said. “It's next to mine, and it's sunny.”

  “Fine,” Frank said. He stood in the foyer of the house looking about aimlessly.

  “When did you last eat, Skipper?” Smith asked.

  “I had something this morning.”

  “Let's go make sandwiches for the girls.”

  Without a word Frank followed Smith to the kitchen. Jones disappeared on a tour of the house and grounds.

  “We've got to get some more help around this place,” Frank said.

  “Spanky found a yardman yesterday.”

  “When do we meet him?”

  “I can call him and see if he can come over this afternoon.”

  “Fine. Who is it?” Frank asked.

  “A Joe Beckett, according to Spanky.”

  Frank was looking through cupboards in the kitchen. “Well, give him a call then. Where does that woman keep everything in this kitchen?”

  “You know better than that, Frank,” Smith grinned.

  “Right. Let's get some kind of a meal put together. You call Joe Whatever. I've got to run over to the offices this afternoon. There's no telling what the people are up to since they're unsupervised.”

  “Emily didn't tell you?”

  “Emily didn't tell me what?” Frank asked.

  “She called Pamela Liston, who is covering the offices for us today.”

  “Okay. I'll have to thank Ems. I haven't been tracking too well since last night.”

  “You haven't been to bed, Skipper.”

  “Last night wasn't different from any other night in that respect.”

  “Then you ought to go lie down.”

  Frank stopped rummaging through the cupboards and turned to glare at Smith. “Let's not cross a line here, Cedric.”

  “Oh, don't give me that, Skipper. You keep looking for things to take the blame for and you're going to screw yourself into the ground.”

  “That's it!” Frank swore. “Make the sandwiches yourself.” And he stalked from the room.

  Smith stared after him and shook his head. “We're going to have to fit you with a straight jacket before long.”

  Fifteen minutes later Smith slipped into the south suite with a tray of sandwiches and iced tea. Emily sat by the bed holding a reader. Stephanie lay in the bed, propped with pillows. She managed a smile when she saw him.

  “Oh, Cedric, you're a dear.”

  “I wanted to help pamper you.”

  “Where's Frank?” Emily asked.

  “He's around somewhere,” Frank said. He gave Emily a knowing look.

  “Well, he needs to put his head down. He sat in that waiting room all night.”

  Smith cocked his head in agreement, but did not reply.

  “Anything else I can get you, Stephanie?” he asked.

  “This is just great, Cedric.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look like a ruptured owl. I'm just about that sore too.”

  “You don't have to do anything for a few days, so take advantage of Emily's spoiling you.”

  “Right. Mr. Nyman will probably take it out of my pay.” There was a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Somehow I don't think that will be a problem,” Smith said.

  “We need to get you well,” Emily said, “and then we're going to find you a place to live away from that wretched Old Town.”

  “No we're not,” she replied.

  “But you surely don't want to live there after last night.”

  “After what happened to Fillbee Murdock last night nobody is going to be of a mind to mess with me,” she said. “Besides, I like it there. I have a nice place and I decorated it myself.”

  Smith grinned at Emily. “I do not think you are going to win this argument.”

  “Hmph!” she glared at Stephanie. “Don't think you have heard the last of this, young lady.”

  “You're not my mother.”

  “Oh, Stephanie,” Emily sighed. “I lost Gough a month ago. I couldn't bear to lose you too.”

  Immediately Stephanie sobered. “I'm sorry Mrs. B. I'm thinking of myself again.”

  Smith turned and tiptoed out of the room, wondering who was manipulating whom. As he walked down the hall Frank stepped out of his office.

  “I've got to go see the Provost.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. The idiot is blithering about one thing or another.”

  “I made you a sandwich. It's in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks, Cedric,” Frank said. “And sorry about showing you my behind like that.”

  “No problem, Skipper. I wonder if it might be a good idea to bring the mayor along.”

  “Good idea, Sarge. I hadn't thought of that. Maybe Osterman can slow him down.”

  “If you want to call him, I'll get your sandwich for you. We can't have you keeling over from low blood sugar.”

  “Not likely, Cedric. I've put in longer shifts than this on the bridge of a starship.”

  �
�You're not getting any younger, Skipper.”

  “Sheesh, Cedric,” Frank said, “you really are asking for it, aren't you?”

  Smith headed back to the kitchen while Frank pulled out his hand comm.

  § § §

  “All right, Mr. Provost, what is it that can't wait?” Frank asked. “I've had a rough couple of days and really didn't want to come up here this afternoon.”

  “I am investigating the death of...”

  “I've already talked to the police inspector,” Frank said. “I'm not sure why you are involved in this.”

  “When we have the death of a protected species I feel obligated to get involved. We have so few examples of intelligent life in this universe it's really tragic to see one snuffed out.”

  “What are you gassing about?” Frank asked. “I'm not convinced I'm talking to an intelligent life form right now.”

  Osterman stood next to Frank with his arms crossed over his chest, and said nothing.

  “Why, the death of the Dimaton last night,” the Provost announced.

  Frank shook his head. “No, you got it wrong. Fillbee Murdock died last night. He was killed by a Dimaton. Who have you been talking to anyway?”

  The Provost assumed a look of exaggerated patience. “Please sit down, Gentlemen. We are not communicating well.”

  “That's the understatement of the year,” Frank grunted as he dropped into one of the chairs across from the Provost's desk. Osterman slid into the other chair.

  “I heard about Murdock's death, of course. While it was regrettable, things happen when people get excited.”

  Frank started to stand up, but Osterman grabbed his arm.

  “Some regrettable things are about to happen right here,” Frank muttered.

  “If you will let me continue... please.”

  Frank shook his head and rolled his eyes. He then waved his arm at the Provost. “Oh, go ahead. I'm come this far.”

  Neckersulm folded his hands on his desk. “Thank you. Some of our citizens discovered a dead Dimaton floating in a canal early this morning. We have laws on the books protecting the Dimatae. They are highly intelligent, and we don't want them abused.”

  “I can understand that,” Frank said. “From what I've seen, they're pretty smart. One of them attached itself to me and followed me around every time I was in the Old Town. The locals had named it Charlie.”

  “It was Charlie who died,” the Provost explained patiently.

  “What happened to him?” Frank asked.

  “We had the body pulled ashore so we could study it. It appears to have poisoned.”

  “Poisoned? Why would anybody do that?”

  “That's hard to believe,” Osterman said. “Everybody liked Charlie.”

  “Almost everybody, right Mr. Nyman?” Neckersulm commented with a smile.

  “Are you suggesting I poisoned him? Good grief, I stayed as far away from that beast as possible.”

  “You were the last one to see him alive.”

  “I got to see him have Fillbee for a snack. It wasn't pretty. Sorry, Mr. Provost. You don't have a case.”

  “I think I do. I am tired of careless business people tearing up my community.”

  Frank glanced over at Osterman.

  “You don't have the authority to arrest and investigate anymore, Mr. Provost,” Osterman said. “The voters have taken that out of your hands.”

  “No they haven't.” The Provost was starting to get worked up. “You haven't had elections yet, so we don't know what your precious voters will do, do we, now?”

  “Not exactly,” Frank admitted. “Although, you may find yourself in a new role as an ex-kleptocrat.”

  “I resent that!”

  “A couple of pieces of advice, Andreas,” Frank said. “First of all, you need to be careful about throwing accusations about. One of them might just jump out of the water and bite you on your fat, round bottom. And you need to recognize that power now resides in the Mayor and he is supported by the business community. If you can learn that and learn to act appropriately, you might possibly keep you job after we elect a council and get around to reforming your toy university.”

  The Provost jumped to his feet. “That is just so uncivilized!”

  Frank looked at Osterman. “Come on, DeWayne. I don't have time to waste here.” He turned to the Provost. “Write if you find work.” Then, he turned to leave the office.

  In the limousine it was quiet for a while as Smith drove back towards the Mayor's office in the old town.

  “Do you think it was good idea to stir the Provost up like that?” Osterman asked.

  “No, probably not. But the little piece of equine excrement is beyond irritating.”

  “He is,” Osterman replied. “But he does represent a substantial power base on New Stockholm. As long as the business interests stay together, he can't do much overtly. But he could be a major annoyance to you.”

  “He already is.”

  “Oh, it could get far worse, Mr. Nyman.”

  “Things couldn't get much worse.”

  “Yes, they could. We surprised everybody by pulling off a bloodless coup. The business interests are ecstatic. The people on planet are supportive. Even about half of Neckersulm's base is happy about things. But don't forget how fickle everyone can be.”

  “I understand that, DeWayne.”

  “I'm sure you do,” Osterman replied. “But I thought you needed reminding. I like what you pulled off here and want to keep things moving in this direction. It's the only way this planet will be able to do something with itself.”

  “Okay, I'll try to be more polite. Thanks for the advice, DeWayne.”

  “And here we are,” he said as Smith pulled the car to a stop. “Thanks for letting me ride along to the meeting. It was... instructive.”

  “Thanks for coming on short notice, Mr. Mayor.”

  Osterman climbed out of the limousine and bent over to look back in. “Glad to help out. You ought to go home and get some sleep. You look like you were run over by a Woogie.”

  Frank bit his lip as Osterman slammed the door. He thought for a few moments as Smith put the car into motion. Then he leaned back in the seat.

  “Back to the house, Sir?” Smith asked.

  “Yeah. I'm too tired to go to the office. There's no telling what Pamela Liston has done in our absence, but I'm not going to be able to fix it today.”

  “Good thinking, Skipper.”

  When the car pulled up in front of the mansion on Wilton Street, Frank was sound asleep in the back seat. Smith set the brake and leaned back to relax. He was not going to wake up the boss.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Once again Frank had doubled the size of his fleet. Osterreich, Star of Christmas, and Menninger's Enterprise were now parked in orbit about New Stockholm as Frank and his small team struggled to assemble crews and cargos.

  Frank sat in his current office, which was now at the corner of the fourth floor of the Garrett Building and reviewed the status of the new ships with Emily Brundage, who now had the formal title of Operations Manager.

  Emily flipped through screens on her comp-tablet. “Your dictated notes say Osterreich is ready to go in all respects.”

  “Yes,” Frank said. “It is just about the cleanest ship I've ever seen. The logs say Captain Zeitgaust runs a taut ship. Reading between the lines, I think he's a careful, conservative skipper. I'll try not to fire him.”

  Emily raised an eyebrow. “Fire him?”

  “The little martinet tried to crowd me. He let me know, in no uncertain terms, that he was master and commander aboard Osterreich, and I better not try to tell him how to do his job.”

  “He's right, isn't he?”

  “Oh yes. But he was trying to snap his new boss into his own personal world-view and I didn't like it.”

  “Did you communicate that to him?”

  “I told him that while I was aboard his ship I was happy to let him be in charge. That was his job, after all
.”

  “But?”

  “I reminded him that whenever he happened to be on-deck in my office the obverse was true.”

  Emily snickered. “If that's the worst of our problems...”

  “Precisely, Ems. I just hope he has the sense not to get into my face publicly. The results would be unpleasant.”

  “I suppose we should expect something like that from a New Prussian,” she said. “Those people carry the term anal to new heights... or perhaps I should say lows.”

  “That was sad, Emily,” Frank said.

  She grinned and stuck out her tongue at him.

  Osterreich had previously been owned by a shipping line in New Prussia. Though somewhat elderly, the starship had been meticulously maintained. The punctiliously correct captain, Karl Zeitgaust, was overbearing, but knew how to run a starship.

  “And you are not happy with Star of Christmas?” she asked as she flipped another page on her device.

  “I almost wish I hadn't let the Woogies convince me they could bring it back from Festalborg. It's just a mess. I mean the Woogies obviously spent the entire voyage here cleaning the thing, and it still looked awful. On the other hand, the broker almost paid us to take it off his hands.”

  “Is that why Spanky was so embarrassed?”

  “It wasn't just Spanky. Jack was upset too.”

  “Jack is...”

  “Jack skippered the ship on the return trip. He's a Woogie. They were talking about blowing up the ship out of shame.”

  “Would they do that?” she asked.

  “I don't know. I've never seen the Woogies this upset before. I would hope not.”

  “Oh.” Emily pondered for a few moments. “So, what's the plan, then? Are you dumping this on my plate?”

  “Normally this would be your problem, Ems, but the Woogies are insisting on doing the refurbishment themselves. In fact, they're ready to bunker and then head for Woogaea.”

  “Sounds like a deal to me, Frank.”

  “It is, I just hate to take the Woogies for a ride that way.”

  Emily grinned. “From what I know about them, if they decide they have an obligation, there's not a whole lot you are going to do about it.”