by Nicole Kurtz
“Captain ain’t in,” Herman said, his eyes not resting on me, but scanning the pack of people. “You punks, shut your traps!” and then to me. “You missed him.”
I stared at him intently, trying to decide whether or not he was telling the truth. Herman must have thought that too because he said, “He went home for the day. Sick.”
With a shrug, I left headquarters, secretly cursing Jane for not waking me up earlier.
I stood beside my wauto, allowing the sun’s rays to wash over me though they did little to warm me up. Icy patches littered the sidewalks and streets as last night’s temperature plummeted to seventeen degrees and was struggling to break through the freeze.
Captain Hanson, sick? He didn’t seem so ill last night when he came to the rental room. What was he doing there anyway? Regulator Captains did not come to violation scenes; they pushed electronic files and budgeted currency. No way did they voluntarily get their hands dirty with real work.
I climbed in and started the vehicle, my mind racing. What if he was only playing hooky? What if he was getting nooky from the mayor?
While hovering over my parking space, I punched up the Memphis Quadrant directory, and scanned through the names for Hanson, Tom. I wanted to get his address. With a little bit of luck, I might catch the two of them together.
The telemonitor screen whirled and returned a message of “no address found.”
I pressed clear and than typed in the number for Mayor Christensen. Within moments, I was connected to her administrative assistant, a handsome, Hispanic lad with nearly clear blue eyes and caramel toned skin. Hatchling maybe? The result was striking and I could use one of him to be my administrative assistant.
“I’m sorry Miss Lewis. Mayor Christensen is out of the office,” he said after I had introduced myself and quit slobbering.
Fighting back the desire to invite him over for dinner and desert, I said, “That’s okay. Maybe you could help. I need the address for Captain Hanson’s home.”
Looking a bit uncomfortable, but still gorgeous, he said, “I-I am not allowed to give that information out. Even to those on the mayor’s payroll.”
“I’m not a stranger! I’m trying to solve her daughter’s case. If you must know, Captain Hanson wanted me to stop by his house to discuss the case, but failed to give me the coordinates.”
With me the lying never seems to stop…
He sighed and glanced around. “Since you are working for her, I’ll tell you. He’s at 3024 West Nightingale Drive.”
“Thank you,” I said and flashed my it’s-your- lucky-day smile. “You’re a life savior.”
“Just catch the guy who killed Mandy,” he said with a sniff and disconnected the feed.
A little put out that he hadn’t asked me to dinner, especially after the smile I gave him, I typed in the address, and the coordinates filled themselves in. With a smile firmly planted on my face, I headed toward Captain Hanson’s home to ambush him and his mistress.
Both of them out of the office, they probably didn’t think I’d put it together so damn quickly. I recalled how offended Mayor Christensen looked when I told her I wanted to meet with Captain Hanson. Not to mention, that when I did meet with him, he lied about not knowing I would arrive so soon. He knew. The entire thing was too put together for my arrival to be solely a shock for him.
Tsk, tsk, lovers, you’re about to be caught.
Saying his girlfriend died was a cover. Hanson really was trying to hide his relationship with Mayor Christensen because her daughter was dead. The press was all over this, and with the upcoming governor’s race, an affair would ruin Christensen’s chances in office. Despite how technologically we’ve come as a human race, some deep seeded issues of morality and family could not be unearthed, especially in the Southeast Territories.
I hummed happily as I made my way out to Nightingale Drive. It rested outside Memphis primary section one, and into section six Germantown. The sky continued to be clouded with thick, graying clouds, but held off with releasing any precipitation. No amount of snow, sleet or rain was going to douse my good mood. I was really close to solving this case and that meant I could go home soon.
The lanes leading to the luxury of Germantown remained clear and free of suffocating traffic. About one-thirty, I wondered how Jane was doing with Nathan. Who would hire an addict, ex or otherwise, to be a regulator? It seemed dumb to have him around so much Zenith and Ackback. It would be like asking an alcoholic to tend bar. Temptation would drive the person nuts.
And what about Nathan? Why would he sign up for such torture?
I didn’t know, but I hoped Jane could find out. Again, a smile tugged at my lips as I thought about Jane’s turn around. It could be that she truly wanted Amanda’s killer brought to justice and for that she worked hard. Or it could be that she realized that biting my head off at every remark or staying holed up in the rental room crying, wasn’t going to help capture the dunce who did this to Amanda.
Either way, I was glad to have her back in the game.
As it were, the afternoon remained dreary as I sped onward. As I dipped downward closer to the old pavement, I slowed down as I passed by magnificent homes, hidden mostly by shrubbery and tall trees. Every other home or so, I could make out the beginnings of a pathway that led back, far back, into a shadowy piece of land and a house.
I found Captain Hanson's street. His lodging was the only one, and made a left. As I flew under overhanging trees that arched over Nightingale Drive like acrobats at a circus, I again thought back to money and prestige. Two things I never had, and had long since stopped wishing for. Along the edge of the paved road, I could make out the brownish grass that in spring would be a bright green, or maybe pink. How could a regulator captain be able to afford a home like this?
Maybe Mayor Christensen wasn’t just a momma to Amanda; maybe she was a sugar momma to Hanson.
At the end of the long driveway, I found myself draped in partial sunlight as I flew around the cul-de-sac that had a small fountain of Venus rising up from her shell, clad in only soft clouds with water spraying around her. It looked a lot like my sister's driveway up to her house (minus the fountain). I guess the rich liked to be private and secluded.
The three-level brick house rose majestically over the paved cul-de-sac and its porch. The porch, stone gray and flat didn't extend outward past its overhang. It wasn’t the kind of porch reserved for outside sittings and barbequing. It was the kind of porch that served as a place for people to wait to be let in. Vines crept up the left side of the wall as if desperately working their way toward sunlight.
Impressive.
To the right of the porch was a three-wauto hanger, brick red, like the house, but newer. The bricks were still somewhat red and shiny, not weathered like those of the house.
Could the mayor’s vehicle be hidden in there?
I pressed the doorbell and waited. The maid might not let me in without a good reason. Racking my brain, I developed a good lie to infiltrate the Hanson residence.
To my surprise, Captain Hanson opened the door himself, dressed in a satin, navy robe, striped flannel pajama bottoms and navy slippers. He wore reading glasses and they rested precariously close to the edge of his nose.
"Can I help you Miss Lewis?" he asked, his voice tight and unsure. He removed his glasses, folded them and placed them in the pocket of his robe. And people thought women were vain. “Just doing some light reading.”
Only a little after two in the afternoon and he looked ready for bed. I wondered who he was sharing his bed with. I tried to peer over his shoulder, but could not see anyone.
"I wanted to talk to you about something that's come up in the investigation," I said, putting it out there. The lie wouldn’t have worked on him anyway. I did want to talk to him about Nathan working for the Memphis Regulators.
Was it me or did he pale a little? His eyebrows rose and he smiled weakly. "Come in."
In the foyer, canvases around me bustled wit
h traders handling slaves, and showboats lit up with lights and decorated for entertainment. These detailed portraits conveyed the South and the Mississippi that separated it from the west in historical art and reflective colors. To the right of the front door was a staircase that arced upward to the second floor. The carpet, a warm beige, didn't subtract or add from the room. Two large square mirrors set in ancient, hoary frames above two end tables faced each other. One contained an elegant white and beige vase filled with wiry twigs and the other nothing but a cream colored dish, where silver coins had been deposited.
"Welcome to my home, Miss Lewis," he said as I followed him through the foyer and back, through elegantly designed rooms filled with antiques and expensive furniture, on out to a stone-slab patio. A canopy covered the patio from the afternoon sun. The back of the house also contained a fifty-foot covered swimming pool.
"It's warm enough today to sit outside," he said, as he remained standing until I took the seat across from him. Always the gentleman, he sat down in one of the three caramel-tone wicker chairs facing the pool. A matching table with a glass top was between him and me. Overhead three gigantic heaters warmed the deck. He picked up a mug full of something steamy as he gazed outward, over his property. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
Past the pool and its tiny supply house was an extensive amount of acreage. Currently a dull brown, it would be a magnificent green in the spring and summer. Unspoiled land as far as my eyes could see was silent except for few intermittent animal calls and cries.
"Would you like some cocoa?" he asked, his eyes turning back to me. He rose out of his seat.
"No, thank you," I said, my voice hoarse.
Nature, undisturbed and clean, often choked me up. I loved beauty in any form and nature presented some of the best acts of beauty I have ever seen. I pondered how Hanson had managed to keep all of the land free of development. Often developers gobbled such pieces of land up into high rises, condos, or apartments.
"Beautiful home."
"Yes, well, it belonged to my great-great-great grandfather," he said with a proud smile that fleshed out both his dimples. An inviting bon vivant, Captain Hanson, sipped more from his mug. He sat down and gracefully crossed his legs. On the table, a handheld computer, much like mine, rested in sleep mode. “Much of the furniture belonged to my great great-grandfather, a voracious antique dealer. This used to be a plantation home, but my grandfather had it dismantled and rebuilt this estate instead. Pieces of the original home are imbedded into the structure and the third floor. He said he didn’t want to be associated with slavery, but he gladly kept the inheritance.”
He chuckled. “I am the last Hanson. I will leave it to the historical society to turn it into a museum for the large amounts of antiques here. Others should be able to enjoy their beauty as well. Besides, this place isn’t for children."
"Wonderful idea," I said, meaning every word. “You know, I think I will have some cocoa.”
He smiled and got up. After he disappeared into the house, I nudged his handheld to see what he’d been reading. It was Amanda’s autopsy report.
Light reading indeed!
I clicked the sleep mode button and hurriedly sat back down.
Captain Hanson returned, a steaming pink mug in his hand. He placed it gently on a coaster beside me and returned to his seat.
"I stopped by headquarters, but they said you were here, sick."
He nodded gravely, the proud smile gone along with his dimples. "I-I needed some time to rest, to be alone. The job isn’t so wonderful and exhausting."
"There's no one here with you in this humongous home? Staff? Girlfriend?" I asked, moving back to the task at hand. I hadn’t seen any wauto parked outside the house, nor had I seen or heard any other voice in the house. It didn't appear that there was another way out, other than the way I had flown in on.
“A gentleman never kisses and tells, Miss Lewis…” he said, his voice rough. He sipped from his mug, cleared his throat and asked, “Why do you ask? Are you interested?”
I grinned. Direct wasn’t he? “Well, uh-, no, but there must be someone.”
"No, no one. Not now," he said with a heavy sigh, his eyes turning to me and giving me his full attention. "Miss Lewis, what is this about? It is uncommon for people to come by my home—even for work related topics I am a private man, as I’m sure you’ve gathered."
"Call me Cybil," I said, feeling suddenly small and a little guilty. The sadness that seeped into his eyes bore into my heart. It was an emotion I was all too familiar with. Loss.
"Cybil," he said with a sigh. "I want to know why you've come here. You said you had developments…"
"Uh, no. I said I had questions. There's been some questionable things surface in my investigation," I said. "Tell me why a known Zenith user is employed as a regulator at headquarters?"
As the question left my mouth, I could see tiny lines appear on his forehead.
He turned back to the view of the pool and sighed once more. He closed his eyes.
A minute passed and he opened them, sipped his cocoa and stared back out into the yard, holding the mug as if for warmth or maybe strength. Far in the distance rabbits could be seen chasing each other. Even still I could tell that one of them had an extra leg.
"When we first spoke, you said you didn’t know him. But surely you must because he works on your staff," I said, pressing him to give some sort of comment or explanation. "I mean, you hire everyone at headquarters, do you not?"
"Yes, yes," Captain Hanson said testily, slamming his mug onto the glass tabletop. "I knew you'd find out about him. I told…never mind. Yes, he's on my staff."
I waited. He didn’t tell me why Nathan was on his staff, but I let him talk.
Finally he began to speak, his voice grew louder as he spoke. "Nathan is an undercover regulator. He's caught numerous dealers and pushers, all of which are serving time up in the quadrant's Montgomery Cradle. Each sleeping away about fifteen years and in some cases life," he said, his voice stiff with an undercurrent of annoyance. "So, that's your answer. What else did you want?"
"I found it interesting, a possible clue as to why Amanda may have been killed," I said, twisting the lie as I stood up. "You know, if she found out about Nathan working as a regulator, he could have killed her to keep her from telling her mom. How would you explain that to Mayor Christensen?"
Captain Hanson's eyes burned with restrained fury. He stood up so fast; he knocked his wicker chair to the patio floor. He glared at me as if the idea was ridiculous.
"How- how dare you…a footless accusation! Get out! Out!"
“If you’re hiding something, captain, I will find out,” I said smoothly. “Tell me now and save me the trouble.”
“Out!” he bellowed, the vein on the side of his head throbbing in rage. “You have no idea!”
"Good afternoon," I said with a nod and left, feeling the 350 under my coat.
As I crossed the threshold into the still brightly-lit outdoors, I glanced back to the front door. Captain Hanson did not follow me out or even check to see that I had left. In the far distance, I could hear something smash, possibly one of the mugs.
I thought I had him. He almost told me something back there before he caught himself. I still didn't know for sure who his girlfriend was, but I had to find out.
Why was he reviewing Amanda’s autopsy report?
There could be a simple explanation for it. Her death must be the largest case of his career. Hanson may want to make sure that it was carried out to the letter, that no stone was left unturned, and that every item was duly noted.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something. Tonight, I would fly back to his house and follow him. Maybe he and the mayor met after dark, under the cloak of night if you will, to meet.
Clandestine rendezvous.
Oui?
A few hours later, night and day struggled for control of the sky. I sat outside Captain Hanson’s long, solitary driveway. He
had not left and my butt was getting numb from sitting too long. I couldn’t get out of the wauto and walk around because someone might see me. That’s all I needed was the regulators to come to investigate a reported suspicious character by a nosey neighbor. Convinced he and Mayor Christensen was an item, I sat stubbornly, waiting.
The grounds were wet, soaked from layers of melted ice and snow. Patches of the frozen snowy heaps lay strewn across the grounds and the treetops. With the heat on three, I had removed my coat and my 350. I wasn’t going to shoot him once emerged, only follow his wauto.
The yellow rays of sunlight faded as puffs of nearly black clouds shoved their way over the Memphis sky. In moments, snow showers fluttered down from the ominous sky as if the heavens suddenly had a bad case of dandruff.
With a heavy sigh, I realized that Hanson wasn’t going to leave in this mess. I clicked on the headlights, when suddenly, Captain Hanson’s sleek, black-four door vehicle slipped past me and onto the illuminated lane.
“Yes!” I said and went to follow him. “Lead on!”
A surge in excitement zipped through me. The downpour of white flakes created a curtain of snow, I could barely make out his rear taillights. Confident he was going to lead me right to the mayor, I tailed. I’ll be able to dismantle their scheme, which may or may not have lead to Amanda’s death, but it might be information enough to get them to tell me what they do know.
Captain Hanson glided through the lanes, winding around curves and eventually downward toward the city’s limits. This didn’t look good, as the mayor’s home lay in Germantown, probably not too far from Hanson’s own house. The flight over from his house to hers shouldn’t have taken him downtown.
After nearly thirty minutes of following him, he finally landed at the O’Shea’s bar. I didn’t stop, but sped on by as if I had business elsewhere.
For the life of me, I couldn’t believe Mayor Christensen would be caught dead in such a dive. Perhaps tonight was one of the nights they didn’t see each other.
Wautos, a few banged up aerocycles, and a cargo craft cluttered O’Shea’s normally vacant lot. I circled around mid-air and parked down on the pavement across from the bar where someone had recently vacated. I could see inside O’Shea’s through spots where the windows weren’t foggy. I lowered my wauto’s window a little to allow in the cooler air and waited.