by Pam Uphoff
The rather stiff Uqpy fetched a briefcase and produced a computer. She smiled indulgently. "You really don't have to hide the mike. I know it's there."
He flushed, and looked stubborn.
"So, Uqpy, goodness, you did lose out on the letters, didn't you? Do you have a nickname you'd prefer?"
Silence.
"Umm, the strong silent type. Let's see Puppy would use three out of four letters. I could use all four, but I'm not pissed enough to call you Kewpie Doll, so Puppy it is. Ready?" She ignored the choking noises from the other officers. And the sound suppression field that sprung up suddenly. Mustn't let two suspects hear each other's testimony. Guess I'll behave and not test it.
"Right. I rode in with Raod, in her car, and we agreed that when I wore out, I'd call a cab, so she could party all night. We walked through the front entrance at twenty fifty-two. Nearly an hour fashionably late. I took a quick look around. The main door was in the center of the south wall. Kitchen, with the catering setup to the left—the west wall, two sets of restrooms across on the north wall, entrances toward both ends of the room. Dead ahead broad open entrances to two more rooms. A door to the right that I later found out went to a patio they exiled the smokers to. Bars in four spots. Small round tables and chairs in clusters, scattered around, but most of the floor space was empty. Dance floor to the east, with the live band up against the wall on risers. Wait staff circulating with both food and drink on trays.
"Bruno was the only person I recognized offhand. I was finally off all pain medications, so I grabbed a glass of red wine from the bar located just to the right of the entrance . . . " She put her mind into detailed memory mode, and excluded only the actual conversations, except for her two encounters with Ogto. Those she gave word for word, with gestures, voice tones, body language, and facial expressions. She continued on through the party to the final insult, and finally giving up and walking out to find a cab.
"I came straight here, crawled upstairs, hugged porcelain for a bit, took aspirin, drank water, upchucked that too, crawled into bed, and didn't wake until Mo came to get me up to talk to you." She leaned back and raised her eyebrows at her audience.
"That was impressive." Puppy frowned at his computer. "Can you do that every word and gesture thing for every conversation you had last night?"
"Yes. Whether I will or not depends on someone persuading me they have a need to dig so deeply into my old friendships and fifteen year old stale rivalries."
She managed to turn her head and neck far enough to look over her shoulder. Ahxe was leaning on the wall, close enough to hear, far enough away that he hadn't disturbed her recitation.
"That was both useful and, as Uqpy said, impressive." He frowned back to where Raod was sitting with a stiff back, crossed arms, and frown. "Do you know who the father of your niece and nephew are?"
"Know? No. Suspect?" She shrugged. "I can look at the babies and wonder, but I haven't spent enough time around her to make a reliable guess."
"When you looked at the babies, what did you think?"
She relaxed enough to let a rueful smile through. "Endi Dewulfe. I think I've been seeing too many pictures of Endi babies, lately."
He raised his eyebrows. "Indeed. Was he really that charming?"
"One, yes. I doubt we've located half the kids he engendered—a lot of the husbands had sense enough to act like they were the father, to avoid the Game penalties. No doubt you'll check Raod's travels." Rael shrugged. "To the best of my knowledge she was not in Paris at the right time; I am just speculating. And, well, babies look like babies to me. I didn't notice her yearning after anyone at the reunion. She spoke to a number of eligible older men, and no doubt there were a few married ones about as well. I saw nothing in her body language that . . . seemed to be anything other than a female Player in-between husbands, trawling for interest."
"Cynical."
"Oh yes. Seven years in Paris, observing the movers and shakers of the Empire does that to one. I don't know how the Princesses with decades of experience can stand it."
"Hmm." He pushed off the wall and walked back to Raod.
Rael watched her sister get even stiffer, the crossed arms tighter. I really can't imagine Raod killing anyone. Not even a jerk like Ogto.
After they had gotten everything they were going to get from Raod, after the various other people had admitted to hearing but not responding nor noticing the time two separate drunken women had arrived home, they shifted "downtown" where they both swore before an official notary to the truthfulness of the printed statements and vid recordings.
"Princess, may I speak to you in my office. My office is not an abode under the laws governing . . . "
Rael snorted. "So I do not count as a woman accepting a man's invitation into a home. How may I further assist you, Senior Investigator?" She stepped into his space and he retreated into his office. Bare, ordinary. Not too cluttered, but definitely the workspace of a man who dealt with literal paperwork.
"How do I know that you did not execute the victim?"
Rael curled a lip. "If I had killed him either officially or for personal reasons, you'd be breaking the news of a natural death to the next of kin, not pursuing leads in a homicide. How did he die?"
"Oh, that makes me feel good. I just spoke to the medical examiner. Fact of the matter is, Ogto died of a bee sting. He was highly allergic."
"He didn't have a counter agent with him?" He shook his head. "And was he outside?" Rael frowned. Headlight shining on metal boxes . . . "In the orchard, just beyond the convention center I saw some metal boxes. I assumed they were beehives, to fertilize the trees. But they aren't active after dark . . . are they? Or did he die in the early morning? Early enough for bees to be about? But you are certain it's a homicide."
Ahxe shrugged. "The two bee stings were inside his shirt, at the back. Odd place for bees to get. The people at the scene said that his shirt tails were loose . . . so I called the lab boys who are still on the scene. Back tracking Ogto, after he was first seen in distress, they found one of these . . . " he held out one of the choco bombs.
"Ah. Not terribly subtle, possibly improvised on the spot. Dead easy, if you aren't afraid of bees and he doesn't suspect you. The main question will be whether the killer kept his DNA off that shell. Or if he lifted one that someone else had handled. If he thought he'd have enough time to retrieve it, make it look like a natural death . . . How long can two bees survive in one?"
Ahxe paused, eyeing her. "The lab has it, along with others for test purposes, and will, I hope, answer those sorts of questions."
"Ask your doctor how long Ogto would have been ambulatory. He might have . . . " Rael broke off as Ahxe nodded.
"He staggered in from the smoking patio, clutching his throat. Ubno was with him. 'He's choking! Where's a medic?' He made it across the room, and out to the portico where some cars were picking up people. He stepped out in front of a moving car, then collapsed and died. Some hysterical woman started carrying on about you, the Princess, murdering him. So a blood sample was flash frozen, and rushed to the downtown lab to be tested." He cleared his throat. "I got word from the lab that there was actinicide in his bloodstream, just after we arrived at your house."
"Actinicide? On top of bee stings and cars?" Rael tried to keep a straight face. "How many people were trying to kill him?"
"You are familiar with Actinicide?"
"Enough to know that it takes several weeks for the effects to hit, by which time all traces are gone." Rael gave up and grinned at his expression.
"Ever use it yourself?"
"No. I've never killed anyone. Mind you, last year I would have, if I'd been able." She thought a moment. "Did he have any counter agent in his vehicle? That may be why he was so determined to get there, instead of just stopping and waiting for emergency response."
"We're checking."
"Hmm. Was he running from Bruno?"
Ahxe made a rather dubious noise. "Well. Why don't you sit in this
afternoon while we question the witnesses."
Rael opened her mouth to accept . . . then thought about it. "You said some people were immediately blaming me?"
He nodded.
"I think it might go better if I weren't there. I would appreciate it, if you would note the phrasing of the accusations aimed my direction. And Raod's. See if they are all using the same wording, as if repeating something they either heard from someone, or were deliberately coached to bring it up, although that would be a bit coarse."
"Definitely lacking subtlety. Thank you, Princess."
"You are welcome, Senior Investigator."
Chapter Nine
Sunday, 13 Safar 1398
"So, Ox, you run afoul of a murderous Princess?"
"No, chief, the murder was much too incompetent to be the work of a trained Princess."
Irqy Neartuone, the laid-back, personable, and popular District Chief of Police grinned. "So who did it?"
"Might be the Princess's sister. She split up with the victim over a year ago, but the divorce paperwork was never completed. She claims that between her sister's injury and being pregnant, she totally forgot about it. She says Ogto said something rude about it at the party, and she replied that she'd get back to her lawyer and pick up where she'd left off."
"Ha! So if she's still legally married to him, she inherits?"
"Yep. So there's definitely a money motive, there. I'll check around, find out who she's dating."
"The gossip is all about who the father of her twins is. He'll have an eye on the money. Probably working up the divorce papers to get rid of his current wife as we speak."
"No doubt. I asked and she refused to identify the father. I asked the sister. She . . . hesitated a bit and threw out some nonsense about Endi Dewulfe, and then breezily blew it off as her knowing nothing about babies."
The Chief snorted. "The hero native? Right. I am to really believe he was seducing High Oner wives right and left. And a small local Player?"
"Exactly. All I have to do is check her financial records to see if she bought a ticket to Paris before the assassination attempt, and that'll settle that matter. But I'll also see who else might have a grudge, and so forth." He shrugged. "I'll need to track who was where, when. The usual. I don't suppose you saw or heard anything, there?"
"I had a brief chat with the Governor; Ogto came over." He shrugged. "I'm a cop, they condescend to speak to me occasionally.
"Yeah. I'll probably be getting the 'You're practically the hired help, go bother someone else' treatment from half the witnesses. I suspect it'll just be the usual, though."
The Chief nodded. "Follow the money, and solve three-quarters of all murders. Well, I'll let you get back to it."
"Thank you, sir." Ahxe didn't begrudge the man the briefing. A chief who liked the limelight, hogged it, was actually handy, for an investigator who really, really did not want to have reporters tagging after him, or worse, a press conference every afternoon-in-time-to-get-it-on-tonight's-news.
As District Chief, Irqy's official office was in Montevideo, but living here in the enclave, he kept an office at the local police headquarters building. Handy for him—and me this time—but it's hell for the local police chief. Probably why we go through so many.
He flipped through his notes . . . he was going to need at least two subpoenas . . .
He started with the official photographer.
"Well, people want their pictures taken, for the most part. I put everything up on the grid, at a moderate resolution. Anyone who wants a proper, high resolution professionally cropped and balanced picture can pay me." He eyed the subpoena Ox had handed him. "But of course I'll provide the police with high resolution pictures."
"What we actually want is the uncropped complete collection. With all the identifying codes, especially the time the picture was taken. We'll be searching the backgrounds and so forth, to track the victim through the night."
"Oh. Well, if you have media, I can just copy over my base files . . . "
The techs at HQ blanched at the size of the files, and got back to work. They already had the unfortunately few security camera records.
They would be tracing the steps of several people. Ogto, of course, But also the Raod and Rael women. What their father, who was indeed with the Transportation Ministry, had been thinking when he named his daughters . . . And Madam Raod's other husbands, their other wives . . . Ymti and his wife, and seeing if their under-aged chauffeur had set foot inside . . .
Frequency analysis—how often anyone appeared in the vicinity of Ogto.
And examining each frame, just in case a camera had caught someone in the act of doing something deadly. Unlikely, but sometimes the One seemed to place a thumb on the scales of justice and help a cop . . .
He copied the photographer's file on to his own computer, and flipped through them looking for the sisters.
The widow was gorgeous. One of those people who never took a bad picture. Sort of like the few princesses he's ever actually spoken to. She admitted that her twins weren't Ogto's. That they were estranged and divorcing. Refused to name the father of those twins. She's protecting someone. Possibly herself. Possibly a lover. Or her sister.
The sister, the actual princess had been . . . not at all what he'd expected. Bright eyed and despite the fairly obvious physical problems, attractive in a completely different manner than her sister. Oh, she'd manipulated them like it was an automatic reflex, breezily shown off an impressive memory, and a total lack of concern for the fate of her brother-in-law.
And considerable worry about the sister. Fairly well hidden, but only ramping up as she'd watched Madam Raod's reticence and refusal to name her lover. The widow looks likely. The princess may turn out to be a considerable . . . impedance to the investigation.
He got on the grid, and hunted for a special the local newsies had put together, after the assassination. Every public appearance Princess Rael had made, in the background of the President and his daughter, both before and after the Target Forty-two spy ring had infiltrated presidential security . . . and the assassination.
It was almost a shock, after meeting the thin woman who moved so stiffly. On the vids she was still a bit thin, but muscular, professionally short hair cut, flat when in uniform, spiked when she was in civilian garb. And . . . not moving with the cat-like grace he'd expected. She was more like a happy little dog, bouncing about. Swapping grins with the president's daughter and spreading laughter all around her. Stepping forward suddenly to block a man getting too close, tossing a smile and breezy apology over her shoulder.
Then the garden party at Government House. The president making his way through a crowd, approaching the dance floor, which was what the camera was actually pointed at, recording Endi Dewulfe dancing with the president's daughter.
The president walked into the frame of a close up camera. Princess Rael at his shoulder relaxed, but scanning the crowd. Her eyes widened, she leaped forward, jerked, and hit the ground limp.
And never moved again, as the fight rolled all around her, as she was left behind while the President was evacuated.
And lay there. Until the medgicians searching for sparks of life in the fallen, found one in her.
"Well. One damn it all, she may well have just come for rehab, after all. She sure hasn't regained the muscles she had back then. Nor the bounce or energy."
"But she won't have lost the knowledge or years of experience." Uqpy was frowning at the screen.
"I wonder if she's lost her nerve?" Ymme rubbed his chest.
Ox looked back at the picture of the widow. "I wonder if her sister has the nerve to commit a murder."
One of the techs stuck his head in the office door. "I checked the widow's car. The auto drive system doesn't appear to have been tampered with. Left half an hour before the death. Checked the victim's car. Ephedrine auto injectors, one in the front, one in the trunk."
"Right. He was trying to get to his car." Ox huffed out a breat
h. "I wonder how many people delayed him, trying to be helpful. And how many deliberately delayed him on the pretext of helping him."
The tech sighed. "I'll mention that possibility to the guys going over all the pix."
"Thanks. I'll keep tagging names on pix as I find them out."
The door closed, leaving him alone with the vids again. He backed up the "special" to a good frame of the princess in civvies. Find out where she's been, what she's been doing, for the last four months.
But first he needed to interview the eyewitnesses of the actual death on the sidewalk.
"Since you are otherwise uninvolved, I thought you could give me a straight forward eyewitness account of what happened at the Reunion." Ox smiled hopefully at the old woman. Worst nosey parker in the entire enclave. Sees all and hears all, according to everyone who knows her.
"Poor Ogto! After being so poorly treated by That Woman, to be murdered like this! Everyone knows, now, that she cheated on him. That woman's children are nothing but little bastards. Pity we can't throw her out of the enclave. If I hadn't seen it all with my own eyes, I would have assumed she murdered him for his money! Her sister's a trained princess, you know. She could make it look like a heart attack."
"Indeed. What did you see, yourself?"
"Well! There'd been quite a lot of coming and going from the side door." Superior sniff. "They designated that lovely little patio the smoking area! Bruno and that sarcastic crippled princess—really, she must wish she'd died, rather than have to go on like that!—stepped out together. She came stomping back in, madder than all get out, and got even drunker, before she caught a cab and left." Sniff. "Ogto was one of the smokers, I saw him step out three times. The last time . . . He was alone when he went out. When he staggered back in, Ubno was supporting him." Sniff. "Hardly the sort of person one ought to rely on, although he was, of course, strong enough to half carry Ogto in. Humph!