Dancer (Wine of the Gods Book 15)

by Pam Uphoff

  "Ubno called for a medgician, and then for a medic. All the while Ogto had been trying to breathe, and kept trying to get out the front door." She lowered her voice. "He might have been trying to get away from Ubno!"

  She elevated her nose. "As I was already going that way, at the time, I stepped out and saw what happened next." She leaned close. "It was the Governor!" She sat back with a smug smile.

  Ox tried to look fascinated. "What did Governor Itsu do?"

  "He grabbed Ogto. Said something to him, I couldn't hear it. Ogto pushed him away and staggered out into the driveway just as Ymti Withione's car pulled up under the portico. I saw it all. The car lurched forward and hit Ogto! It was obviously deliberate!"

  "Why would Ymti Withione want to hit Ogto?"

  "Well! It wasn't Ymti driving now, was it? That boy driving is rather obviously a by-blow of Ogto's, and snatched an opportunity to kill the man who refused to acknowledge him." She sat back with a satisfied smile.

  "Oh. I see. The chauffeur was alone in the car?"

  "No, no, Ymti had gone out to fetch him. His comm must not have been working."

  "So . . . this boy got out of the driver's seat, and Ymti got out of the back? What did they do?"

  She sniffed. "Actually Ymti was riding in front. His mother is an upcomer, after all. No class at all. And the stupid boy was just stuttering about how he'd been trying to brake. Ha!"

  "Indeed. Who else was out front? I'll have to talk to them all, in case one of them had a better angle of view."

  "Oh, well, Bussie, that's Bius Withione Del Fuego and her husband Ijlu Withione Montevideo—not that they'll be married much longer, no children, you see. And Fyoh was there with her newest, Ejsu Withione Paraguay. And Cow," she cleared her throat. "Caif, that is. Montevideo of course, but just a Neartuone. Perfectly nice, mind you, but . . . well. No chauffeur, no autodrive. Ufdy, the Councilman aide, you know . . . he left just before the excitement. Pokey little auto-drive car; he'll have to get something much more upscale before he runs for office again. Epru was there, humph! A Oner, in industry. Gyev and Enle, such a nice young couple. Oh, your cousin Axse was there, waiting for his autodrive. Do you think I ought to introduce him to some of the younger set? He seems so alone."

  "Aunt Xeus has that well in hand, thank you."

  "Well, she ought to include you in that as well. What are you? Fifty? And never married?"

  "Fifty's young for a Oner." Ox cleared his throat and looked at his note pad.

  "Oh, sorry. Aqmo was there, and where he found that hideous woman! The dress was so outdated, the shoes positively institutional. And Rappy, of course, Ymti's wife. Then Ytta and his date. Cute pair of little puppies, I don't think either of them is over twenty. I haven't the faintest idea what her name is. Clostuones, you know. Ytta's mother used to clean for my aunt."

  Ox gratefully realized that was the end of the list. I'm going to have to interview them all. Or send minions.

  "Thank you so much, I won't take any more of your time."

  Back in his car, Ox quickly connected to the grid, and the incident site. Ymme, who had been sent off to hobnob with the younger set, had dropped in one report and was now back out in the field to pick up more eye witness accounts. Uqpy had interviewed the chauffeur.

  "Ebsa Clostuone, aged fifteen. No driver's license, his mother is Ymti's cook. Ymti drafted him for the night, to look more classy. The boy was allowed to drive the last mile to the reunion, then go park. He said Mr. Ymti was going to drive most of the way home, and sat in the front seat to make sure he didn't run over anyone in the driveway. The boy says that when 'that drunk' staggered out right in front of him, he hit the brake. He claims that Ymti stuck his foot out, reached and stomped on the gas, trying to also hit the brake.

  "When asked if he knew the man, he said he recognized him only after he'd gotten out of the car. Questioned as to how well he knew the victim, he said he'd only spoken to him once. Then he burst into tears and said that Ogto was his father."

  "Huh. That's all I need. Yet another suspect."

  "He said Ymti had been drinking, his breath smelled. Said he was worried the man was going to insist on driving himself."

  "Heh. Which of them drove?"

  "The wife took over."

  Ox grinned. "At least until they were out of sight. So . . . was he drunk enough to give into an impulse to kill? And why Ogto? Availability, or did he so dislike the man that he was unable to resist an opportunity when it was waved under his nose?"

  Uqpy shook his head. "Sitting up front with the chauffeur? That's either drunkenness or premeditation."

  Ox sat back and thought about that. The old gossip was right about the chauffeur. Go figure. Now I just have to wonder if Ymti might have also had a motive . . . of course, the car didn't kill him. Even if it might have kept him from getting to his own car, and the epinephrine.

  Ymme's synopsis of several interviews matched the old gossip's, give or take where the observer was at the time.

  Right. Enough background. Time to interview. . . someone involved. Perhaps I'll start with Bruno.

  Bruno was drinking. But on his feet and reasonably articulate. He laughed at the standard warning. "Why the hell would I off the stupid fool?" He swayed as he dismissed the possibility with a broad swing of arm and hand. "I went out for a smoke. And to feel sorry for myself. And the old girlfriend. One, she was incredible when she was sixteen. Glow like a lighthouse and happy. It was contagious, being around her. You'd walk away thinking you could do anything. Damn that was depressing seeing her try to not limp, and her right hand just wasn't working right. Made me want to cry, so of course I said the wrong thing and she went away, looking like she was going to cry."

  "Tell me about the last time you went off to smoke."

  Bruno shrugged. "First thing I saw was the gate closing. Then Og staggered out from the bushes to the left and, well, I thought he'd had a little nookie. I mean, he was dressed, but he hadn't got his shirt tucked in . . . Then I thought he was attacking me. Running and staggering, not saying anything. I dodged, but he staggered into me. Then I could see he was having trouble breathing, so I dragged him back through the door and called for help." He stopped for another swig of beer. "He shoved off and staggered across the room and out the door. What the hell. I walked across, everyone kept asking me what was going on—the party was starting to wrap up, so the crowd was getting thin." He stared down into his beer. "By the time I went out, everyone was saying he was dead. Couple of his exes were there, everyone was talking about the one that had stalled out divorcing him. Saying she'd killed him for his money."

  "Did you know the wife?"

  "Nah, she was too old. Her little sister . . . " He drained his beer. "Princess school. She'd have gone off anyway."

  "I heard she could have killed him." Ox tried to keep that neutral.

  Bruno laughed. "I'm an athlete. I know all about trying to hide injuries. I saw how she moved. Rael's toast, as far as anything physical is concerned. And after a year? She's done healing. Makes me wonder why I'm so upset over a few aches and pains."

  "Thank you. I would appreciate your not talking to anyone about this."

  "Right. Got enough worries of my own."

  Ox walked back to his car, thinking hard. "I saw the gate closing."

  The gate that leads to a walk along the property boundary. And a hundred meters or so away from beehives in an orchard with no fence. To the right, a short walk to the front of the building. So, if someone left the patio . . . they could easily join the group under the portico, gawping at the dying man.

  So. Who was out there. I'll get Ymme to hunt that down. Who was with whom, who was seen walking out the front doors, and who might have walked up from the side.

  And the man's paperwork, the bank, a stockbroker without a doubt. Find out how much money is involved, here.

  He had had previous wives, as well. I'll have to find out if any of them profited, or thought they would profit.

  The
usual. Follow the money, find the killer.

  Tiyf Withione was Ogto's second wife. "That bitch! Ogto didn't have much income—but that house! It's worth millions. Possibly tens of millions. So very convenient that he died before she could divorce him! She shamed him with those bastards! Twins! If there were justice in this world, she would never inherit! Never! And I've got an appointment with a lawyer to talk about how to stop that bitch cold."

  Right. The vultures are circling, looking for money.

  But the likelihood that she'd gain through his death? Close to zero, and she knows it. I think I can write her off, as a suspect.

  "Where were you when Ogto died?"

  She winced. "I was inside, chatting with a friend. We heard the fuss and went out. It was such a shock! Ogto, lying there!"

  "Did he have any health issues, that you knew about?"

  "You mean his heart? He was perfectly healthy while I was married to him! He should have lived for another century."

  Ogto's first wife was living in India, and indifferent to the news. "Well, it's not like my allowance was very large. It's just the prestige of being able to say 'My four allowances' when showing off the children that I finally had. A backhanded way of pointing out how high one's numbers are, and how excellent the current husband. Without being so gauche as to actually mention numbers. No doubt I shall dine out on the news, especially if it's very scandalous."

  Another non-suspect.

  "Did he have any health issues, that you knew of?"

  "Investigator, please! That was thirty years ago! He was a healthy young man. Well, he was allergic to bee stings, but you wouldn't be calling me like this if he'd just gotten stung, now would you?"

  "No ma'am."

  Axse Withione was the president of the Local War Party chapter. One of the three men with access to the money. One of only two, now.

  "Full time? Don't be absurd. The pay is paltry, pretty much just in lieu of paying our expenses. We all have real jobs. Careers. We're professionals. You know damn well and good I'm a lawyer. Ogto is . . . was . . . an accountant. He consulted. Independent financial audits were his specialty." The man frowned. "That old house must have needed a lot of upkeep. And he was paying for three ex or nearly ex wives. He never mentioned family money, but then a lot of people don't. He's had nice new cars the last few years, he got a new one six months ago, apparently pretty expensive, but not obviously ostentatious. I thought he was doing well. Are you implying that he acquired money illegally? From the War Party accounts?"

  "We have no idea. Perhaps an independent financial audit is what we need."

  Axse snorted. "Ogto audited banks and stock brokers. If there's anything bent about those funds, you'll never find it. He was the best."

  "I . . . see. Well, getting back to the reason for this visit, can you explain to me the receipt and disbursement of the War Party funds?"

  "It's very straightforward. All donations go straight into a single account. Then either spent or invested and spent later. We—the five committee members— vote electronically for who we will give direct financial support to, and who will get mentioned in our press releases. This is mostly a rubber stamp issue. We'll make up a list of Party members running for office, how much to give each one—usually determined by the level of the office they're running for—and vote it up or down. Don't recall it ever getting defeated, but sometimes one of us will know about special circumstances and suggest increasing the funds for one candidate or another." He shrugged. "Division-wide and Imperial positions get most of the attention."

  "And money?"

  "Of course."

  Chapter Ten

  Monday, 14 Safar 1398

  "Monday morning, or afternoon. Whatever. One, I wish I could say I'd imagined the week end."

  Dad snorted. "That's going to be quite a mess. You know half the problem is your reputation, Rael."

  Rael grinned. "Really? Am I supposed to be on a vendetta, killing every War Party member who crosses my path?"

  Mom tsked. "Well, they do say things are still a bit stiff in Paris."

  Rael sighed. A year in the hospital, watching too many news vids. I swore once I got out I wasn't going to every watch another vid . . . and I haven't. It's like I left Paris and instantly reverted to a hick. "Well, there have always been conflicts. It's mostly that bad now because the War Party is defensive and feeling a bit put upon."

  Raod hunched her shoulders. "Ogto just . . .managed the party accounts, he didn't worry much about the . . . oh, Paris scene, or even take sides in the District."

  Rael eyed her, a bit worried. "The most likely motives are money and jealousy. If he was planning on marrying . . . I wonder if the woman had any other boyfriends. Who is she?"

  "Coyg? Humph! Didn't you meet her at the party?"

  "Not when I was sober enough to remember."

  Double sighs from the parents.

  She dressed for the gym and called a taxi to take her to Mr. Zip's torture chamber.

  "Tsk! Red eyes, no energy. Into ze vat with you."

  But he wasn't too brutal, and she actually felt more energetic after a nap and shower. A late lunch, and looking at the time, down to the beach.

  The boy didn't show. She forced herself to do her solitary katas and meditation.

  She ignored her police shadow.

  And thought.

  Who is Raod protecting? I can't see her killing for money, so why not talk about the father of those babies . . . unless it really is Endi, Xen, dammit! I can see her protecting their reputation against all comers. Once the glow of those heroics wears off, Xen's children are going to face tons of prejudice. I hear hints of it already. "Natives!" "Halfers at best, don't care what the test results are!"

  Alternately, Raod could have a married lover with ambitions. I'll keep my ears open for divorces underway. Because that old house is worth a ton of money.

  And Raod . . . I need to make sure the police aren't . . . overlooking anything.

  Because I'm sure she didn't do it.

  But with someone killing . . . she walked three blocks to a liquor store and bought a bottle of red wine. A brass pocket flask caught her eye, and she bought it as well. At home, she rummaged in the kitchen for a corkscrew and funnel. Took it all upstairs and filled the old bottle that might still have nano meds in it.

  And I haven't a clue how long it might take, or even if it's still any good . . . She wet a fingertip and touched it to her tongue. Nothing . . . then it hit like a train. She flushed, panted . . . fought a desire to run downstairs and see if one of those cute policemen were hanging around, or whats-his-name the gardener, or any stranger on the street. . . "One! Who the bloody One Hell made that aphrodisiac spell? An eighteen year old virgin? Male or female? Somebody wasn't getting enough!"

  She filled her new flask, and eyed the funnel.

  Took it down to the kitchen and incinerated it in the oven, very much to the disapproval of the cook. But she wasn't about to risk getting that wine in any food. She dropped the bubbled and half melted plastic in a trash, and tossed the cook an apologetic smile.

  Raod was on her comm, looking a bit harried. "Funeral arrangements. Apparently My last duty to the husband I left a year and a half ago. I got the head of the local War Party to agree to speak. The less forward I am, the less likely there will be a scene."

  "Was Ogto a Muslim? Or enough that he ought to be buried today?"

  "No. So at least I don't have to try bribing a funeral director for priority. Not to mention harangue the police about releasing the body." Her voice was high and tight by the time she stopped speaking, and she blinked back tears, trying to not cry. "I tried, Rael. I never married anyone I didn't like and I tried to be at least a pleasant companion. But none of them seem to appreciate it. I hate this stupid game. Why the One hell did I ever think it was exciting? A daring adventure?"

  "I don't know, Sis." I always thought it amazingly stupid.

  ***

  She retreated to her room to read the po
lice reports. And I didn't even have to get rude to gain access to them. I wonder if they called Urfa? She got on grid for a bit of a search. And to request some information from the experts at the Princess School.

  So, how's that go? Motive, means, opportunity? Something like that?

  The police have both Raod and me on their list. I think I'll leave us off.

  Anyone at the reunion had the means and the opportunity.

  Well, the actinicide would be hard to come by. Well, a lot of princesses have it on hand. I wonder if there's any on the black market . . . or police evidence rooms? Not that the Investigator had any reason to kill him.

  I think the incident with the car we can write off as spur of the moment. And the police know who was driving . . .

  So, it's all a matter of access to actinicide for the one murder attempt, and well, motive?

  Bees. I have zero experience with bees. But I recognized the hives for what they were. Now obviously no one there was wearing one of the bee suits with all the netting and so forth. But I've heard something about smoke being used to quiet the bees. Does tobacco smoke work? So are we looking for a smoker who knows about the patio . . . who knows that Ogto smokes? Who managed to catch a couple of bees in a plastic egg, possibly with the aid of smoke, and managed to not get stung anywhere it would show.

  She contemplated investigating the murder by seducing all the suspects, or at least getting them out of their clothes. "Umm, don't think so."

  She checked her mail and got a refresher lecture on actinicide from her old instructor.

  Made a list of everyone she could remember seeing at the reunion.

  Pitifully short, considering the five thousand or so people who had been there.

  Impressive, though. Governor, mayor, sports superstar, chief of police, councilman's aide . . .

  I should find an excuse to look up Ruskie. Nice man, good looking. Check him for smoking habits and two day old bee stings.