Dancer (Wine of the Gods Book 15)

by Pam Uphoff

  Rael frowned. "Were we still dating then?"

  "Gah! You're even worse now than you were then! I surrender!" He thumped his chair back and stalked away.

  "Humph!" Rael looked back down at her pad. "Blank as my mind."

  The waitress brought her sandwich out. "Was that really Bruno? He's so cute!"

  Rael snickered. "Yeah. He's one of those forks in the road that I never took. I don't know if that was a good idea or a bad one."

  "A bad one!" A squeaky male voice.

  Rael turned carefully. Twisting was still not . . . easy. Yep. Kitchen.

  "It's a little early for school to be out, isn't it?"

  He rolled his eyes as he circled the table to take Bruno's seat. "I can't believe you ignored Bruno making a pass at you. In fact I think he made three of them."

  "And you're too young to know about that."

  "Well, I'm too young to not get laughed at. But I didn't think anyone would ignore a pass like that. Wow! Pretty impressive for someone who seems to think she's a mess."

  "I am a mess." She flagged the waitress. "Menu for the truant? Thanks." She started in on her own sandwich. Well, there's that fork in the road again. Pity it's still not the fork I want.

  "Now, how am I going to catch this murderer?"

  The boy shook his head.

  "Right. What's your name, anyway?" She pressed a button on the side of the pad. Record. There's probably a law against it.

  "Ebsa Clostuone."

  "So, tell me everything you saw at the party."

  "I didn't hit him!"

  "Yeah, it sure sounded like it was Ymti giving it a good try. Would have just bruised him, if someone else hadn't already gotten to him. Anyhow, before that, you were stuck out in the parking lot. Could you see down the length of that sidewalk along the front?"

  The boy shrugged. "Sure. But I wasn't paying much attention. Well, I saw you come staggering out and grab a cab. You were really plowed."

  "Did you see my sister?"

  "Yeah, she walked by, didn't call her car. Are you guys as old fashioned as Ymti?"

  "No, we've got autodrive, she probably just didn't want to hang around the front door and wait until all the other people's cars had come and gone."

  "Yeah, I can see that, there were a lot." He heaved a deep sigh. "By the time Ymti came out, the crowd had started thinning down. I saw him coming and started the car. He sat beside me and kept talking and talking . . . I knew what to do! He's the one who stepped on the gas pedal!"

  "Yeah, so I heard. When you pulled into the driveway, did you have to stop and wait for other cars?"

  "Yeah, but just for a minute."

  "Who was out front? How many, just sort of describe them, if you don't know their names."

  He wrinkled his nose. "I dunno, a dozen people, maybe? Well, there was a big black car, and some fat lady in this huge white fur coat being helped in. Or maybe she wasn't fat, it could have just been the coat. And then a little gray car. This man walked up and got in. When the black car went, he was right behind it. I pulled up." His voice got high and strained. "A guy staggered out, I thought he was drunk. I hit the brakes, I wasn't hardly moving anyway. And Ymti yelled 'watch out' and shoved half over into my seat and stomped his foot down, right on the gas! It wasn't my fault!"

  "No, it wasn't, and the car didn't hit him hard enough to kill him. Back up, just a bit, though, will you? The guy that got into the gray car? Where did he come from? Was he in the crowd, waiting?"

  "Look, all the men there were in tuxedos, half of them black. I think the gray car guy was the guy who was, umm, north? On the side of the crowd away from the parking lot. He was pacing up and down the sidewalk on that side, well, somebody was pacing, until his car came." He curled a lip. "Two year old Apico one point five liter. They make them with all the fancy stuff, but the engine's pathetic. Might as well drive a golf cart."

  "What is it with men and cars? Figures you could describe the ride, but not the driver. Back to the crowd. What did you see? Ymti's wife?"

  "Yeah . . . that drunk . . . Ogto, sort of shoved her aside as I drove up. A couple of other people stepped out of her way as she staggered. Then . . . well I put the car in park and turned it off and got out." He gulped. "And, and, it was him. My father."

  ". . . Right." Rael bit her lip. "Think back to when you just thought Ogto was a drunk. Which way was he trying to go?"

  The boy blinked, shrugged. "I was driving. I wasn't looking at the sidewalk, until I glanced over to see if I could see Madam Rappy, and I saw the drunk push her." The waitress slid a sandwich in front of him, and he dug in like he was starving.

  "Huh. Well, have you told the police about the people you saw out there? Well. I guess they asked you all about it."

  He swallowed. "No they didn't. It was all, 'Why did you kill him, Kid? Your own father.' Like he was more than a name to me? My mom gets a tiny pittance from him, for proving his virility. The one time I talked to him, about would he pay college tuition, I thought he was going to smack me." He hunched his shoulders. "Nasty old miser. Momma warned me."

  "Humph. Let's go talk to the cops, and make sure they've got all your observations."

  He wolfed down the rest of his sandwich and followed her.

  Kitchen . . . Ebsa . . . did not look real happy to have been dragged into the police HQ complex. The Senior Investigator was looking a bit dubious about her dragging the boy up to talk to them, as well.

  But he talked again about what he'd seen, waiting for hours in the car. They took him back over times, several times. And sent Rael away. She wandered around the floor, then walked back."

  "Well, he was . . . he looked like all the rest of the men. Black suit. Tux, whatever. White shirt. His hair was dark . . . I don't think . . . I didn't think of him as either young or really old. He was just . . . one more guy."

  Ahxe nodded. "But pacing on the sidewalk, just then . . . we need to find out who he is, as a witness at the least. Right. Let's go look at some pictures." He eyed Rael. "Thank you, Princess."

  She grinned at the pointed dismissal. "All you have to do is find out which suspects have a small gray car. Kid? Monday. After school."

  And her list was still empty. I refuse to start the list with (1) Raod for money and (2) Kitchen out of anger at not being acknowledged. (3) Bruno over blackmail.

  I wonder what he's done that he could be blackmailed with? And I don't see how Ogto could have found out. So Bruno's problems are probably separate, his grudge with someone else.

  Kitchen? I suppose he could have been peeking in at the party, seen Ogto head out to the smoking patio, run and grabbed some bees . . . after having grabbed one of those plastic egg things out of the trash, gone down the side of the building, lucked out and found Ogto alone. Dumped the bees down Ogto's back, and run like the wind back to the car to be there when Ymti came out? Maybe I should ask Ymti if the kid was out of breath.

  One damn it all!

  Raod knew about the bee sting allergy.

  But she didn't do it.

  So . . . where can I go to pick up gossip?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wednesday, 16 Safar 1398

  There were lots of Christians around Montevideo. Even more than the Old Islamics. She'd had a brief fling with religiousness at, what thirteen? Her mother had rolled her eyes and Dad had grumbled something about ". . . at least not some cult . . . " It had only lasted six weeks or so, although she'd attended a few other times, off and on.

  But the Church of Saint Peter had been a hotbed of gossip among the old women. Rael went home and ransacked her closet for clothing that could add up to something close to modest, a shawl over her head, and slid out.

  Wednesday evening was choir practice night. And also various clubs. I wonder if the knitters still meet on Wednesdays? And the teen service club?

  The sanctuary was open. She sat quietly and listened as a few women whisked about, putting things in order, dusting. Chatted about their children.

&n
bsp; She studied the beautiful old church. Remembered coming here as a troubled teenager. It had always been full of people and peace. Always calmed her down and made it easier to control the spikes of magic as she dealt with both puberty and her awakening power all at once. No wonder I always liked it here.

  Her eyes went to the cross. The One had . . . stepped out of nowhere, and taken over Islam. The modern interpretation was that they were cross dimensional explorers, marooned in the middle of a war, and jumping in on the side that hadn't instantly opened fire on them, killing two of them. When they'd taken over Christian areas, like most of South America, they'd preached tolerance toward a religion with the same roots, promising they would all merge peacefully, in time. It hadn't happened yet, but everyone did seem to rub along fairly peacefully. As a Princess, as a Dancer for the One, I have served the One True God. Or perhaps I just serve the hive mind that the Prophets and their most powerful descendants created. I don't know which religion has the details right. I don't really care about the details.

  If there's any deity out there, thank you for my life. I wasn't ready to die.

  She got up and walked out to the gardens. Several groups of people clumped, chatting with friends as whatever had brought them here ended. A covey of girls over there, sneaking looks at the young men down the path.

  The young men shut up with nudges as two women walked past. Gang members, or just boys talking about girls in ways their mamas wouldn't like?

  The women, now . . .

  ". . . Marcy was there, and she said the wife must have killed him. Or the sister-in-law, to help her sister."

  "An actual trained Princess!"

  A supercilious sniff. "I heard the wife cheated on him, and had twins. Serves her right."

  This isn't doing me any good. I need eyewitnesses, not rehashed rumors.

  But Rael walked around a bit more, caught a few more comments, and some sidelong glances, a few nudges. Because she was a stranger, or because she'd been recognized?

  She strolled back toward the male clumps. The men were talking sports. The boys shot suspicious glances her direction and drifted away.

  Well, as ideas went, this was a bust. But even so, a peaceful way to spend the evening.

  ***

  Ox finished combing his list of known "interested parties." The standard enquiries had the usual addresses, phone numbers, employers, vehicles registered in their names, marriages and divorces, all from the public record. Plus news tidbits, which often mentioned political affiliations, names that were mentioned in conjunction with the person-of-interest more than once and so forth. It was notably lacking in small gray cars. He growled at the list. "Damned successful lot of people. Maybe one of their over-priced beauties broke down and they borrowed a car from their cook or something."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thursday, 17 Safar 1398

  After three frustrating days, Ox knew where Raod's third and fourth husbands had been the entire time. He'd found a complete lack of ticket purchases on her cards and accounts. Airport ID checks had nothing until six hours after the assassination attempt. Gotten a court order so that Raod's divorce lawyer would open his records. Raod had been on schedule for an ordinary "Games" divorce, until her sister's life threatening injury had hit.

  The lawyer shrugged. "I just put it aside. Neither party seemed to be in a rush."

  Rael, on the other hand, had been discharged from the hospital and taken a cab straight to the airport. Flown here, arriving on the last day of Hija. Less than four months ago.

  Last Fall, when I thought my biggest problem was the increased Dream usage.

  And, of course, it still is. It still takes more lives in a week than we lose to any number of murders in a month. One Hell, it isn't even that addictive.

  Ox frowned at the folder full of financial statements. So, Ogto started getting more money about five years ago, and slowly increased that unknown stream of revenue until he had a veritable torrent of money coming in. From no known source. Do I have hold of my drug problem by the other end? Violence and drugs go hand-in-hand. But where would an auditor fit in? And with whom? And then a falling out with . . . whom?

  He brought up his list of witnesses. Checked off two more and headed out to talk to yet another. The man in the gray car was proving to be elusive.

  ***

  "It started five years ago. The only other big change in his life was marrying Raod. The first trickle of money started six months later." Ox scowled. "I need someone to go gossip with men, find out what he was saying about his wife."

  Puppy looked wistfully at the door.

  "No. You aren't getting out of this. Go ask Mrs. Raod for a list of the servants at the house when she first married Ogto, and all the changes. Then go chat with them. Get chummy. Find out what they overheard. Did she spend too much money? Was she frugal? Were they a warm couple at first, or was it strictly business? Ask if they got a raise when they had to take care of two people."

  Ox pulled up his notes. "If Ogto started getting money shortly after he married Raod, and was murdered within a couple of hours of having a public argument with her . . . maybe we ought to take a harder look at the people who overheard the argument."

  He tapped out the number on his com. "Madam Raod, could you drop by my office? I'd like to talk to you about a few matters."

  "You could have asked her on the comm." Ymme eyed him. "Which means you've either noticed she's easy on the eyes, or, knowing you, you want to see every twitch and reaction, because she's the main suspect."

  "Yummy? Go interview Ytta Withione . . . what the heck's the rest of it . . . "

  Ymme snorted. "He's my cousin. I can't get him to shut up about it. He was looking down his date's neckline and didn't notice a thing until people started screaming. Then he was looking down at Ogto, not taking notes about who was there and what they were doing."

  "Go make him jealous. Interview his girlfriend."

  ***

  "Quote: 'That man was so stingy, I was only part time. With the size of that place! Mrs. Raod, now there was a nice lady! All bright eyed and trying to be nice, trying to be cuddly. Huh, didn't see the first two wives making an effort that way! But Mrs. Raod got me took on full time and hired a maid to do the ordinary work. At least when she left, Mr. Ogto didn't cut back our hours. And he bought another new car, so he wasn't hurting for money, like before.'" Puppy thumped his pad down. "Maybe we ought to check out how much money the widow's got, on her own. Maybe she killed him so she didn't have to pay him maintenance."

  Ox laughed out loud. "Like a rich matron on Homestead? Now that would be an interesting native custom to import. So how about the gardener? Surely that place had more than one?"

  "They had a lawn service. Anto's. No one there knew Ogto personally. He never came out. They said one of the wives would, occasionally. I asked why they thought Ogto never came out. They said he was just another rich snob, but so long as he paid his bill, they'd happily mow, pull weeds, trim bushes, and get drunk on their pay."

  Madam Raod came alone. Even in casual clothes she was gorgeous. Deep green eyes and her silky red-blonde hair in a bun that displayed the elegant neck to advantage.

  Ox hauled his mind back to business. "You had an argument with your husband, at the Reunion. Tell me who overheard it?"

  "It was hardly an argument, just a brief snippy exchange. Rael came up and glowed at the men and insulted three quarters of them, so I could retreat in good order."

  "And who heard this minor snipping?"

  She heaved a sigh. "Itsu and Eglo were both there. Umm, Irqy, the Chief of Police. Some fellow named Axse and the businessman . . . I didn't catch his name. He's something in magifacturing, he said. " She frowned, counted on her fingers. "Rael made a snarky remark about only one useful man out of seven. I'm missing someone."

  Ox spread his collection of pictures out on the desk.

  "Ah. This guy." She picked up Ymti's photo, and then another. "And here's the magifacturer. There were othe
r people walking by and so forth, but the noise level was a bit high. I doubt anyone else heard."

  Ox glanced at the name on the back. Epru Withione Cuchilla Montevideo. "Thank you, Madam Raod. That was all I needed today." Six men to interview. Including my two levels up boss, and the Governor of Uruguay Division. One!

  He walked out to the motor pool, and found the manager mourning the evidence van.

  "We've cleaned everything, replaced all the fluids, replaced the bearings . . . the chips, the switches, the window motors and door locks. If we're lucky, it might last a year. We've almost got it back together." He eyed Ox. "Don't tell me, let me guess. You want an official car."

  "Yep. I'm calling on a frighteningly large number of high status witnesses."

  Ox took one look at the big black machine and called for a young patroller to play chauffeur for a day.

  Tiyf, Ogto's second wife, when asked specifically, told him that her friend had come by, laughing about Raod and her bastard twins. And yes, she had gone out immediately to rub Raod's nose in the fact that she knew. And she'd told everyone all about it. "Serves her right, the Bitch. She was probably already plotting to kill him. Better find out who the biofather is. She's probably going to murder his wife, next."

  He got the address of the friend, and got driven there in style.

  Not that she was impressed. Taul Withione Montevideo had just shrugged. "I was jogging in the park and saw Ogto heading for Raod. So I just sort of stopped behind some shrubberies, and . . . laughed my ass off. Silently, mind you. It was much too delicious to not share with Tiyf. I went straight over there."

  "I see. Thank you for your time, Miss." Ox walked away, a bit disappointed. No lead on where the gang might have moved their operations. But on the plus side, the Princess may have been mistaken, but she wasn't lying to us.