Alien Rites

by Lynn Hightower

  If he’d learned nothing else, David knew when to bide his time. “Where he was born, where he grew up … how the two of you got along.”

  The last one stirred her, and she flipped her hair back over her shoulder and balled her hands into fists.

  “Luke was the sweetest, caringest son a mama could ever have. We had those teenage-year problems, but all families do, rich or poor, Detective. He sassed me some, and he stayed out late, and he let his schoolwork slide. But he made it to college. Luke is what you call a survivor. Always lands on his feet. He works hard, and he tries to give me money all the time. Makes him mad ’cause I won’t take it, but he’s got tuition to pay, discs, and books.”

  “So he’s generous,” David said, pretending to make a note. And he thought, again, of the car.

  “Always trying to give me something.”

  David scratched his cheek. “Is he working his way through school?”

  She nodded, shoulders back. “And you must know how hard that is. Not every boy would work so hard. Last time I saw him, he was so tired he couldn’t eat. Came for dinner, then fell asleep watching the TV. And that was eight o’clock at night. We’re talking about a boy who likes to stay up late and have his fun—falling asleep by eight at night.”

  “What does your son do?” David asked.

  She was still wrapped up with the martyred child, and at first did not comprehend the question. “What do you mean, what does he do? For fun, you mean, or—”

  “For a living. How is he working his way through school? Are you helping him?”

  “No. I wish I could, but I barely pay my own bills. It gets down to groceries some weeks.” Her voice was soft and hard to hear.

  “Does Luke have a job?”

  Her chin lifted, but she would not meet his eyes, and her skin went dark pink across her cheeks.

  “Ma’am?”

  “He works, yes.”

  “Where?”

  “At school. The university. Some kind of work-study program.”

  “What does he do?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Lab work, I think, for one of the teachers. I don’t know the ins and outs; I didn’t get my high-school diploma.”

  David studied her, letting the silence fill the room. With or without the high-school diploma, she was an intelligent woman, and shrewd. It was an old trick she was using, one that probably worked well. Her accent was thick, her hands callused, that hungry look in her eyes eloquent. People would let her get away with playing dumb.

  “Mrs. Cochran, I’m a little …” David hesitated, scratched his head. “I guess I’m puzzled, so maybe you can help me out.” Two playing dumb, went the voice in his head. “I have to say I’m impressed that he’s got the stuff to work his way through school, and I admire that. I’m sure you’ve raised a fine boy.”

  She chewed a lip, the trace of a nervous smile coming and going.

  “But how can he afford tuition and books, and a car as expensive as the one he had? How can he afford to offer you money?”

  In a split second, she was up out of the chair, leaning over him. “I didn’t say I took his money. He’s got a job at the school. And sometimes I do give him something.” She went red again, to the roots of her hair. “What are you trying to say, anyhow?”

  He shook his head at her slowly, and she took a step backward and bit her lip. Overreacting, David thought. He was on the right track.

  “I’m not trying to say anything, Mrs. Cochran. It’s an expensive car, that’s all.”

  “He didn’t steal it.”

  “Of course not. Sit down, please.”

  “Why should I sit down? Why should I let you make him out to be some kind of bad guy? My boy disappeared, he’s been gone for days, not a call, not a note, not a message.” David saw the tears film her eyes, and he felt tired suddenly, muscles tight and achy.”

  “Please, Mrs.—”

  She sat down suddenly. “When he was two years old I used to take him to the park every day before lunch. And if he’d fall off the slide or get hurt on the swing, he’d come running across that playground and grab my knees.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “It was me he needed, his mama, and back then I could make it all better. But kids grow up, and they quit looking at you like you’re the one person who has all the answers. And I don’t. I don’t have all the answers. How come you don’t ask me about any of the good stuff?”

  “I’m asking you right now.”

  “What?”

  “About the good stuff. Tell me.”

  He saw it in her face, the urge to sit and indulge in an orgy of stories about her son. But she shook it off, the temptation, and David felt disappointment and relief.

  “I got nothing else to say.”

  That in itself was interesting. “I see.”

  “I mean that. Can I go, please?”

  David nodded. “If you decide you have more time to talk, here’s my card. Just ask, it’ll tell you the number.”

  She took the card, nodded stiffly.

  David looked at the pile of candy. “Nobody here eats much chocolate,” he lied. “You might as well take those along.”

  He had meant to be kind, but it was the wrong thing to say.

  Tina Cochran lifted her chin. “Thanks, but I couldn’t. And I can read your card, it doesn’t have to talk.”

  David watched her go, wondering if Luke Cochran was dead or alive, and in what particular flavor he was dirty.

  TWENTY

  David sat alone in the conference room, thinking. He did not feel well. He was hot all over, had an odd tightness in his chest. Tired, he decided, and got up to leave, colliding with Della in the hallway.

  “David? I been looking for you. Mel just got back from the lab.”

  Something in her voice stopped him cold. “Miriam?”

  “Definite match. Blood from her and from Cochran.”

  “Okay. Get Mel down here. Grab String.” He felt a throb of pain like a noose tightening around his temples, and he grabbed the door handle.

  Della was halfway down the hallway. “We’re not on the schedule for C, Silver, let’s move our stuff upstairs.”

  “Just get them,” David said. He took a breath. Coffee, he thought. He and Mel could use a pot.

  “It’s what we expected, Mel.” David handed him a cup of coffee. His partner was stiff-shouldered, movements slow and jerky, mind everywhere but there.

  Mel looked at the cup of coffee. “No thanks.” He took a sip.

  “Sugar?” David asked.

  “Black is fine.” Mel took another swallow, folded his hands on the table. Stared at his sleeves.

  The door opened and String slid through, the door catching his bottom fringe and scattering scales.

  “Have talk to this Capering Sam in the lab of bits of bone.” David winced, but Mel did not register. “And this blood of the Miriam is in quantities very small.”

  Della put her fingertips together, spotted the chocolate, gave it a second look, then turned to Mel. “The car hit the guardrail, so she’s banged up just a little. Chances are good she’s still alive.”

  Mel’s voice was flat. “If she’s still alive, where the hell is she? Lookit. She’s supposed to meet this Cochran kid and Annie Trey. Why at night like that, after dark?”

  Della shrugged. “Annie works, Luke is in school. Miriam herself is on leave and working out of her apartment and the university lab.”

  “But why meet with them? She’s going out of channels, talking directly to them like that. Something funny there; something’s not right.”

  “Is the funny odd, yes please.” String was still this morning, not jittering around. Mel and the Elaki were both weirdly calm, while David could hardly bear sitting still. His back ached, and he shifted his weight. He shivered.

  “David?” Della said.

  He looked up dully.

  “It is funny about that. Her talking out of channels, like Mel said.”

  David moved sideways in his
chair. “She doesn’t seem to think Annie did it. I looked through some of the stuff at her desk, gave her computer discs to Sam. She seemed to be looking for a virus or a bacterium, as opposed to a toxin of some kind. So she must have already ruled poison out.”

  String’s eye prongs twitched. “What is thing that the Miriam could find to justify the nighttime meet? To talk to the Annie direct?”

  “What hospital Annie say she took her baby to?” Mel asked.

  “Meridian branch of University,” Della said.

  David looked at String. “Your chemaki mate still working in the ER?”

  “Yes, Aslanti work all the hours, but this is at Bellmini Hospital.”

  “Yeah, but I bet she hears the scuttlebutt. She familiar with the Trey case?”

  “Much of the gossip, no fact.”

  “Which is?”

  String slid back and forth across the floor. “That baby die very sick, very fast, of no known disease. That poison not be detected, but odd bodily damage found. Still trying to detect source. Some weird hush hush, no one can be understood. People discouraged from getting the involvement, when opposite would normally be. But medical opinion is that the autopsy be for the benefit of mother, to prove innocence. Doctors do not think she be culpriting here. Dissatisfaction with media big and fat.”

  “So nobody on the medical side thinks Annie Trey was involved?” Della asked.

  “This is just said,” String replied.

  David rubbed his eyes. “Give Aslanti a call, tell her we’re coming over. Sweet-talk her, String. Maybe she can save us some time, if she’s willing. Della, how goes the background on the Cochran boy?”

  “Still on it. What I got so far is school schedule, finances, like that.”

  “And?”

  She picked up a chocolate bar, unwrapped it slowly. “Grew up hard, he and his mother. He was into some small-time scrapes. Nothing real nasty, just kind of an operator. You know, the kid who steals your hubcaps and sells them back to you. He’d take the credit tally out of your wallet, but mail back the pictures of your kids.”

  “Old habits die hard,” Mel said.

  David nodded. “What about finances?”

  “Preliminary shows he’s the typical starving student.”

  Mel looked up. “How’d he afford the car?”

  “That’s what I want to know. Della, look into that job he had at the university, see what they pay.”

  “They pay him enough for a car like that; I’m applying.”

  “String,” David said. “That business last night in Elaki-Town. What was going on there? You got any idea?”

  “Hard to be of the sureness. Much tension, odd behavior.”

  “Let’s say we don’t believe in coincidence,” Mel said. “We got Cochran’s car on the exit ramp leading to Elaki-Town. Miriam gone. Elaki weird shit all around.”

  “Eloquent,” Della said.

  David swallowed. His throat was sore. “Any idea what the connection could be?”

  “None in the hereafter,” String said. “Must go to see, and carefully.”

  “Can we use uniforms on the legwork?” Mel asked.

  String cocked an eye prong. “No. Must be calling Walker for help.”

  “Walker?” David looked at Mel.

  Mel rolled his eyes. “Walker? No. Please. Nada.”

  “There’s got to be another way,” Della said.

  “She has connections out of the kazoo.”

  “Wazoo,” Mel said.

  String twitched an eye prong. “Whatever.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  David braced himself just before string drove the van up onto the curb.

  “Will you please learn to parallel park?” Mel said.

  “This I have done.”

  “No. Parallel parking is beside the curb, not up on it.”

  David climbed out of the van. “Where’s Walker?”

  “Did not wish to arrive together. Will meet at taco shop. Must do this her way, the old sledgehammer.”

  David looked at Mel, who shrugged.

  “Isss human expression. To mean rough hard difficult female unattractive.”

  Mel scratched his chin. “Let’s see. One word for—”

  “Battleax,” David said.

  “Kind of like working a crossword puzzle. Hey, David? You feeling okay?”

  David wiped a hand across his forehead. He was sweating—it was hot out, but he felt cold. “Yeah, fine.” He looked up and down the street, hoping the taco shop was close and he could sit. “String, did she say which taco shop?”

  “No, just the taco shop.”

  “I count three from where I stand. You sure she didn’t specify?”

  “No.”

  Mel groaned. “We’d have more luck going to Chinatown looking for a place that serves rice.”

  String waved a fin. “One by one to be the methodical.”

  “Can’t we just give her a call?”

  Elaki-Town was relatively safe in daylight hours, in the area between Cass Avenue and Nix Street. But the three of them stayed together, walking nonchalantly, keeping a watch on their backs.

  The walls were plastered with ads, all of them featuring Elaki selling human products—Elaki without hair selling shampoo, Elaki driving cars, Elaki wearing the latest sweatshirts from Gap Three.

  David heard an overwhelming grinding noise and the throb of a large diesel engine as an Elaki tourist boat rolled into the street, stopping traffic.

  “What the hell is that?” Mel said.

  The boat was red and black, lacquered prow shaped like a dragon. Rows and rows of Elaki crowded the sides, taking video cams. All of them wore red ball caps, identifying them as part of TOURS, RANGER-ROVER. The caps sat behind their eye prongs, and looked uncomfortable. Elaki loved ball caps.

  String slid sideways, shedding scales. “Elakitours—many crave the experience yachting. But water has the vice connotations, and Elaki do not do well with the wave roll. So a street-bottomed boat cruise of Elaki-Town, with a small exposure to pretend danger, is much to be desired.”

  “Looks like a Chinese junk,” David said.

  The boat passed and the three of them moved on. The streets were maintained fairly well, David decided, in this part of Elaki-Town. Not bad, considering the area—no doubt the Elaki influence. Walkways were narrow, alleys were lined in gravel for no reason David could fathom, and stores were more like stalls—tall, narrow, and crowded. They passed a noodle shop that smelled like cinnamon. An Elaki played an accordion in the middle of the sidewalk, eye prongs bent, scales missing, hide ragged. Someone had put a taco in his bowl. It was wrapped in paper with a logo that said TACO SHOPPE.

  David pointed. “A clue.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  They found walker standing outside the taco Shoppe, muttering something about fairy lights and doughnuts. She did not sound happy.

  Nothing new, David thought.

  Mel waved a limp hand. “Yo, Mama, how’s it hanging?”

  Walked hissed. “How is what hanging, Detective Burnett?”

  “Uh—”

  “As if I do not have the knowledge.”

  David sighed. This was not getting off to a good start.

  Mel squinted at her. “What is it you think you do not have the knowledge of?”

  “Is crude reference to drooping prongs.”

  Mel grinned. “More like drooping d—”

  “Mel,” David said.

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Let’s go inside.”

  David had forgotten that in an Elaki restaurant there would be no chairs. He leaned against the table while everyone went up to get tacos. The food smells made him nauseous, particularly the sweet and tart odor of lime and cinnamon that permeated any area frequented by Elaki. David swallowed hard and wondered if he could stand to watch them eat.

  He glanced around the restaurant. The establishments in Elaki-Town were unusual in that they employed Elaki for the scut work, instead of humans. This place
was not up to the usual standards of Elaki cleanliness. The walls had been slapped over with sandy-brown stucco. For some reason, the Formica tables were Pepto Bismol-pink—a popular color with the down-at-heel Elaki—a shade that seemed to give them the same muted comfort humans found in beige. The tables were high. The tabletop lined up with David’s shoulder blades, giving him a child’s eye view. He had to remind himself that he was not in a foreign country.

  Mel settled between Walker and String. He opened his taco, took a bite, made a face. Glanced over at David.

  “I know these guys put cinnamon in everything right down to their coffee and beer, but this is unbelievable. Take a bite.”

  David shuddered. “Can we get on with this?”

  Walker twitched an eye prong. “The human is sick.”

  David tapped a finger on the tabletop. “The human has a name. You can call me David, or Detective Silver, or sir. Don’t call me the human.”

  String skittered sideways. “Detective David is not up to the par, so will be somewhat the testicle.”

  “Testy,” Mel said. “I think the Elaki attempts comic relief.”

  String took a bite of taco. David noticed that the Elaki could eat them now without shattering the shell. It was a good indication of how long an Elaki had been on Earth. He hadn’t met one yet who did not love tacos. If they could eat without making a mess, they’d been around awhile.

  David looked at Walker. “You up to date at all with the Cochran situation?”

  “Ssssure, Detective David Silver, sir. I have no life’s work but to study you the caseload.”

  Mel wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You know, Walker, you could be the poster child that spearheads the drive to send every Elaki home. Put you in a couple vids, and donations will start pouring in.”

  Walker slid sideways, shedding scales, and David hid a smile. She would take Mel’s mind off his worries, if nothing else. He wondered why he was so tired, and why it felt so good to be still. Wondered if he was coming down with something awful.

  Old age?

  Mel took a drink of beer. “Okay. Cochran kid is in his dorm room, talking on the phone to his—”

  “I have knowledge for this, I live in the world.” Walker picked taco shell out of a breathing slit. “This girlfriend is the Annie Trey who has poisoned the little newborn pouchling.” Walker’s eye prong twitched. “So admirable the Mother-One.”