She got through her speech and then stepped to the side and made herself as small as possible. Since Nohar was centimeters from the door he flicked his ears and then nodded politely to her and pulled his bag out from under the seat, and the second out from the overhead. He was the first one out the door, ignoring the sighs of relief that he was gone.
The metal stairs were quickly behind him as he trotted to the terminal. He had only one piece of carryon luggage, his pistol case. It'd better be there too or he'd be pissed, he thought. They seriously didn't want him pissed. He yanked the door open with a little more force than required and then paused as his eyes adjusted to the interior.
His right eye was still acting up, but he had enough depth perception and of course his left eye was working just fine. He turned, and oriented on the sign with the arrow to baggage claim. He needed to get the gun and get out of here before he started picking up flack.
...*...*...*...*...
He checked the gun safe, still locked. He nodded and tucked it under his arm and headed for the exit. Now he needed a ride. Preferable a vehicle, but... he looked at the rental agency. Bikes mostly. The few automobiles they had were all rust buckets. Besides, their rates were terrible. He'd pass that on to his client but knew the damn neolion would balk at paying the full cost.
He had his gun in the safe not because of any concern for safety... okay maybe a little on the plane, but because of the humans. Humans were scared of Neofelines enough as it is, one packing heat would have them all scrambling to get a damn busy body flat foot to chase him down. He didn't need that.
Besides, theft was rampant on this planet, another reason to hate it. His gun safe had a tracker which he could use. He'd had to use it twice to get his gun back from would be thieves since he'd made landfall on this dirty mudball.
And the other reason to keep the gun in the safe? Hazard. Hodges wasn't thrilled about Neo's, and his pet Sheriff Rosco Coltrain was an even more pain in the ass. Get on their bad side even further and you'd best get out of town or they'd make sure you disappeared.
He turned, noting the palm trees and snorted. Palm trees, jungle trees... he waved flies away from his face. Yup, he was near the tropics. Ring City was a tourist trap, it got most of its traffic from snow birds in the late fall and winter. Now that it was mid spring they were probably shifting gears. He'd heard that someone with more money than sense had started a cruise ship line from Fisherman's Wharf to Ring City… another way to soak people out of their money. Whatever, he thought, looking around for and then spotting the bus stop. Lovely, he thought, making tracks for it.
Ring City was a loose city, tourist trap. People here dressed in shorts, tank tops, and other things. Flat foots and Detectives even wore shorts, it was just too hot not to. The city was much like some of the other Major cities, still not beyond the 20th century Earth mark. Wires were everywhere, phones and electricity may have made it to the city, but they weren't set up very well. In some parts of town not at all. Some had running water but no trash pickup. Others had sewer but no running water. Of course the places where the tourists stayed had all the comforts of home. And that was where Nohar headed to. Well, as close to the center of the city as he could get.
...*...*...*...*...
Once he had his baggage he settled onto the next task. He had a map of the city in his database, though it was a couple of years old, and had no labels. He oriented on his location and then headed to where he wanted to go, the center of the city. The center was most likely where the seat of power was, and it would also give him a central location from which to access any part of the city. He'd have a hell of a time orienting though, and didn't like the idea of trying to make contacts here.
When he got to the center of the city he turned, looking around. There weren't any hotels, which surprised him. An ancient mission, the local library, police headquarters, city hall... utilities, no hotel or motel. Businesses though, and parking garages. Concrete galore which both amused and annoyed him.
He turned, padding over to a local bus stop and then stared at a rather faded map-board. Someone had scrawled graffiti on it, which annoyed him, but he got the gist of it after he oriented on the 'you are here' star marker. Of course the thing had sites and Major businesses, no hotels. Dead end.
He thought about it. He'd been here before, but only briefly. He'd never actually stayed in the city, the case had been open and shut in under a day. There had been no need to check in. This case though... no he needed a hotel.
He spotted a diner nearby and headed to it.
“We don't serve your kind here kitty, best move along,” a cold blue eyed woman said from behind the bar. She had a set on her to say that to him.
“I'm just looking for information ma'am. I need a hotel or motel nearby,” he said.
She frowned. After a long moment of trying to stare him down she turned and spat. “Go up yonder, up second street, take a right on lime, 'nother right on lemon, and you'll find the ole Luxan.”
“Thank you ma'am,” he said nodding politely to her.
She grunted and muttered something about neos and polite Neo's. He ignored it and followed her directions.
...*...*...*...*...
The inn she had directed him to was a rundown dingy thing, not much to look at, all stone and brick, but home, he thought. He didn't need much, just a safe place to bed down and store his gear. He'd stayed in worse dives he thought, entering the building.
“Can I... oh my!” a Neocat said from behind the desk. He snorted. She was a Siamese mix, a domestic, short, under a 100 centimeters. A tiny little thing compared to him. “Um, you are a big boy,” she murmured wickedly. He snorted again.
“Thanks,” he murmured. “I'm looking for a room.”
“How long are you planning to stay?” she asked, flipping through a ledger concealed behind the counter. He shifted uncomfortably until she looked up expectantly.
“I honestly don't know. Put me down for a week,” he finally admitted. “If it's longer I'll let you know,” he said.
“Here on business?” she asked. He nodded. “Got the credits?” she asked. “We're not cheap, though we look it. Since we're at the center of things...” she shrugged helplessly.
“I've got it covered,” he said gruffly, pulling out credit coins from a pouch. He handed a gold over to her, worth 100 credits.
“That's enough for two days,” she said.
He sighed and pulled out 2 more and then a silver 50 marker. “And you'll need a deposit,” she said. He sighed and pulled out a fourth hundred marker. “Room service is not covered. I wouldn't advice it anyway, nasty food here,” she said.
“Glad you have company loyalty,” he chuffed, laughing. He flicked his ears in appreciation of her blunt honesty. The fingers of his good hand pushed the credit coins to her.
“Just saying it like it is,” she said, gathering the coins up. She plopped the ledger down onto the counter. “Sign the ledger,” she said, holding out a pen. He took the awkward thing and signed his name. She turned it and read it. “Nohar huh?”
“Yes' ma'am,” he said with a nod.
“Nice that' you've got manners, not everyone does around here. Well, I've put you in a ground suite. It's in the West wing. Sorry, the East wing is under renovation, she said with a helpless shrug.
“Okay,” he said warily.
“It gets hot in the afternoon. I wouldn't want to stay in one during the day. Sleep after dark,” she said. “Which shouldn't be a problem for a cat like you, out prowling.”
“Story of my life,” he admitted. “Safe?”
“Oh yes, ole Burney over there patrols every hour,” she said, pointing to a Neo grizzly well past his prime. Nohar turned to look. The bear was sprawled in a recliner with one hand paw on his considerable gut. He was out cold, mouth open catching flies. His tongue was hanging out one side. “He's on break,” she admitted.
“Right,” Nohar drawled, turning back to the cat. “I meant a safe. A place to store my va
luables,” he said putting one of his bags and his gun safe up on the counter.
“Oh, um, yes there is one in the room, a small one. It won't fit that. If you want, we can store it in the hotel safe but it's an extra fee...”
He sighed and handed the coin over to her. She smiled politely and reached for the items. He grunted and allowed her to take the bag but kept the gun safe for now.
“I'll give this to you later,” Nohar replied. He had a chore to do, a ritual he always preformed.
“Fine then, room is that way,” the feline said, pointing to his right. He nodded. She passed a room key over to him with a tag. The tag read room 81. "Great, Long walk", he thought to himself as he went. At least the veranda caught the early evening breeze, he thought, moving along.
...*...*...*...*...
In the room he settled his duffel onto the bed and then sat in the wooden chair with the gun safe in his lap. He keyed the lock with his implant and then opened it.
It had a vacuum seal which made a shushing sound as the seal was broken. He smiled at the contents inside. “Matilda,” he said softly, stroking the huge pistol.
Carefully he took it out and did a thorough cleaning, a ritual he'd done on all his tough jobs. Matilda was a custom Neo revolver with 50 caliber rounds. She'd put anything down, bear, cat, whatever, even a car's engine block. It was a custom job, one of two he had, the other was stored in a locker in Gotham.
He'd wanted to keep his plasma pistol but in order to get his planetary PI license he'd had to hawk the thing to pay for the licensing fee. When he'd gone back for the pistol it had been gone, the damn pawn shop proprietor had merely smiled and shrugged. They had no record of it, he'd said, despite the carefully hoarded receipt slip Nohar produced. He'd been tempted to tear the place apart looking for it. A growl had gotten the man to at least piss his pants. He'd retaliated later though.
The good thing about Matilda was that if any wussy human or other being tried to fire her they'd break their arm. It'd be fun to watch, but hearing their screams...
He shook himself out of that day dream and checked the padded shoulder harness and holster. It would go over his shoulders, forming an X in the back with the holster under his right armpit, snug against his body. The leather needed oil, but he didn't have any on hand. He'd have to remember to get some later. He checked the action, holstering and unholstering the pistol a few times. It was smooth which was good, but not too smooth that it would cause the pistol to fall out if he bent or twisted the wrong way. The pistol was on the right side of the shoulder harness, he didn't trust his right hand with the thing, not in 'its' condition. To balance the harness load he had a couple of speed reloads on his left side, along with a few other interesting combat related tools. Some he wasn't legally allowed to carry like his lock pick collection. These he tucked into his right arm, hiding them in plain sight.
It was a pain in the ass to cross draw, but that was better than having the weapon out in plain sight on his hip. He filled their now empty pouch with a couple of styluses and an optical USB cable. He was tempted to get to work now, but no, it was best to get into things in the morning when he was fresh. Tonight he decided he'd go out and get some food, get orientated, and maybe pick up some gossip. More importantly, get a feel for the night life in the city.
...*...*...*...*...
The next morning he climbed up off the floor and rubbed his back. He spent a few minutes grooming himself and then put his shoulder harness on and buckled it. He checked his draw a few more times and then put a duster on over the holster. He put his shoulder bag on over his neck and shoulder, across his body on is left side. He was certain from past experience that it wouldn't impede his gun draw there. He pocketed his ID, credit pouch, a few odds and ends and then went and did his business in the tight smelly bathroom. He picked up his rather battered fedora, put it on, but then took it off. It just didn't feel right so he tossed it onto his pile of clothes. Finally he stuffed his clothes and toiletries into the small safe, locked it, pocketed the key with the room key and left.
In the lobby he went to the front desk with the now empty gun safe. The cat was there, eyes wide. He grunted, knowing she had seen the holster through the open front of his duster. He pulled out his PI ID and showed it to her silently. She nodded and took the gun safe. “I'll be back for it some other time,” he said.
“Okay.”
“I know you've got it. Don't lose it,” he growled. She nodded again. As he was leaving he turned at the door to let another patron in. He looked back to see the Neocat making a call.
...*...*...*...*...
It all started at the beginning, but to do that he had to do some research and gather intel. He had no contacts in Ring City, so that left research of a different sort. Which meant bright and early the next morning he went to the local library. Inside he asked a rather terrified woman for help.
He asked for the news archive. The mousy woman blinked at him in confusion. He repeated the request and showed her his PI badge. She leaned forward, trembling to get a better look at it. She adjusted her wire rim glasses and read the ID carefully. When she was sure he was who he said he was he put the ID away. “The records ma'am?”
The nervous female human librarian directed him to the back. He followed along in her wake, aware of the wary looks from other patrons. Lots of looks, some curious, some fearful, others downright hostile. He caught the occasional whisper of interest or hostility but ignored it, following his guide.
She kept giving him looks over her shoulder, as if he was stalking her. He saw her try to pick up her pace in her gray pencil skirt, but the skirt prevented long strides. “I'm not going to eat you lady, I'm a detective,” he said, trying to keep his voice down and even. He didn't want to scare the little chit anymore then his physically presence already was.
“Can I ask what you are looking for? We get very few Neo's in here very few.”
“Really,” Nohar replied with a sigh as they entered a room filled with newspapers.
“Do please be careful. The papers are terribly fragile. Anything beyond five years you'll have to look on the microfiche, she said, indicating a boxy machine nearby.
“Great,” Nohar sighed, shaking his head. “Well, let's hope it doesn't have to come to that then,” he said. “I'd hoped you had electronic records but so much for that.”
She looked at him, and for the first time recognized his implants. Her eyes went wide again. One hand went to her mouth. “Oh! Oh my, you are a sleeper!”
“Yes, ma'am,” he said nodding. “I'm a Sleeper.”
“So that explains why you can read. I had wondered,” she said and then gulped at her faux pass. He let it slide however and picked up the nearest paper.
“Do please put them back in order for the next person,” she said headed for the door.
“I'll do that,” he said.
“Copier...”
“I've got my own ma'am,” he said, indicating his right eye. She blinked in confusion and then shrugged.
“Well, if you need anything,” she said, hand on the doorknob.
“You'll be the first to know,” he replied dutifully as he pulled his laptop out of his carry bag. He heard her gulp and mutter 'I hope not' and then leave with a soft click of the door opening and closing. He sighed again and started to read. He'd do a headline scan, trusting in his camera's ability to scan text. He could pull it up later. That was if the damn thing worked right. It'd better, he didn't want a return trip. Just to be sure he used an optical USB cable to plug the laptop into his camera eye.
...*...*...*...*...
When he was finished with all the local news for the year he sat back with a sigh, flexing his good hand. This sucked. This was almost as bad as a stake out. He turned and keyed the little computer to scan the headlines for deaths, murders, and other suspicious activity and then sat back with a soft groan.
For one thing this damn wooden chair he was in wasn't very comfortable. It had a slat back he could stick his t
ail through, and it was heavily built for his frame, but that was it's only saving points. He'd turn the damn thing into kindling if it belonged to him.
He longed to get up and pace, but his discipline held. He did stretch though, hearing his joints as well as the chair's pop. He stopped when he heard a slight cracking sound though.
It would have been nice if someone had created an index of every death for the past year. Nice, but obviously no one, probably not even the local cops had thought of such a thing. No, that would make it too easy. List the date, victim ID, circumstances and location... no that'd make sense, he sarcastically thought.
The laptop blinked id's as it found them and then put them up on the screen. One by one it listed every clipping of a body found. He sighed in disgust. Quite a few it seemed. "Great" he thought. It'd take him days to get through them all. Best to start like the cops did, with the most recent victim. He'd work backwards from there if nothing jumped out at him. He pulled up the latest listing and scanned it carefully.
Chapter 3
The first crime scene was a bust, it was crawling with cops and media types. Of course it was, he thought, it was a dead prostitute. A human one, found by a tourist family. Apparently they'd called the media in too, which explained the presence of the bored looking reporters. Reporters didn't care about dead prostitutes or dead homeless people any more than cops did. Not unless there was more to the story... or if it was a slow news day, which it was apparently.
According to the report the dead body had been found close to 11, which explained how it made the morning paper. Anything after 11 didn't make it into the morning's printing run. And what did make it in was a bare bones article, a dead hooker on a cross street, human, nothing else.
He wasn't sure if it was linked to his vic, but since they had both been prostitutes... and come to think of it, within 6 blocks of each other, yeah, there had to be something there. One coincidence he could buy. But two? And two in the same night within hours and blocks of each other? No, this was the mark of a serial killer, even though the media and cops were careful not to say so.
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