3rd World Products, Inc. Book 7

by Ed Howdershelt

  I picked it up and set it on the table, deliberately well out of her reach, as I said, “Well, maybe it wasn't all that much of a plan, but I liked it.” Looking up at Miller, I said, “If you want a coffee, the cups are in the cabinet above the pot. What's left to do? A fat pile of paperwork?"

  He eyed the coffee pot for a moment, then moved toward it. As he reached for a cup, he said, “Not that much tonight. Your statements. Where's the sugar? Oh. Never mind. Found it. I'd also like to know where you got the prints you faxed us."

  Donna gave me a raised eyebrow in a ‘let's see you explain that’ look. She quickly dropped the expression and sipped her coffee as Miller turned around with his coffee.

  "Have a seat,” I said, “I'll show you."

  Moving to a chair beside Donna, he asked, “What? You've got ‘em in a laptop?"

  "Detective Miller, do you startle easily?"

  With a touch of wariness, he replied, “I don't think so."

  Nodding, I said, “Okay, then. You may want to put your coffee down anyway."

  Miller looked at Donna. She nodded. “Yes. You might."

  Looking back at me rather studiously, Miller put his cup down on the table and folded his hands together.

  "Sure. Okay. I've put my cup down. Now what?"

  As he asked, “Now what?” I keyed up a data screen on the tabletop and poked the icon for reviews of previous documents. From the list, I chose Karen's prints and history. They appeared as before, with highlighted notes and overlaid print pictures.

  Miller startled with a jolt when the screen appeared and seemed to freeze by conscious choice rather than by instinct. I touched a corner of the display and rotated it one-eighty degrees so it was rightside up for him.

  He breathed, “Holy Mother of God! What the hell is this?"

  "A field-generated display screen. Like a hologram. Sort of. The loose prints came from this house; things Karen Rodman touched when she was here with Blaine. The other set is from her 1992 Army records as Madison Jenker. The issue isn't how I got the prints; it's whether the new prints match those of someone who supposedly died in a fire twelve years ago."

  "Uh...” Miller muttered as he eyed the table, “Just a minute."

  He used his radio to call someone into the house. Another suit appeared and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the display on the kitchen table.

  "What the hell is that?!"

  "Sorenson,” said Miller, “Ask your questions later. Dust this house for Karen Rodman's prints immediately, then run ‘em against the booking prints and the prints that were faxed in tonight. If any of them match, have the Army send us a copy of Madison Jenker's prints."

  In a startled tone, Sorenson asked, “The dead girl? I thought you said..."

  Looking up from the table, Miller interrupted with, “Never mind what I said!” then he relaxed somewhat and added, “The ‘dead girl’ may have shot up one of our squad cars tonight."

  When Sorenson stared at the display on the table a little too long, Miller snapped, “Sorenson. Get on it now."

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Sorenson left us and Miller tried to touch the field screen. His finger encountered nothing as he wiggled it around the letters and pictures. Pulling his hand back, he seemed to remember something and reached to touch a corner of the screen. When he wiggled his finger again, the whole display obediently shook with the lateral motions.

  "Well, damn,” he muttered, using the same hand to lift his coffee as he took a sip. “You gonna tell me how you do that?"

  Shaking my head, I answered, “Nope. You don't work for 3rd World Products."

  He regarded me for a moment, then looked at Donna.

  She said, “I've gotten that answer a few times, too."

  Miller sat back in his chair. “Maybe I should make that call to Greer now."

  Shrugging, I said, “It's late. Catch him when he's on duty. If you want some instant official answers, try this number."

  He scribbled the toll-free number I gave him in his notebook and asked, “Should I ask for anyone in particular?"

  "Not at this hour.” Sitting back, I asked, “Can our end of the paperwork on all this wait until tomorrow?"

  Shaking his head, Miller said, “Well, no, not really. We need at least your statements."

  Pretending to stifle a yawn as he spoke, I canceled the field screen display and asked, “Can we get that out of the way, then? It really has been a long day."

  Eyeing the now-empty table, Miller said, “Uh, yeah. I suppose so. I'll get a couple of uniforms in here."

  Donna was interviewed in the kitchen as my statement was taken in the living room. After all was said, scribbled, and signed, we saw Miller to the front porch to make our goodbyes and Miller looked at the flitter in the front yard.

  "Uh ... what about that thing?"

  I said, “Flitter, return to normal flight mode, please, and park upstairs,” and the flitter instantly lifted straight up as it disappeared. There were a few muted shouts from the half-dozen or so deputies still in and around the yard.

  Miller stared after the flitter for a moment, then glanced at me. “You staying here tonight?"

  Shrugging, I answered, “It's up to Donna, but I think the emergency's over."

  Turning to Donna, he asked, “Are you really okay? Do you want me to see if one of the lady deputies can stay here tonight?"

  "No, thanks,” said Donna, “Now that you have Karen Rodman—or whoever the hell she is—I think I'll be okay."

  He nodded. “Okay. See you folks tomorrow morning."

  We watched him head to one of the cars and talk to one of the deputies, then go to the car he'd parked in the driveway. A deputy waved at us and got in his car as the others wrapped up whatever they were doing and went to their cars. As soon as the squad car behind him moved, Miller backed out with a wave and drove away.

  Donna looked up at the half-moon and looked around the sky for a moment, then said, “It's been a helluva day, Ed."

  Nodding, I replied, “Yup. It has."

  "When he asked if you were staying here tonight, you said ‘I think the emergency's over', but you also said it's up to me. Do you think the emergency's really over?"

  "Yup. I also think he was fishing a little to find out if we have a thing going on, ma'am."

  She grinned. “Like in the song, huh? ‘Me and Mrs. Jones'?"

  Returning her grin, I said, “Yup. Like that. He's got your hubby and your hubby's psycho girlfriend in his jail, but maybe Miller wonders if we had more of a hand in things than he's been able to see. Or maybe he thinks you might want to even the score a little by keeping me here overnight. Maybe he even thinks you should."

  Laughing, she asked, “Yeah? And is that what you think too, or should I even bother to ask?"

  "Well, you already know I think you're kinda cute, Cap'n Donna, ma'am. I could probably bring myself to cooperate if you didn't get too kinky on me."

  With a mock-shocked look she yelped, “If I don't get what?!” as she slapped my arm, decided once wasn't enough, and grinningly slapped it again.

  "Ow! Yeah! Stuff like that!"

  I pretended to suffer appropriately as I shielded my arm and stepped back. “I'm not into pain, y'know. I bruise easy."

  Donna gave me a ‘yeah, right’ sort of look and rolled her eyes, then looked into the house through the open front door and remarked, “I wonder what else she poisoned?"

  "Flitter,” I said, “Please check all food and beverages in the house for signs of tampering and let me know what you find."

  My implants tingled sympathetically as a probe formed within a few yards of me in the direction of the kitchen. A few moments passed before the flitter said it had found nothing.

  "All clear,” I said.

  Donna glanced away from her study of the moon and said, “Thanks,” then she looked into the house and sighed, “This was supposed to be the place where I'd begin my new life."

  When I said nothing, she looked at me.


  "What would you do, Ed?"

  "Depends, I guess. Two ways to look at things, Donna. One; the house has been tainted. Could you live here after all that's happened? Then there's view number two; you've successfully defended your world and this is part of it. You can clean, fix up, paint, and do whatever else needs to be done to make it altogether yours again."

  Shaking her head, she studied the wall in front of us and the windows to either side and chuckled wryly, “No, it was never altogether mine. It was a compromise. This is a five-bedroom house, Ed. Blaine wanted to make home offices for both of us. To hell with that; I don't have any desire to work at home. I wanted a smaller house and a larger pool."

  I looked through the house at the pool beyond the rear sliding glass doors. It seemed pretty large to me as home pools go; something like forty feet or so long.

  She saw me eyeball the pool and said, “It hasn't had much use. I was only here a week before I had to go back to duty."

  "You sound as if you're thinking about going swimming."

  Nodding, she said, “I am. Like you told Miller, it's been a long day."

  "Would one of Blaine's swimsuits fit me?"

  Shrugging, she said with a grin, “Probably, but I'm not going to wear a suit, so why should you?"

  With a slight bow, I said, “That's very egalitarian of you."

  "Yes, isn't it? But before we get in the pool, we have to do something. I'm out of my tea and you drink beer."

  "Flitter,” I said, but she stopped me.

  "No, let's use the boards. And let me call Jenny first. She was expecting me to drop by the bar."

  I said, “Okay,” as she headed back to the kitchen, where she took her cell phone from her backpack and made her call.

  Someone other than Jenny answered and Donna asked for Jenny. The answer she received made Donna's expression become anxious.

  She thanked whomever and dialed another number. After a few seconds, she said to me, “Got her machine,” in a tone that let me know that upset her, then she said, “Jen, this is Donna. If you're there, pick up."

  Donna repeated her request to pick up some moments later, waited a short time, then turned off her phone and tossed it into her backpack as she pulled out her board core and said, “Let's go."

  As we strode quickly to the front door, I said, “Give me her address. I'll have the flitter send probes to see if she's all right."

  Shaking her head, Donna said, “Lois told me someone called the bar about two hours ago to tell Jen one of her dogs was hit by a car. It's probably Roxy; she's always finding ways to get loose. Jen's probably still at the vet's."

  Grabbing her arm to stop her, I said, “Call the vet. See if she's there."

  "What? Why? Where the hell else would she be?"

  "Doesn't it seem a little odd to you that her dog got hit by a car this evening in particular?"

  She shook her head again and said, “I know where the vet is, but I don't know his name or the name of the clinic. It would take as long to look it up and call as it would to go there."

  "Then let me send the flitter to her house. It won't cost us anything to check both places."

  Donna gave me the address as she locked the front door behind us. We'd just left the screen porch for the sidewalk when the flitter told me that Jenny wasn't at her house.

  A few minutes later we landed in the parking lot in front of a veterinary clinic in a strip mall a mile and a half away. Donna hurried to ring the doorbell as she looked around and said, “I don't see Jen's car. Maybe the dog wasn't hurt too badly. Maybe she's on her way home."

  Through an intercom box by the door, a woman asked, “May we help you?"

  Donna asked her if Jenny had brought a dog in and the woman said she hadn't, then asked if we'd checked another clinic. Donna told her it was too far away and that Jen would definitely have brought the dog here. The woman reiterated that they'd had no canine patients that evening. Donna thanked her and turned away from the door.

  Hm. The neighbor had called the bar two hours ago, well before we'd left my house. I'd told Elkor to let me know if Karen showed up and I'd had the flitter check the roads ahead of us, but not behind us.

  Perhaps assuming that Donna would check in with Jenny at the bar, Karen could have made that call to lure Jenny home, but then what?

  When Donna said, “Board on,” but I didn't, she gave me a ‘Well? Aren't you coming?’ look.

  "Donna,” I said, “Turn your board off for a minute. Karen could have made that call to the bar. She might have wanted Jenny completely out of the picture."

  "Oh, come on. She was after me, not Jenny."

  "Jenny could have been a problem. How many dogs does she have?"

  "Huh? Uh, two."

  "Flitter, how many dogs did you notice at Jenny's house?"

  Through my implant, the flitter responded, “Two."

  "In what condition, please?"

  "Both appeared to be in good health."

  I relayed the info to Donna. Her face tightened as her eyes narrowed farther, then her expression became alarmed.

  "Flitter, calculate the shortest commonly-traveled routes from Jenny's home to the bar and search them for...” I glanced at Donna as I gave search parameters some thought. “Search along those routes for a dead or incapacitated woman. She may be in a car or in a car's trunk or lying on the ground. If she's injured or ill, call Stephanie before you call me, please."

  "Stephanie?” asked Donna, “You mentioned her before."

  "She's a doctor, among other things."

  As we waited for results, Donna turned off her board and asked, “Ed, why would Karen go after Jenny?"

  "To isolate you. She wouldn't know whether you'd go to the bar or home from my place. She wanted you home, where she'd set her trap. Where would you have ended up when you hadn't been able to find Jenny?"

  "Possibly the police station. Or back to the bar to wait."

  "For a little while, maybe. Then you'd go where? And in what kind of mood?"

  Nodding, Donna said, “Yeah. Home. And in a mood to have one of my Long Island teas. I see what you mean. Let's get ... Let's get real about this. Do you ... Do you think she'd have killed Jenny?"

  'Get real', huh? Yet she had trouble getting the words out. But there was no point in candy-coating something that might be proved out within minutes.

  Chapter Thirty

  With a sigh, I said, “It's hard to say, Donna. It wouldn't have been at all necessary, but she's not quite sane and she might not have realized that. And she might not have cared. Karen may simply have seen her as a manipulatory tool, just like most everybody else in her life."

  Before I could mention the other victims in Karen's life, the flitter said, “Ed, I've found Jenny Hargreave and I've summoned Stephanie,” and gave me a location along a limerock road that met Denton Drive.

  Hargreave. Hm. A heavy last name for a ‘Jenny'. Donna had noticed the way my attention had shifted sharply away from her and started to speak.

  I raised my hand to still her and asked, “What's her condition, flitter?"

  Strong theta waves kept Donna calm as Steph manifested herself beside me and said, “I've begun treatment, notified the local authorities, and I've commandeered the flitter to transport her to a hospital.” She paused, then added, “Jenny Hargreave was beaten and stabbed four times approximately two hours ago. She was then placed in the trunk of her car."

  "Stabbed four times two hours ago and she's still alive? Stabbed with what, where? A hatpin in the butt?"

  Giving me a narrow look, Steph said, “A sharpened four-inch screwdriver was used. It was rather obviously an interrogation, not an attempt on her life. Will I have to introduce myself?"

  Taking her hand, I kissed it and bowed slightly.

  "No, ma'am. I'll be happy to introduce you when you let up on the theta waves enough that she can think."

  A finger tapped my shoulder and Donna said, “I can think just fine. I take it this is Stephanie?
"

  Turning so I could see them both, I said, “Yes'm. This is the fabled Stephanie, my ex-flitter goddess and good friend. Steph, this is Donna Perrin."

  The ladies greeted each other above a handshake, then Donna asked Steph, “Will Jenny really be okay?"

  Smiling, Steph said, “Yes, she will. Her wounds aren't immediately life threatening."

  I asked, “Could we go to Jenny's car? When the cops are finished with it, I could drive it to her home instead of letting them tow it and charge her later to get it out of the pound."

  Steph said, “The keys went to the hospital with Jenny."

  "So much the better. That's where Donna's going to want to go. Was Jenny conscious?"

  "Barely so. She thought I might be a family ghost."

  "Heh. Come to take her to the great beyond, you mean?"

  "Something like that. I expect the emergency room people have convinced her otherwise by now."

  Donna said, “Board on,” and stepped onto it, then asked, “Which hospital?"

  I stage-whispered to Steph, “That must be a hint."

  "I agree,” she grinningly whispered back, then she lifted into the night sky saying, “Just follow me."

  Staring after her, Donna muttered, “Ed, she's flying!"

  "Yes, ma'am, that she is,” I said, “Board on."

  Once we were aloft, Steph led us quickly to the hospital and disappeared as we landed our boards well to one side of the sliding glass doors.

  Donna balked by the doors, looking around for Steph, but I pointed through the glass doors at a tall, gorgeous woman wearing a shades-of-green business outfit near the front desk. Steph gave us a smiling little wave.

  For a moment, Donna froze and stared at Steph, then she shook herself slightly, said, “Oh, hell. I'll ask later,” and entered the hospital. Steph met us in the lobby and dropped a set of Volvo keys in my hand as we walked to the nurse's station.

  We discovered Jenny had already been taken into surgery. Our inquiry about her caused a couple of deputies and a doctor to appear and begin asking us questions.

  Steph suggested we adjourn to an empty lounge, where she called up a field screen and ran a playback of her discovery, treatment, and transportation of Jenny.