by Gin Hollan
She was a little surprised by his candour, but gladly so. "I think we can be friends, Bernie."
"I thought we already were." He laughed.
"Let me pour you a drink then. What's your preference?"
"Water, thanks."
"You are a singular man, Mr. Keats."
He laughed. "Sure, sure. I don't want anything to cloud my judgement, that's all."
Again, admirable. She didn't say it this time. He would be ideal as a business partner.
"I'm still trying to find out who killed Dawson, and why. Can I talk it out with you?" she asked.
"Dawson? I thought they'd attributed that to random violence."
"I think that was a cover, or maybe confluence. I can't get near Dawson's notes. They're locked up at the main police station."
"I wouldn't think the information you need is with the police. He was working with Hicks as an informant."
She sighed. "We'll need a different path in. Hicks is not someone I trust right now, and Melanie is on stress leave." She sighed. "A home search holds the most information, second only to the actual person."
"Break and enter?"
"The dead have no rights. If his relatives find out and protest, I have a better chance of surviving the legal system than you."
"Money won't matter in a case like this." He shook his head. "You come from a powerful family, but the courts are harder on females. You're supposed to be the perfect example of your husband's power and ability. They'll lock you in a sanitarium."
"I have and want no man to 'take care' of me. My family is adequate protection. Do you have a better idea?"
"No." He laughed. "I was thinking, though … there needs to be a license for this kind of work in a private hire capacity, like cab drivers," Bernie grumbled.
"That's a good idea." She smiled at him. "Maybe other cities have one and I can use that to establish precedent."
"I'll see if there's a notebook and get runners out with your questions." He stood and pocketed the pouch.
She'd never sat across from Bernie before and was startled by how tall he actually was. Standing, she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, assessing him as a man for a second. He was of average height, well-formed through the shoulders and hips. His face had a touch of loneliness now and then. He may not admit it, but a wife would be good for him, Arabeth thought. Someone like Melanie.
"Quit staring at me or I'll get the wrong idea," he joked.
Arabeth laughed. "Don't worry. Finding myself a lover is the furthest thing from my mind."
"And I do all right in that regard, so don't start any plans for my love life."
"Fine. If we're going to be friends, though, you should call me Abby."
"Abby?" His eyebrows shot up. "Abby? That sounds so ... normal."
She punched his shoulder. "I am normal."
"You are the furthest thing from normal I've met on this right side of morality."
She wasn't sure what to make of that, so she said nothing.
"It's a compliment," he said, laughing. "Then again, the rich are better at hiding their oddness, aren't they?"
Arabeth laughed again. "What you see is what you get with me."
“I’ve noticed that.”
"I need to talk to Hicks," she said with a sigh. "That'll be my next step. If he won't talk, I'll have to find a way to make him. How much time will you need?"
“I’ll need at least a day,” he said, scanning the note paper.
"All right. We'll meet back up in a day or so and compare notes. I just want to know if that was really my brother-in-law and what they're doing out there. If it's something lame, like 'military secrets,' I'll be disappointed."
Bernie covered a grin. "I'm sure it's something far less extreme. I'll stop in here tomorrow at about this time. Will that work?"
"That's great. Thanks, Bernie. I appreciate your help."
He shut the door and she listened for a moment, hearing his footsteps recede. He was a really decent guy, she thought, once you got past his rough exterior.
That finished, Arabeth went to her workshop and dumped her satchel on the desk. She had to find Hicks. Not understanding his motivation and behaviour was starting to drive her crazy. She re-bridled Kate and walked out to the road.
// Chapter 13 //
Arabeth hadn't found Hicks anywhere. And no one had seen him for hours. She should have gone to the restaurant, she supposed. She'd start again in the morning.
For tonight, she'd shift her focus. An idea had hit her as she rode around. She needed a hand building something new—a device capable of detecting frequencies beyond regulated radio transmission ranges. It was only a matter of time before the person broadcasting the Crazy signal worked out how to get around the interference. Arabeth needed to get on this now.
She chuckled to herself at the irony. The only person with enough experience and knowledge for this currently blamed her for everything important that had gone wrong in his life.
Melanie was still sleeping, so Arabeth left some food at her bedside and came back to feed Marble and herself. Most of her anger had burned off, but not her focus. As she stood at the kitchen counter looking out the window, eating a late supper of fried egg and toast, she pondered how best to get Graham on board with her new idea.
Graham may hate her, but she needed him to build a frequency jammer that worked outside radio frequencies safely. He was older than her by about ten years, and a little too set in his ways for a Tinker. She wasn't even sure such a thing had been invented yet, but someone had to be the first.
She looked over at Marble; as usual, the fox sat off to one side, politely almost watching to see if it was time for her second dinner. Arabeth held out some egg white for her and Marble took it gently, immediately looking for more.
Sam was easy to blame right now and she wanted to scratch at his wound to see what was causing him to act the way he was. Or maybe have the locks changed until she got the truth from him. That would be the wisest course.
A thought crept to the fore of her mind: Why had Bernie warned her about Larry? Everyone knew Larry was not Arabeth’s biggest supporter, but had he turned against her entirely?
Maybe she needed to reset a few of the old defenses. She'd disabled them when she came back as a married woman. Now she lived alone and single, surrounded by what were debatably some of the most valuable inventions in town, and those she had long known as allies were starting to change into something else. She thought that now, maybe, she could understand why her grandfather had been just the slightest bit paranoid. Apparently she'd been trusting the wrong people with some fairly big secrets.
Against her will, the memory of the hospital returned. She couldn't accept what she'd seen, although she was also certain it was true. How could it be real?
Shivering, she turned away from the counter and went to her workshop. Maybe there was something in there she could bribe Graham with, something that would gain his cooperation. She was sure the signal causing violence was connected to Dawson's murder, but who would use a large, bladed farming tool in the city? The unusual choice of weapon meant it was ... possibly premeditated.
There was a place in town that sharpened those blades. But the specialist normally went to the farm to do the sharpening, so why not this time? Legwork wasn't her thing. She'd have to call a few more runners, unless Bernie's team started showing up.
She bit her lip. Hopefully her questions hadn't landed any of them in danger. And as for Graham … tomorrow she would start Operation Reparation. It wasn't her fault he was dragged off to prison, but it was her who’d got him out. He owed her for that, even if he refused to admit it.
A rapid succession of soft knocks on the door made her jump. Walking over, she pushed the curtain to one side and looked out. Hicks stood there, looking grim.
"Have you heard of Michael Faraday?" he asked.
Arabeth shook her head. "No, why?"
"Can I come in?"
"No, why?" she said again.
<
br /> "Come on, Arabeth. This is important."
She stepped out onto the porch. "We can talk out here."
Hicks took hold of one of her wrists. "We really can't. And I can't say why out here." Opening the door to Arabeth’s house, he pulled her inside. He was all the way to her workshop before he stopped and took his shoes off. Once in her workshop, he looked around, examining the walls. Returning to her, his brow was furrowed, his mouth tense. "You told me your grandfather built a shielded room once. Is it soundproof too?"
She nodded, eyes narrow as she stared.
"Where is it?" Hicks asked.
Was he being affected by the radio waves? "It's been disguised as a guest room. Melanie is there now, sleeping."
"Is there another one?"
"No."
Was he really going to push her around and not explain what he was doing? He walked to Arabeth’s desk, picked up a pencil and started writing on a scrap of loose paper.
'I want to explain but you'll have to trust me for now,’ the note said.
"Why?" she said.
Sam paled a little but started writing again. 'Victor Dane. He's working on a project out there.'
"Why didn't you say something before we got there?" Her shock was palpable. That was the name of her dead husband’s Brother. He didn’t live anywhere near here, preferring the small coastal town that ther aunt and uncle had moved to.
'It's not my secret to share,' he wrote.
"And you can't explain why, so I'm thinking this is military. They're in our city, experimenting."
He frowned. "No, it's not the military."
"That you know of. This city is on the edge of the world, trapped behind a mountain. Who would notice, aside from us and a few trade partners?"
"Look, we're going to have to find a way to talk openly."
There was a knock on the door frame. Arabeth hadn’t heard the door open.
"I'm up. You can use it." Melanie smiled lightly. "Not that I could hear you, but there's a lot of traffic here," she muttered as she wandered to the kitchen. “I knew you’d be swarming with other house guests.”
Hicks caught Arabeth's arm as she walked to follow Melanie, dragging her toward the guest room.
"Talk to her after," he said sternly.
Closing the guest room door behind them, Hicks lit a tall, wide candle on a writing desk as Arabeth pulled a long section of metallic fabric out of the bottom dresser drawer. She attached it to key points around the door, then did the same to the window.
"I'm assuming you're being followed or my home is being watched. Talk."
He nodded. "Both, really. I want to explain what happened at the hospital." He started pacing, nearly wringing his hands, then stuck them in his pockets. "While you were married, I was recruited into a civilian department of the military. We do research and design for communications systems. I'm just a police detective, but they wanted me to test their equipment on the job and report any weaknesses or flaws I found. My success rate went up and the military was happy with my reports. Soon I was promoted, given more responsibility. What you saw at the hospital, you can't tell anyone, understand?"
"I haven't. But isn't this against some military rule, telling me like this?"
He gave a half-smile and sighed. "That's why we're in a radio-free room. This is bigger than both of us."
"Was that...?" Her breath felt short. "Was that Vic or Michael?"
Hicks startled and frowned at her. "It's Vic. And you can't—"
"I know, I can't say anything," she interrupted. It was an odd mix of relief and sadness that washed through her. Michael was still truly dead. "You won't have to worry about me."
Hicks walked to her and stood close. "Thank you." Putting his hands on her shoulders, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Startled, she pulled back.
"What was that for?" she sputtered.
"I'm just grateful."
"You'd better not tell me you've had an unrequited love for me since high school." If he'd proposed, her parents wouldn't have approved, but she wouldn't have listened to them.
"And what if it's true," he shrugged.
She wasn't sure how to respond. "I'll be forced to conclude you're making it up to distract me, or that it wasn't compelling enough to act on. I guess it's good, either way. Because back then, I would have believed you," she said.
A pained look flashed across his face. "And I suppose all men are liars, now."
"No, but the older we get, the more secrets we have to keep." She slouched as she sat down onto the edge of the bed. "I can't be mad at you. I have my own secrets."
He sat at the desk but turned the chair to face her. "I was wondering, and I may have no right to ask...."
"What is it?"
"No, it'll keep. You're not dating anyone, right?"
"Mother has coerced me into a series of four blind dates. I'm just doing it to calm her down, to be honest. I've lived too long on the mercy and success of others; I won't remarry. That's why I have to make this private detective job work out." She clapped her hands together once. He would be the perfect person to ask about licenses. "Have you heard of private detection licenses? I heard they are issued in other cities, but they are regional and don't carry as many permissions as police detectives have. Is there such a thing here?"
"Not in this city, and I can't imagine it would be easy to get. You'd have to contact a city that does do it and get their guidebook on it and write up a proposal."
"That would go to the mayor, right?"
"Yes. Do yourself a favour and don't tell anyone you're doing it. You don't need them preparing to fight you before it even starts."
She sighed. "Why should it be hard?" she asked herself softly.
"Maybe for you it wouldn't be." He shrugged.
She smiled at Hicks. He looked tired. And when was the last time he ate? Shouldn't she be mad enough at him to not care? His simplistic answer shouldn't appease her this easily, unless she was looking for a way to be at peace with him.
"Can I get you some food? It's easier to think when your stomach isn't growling, right?"
He shook his head. "I ate before coming over." He tilted his head sideways. "Are you sure you won't marry again? Are your parents entertaining any offers right now?"
"They'd better not be. Why?" She didn't mind being blunt. He was never forthcoming and she shouldn't be so easy. He shouldn't expect her to be easy, just because they had a comfortable friendship. He'd deceived her, through no real fault of his own.
"I've missed our friendship."
His sudden honesty surprised her. Tilting her head forward, she remembered the sense of isolation her marriage caused, the pain of friendships lost. "I missed you, too," she whispered.
"Are your keepers going to notice you're off tracking?" She changed the topic.
He laughed, but it wasn't a kind laugh. "I'm going to start renting this room, just to sleep in peace. The electrical hum is spreading everywhere."
"They're thinking of making signal 'null zones' like this one illegal, aren't they?"
"The government says they interfere with other transmissions, and it's getting worse as they expand the use of radio waves."
"I really don't understand wave length and frequency variation," she said.
"That's why we have experts. You can't know everything," Hicks replied.
She rolled her eyes. That was obvious. He kept stating the obvious. Did he mean for her to read between the lines? If so, which lines?
He was staring, and it bothered her. "What?"
"How are you doing? It was a shock to see Vic, I know, and the cloak-and-dagger elements creeping into your life must be disconcerting."
Asking and answering in the same sentence … he was definitely trying to understand her. She shook her head. "My life hasn't been this interesting in years. I like it." Arabeth stood up. "We should get back to the real world."
Hicks stood too, and she noticed his face flush red. "One thing first." He walked close to
her. "If you do reconsider getting married, think of me first."
She frowned. What did he mean by that? Did he mean he wanted to be considered as a potential spouse, or for her to not get married at all so they could stay friends?
"What if I fell in love?" she whispered.
His face hardened, then a wild look flashed through his eyes. "I'm serious. Maybe I have no right to ask that, but consider me."
Her heart was pounding in her chest; she was not sure what to think. Men and women didn't talk about this. Now was her chance to get an answer that had been burning a hole in the back of her head for years now.
She was suddenly curious. "I've been wondering why you never married. Why you kept women at a distance, and refused to date. Are you a monk?"
"I'm interested, but...." Now only an inch apart, he raised a hand and caressed her hair. "I have a very specific taste in women, it seems."
"You need to change your mind." She turned away, deciding now was the one and only time she would share her darkest secret. She wanted to be angry instead, to blame someone else ... him, even. He'd realize he needed to move on once she did. "You will probably be shocked to hear that I've never.... I mean, I was married five years, and he never touched me." She was embarrassed to say it. "Matthew had lovers, but I wasn't one of them."
"Is ... are ... um—"
"There's nothing wrong with me, if that's what you're asking. I have the same drives and desires as any woman. And yes, I like men."
They both stood a moment, silent. "I'm sorry," he whispered, resting his hands on her shoulders. Her heart jumped but she didn't move.
Hicks slowly wrapped his arms around her from behind and he drew her close.
"The air is getting thin in here, isn't it?" She felt breathless but didn't move, frozen in place, not sure what to do or think.
"I'm sorry, Abby," he whispered in her ear, his breath causing her to shiver.
He hadn't called her that since the day she’d been engaged to Michael. She wiggled out of his arms but didn't look at him. She'd never felt this vulnerable. It was uncomfortable. Again he closed the distance between them, but this time he put his hands on one of her arms and turned her around.