Alien Education

by Gini Koch

  “That stupid parrot wasn’t security!”

  “Floaty” by the Foo Fighters came on. “Yes, she was.” Took the song to be Algar indicating that Bellie had indeed felt she was protecting me. From Charmaine. “She felt you were going to try to attack me.”

  Charmaine sniffed. “You still ruined that event. Just like this one.”

  Found it fascinating that Charmaine hadn’t said that Bellie was wrong. Needed to get that parrot some extra bird treats, pronto. “Well, you know, God forbid that you’d take anyone else’s circumstances, strengths, and weaknesses into account. That might actually indicate that you understood how to manage people properly.”

  “You couldn’t run a successful lemonade stand, let alone a real fundraiser.”

  “I could if it was something I actually wanted to do and had prep time for.”

  “Prove it!”

  “Right.”

  “I mean it! Prove you can do what you’re claiming. You’ve been involved with two fundraisers today that have both been ruined, where we’ve made less than half of what we expected. Prove you can do better,” she leaned forward, so her kangaroo nose was right next to mine, “or take all of your children and get out of this school. Forever.”

  “Fine. You’re on.”

  “Great. The first thing is to come up with the idea. Which I doubt that you have. And it had better be a good one, because we need to make up for both of the fundraisers you ruined.”

  Naturally, I had no ideas, because I’d been focused on everything else going on and my chick fight with Charmaine. But if I didn’t say something fast, she was going to win this battle, and that might allow her to win the war, too.

  The music changed to Billy Joel’s “Running on Ice.” Thought fast and remembered what I’d heard while getting ready for this party. “We’ll do a charity hockey game.”

  Charmaine stared at me. “What?”

  “A charity hockey game. The last preseason game for the Capitals is in three weeks, against the Arizona Chupacabras, and it’s not sold out or anywhere close to sold out. My office will contact the NHL and both teams and get it set up.”

  She sniffed, but this time the sniff sounded almost impressed. “It’s an interesting idea. We’ll plan on that, then. Confirm the date, time, ticket prices, number of available seats, and what percentage will come to the school. And get that all confirmed in the next two days.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or we don’t have enough lead time and your third event in a row will fail. Of course, I don’t believe hockey is played well if a food fight is going on, so I’m expecting this to be truly embarrassing for everyone. I just hope no one gets injured. And we’ll ensure that everyone dresses in jeans, lest you throw a hockey puck at them while they’re drinking an Icee.”

  “While I’m impressed that you actually know what an Icee is, I’m not going to apologize for ensuring that my husband didn’t break a very important commandment in his religion. That you’re not more interested in finding out who spiked the punch your underage children drank and, therefore, caused me to have to get creative, is what amazes me.” I was certainly interested in finding him.

  She shrugged. “You said it was an old man. There are plenty around. Your people should start questioning them. So they don’t donate, either.” Charmaine definitely had a sarcasm knob.

  “Well, while we’re doing that, they should question Zachary. And probably your friend, Doctor Rattoppare, too.”

  Charmaine stiffened, just a bit. Kramer did, too. “What would he have to do with anything?” she asked with a sniff, because she apparently had to sniff every couple of sentences or die.

  “He’s an old man, isn’t he?”

  “He’s in the prime of life,” Charmaine said primly. “Just as Zachary is.”

  “And you are, too?”

  She stared at me, then her eyes narrowed. “What are you insinuating?”

  Decided it was time to once again toss on my Megalomaniac Girl cape and make the leaps that kept me in tight with the League of Crazed Super-Geniuses. “I’m insinuating that Zachary’s had the Treatment. And that you have, too.”

  Both of their eyes opened a little wider. Didn’t get a verbal response from Charmaine, or Kramer, for that matter, but that was because we were interrupted.

  By the police.

  CHAPTER 71

  THE OFFICERS WEREN’T any I knew, and neither were the detectives with them. Clearly they weren’t here on a drunk and disorderly or partying too loud charge.

  The music changed to “Watching the Detectives” by Elvis Costello. So I did.

  Didn’t see all that much, since Chuckie was here and he intercepted the police before they were too far through the door, keeping them far away from those of us on the stage. Couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they talked for more than two minutes, which seemed a lot longer under the circumstances. Saw Chuckie’s head rear back a bit, then he looked at me. I recognized the look—I was in trouble and Chuckie might not be able to cover.

  The policemen spread out in the room, but the detectives went with Chuckie. As he led them to us, saw him scratch his ear. Mom appeared out of nowhere, as did Kevin, trailed by Amy and Gadhavi. Apparently Amy had learned the Chuckie Code for Backup Now and Gadhavi probably knew every code ever used.

  “Mister President, Madam First Lady,” Chuckie said as he reached us, “these are Detectives Sawyer and Beckett.” Sawyer was a big guy in an ill-fitting suit. Beckett was a smaller guy in a slightly better fitting suit. They were both unremarkable otherwise, so what I was supposed to be watching was unclear. Maybe Algar was just in Soundtrack vs. Clue Mode.

  “Ma’am,” Sawyer said, “I’d like you to explain your relationship with Robert Cordell.”

  “Um, absolutely zero.” Pointed to Charmaine. “He’s her husband. I only found out what her husband’s name was tonight. But he’s been off running errands, as I’ve been told, so I haven’t met him yet.”

  “Can you explain why he called you tonight?” Beckett asked.

  “He didn’t call me tonight. I’ve never spoken to him.”

  “That she knows of,” Mom said. “Explain why you’re questioning the First Lady or leave.” She had her P.T.C.U. badge out and handed it to Sawyer.

  The music changed to “One More Murder” by Better Than Ezra. That boded.

  Sawyer glanced at Mom’s badge, nodded, and didn’t touch it. This was the first time I’d ever seen anyone unimpressed by Mom’s badge. Mom had the best badge around, and, to date, this one police detective was the only guy who wasn’t awed by it. Had no idea what this meant, but had to figure it wasn’t good. “We know who the First Lady’s mother is, ma’am. That doesn’t protect her from a murder charge.”

  We all stared at him. “Um, excuse me?”

  Amy stepped up and put her arm around me, similarly to how Clinton had held Marcia. “All A-Cs confirmed as safe,” she murmured as she put her head next to mine in a way that looked merely like she was comforting me. “They all went with water or sodas from the bar. Caroline and Vander were here, but they’ve left, taking any politicians they felt might be at risk with them. Everyone gone is cleared. Caro said she’ll get donations out of them, so not to worry about that.”

  Felt relieved. Punch wasn’t really an A-C thing, as I thought of it. I’d rarely if ever seen it served. Clearly Algar didn’t approve of punch and, after this evening, could tell why. And it was also a relief that whatever was going on wasn’t going to be witnessed by everyone Jeff had to work with.

  “Murder,” Beckett said, reminding me that my relief needed to be short-lived. “As in, Robert Cordell was found murdered, and the last call he made was to you.”

  Looked at Charmaine and Kramer out of the corner of my eye. They didn’t look surprised or shocked. Turned to them. As soon as they realized eyes were on them, they both look
ed horrified. But they looked wrong—too horrified, no shock, like they were acting but weren’t very good at it. So that was why Charmaine had been confused—she’d only home-wrecked one family because her husband was already dead by the time her affair had been exposed.

  This was neat, very neat. Whether that was because that was how Charmaine worked, or because they were following a plan of someone else’s—and, if so, my money was on the Tinkerer—it was well laid out. Wasn’t sure if the plan had included Cordell calling me or not, though.

  “What are you saying?” Charmaine gasped out. “That she murdered my husband?” She pointed to me dramatically.

  “No, because I didn’t. I wouldn’t know your husband from Adam.” Turned back to the detectives. “I did get a call on the way here, from someone who didn’t identify themselves and whose voice I didn’t recognize. He called to warn me that someone was going to try to kill me at the party tonight.”

  “Can you prove that?” Beckett asked.

  “Why would she have to?” Gadhavi asked before I could reply.

  “Because we only have her word,” Beckett said.

  “She’s the First Lady and the Queen Regent,” Gadhavi countered.

  Sawyer shrugged. “And that means exactly dick in this situation.”

  “There are children here,” Jeff said in a tone that said Sawyer was one word away from Jeff having the Secret Service dispose of him. “You’ll watch your language.”

  Sawyer looked around. “They’re teenagers. They’ve heard all the words and then some.”

  “That doesn’t mean you get a free pass to say those words around them in a school setting,” I pointed out.

  “You need to answer my questions, instead of trying to lecture me,” Sawyer replied snidely. “Now, tell us the truth—how long have you known Robert Cordell?”

  While I contemplated just how much I already didn’t like Detective Sawyer, realized that Cordell had probably been gasping during our brief call because he was dying. Felt bad for not having realized it and not having been able to help him. Like Karl Smith during Operation Drug Addict, Cordell had died trying to warn me of danger.

  “Again, I’ve never met the man.” Dug out my phone and handed it to Beckett. “I can’t prove anything about the short conversation warning me that I was a target for murder—I didn’t record the call because it was too brief. But I’m betting now that the call came from Cordell.”

  Beckett pulled out a plastic baggy and had me drop my phone into it. Then he did the search on recent calls. “The time matches and the number called matches. You were definitely the last person Robert Cordell spoke to before he died.”

  “Great. I was in a limo with the President, the Head of the Presidential Terrorism Control Unit, my father, my ward, one of the many Princes of Bahrain, and a visiting dignitary.” Wasn’t sure what title I should toss at Gadhavi, particularly under the circumstances. “Oh, and our driver and bodyguard. So, unless you think all of us swung by wherever and killed some poor man we didn’t know, I believe this is you barking and this is me being the wrong tree.”

  “How is it that the victim had your direct line?” Beckett asked.

  “How did his wife get it? We’re all parents of kids at Sidwell, and she’s the President of the Sidwell Friends School Parent Teacher Association. For all I know, she programs every parent’s number into both of their phones. I have no idea. I don’t know these people. I’ve ‘known’ Charmaine for a day, and I’ve never met her husband. For all I know, they’re both drug dealers and this is a gangland murder. Or they’re both dull and the man died in a car accident. I have no idea, because I didn’t do anything and whatever it is, I’m not actually involved.”

  “I’m curious as to why you’re completely uninterested in the fact that the First Lady just said she received a call warning her that she was a target for assassination from a man who’s just been murdered,” Chuckie said. “Very curious.”

  “Because we don’t believe her,” Sawyer said. “She’s a politician’s wife—that means she knows how to lie.”

  “You know, what does my husband’s position have to do with this?”

  “Not one damn thing, which is why we’ll need to take you to the station, ma’am,” Sawyer said smugly, as Reader and Gower joined us. The stage wasn’t that big and it was getting really crowded. “To test for gunshot residue.” He was playing with his handcuffs in a way that indicated he wanted to use them.

  Tried not to freak out. This wasn’t the way the FLOTUS should leave any party, particularly not this one. And was pretty sure that if I protested at all, Sawyer was going to slap those cuffs on me.

  Saw Charmaine smirking. Neither she nor Kramer looked worried about gunshot residue. Then again, they had people for that. Wondered if Evan the Limo Driver had added assassin to his resume, and figured he had.

  “The hell you will,” Jeff said calmly, but his Commander Voice was on Full. “You just want to embarrass people you see as above you in terms of wealth and class. You’re fully aware that my wife couldn’t possibly have killed this man, since you know where she was in relation to where he was, she’s been surrounded by witnesses, and you suspect several others, including a possible random mugger, more than you suspect her.”

  Sawyer eyed him. “Don’t think your voodoo magic affects me.”

  “Search him,” Mom barked, her Commander Voice on More Than Full. “Both of them.”

  Buchanan appeared out of nowhere, and Kevin was already here. They had the two detectives in an upper arm hold where neither could go for their guns and neither could get out of the hold, either.

  The uniformed officers started to get interested. The Secret Service ensured that the interest was quickly contained. All of a sudden, was really grateful for all of the security we dragged with us all the time.

  Chuckie did the searching, Beckett first, since he was nearest. “Beckett’s clean.” He searched Sawyer and grunted as he was going through Sawyer’s wallet. “Well, what a surprise. Guess who’s a card-carrying member of the Club Fifty-One True Believers?”

  CHAPTER 72

  BUCHANAN, WHO HAD Sawyer, slapped handcuffs on him. Definitely preferred this version to the one I’d been contemplating seconds earlier.

  “What in the hell do you think you’re pulling?” Sawyer snarled.

  “You’re under arrest,” Buchanan said calmly. “Suspicion of domestic terrorism. Oh, and that’s part of what the P.T.C.U.’s job is. We appreciate your self-identifying.”

  Beckett’s jaw dropped. “You . . . you can’t arrest a police detective!”

  “Can, will, and am,” Mom said. “You appear clean. Now, you want to run this investigation according to police procedure, or do we assume that you left your True Believers card at home tonight?”

  Beckett turned to Sawyer. “Did he plant that card on you?”

  Sawyer gave him a look I was familiar with—I’d seen it on the face of every Club 51 member before their schism, and on the faces of all those who were now Club 51 True Believers—unadulterated hatred, with a crazy twitch in the eyes. Sawyer must have really been holding himself in prior to this, because normally this level of crazy wasn’t allowed through the doors. “You think aliens are here to help us. I know they’re here to destroy us.”

  Beckett, who was still held by Kevin, backed up. Didn’t think he’d done it intentionally. “We’ve been partners for five years. Have I ever known you?”

  “No.” Sawyer turned back to Mom. “Do your worst.”

  She rolled her eyes. “They’re always so dramatic. Get him in a car, get him to the holding area, send teams to search the entire school grounds for bombs, and verify that Robert Cordell is actually dead, how he died, and so forth. I want all that done in five minutes.”

  Reader was giving orders to Field, since they’d do the bomb search the fastest. Kevin handed Beckett off to Gower, m
eaning Beckett was going less than nowhere, and Kevin and Buchanan took Sawyer off. Sawyer, for his part, walked out with his head held high, a Hero For The Cause, captured but not contained. Jerk.

  Gadhavi took Sawyer’s picture with his phone.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked. We’d moved a bit away from Kramer and Charmaine, at least as much as the small stage allowed, and all of us were turned so they couldn’t hear what we were saying or, hopefully, read our lips.

  Gadhavi was texting. “In case we can spot him at the ‘seminar’ or can place him with those who are or were at that rally.”

  “Oh. Um, good thinking.” I should have thought of it, but almost being arrested in front of a ton of people for the murder of a man I’d never met had shaken me up a bit, go figure.

  “It was,” Chuckie agreed. “Thank you. But how did you miss him coming in?” he asked Jeff quietly.

  “I didn’t,” Jeff replied. “But he’s had some training—he was focused on the murder investigation more than his hatred. And he was concentrating on Kitty, and how he wanted to embarrass her. Somewhere in there, he also wanted to solve the murder, but it wasn’t his main goal. Hence why we’re all glad Mister Gadhavi had the presence of mind to take Sawyer’s picture. And, let’s all remember that my blocks are up.”

  “No one’s complaining,” I said. “I’m just curious if he was chosen specifically to come here, or if us getting Detective True Believer was a coinkydink.”

  “We were assigned the case,” Beckett said, sounding shaken. “We didn’t ask for it.”

  Chuckie grunted. “I don’t believe in coincidences. They happen, but rarely.”

  “Call our captain,” Beckett suggested. “To my knowledge we were assigned the case because of where the victim was found.”

  “Finding out the right territory specific detectives cover isn’t all that hard to do,” I said. “If you happen to know there’s an anti-alien or anti-President and First Lady homicide detective that will get the case if you kill someone in a specific area, then that’s where you at least dump the body, even if you did the deed elsewhere.”