The Blue King Murders

by Tom Shepherd

  The spectators burst into wild applause, which the Judge allowed to continue until it expended its energy. Judge Felizool gestured to the defense table and Tyler rose.

  “Your Honor, great and wise people of the Quirt-Thyme Empire, I operate at multiple disadvantages. First, I’m an alien who doesn’t speak your language, so there will be some mix-ups in the translator matrix, you can be certain of that.

  “Second, if I stand before you with a puzzled look on my Terran face, it’s because at this moment I haven’t got a clue about who actually killed your Emperor. Neither does my esteem legal opponent, Chief Prosecutor Yerzail, despite his flowery indictment of Prince Zenna.

  “So far, several people—including High Queen Veraposta herself—have confessed their guilt to me. They definitely were not working together, because their stories conflict and cancel each other out. Yet, each claims to have killed Bandu-Jeewan on the night the High King died. And there may be others. My operatives are questioning more witnesses as we speak.

  “And here’s the crazy part. I believe each and every one of them. Later, I’ll call some of these confessed king killers as witnesses, and we’ll see if you can make more sense out of the jumble than I can.

  “Now the Prosecutor—interesting guy, great advocate for the Empire, sharp dresser, good politician—he will tell you Zenna-Zenn did it, the book is closed. But Yerzail can’t tell you firsthand what happened that night, or the night of the Big Bang that started our Universe. He wasn’t present at either event. And the people who were in the royal apartments on the night of the murder? All of them claim they alone killed the King.

  “So, I am frankly as eager to hear the prosecution’s case as you are. Because the way things look now, we have too many killers and not enough evidence to convict any of them. This is going to be interesting. Oh, and if any of you killed the Blue King, please see Counselor Frost after today’s session.”

  Lovey waved a hand. He sat. After a translation delay, the gallery audience laughed satisfyingly. Tyler was on the right track. Even Lovey said, “Well played.”

  Yerzail leapt to his feet. “Esteemed Judge, must we endure the insults of this Terran co-conspirator?”

  “Yes, I think we must,” Felizool said.

  “Hey, I’m the only one who didn’t confess,” Tyler protested. Again the crowd laughed, this time noisily.

  “Your Honor, the outworlder maligns our martyred ruler. He calls into question the dignity of this court.”

  “Must I remind the distinguished Chief Prosecutor of the political order?” Judge Felizool said sharply. “The Quirt-Thyme Empire is a parliamentary democracy, where criticism of the government is permitted—nay, encouraged. Our rulers have received far worse treatment in the houses of Parliament than Mr. Matthews delivered today.”

  “But, Your Honor—”

  “Call your first witness.” Felizool glanced at his data pad.

  Yerzail flapped a hand at his staff. A young attorney rose, exchanged places with the Chief Prosecutor, and said crisply, “The Empire calls Tertiary Sub-Prince Zenna-Zenn.”

  Tyler sprang from his chair. “Objection. You can’t call the defendant. That violates his right to protection against self-incrimination.”

  Lovey rose beside Tyler and whispered. “They don’t have a ‘no self-incrimination’ rule.”

  “Mr. Matthews, you heard your co-counsel’s point of law. Do you care to respond for the whole court?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  So, you heard Lovey’s aside to me. Those doggy ears must give this species a sense of hearing way sharper than ours.

  “While the Quirt-Thyme Empire has no fundamental right to refuse self-incrimination,” Tyler said, “under reciprocal legal agreements recognized by all civilized star-faring nations, Terran protections extend to those in the employ of Commonwealth citizens or business entities. Mr. Zenna-Zenn is an employee of Matthews Interstellar Industries, therefore he enjoys immunity against self-incrimination.”

  Chief Prosecutor Yerzail responded from his seat. “How far shall we travel down the long road of reciprocity, Your Honor? Shall we grant immunity based on intellectual prowess, as the Yegosian Hive does, or based on membership in the Ruling House, as the amphibians of Dengathi Stellar Lagoon?”

  “Nobody is asking for full immunity, Your Honor,” Tyler said. “The defense merely asks extension of the Terran right to decline to answer questions which might, if answered truthfully, tend to incriminate them.”

  “A circular argument,” Yerzail moaned, “The whole purpose for putting the defendant on the stand is to discover whether he or she admits to facts which substantiate charges of guilt.”

  “Interesting legal dilemma.” Judge Felizool rocked his high-backed chair. “Mr. Matthews, I see from your list of witnesses that you intend to call Prince Zenna-Zenn to speak on his behalf.”

  “Yes, sir, but only after I have had an opportunity to set up his testimony by direct examination of substantiating witnesses.”

  Felizool waved a purple hand, interrupting Tyler. “If you intend to surrender Prince Zenna’s right to remain silent, are you now quibbling about the order in which that process takes place?”

  Tyler thought for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I am. The order of presentation is important, and the defendant should have the right to sequence his testimony based on advice of counsel.”

  Felizool nodded. “I quite agree. Chief Prosecutor, you will have a chance to ask all your incriminating questions during the presentation of his defense. Call another witness.”

  “But Your Honor—”

  “Move on, move on. First Lunch rushes toward us.”

  The young Prosecutor raised his voice again. “Call High Queen Veraposta.”

  A hard, collective gasp seized breath from the gallery. The main entrance to the judicial theater swung wide and Veraposta stepped into the doorframe. She paused while the media took images and shouted questions, which went unanswered, then she swept down the aisle like a bride approaching the altar.

  Veraposta wore a tree-bark brown, flowing gown with an embroidered off-white head cover that crested just behind her canine ears. Other than the dangling lobes, her blue face was perfectly human and exquisitely beautiful. Tyler suppressed the memory of kissing those soft lips and squeezing her luscious—shit! Not working. He suppressed it again, by turning to Lovey Frost’s cold shower glare.

  “Are we being sabotaged?” she said.

  “I don’t know,” he said softly. “She’s supposed to be one of our witnesses.”

  “Apparently, they think otherwise,” Frost said. “You interviewed her. What will she say?”

  Tyler shrugged. “This trial is a romp through a minefield on a moonless night.”

  Lovey smirked. “What man wouldn’t want to be alone in the dark with that?”

  “Hey, I’m spoken for.” But he wanted to slap himself for what he was imagining, with Veraposta as the main character in his fantasy. Tyler checked the physical surroundings. Nothing inanimate moved. And he did not have an irrepressible urge to spring from the defense table and have his way with the Blue Queen on the floor below Felizool’s bench. Apparently, so far, no pheromones were in play.

  The Chief Prosecutor bowed. “Most Gracious Sovereign, your royal presence honors these proceedings.”

  She raised her face and declared, “I shall do anything necessary to see my First Husband’s killer brought to justice.”

  Tyler and Lovey exchanged glances. Are we screwed?

  “Please find a comfortable place to receive my inquiries.” Yerzail practically begged her forgiveness for the inconvenience of testifying about the murder of her First Husband. She wandered left and right, like a blue coyote in search of a good spot to await prey.

  Tyler leaned toward the defendant. “Indigo, what’s happening?”

  “There is no witness stand or truth circle,” Mr. Blue said. “The person testifying finds a place, inside the bar and below the bench, to answer questions
from the chosen spot.”

  Veraposta glided to dead center, nodded to the Judge, and indicated she was ready by turning slightly toward spectators and media. Tyler smiled. This blue babe chose center stage, neutral territory, neither prosecution nor defense sides.

  “O radiant Queen,” Yerzail crooned from across the well. “I stand before my worthy opponents at the defense table. Is there anyone seated here whom you believe committed the heinous crime of regicide against your beloved First Husband, High King Bandu-Jeewan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you identify him for us?”

  “Objection!” Tyler shouted. “She hasn’t said it was a him or a her.”

  “Is that a genuine objection, Counselor?” the Judge asked.

  “Absolutely, Your Honor. I know two hers who confessed to murdering him. One stands before you, testifying.”

  The audience roared again, this time an ugly sound. A mob ready to lynch. A stadium full of sports fans whose favorite player was just spiked by some punk from out of town.

  Felizool drummed his violet fingers on the judicial desk. “Why don’t we let Her Majesty answer the Chief Prosecutor’s question? It will settle the him-her issue.”

  “Objection withdrawn,” Tyler said. “I’d like to hear this myself.”

  “My Queen, shall I repeat the interrogative?” Yerzail said deferentially.

  “No, Lord Prosecutor.” She closed her eyes and appeared to fight back tears. “The person who killed my First Husband is the defendant, Tertiary Sub-Prince Zenna-Zenn, who is my Third Husband. My heart breaks with the memory of those events.”

  Tyler turned to the gallery and watched male and female Quirts quivering at the edge of tears; some broke down and wept. Yet the floor beneath his feet did not move, and the statuettes in wall alcoves remained stationary. Damnit.

  Yerzail continued. “Why did Prince Zenna-Zenn murder his King?”

  “Objection,” Tyler said. “She can tell us what happened, but she’s not privy to why. That takes a mind-reader.” Speaking of mind-readers, where the hell is Esteban when I need him?

  “Sustained,” Felizool said.

  “Tell us, Majesty,” Yerzail said. “In your own words, what you saw with your own eyes.”

  “My First Husband and I were enjoying vigorous coitus when Prince Zenna burst into the royal bedchamber.”

  The gallery gasped. Intruding on coupling couples was a major no-no in most cultures. But for the Quirts, violating the sanctuary of the imperial boudoir was like breaking into the Vatican and urinating on the Pope’s private altar. Her fellow Catholics would not approve.

  “Please continue,” Yerzail urged.

  “The defendant had a rifle blaster, and when Bandu disconnected our joining to confront his distant cousin, Zenna-Zenn mercilessly cut him down. By the time I could cover myself and climb from the bed, the Emperor smoldered like a heap of charcoal on the marble floor.”

  “How awful it must have been for you!” Yerzail said.

  “I screamed. Erkinood Atbarasoo, who is my younger brother, accompanied by Prince Zenna’s alien consort, the Terran called Yumiko, rushed into my bed chambers. She told Zenna the Palace Guard was on the way, and they ran from my presence. My brother held me while I cried and howled for my loss, as did my Sister-Queen Leola.”

  “How terrible!” Yerzail said. “You poor, dear soul. We forget you are not only our ruler but a woman with feelings, whose life has been disrupted by this vile crime.”

  Judge Felizool leaned forward. “Queen Veraposta, do you have anything more to add?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “Then you may be excused.”

  Tyler stood. “Not until I cross examine this witness.”

  The Judge frowned. “Have you no compassion, Mr. Matthews? This woman has suffered enough.”

  Tyler spoke slowly to allow the interpreters a chance to keep up with his argument. The case could be lost depending on what he said next.

  “You Honor, the Terran symbol of Lady Justice is portrayed wearing a blindfold. In one hand she holds a scale to weigh the truth. In the other, a sword to mete out retribution, but only after the blind adjudicator hears and weighs the argument presented by both sides. Surely the wise and compassionate Quirt-Thymean people understand, no matter how heart-rending a testimony may be, there is always another side. I ask you to recognize the inherent blindness of the court, and let me bring other facts to the weighing scale by cross-examination.”

  Felizool nodded. “Your point is well taken. However, this Quirt-Thymean court of law trusts our rulers to speak the truth when brought before us. Queen Veraposta, your testimony has concluded.”

  Tyler tried to object. “Your Honor—”

  “We stand adjourned for First Lunch. Defense may call a witness when we reconvene.”

  The bailiff announced the departure of the Judge, and the morning session was over.

  “Has the prosecution rested its case?” Tyler said.

  “No, friend Tyler,” Zenna-Zenn said. “In our legal system, we do not wait for the whole prosecution to present, followed by the whole defense. Witnesses for each side are called alternatively. The Prosecutor called the first witness, you call the next.”

  “That’s a chaotic presentation of evidence,” Tyler said. “How do the registered voters, who watch this trial on the Judicial Network, integrate the separate, contradictory pieces to determine guilt or innocence?”

  “We could argue, ‘How do Terran juries remember what the Prosecutor’s witnesses said while the opposition delivers testimony after testimony in favor of the defendant?”

  “So, I can call anyone on my witness list?” Tyler said.

  “Didn’t you read the briefing materials?” Lovey said irritably.

  “Hell, yes. I was studying case histories to find Quirt-Thyme legal precedents for a murder trial, especially a regicide,” Tyler said. “Guess I missed the packet on courtroom procedure.”

  “I need a break,” Lovey said. “Make sure you’re back from lunch on time.”

  Tyler tossed his datacom and legal pads in his brother’s orange tote bag. He wished J.B. and Suzie were beside him, not black-ice Counselor Frost. And where the hell are Demarcus, Julieta, and Esteban? He tried their datacoms, but none of them answered.

  First Lunch was early, as usual, but he agreed with Lovey. They needed a break. Sash volunteered to walk with Mr. Blue as the guards returned the defendant to a holding cell to eat.

  Tyler wasn’t hungry. He left the courtroom and wandered the huge judicial complex for a quiet place to sit and think. He found a cushioned ledge beneath a window with a view of Annistyn’s copper towers and greenery. But instead of thinking, he drifted to sleep and napped for most of the First Lunch period.

  Seventeen

  Across the galaxy at Bekka-Capella, capital city of the Meklavite colony on Farroleok-7, Suzie and Parvati entered the M-double-I offices on the top floor of the Darling Cozy hotel a few minutes before Charlie arrived. The delay gave J.B. enough time to brief them on the meeting with Bouché and the upcoming Lerrotica Weapons Tradeshow.

  J.B. had just concluded his briefing when Ulrika buzzed on the datacom. “Mr. Matthews, someone wants to see you.”

  J.B. laughed derisively. “Oh, I doubt that. Send him in.”

  “It’s a her, not a him. Several hers, ja?”

  J.B. glanced at his legal team, who indicated no idea in an assortment of nonverbal; gestures. “Send them in.”

  Ulrika opened the door and a pair of armed female Meklavites stepped inside, check the room visually and with scanning devices, then stood aside. A rather tall, silver-haired Mek woman in dark red ceremonial robes of the Coven Assembly glided into the office. She had a silver staff in one hand and the other clutched a set of scrolls to her chest.

  J.B. stood, as did his whole staff. Without speaking a word, their visitor exuded power. She nodded to the Terran women. Cultural anthropologist Rosalie the, spoke first.

  “W
e are graced by your visit, Great Mother,” she said in Zyra-Crispin.

  “Receive then my blessings. I am High Priestess Serilda Jakeem of the Coven Assembly,” she said in surprisingly good Terran. Serilda studied the women crowded into J.B.’s office. “Who is your Presiding Witch?”

  Suzie stepped forward. “That would be me. I am Star Lawyer Suzanne London, first chair in the case of Meklavite Union vs. Charles Matthews. I apologize for the cramped quarters, unworthy of a person bearing your signs of office.”

  “Comfort is of no consequence to One in the service of the All.”

  Nonetheless, J.B. quickly wheeled his large chair to the front of the desk. Still clutching the staff and scrolls, Serilda gracefully sat.

  “How may we be of service?” Suzie remained standing, as did everyone.

  “I know about your pending case, but other fortunes sweep me here today.” Serilda took a breath. “I have heard favorable murmurings about your firm, from Sister-Witches at Meklavite Prime and friends who dwell among the Suryadivans. They say you are women of honor, women who keep confidences and work for peace.”

  “You flatter us with your kind words,” Suzie said.

  “They also say your Matriarch, Admiral Bianca Matthews, is a powerful leader of women and men, who has become the leading figure in ridding the galaxy of the pirate scourge.”

  “Yes, that is true,” Suzie said. “I intend to become her daughter-in-law by selecting her youngest son for my stable.”

  Serilda smiled. “A wise choice.”

  Suzie bowed to her. “Again I ask—how may we be of service?”

  “The Farroleok Coven Assembly faces a threat from provocateurs who would tear F-7 from the Meklavite Union and form a free state allied with similar revolutionaries in the Quirt-Thyme Empire.”

  “That is disturbing news,” Rosalie said.

  “In the name of the One Mother-Goddess, I would retain your firm to investigate these matters and report your findings directly to me.”