by Tom Shepherd
“Horrible, horrible!” Yerzail touched his forehead, as if he were ready to faint. “Alien terrorists are behind our political upheavals and the deaths of so many Quirt-Thymeans of high position in recent years?”
Tyler jumped back into the fray. “Do you have any evidence to support these wild theories, Queen Leola?”
She nodded regally and pointed at the defense table. “Look who sits with the regicide. Terrans, including Prince Zenna’s two human wives.”
“Two wives?” Tyler spun to his team, seated behind him. Yumiko sat proudly erect in the second row. Lovey Frost closed her eyes and slumped in the chair.
Jesus H. Christ. I really didn’t see that one coming.
“Your Honor,” Tyler said, “I think a snack break right now would be a good-good idea.”
“I have a better-better idea.” Felizool stood up, visibly relieved. “Court will be in recess until tomorrow after Second Breakfast. Bailiff, take Yumiko Matsuda into custody pending formal charges.” He left the room without breaking stride.
Tyler put his hands on his hips, scowling at Lovey Frost, Yumiko, Mr. Blue and Sash. That moment he didn’t care what the videos saw. He wanted to read his team the riot act, right here in the courtroom. Not only was their continuing secrecy going to lose this case, it was likely to win him a ticket to the gallows beside Prince Zenna-Zenn.
Felizool’s bailiff and three deputies shuffled across the well to arrest Yumiko. The multiple black-belted inspector could have creamed them, but she submitted to the humiliation with the quiet dignity of a Samurai ordered to commit seppuku. Yumi-san bowed to Tyler while they cuffed her. Another pair of courthouse cops attempted to remove Mr. Blue.
“Wait a minute! This isn’t reasonable.” Tyler demanded time to consult with his two clients in the face of this new, devastating testimony by Leola Rhautina. The blue Quirt in charge tapped a text to his superior on the bracer pad at his wrist, who approved Tyler’s request. One Terran hour in an interview room. No surveillance, but guards posted outside.
Demarcus Platte awaited them in the corridor. “I was standing in the back of the courtroom when the purple princess dropped the bomb. Figured you’d call a meeting. Small room down the hall. Bug-free.”
They arranged themselves around a low, circular table with puffy-bag seats that felt like playroom furniture. Demarcus said it was a crying room for the families of defendants. Yumiko sat at attention, like she faced a military tribunal. Mr. Blue folded his hands on the table and studied the ceiling. Wearing a mindless grin, Sash leaned toward Tyler. Lovey gazed vacantly at the wall. As usual, Demarcus guarded the door.
“Want anything?” Platte said. “Water, energy bars?”
“Yes,” Mr. Blue said.
“No,” Tyler said. “I want your undivided attention.”
“I think better with a full—”
“Shut up, Indigo. Answer my questions, nothing more.” Tyler stood and paced behind the bag chairs.
“Why are you angry, Tyler Matthews?” Mr. Blue said.
“Oh, I dunno. Maybe because people I trusted have lied, misled, omitted—pick your favorite verb of deception.”
“We did nothing of the kind, Boss-man,” Lovey said. “We told you what you needed to know.”
“What I needed to know?” Tyler felt the blood boil up his neck and into his brain. “Counselor Frost, when did you marry Mr. Blue?”
She cleared her throat. “Thirteen months after I arrived at Sedalia-3.”
“Yumiko is Indigo’s First Wife, Veraposta number three,” Tyler said. “So that makes you—what, Second Wife? And that has nothing to do with this case?”
“It’s our personal business who we choose to—”
“I don’t care who you fuck, but this is a fucking murder trial! He’s the fucking defendant. So, it’s fucking Company business!” He swept them with the cold gaze of a prosecutor grilling a hostile witness. “You boneheads just handed the opposition a second motive. I can hear that smug bastard Yerzail lay it all out. ‘Not only, Your Honor, did Prince Zenna hate the Emperor and want to possess the First Queen alone, he is a traitor, involved in a massive Terran conspiracy against Quirts and Thymeans.’”
Lovey lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, Tyler.”
Now she parks the snippy attitude and calls me Tyler? He felt a headache coming on and rubbed his forehead.
“Let’s see where we are. Ruling out anyone in this room as a suspect, I see three possibilities.”
Yumiko sighed audibly. “No, Tyler-san. I killed Bandu-Jeewan. He was creature with no honor. You must let me confess.”
“Roll with me, Yumi-san. Think Zen.” He paused, and she nodded. “First possibility, Veraposta killed the Blue King, which means she lied about her abilities and is actually a high order pheremonist. Second, it’s Leola Rhautina, who never registered as anything. Or third, it’s Sash’s mysterious unsub.”
Demarcus frowned. “When Chief Jadan came aboard the Henry, didn’t he say pheremonists can deceive the senses and influence behavior?”
Tyler nodded. “Like hypnotists. They can’t make a non-killer into a murderer with a squirt of body chemicals.”
“But he said it’s more than just turning somebody on sexually, like Veraposta did to you aboard her skiff. A high-order pheromonist could convince somebody they are killing an evil man. Like putting a gun in the hands of a twentieth century Jew and telling him the victim is really Adolf Hitler in disguise. Some pheromonists can even shape the way people remember events.”
“What are you saying, Dee?”
“Just sketching the possibilities,” Demarcus said. “Here’s another thought—how did Jadan know what happened on the skiff?”
“Veraposta told him,” Lovey said.
Demarcus shrugged. “You really think the High Queen escaped the palace unseen, boarded her skiff at the Imperial starport, and flew to the Orbital Hub by herself?”
“She was alone on the ship,” Tyler said.
Platte chuckled. “Did you look into the flight deck?”
“Damn. No, I didn’t. The hatch was closed. But somebody could’ve been listening on the onboard comm system.”
“Here’s my theory,” Platte said. “Jadan signs out the Queen’s skiff, flies her to the Hub to meet you. He hears Veraposta confess to the murder.”
Sash nodded. “That makes sensibles. I approached Chief Jadan to coordinate Veraposta’s night flight to the Hubba-Hubba.”
“So?” Tyler drew air circles with a hand. “Connect the dots, Demarcus.”
“My old friend Jadan has served the First Queen for years. I’ll bet he doesn’t believe either Veraposta or Zenna killed the King. The bureaucrats won’t let him investigate, but you have a free hand, Boss.”
Sash shook his head. “Why would my sister confess to murder, withdraw the confession, and—no offence, Z-man—get another turkey to take the ax for her? Don’t make no sense.”
“Her recanted confession doesn’t help Veraposta or Mr. Blue,” Tyler agreed, still pacing.
“No, it doesn’t,” Platte said. “But it helps somebody else.”
“I still don’t understand,” Mr. Blue said.
Lovey touched Zenna’s leg. “Did you see Veraposta kill him, babe?”
“No,” Mr. Blue said. “I don’t know why she confessed to the murder, when she watched me kill him.”
“Not so, husband,” Yumiko said. “I kill.”
“Why is everybody so eager to confess to a crime they did not commit?” Tyler froze. “Son of a bitch...”
Demarcus flashed a smile. “Took you long enough.”
“What, what?” Lovey said.
Tyler turned to Yumiko and Indigo. “You both think you did it.”
“But I did do it,” Mr. Blue said.
“Do not protect me, husband. I kill Blue King,” Yumi-san insisted.
“Veraposta, Zenna, and Yumiko—who else was in the bed chamber the night of the murder?”
“No one, Tyler-san.”
“Let me re-phrase. Who appeared almost instantly?”
“I did,” Sash admitted.
“You’re a guy. Wrong gender for a pheromonist,” Tyler said. “Who else showed up, with the proper biology?”
“The Second Queen, naturally,” Sash answered. “She was very distressed, but managed to comfort Veraposta.”
“Where were the palace guards?” Tyler said.
“They are all males,” Mr. Blue said.
“Answer the question, Tyler said. “Where the fuck were they?”
“They stayed at their posts in the corridor,” Mr. Blue said.
“How is that even remotely possible, if the servants are screaming the King has been murdered?” Tyler said.
Sash shook his head. “It isn’t.”
“Let’s add another layer.” Tyler glanced at his black Investigator. “Who gains the most if Bandu is dead and Veraposta is hanged for conspiring with Indigo to kill him?”
Demarcus nodded. “You got it.”
“Second Queen Leola Rhautina,” Yumiko said. “Without King and Queen, she becomes acting Empress.”
“There you go,” Demarcus said. “Motive.”
“But Leola is part Thymean,” Sash said. “Quirts would never place her on the throne.”
“What about Argalia Instaka?” Tyler said. “Was she a full-Quirt?”
“Yes,” Sash said.
“And didn’t the Third Queen die around the same time as Bandu?”
“Yes, Tyler Matthews,” Mr. Blue said. “But you list the succession incorrectly. Argalia Instaka was Bandu’s Second Wife. Until she fell off the garden atrium to her death.”
“Well, well,” Tyler said. “How convenient.”
“Queen Argalia was murdered?” Sash gasped.
Tyler smirked. “Ya think?”
“Leola became Second Wife by the rules of Imperial succession,” Mr. Blue said. “The Third Queen position remains vacant.”
Sash spoke slowly. “So, with my half-sister Veraposta gone…”
“Leola Rhautina will humbly accept a Writ of Succession from Parliament,” Tyler said, “making her sole ruler of the Quirt-Thyme Empire until such time as a new First King is selected. And I don’t think much of his life expectancy, either.”
“Leola tossed us a baited fish,” Lovey said. “It was ‘unthinkable’ that Veraposta would kill her husband. She practically double-dog-dared us to prove it.”
“And I swallowed the hook,” Tyler said glumly.
Demarcus nodded. “Must be hard evidence out there to hang Veraposta.”
Tyler raised a hand. “Recording of the High Queen confessing. You were canvassing for witnesses when I threatened to play it during my cross of Veraposta.”
“Damn,” Platte said. “That explains Leola’s strategy.”
Tyler pulled his datacom from a pocket and played an excerpt from his initial meeting with Veraposta, the part where she described how she killed Bandu-Jeewan in self-defense. He stopped the recording before the nugatory kissing and fondling commenced.
“The queen is dead,” Demarcus said. “Long live the queen.”
“Do you think Leola Rhautina is an unregistered pheremonist?” Lovey said.
Tyler grunted. “Fuck, yeah. Probably high order. Far more powerful than Veraposta.”
Demarcus grunted. “The night of Bandu’s death, I’ll bet she kept the guards fat, dumb and happy at their posts while everybody was howling murder. A whiff of Leola’s scent and the palace watchdogs rolled over and played dead.”
“With that kind of power,” Tyler said, “it’s remarkable she didn’t have Judge Felizool cop to killing Bandu.”
“She’s the unsub!” Sash bounced up from the bag chair and shook his fists. “I never liked the biatch! How do we prove she’s whodunnit?”
“I vote for an autopsy,” Lovey said darkly.
Tyler scowled. “Julieta can test body chemicals for pheromone residue and DNA for the enabling combination.” He glanced at the raging Lovey Frost. “Preferably if she’s still alive.”
Demarcus snickered. “You’ll have to send somebody undercover to collect specimens. Body fluids, skin, you know.”
“I’ll approach Leola,” Sash offered. “Request to meet her privately.”
“Not you.” Lovey pointed at Tyler. “Him.”
“Why me? She doesn’t trust anybody on Zenna’s team, let alone the leader of the pack.”
“J.B. calls you the Wolf,” Lovey said. “An egocentric man-eater like Leola Rhautina will jump at the chance to tame you.”
Demarcus nodded. “She gave you the come-hither look in court.”
Tyler crossed his arms. “She did not.”
Platte continued, “I’m guessing Queen number two thinks her pheromonic superpowers will protect her from self-incrimination.”
“She’s probably right,” Tyler said. “This feels like a very bad idea.”
“So, turn Julieta loose and go with the autopsy,” Lovey said.
“When does Toorlabamba end?” Tyler wondered aloud.
“Tonight,” Sash said. “If you’re invited to her boudoir, Leola may decide to celebrate Closing Rites with you.”
“What happens during those rites?” Tyler dreaded the answer.
“Food, drink, coitus,” Lovey said. “Repeat until exhaustion, or Second Breakfast, whichever comes first.”
Sash whistled. “Lucky dawg. She’s part Thymean, yo. Quirt chicks, they get all warm and passionate. But Thymean babes? Totally volcanic, multi-orgasmic. She will wear your ass out, man.”
Tyler grimaced. “Sash!”
“Shutting up, sir.”
“Leola is crafty. She might not risk incriminating her pretty purple posterior,” Demarcus Platte said. “But I’ll contact the right people. See if we can make it happen.”
“I gotta talk to Julieta, Tyler said. “In her medical persona.”
“Dr. Solorio is aboard the Henry,” Platte said. “Anything else?”
Tyler shook his head. He didn’t need to see the trailer to know where this show was headed. Lady Justice, that bloodthirsty wench, had rigged the game. Suzie was going to kill him.
Twenty-Three
Last Day of Toorlazimbaa
17:35 hours
Aboard the Patrick Henry
Annistyn Orbital Hub
When Tyler found his cousin, she was no longer the only physician at work aboard the Henry. Julieta had engaged the transformative wizardry of the ship’s vast store of holo-programs and created a combination medical research facility and crime lab, complete with eighteen newly activated former courtesans, re-tasked as lab techs and M.D.s.
Her “staff” included biochemists, exobiologists, pathologists, and physicians with credentials in multi-species diagnostics. Even a green Kolovite sensual masseuse, re-programed as a molecular biologist. And they were all beautiful, young females.
“Your staff looks like a beauty pageant in lab coats,” Tyler said. “How are they doing?”
“Damn good. Better than most forensic scientists I’ve known. They’ve flash-scanned every reference to pheromonic psychosis in the medical libraries of the Quirt-Thyme Empire. Massive information from hundreds of sentient species, dozens of star nations. It would take me a lifetime to wade through that much raw data. My girls boiled it down to a five page summary in one hour. Then we went to work on ways to detect and defeat the chemistry of pheremonists.”
“Any luck?”
“Yes and no. We need specific bio-samples to produce admissible forensic evidence.” Julieta entered a command into her datacom. “I hear you’ve been drafted to seduce the purple Queen. Good. Bring me a little epidermis, preferably from her buttocks. Also, a swab of saliva and dab of vaginal mucus, and I’ll prove she’s a high order pheremonist.”
She handed him a supply of plastic zip-bags, the staple of forensic research for centuries. “Lovey Frost says Leola’s no dummy, so for God’s sake don’t
let her see these. She’ll know they aren’t doggie bags.”
“Why specimens from those particular bodily areas?”
“Quirt-Thymean pheromonic activity centers in the mouth, genitalia, and gluteus maximus. The glutes actually produce the chemicals, so if she’s got the trait, skin covering her fanny will be rich in pheromonic compounds.”
“And you need samples from all three areas?”
Julieta nodded. “Unfortunately, the only way you’re returning with field data is after an intimate encounter. I can get most of it off your body.”
“Isn’t there another way to retrieve the stuff you need?”
“Yeah, I could send a holographic lab tech to the palace to ask the Second Queen if she will please scrape a little skin off her booty, stick a swab up her cunt, and—”
“All right. I get the picture.”
“If tonight’s bow-chika-bow-wow includes French-kissing, I’ll suction your mouth for salivary residue.”
“It’s the other samples that worry me.”
“For the buttocks, put Leola on top, fuck her cowgirl style, and drag your fingernails across her ass. Draw some nice, green blood if you can. If what they say about Thymean women is true, she’ll love it. I’ll dig incriminating skin from the distal edge of your nails.” Julieta scratched her cheek. “Come to think of it, you could get the vaginal mucous by tongue action on her—”
“Julieta!”
“My, my, my.” She giggled. “Cousin Tyler is em-barr-assed.”
“Cousin Tyler has to face Suzie after all is done. Isn’t there another way to nail Leola without… nailing her?”
She shrugged. “You could let me shoot the royal slut.”
“And that helps Mr. Blue, how?”
“Lovey wants an autopsy.”
“You can’t arrest a dead killer,” Tyler reminded her.
“Then it’s into the feline den for the Wolf in sleep’s clothing.”
“You are such a deviate,” he said glumly.
“Talk to Suzie.”
“I plan on telling her what happened.”
“No, no. Apexcom her now, before you do this.”
Tyler frowned. “Would you consider shooting me, instead?”