by Malcolm Rose
While the cab turned sharply to the right and ran parallel to Riverside Walkway for a short distance, Malc said, “I have The Authorities’ decision on the forty-four bodyguards. It is considered impractical.”
“Surprise, surprise.”
Malc replied, “Illogical. You expected to be refused.”
“Sarcasm, Malc. Look it up. Anyway, here we go.”
The electric vehicle slowed to a standstill in the brightly lit cab station and the door slid back automatically. Dundee welcomed them with an icy blast of air.
****
EW1’s body had long since been cremated so Luke and Malc could not inspect it for themselves. Instead, Luke studied the findings and quizzed the pathologist who had conducted the post-mortem. “I’m looking at the possibility that she was poisoned,” Luke explained.
The pathologist seemed irritated that his opinion should be questioned by an FI who was thirty years his junior. “Toxicity was negative.”
Luke glanced at Malc. “Are there toxins that’re lethal at concentrations less than tests can measure?”
“Confirmed.”
“For example?”
“Most extremely poisonous substances are made naturally,” the mobile answered. “Ricin is fatal at levels below the limit of detection. One thousandth of a gram is sufficient to kill a human being. It is obtained from the seeds of castor oil bean, Ricinus communis. Tetrodotoxin, a poison carried by some species of frogs, newts and marine creatures such as pufferfish, is one of the most toxic substances in the world. It is ten thousand times more lethal to humans than cyanide.”
Luke interrupted. “Okay. I get the picture.” Turning back to the pathologist, he said, “The question is, if she was poisoned by something you didn’t stand a chance of detecting, is there any evidence of how a poison got into her?”
“There were microscopic punctures on her left arm but they were caused by the spines of a cactus. I was thorough. I had them identified. She’d touched a prickly-pear cactus, that’s all.”
“Any chance there was poison on the cactus spikes?”
The pathologist shrugged. “No way of telling. The inflammation was a normal reaction to cactus spines.”
“No other punctures?”
He shook his head.
“How carefully did you look?”
“Very. I always do when the cause of death isn’t obvious.”
“What about stomach contents? Your report said her last meal was fish.”
“Yes. Fish and salad.”
Luke asked, “What sort of fish?”
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t toxic. Salmon’s very popular here.”
“It might have been pufferfish, with poison below your detection limit.”
The pathologist gave a nervous laugh. “Who eats pufferfish?”
Malc replied, “It is a delicacy called fugu in Japan and, on average, it causes a hundred deaths each year.”
Dismissing the idea, the pathologist muttered, “This isn’t Japan. I’ve never heard of anyone serving it in Dundee.”
Outside the hospital, Luke took a deep breath of the arctic air. “Time to visit an expert,” he said. His heart began to thud with misgivings.
Chapter Seven
Georgia Bowie was a good-looking girl, exactly the same age as Luke. She was bright and bubbly. According to The Authorities, she was the perfect partner for him. They were probably right, but the spark wasn’t there. Just because they were well matched, it didn’t mean that Luke would fall for her. He couldn’t fall for her. He was already crazy about Jade Vernon. The mismatch between his profession and Jade’s was beside the point. The law forbade their pairing because of it, but his feelings weren’t ruled by cold scientific reason. He was certain that he didn’t want to spend his life with The Authorities’ choice.
Georgia was working at Dundee Animal Sanctuary, just off Riverside Walkway and the elaborate maze of jetties. When Luke had last seen her – at Birmingham School – her auburn hair had been very long. Since then, she’d had it cut smartly to shoulder-length but it didn’t come close to Jade’s for chaos and colour.
In the muggy and eerie atmosphere of the amphibian house, Luke greeted her awkwardly. “Hi. Happy Year Birth. How’s it going?”
Georgia’s face lit up when she saw the boy she’d always admired. She reached out and touched his arm affectionately. Then, equally embarrassed, she withdrew it. “Good. And you?”
“Yeah. On a case as always, but I’m fine.” He looked around at the shimmering tanks. In the nearest one, harlequin frogs and garish Californian newts were lapping up the artificial sunshine from the lamp overhead. “Nice place to end up.”
“No matter what happens out there,” she said, nodding towards the exit, “it’s always tropical in here. And I get to look after some of the world’s weirdest and best-looking creatures.”
Luke was about to joke, “Like me,” but he decided against it. Instead, he said, “And some dangerous ones?”
“Only if you stick your hand in. And you can’t. The displays are sealed. Anyway,” she said, “when you said you were coming, you didn’t say why.”
“Well, it was partly to see you... and partly to ask you something.”
She smiled. “Let’s go and get a drink.” She led the way out of the amphibian house and guided Luke to the canteen. Curious about Luke’s work, she asked how he was coping with crime in the south. Then she brought him up to date with her own news. When she’d finished, she paused before saying, “How’s...” She stopped, not getting to the end of her question.
Luke guessed that she was going to ask about Jade. He imagined that she changed her mind because she feared hearing that his relationship with Jade had not been dampened by distance.
Georgia shook her head. “Never mind. What was it you wanted to know?”
Luke was relieved. It was easier to talk about murder than it was to raise the topic of their pairing. He told her about EW1 without mentioning her name. He also kept quiet about the other two victims called Emily Wonder.
After listening carefully, Georgia said, “Sounds strange to me. Are you sure she didn’t just die in her sleep?”
“Ninety-nine per cent.”
“But if she was awake, she’d call for help or shout.”
“Normally, yes. But there weren’t any reports of noise from her quarters according to the notes I’ve got, and she didn’t make any calls. I still think she was murdered, though.”
“People who are being murdered struggle and scream.”
“Perhaps she couldn’t move or talk.”
Georgia frowned, thinking it through.
“That’s what I wanted to ask you. I’m wondering about a poison that paralyses before it kills.”
Georgia began to nod slowly. “You’re right. Tetrodotoxin – or TTX for short.”
“That’s one on my hit list. Could someone round here get hold of it?”
“You’re kidding! You’re in Dundee Animal Sanctuary – famous for its amphibians, reptiles and marine life. We’ve got quite a few species that make TTX. Really, it’s not the animals that make it, you know. It’s more complicated.” She took a sip of her drink before explaining. “You can get it from sea squirts, pufferfish, the blue-ringed octopus, xanthid crabs and that sort of thing, but it’s a bacterium called vibrio living in their guts that actually makes the stuff. You could get it from the animals or the bugs. It’d be easy for someone who knows what they’re doing to grow vibrio in a lab. Easy, but dangerous. You’d end up with a poison factory.”
“But people eat pufferfish, don’t they?”
With a wicked smile, she said, “Only people who like their main course to come with an element of danger. It’s a meal on a tightrope. Fugu poisoning’s nasty. You only need a tiny amount of TTX to shut down the nervous system, but it doesn’t cross the barrier into the brain. Your daring diner’s paralysed and then dies slowly, fully conscious. That fits with what you said about your case.”
“Do
es anyone in the sanctuary take a particular interest in TTX – or the creatures that make it?”
“Not that I know.”
Luke hesitated while the attendant came over to take away their empty mugs. Then he asked, “Did any of the poisonous animals disappear in summer? Do you know? It’d be just before you started work here.”
She shrugged. “If it’d happened, the keepers would still be talking about it, I guess. They’re not.”
Luke asked, “Can I take a look at the animals?”
“Sure,” she replied. “You’ve seen a couple already. You looked in a display with harlequin frogs and Californian newts.” She stood up. “Come on. I’ll take you to the aquarium. It’s in the same building as the amphibians.”
****
The sea-life tanks were bright compared to the passageways between them. The parrotfish, blue-ringed octopus, colourful angelfish and xanthid crabs were housed under ideal conditions. The water, temperature and bubbling air were perfectly controlled, and there was always exactly enough food for them. Even so, each tank was a prison cell for marine life.
“Are they happy?” Luke asked.
“Happy?”
“Mmm. They look good, but wouldn’t they prefer the open sea?”
Georgia smiled. “I doubt it. It’s a life of luxury in here.”
Malc added, “Fish do not have a concept of happiness.”
Sadly, Luke said to his mobile, “Like you, I suppose.”
“Confirmed.”
“Look,” Georgia said, pointing. “This puffer’s putting on a display for you.” The fish swelled itself up until it looked like a balloon with spikes. “His spines aren’t the problem. They’re for show. But if they don’t put a predator off – if it’s still stupid enough to go ahead and lunch on him anyway – it’ll die a painful death. The poison’s in his skin, liver, guts and reproductive organs.”
Keeping his eye on the floating pincushion, Luke replied, “So it’s not a brilliant idea to grab him with a bare hand.”
“Grabbing a puffer is the last thing you’d do with your life.”
Luke examined the aquarium. It was impossible for a visitor to reach the water and the specimens behind the glass. “Sorry, Georgia,” he said, “but I need a list of keepers who’ve got access to these displays.”
“That’ll be me and a few others. I’ll download it to Malc.”
“Thanks. Is there anywhere else someone could lay their hands on TTX?” Hesitating, Luke glanced at Malc and said, “I don’t mean that literally.”
Georgia thought about it. “I suppose so. Some people probably keep pufferfish and the like as pets. A pet supplier’s a possibility. Maybe there’s a restaurant somewhere that does fugu. Then there’s the restaurant supplier. When you think about it, quite a few places.”
Luke nodded and sighed. “I’m not exactly flying with this case. Malc, send a message to every restaurant in the area. Ask if fugu’s on the menu, or if it was last summer. Then check with the hospital if they’ve ever had a case of fugu poisoning.” He glanced at Georgia and said, “Everyone’s got to flash their identity cards to get into the animal sanctuary, haven’t they? I did.”
“Yes. Why?”
“Does the management keep a log of visitors?”
“No idea,” she replied with a shrug.
“Malc. Find out, please. I want to know everyone who came in the day Emily Wonder died.”
“Emily Wonder?” Georgia muttered, hearing the name of the victim for the first time. “Not the Emily Wonder, obviously.”
“No. She’s still very much alive and causing earthquakes wherever she sings.”
Malc was about to object to Luke’s comment when Georgia interrupted. “I think she’s great.”
The Authorities might calculate that they were right for each other but they could not even see eye-to-eye over music. Luke said, “I’d better get going, Georgia. I’ve got a few things to follow up. Thanks a lot.”
“I don’t suppose...”
“What?”
Georgia looked directly into his face. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from a Pairing Committee.”
She really was attractive and kind. Luke hated the idea of upsetting her. He shook his head. “Right now, I’m hard to pin down. The Authorities won’t know which Pairing Committee’s got to sort me out. But we’re four years away from The Time, Georgia.”
“Three and a half.”
“Plenty of time.”
“I suppose so.” She stepped forward and, taking him by surprise, kissed him goodbye.
****
Luke swiped his identity card through the security panel on the block of apartments and went in. Rather than take the elevator, he leapt up the steps two at a time until he reached the third floor. There, he saw a man hanging around outside Emily’s apartment. He was short and probably in his thirties but a shaggy beard and peaked cap made him look older. When the man noticed Luke, he dashed into the elevator.
At once, Luke turned round and hurtled back down the stairs to intercept him.
Chapter Eight
On the ground floor, Luke felt foolish. He’d assumed that the man would head for the exit and run from the building, but the elevator had gone up to the eighth floor. Luke sighed and said to Malc, “Give The Authorities a description and get an agent here straightaway. I want a watch on the building till I know who he is.”
Luke took the elevator to the eighth storey but, of course, there was no sign of the bearded man in a cap. Instead, Luke went back down to the apartment that, months ago, had belonged to EW1. The new occupants, a couple of elderly actors working at Caird Theatre, stared at Luke’s identity card. Startled, the man called Joseph said, “You’ve left it rather late, if you’ve come about the girl who was here.”
Ignoring the criticism, Luke said, “Did you move in straight after Emily’s death?”
“She must have been popular. The corridor was a mass of lilies when she... went. Her brother and a whole host of friends turned up for her cremation. I guess it was... you know... something to do with the way she died. Horrible.”
Often, after a death, there would be a memorial service to celebrate a person’s work and life, but EW1 hadn’t lived long enough for that. At least her passing had been marked by those who knew her. Luke wished he’d been able to join them. Right now, he just wanted an answer to his question. “You moved in afterwards. When, exactly?”
“We’ve changed the place around a bit, but we didn’t have to. She kept it really nice, didn’t she, Cherelle?”
Clearly, the actor did not feel bound by a forensic investigator’s questions. He used them as an excuse to talk about anything that struck him as important or interesting. His partner seemed content to nod, agreeing with everything he said.
“How long after she died did you move in?”
“No one wanted it at first. I guess it was... you know... because of someone dying here, but a place doesn’t define a person, does it, Cherelle? A person defines a place, particularly their own living space. That’s what we believe. There’s nothing left of her – or her fate. Just because she met a terrible end here, it doesn’t mean... you know. We’re not worried.”
In frustration, Luke glanced around the living quarters. It was an unfussy apartment. Light and plain in colour, giving it a clean and airy atmosphere. The sofa was new, not the one that cushioned Emily as she drifted helplessly to death. Through the window blinds, he could see a small jam-making factory to the right and a fabric design department to the left. Beyond, an auto-ship was wheeling slowly towards one of the landing stages at the edge of the Tay. “The place wasn’t stripped before you moved in?”
Possessions weren’t held in high regard because they could be replaced easily. At the end of a life, they weren’t inherited by the dead person’s family. They were usually recycled into the community by The Authorities.
“As I said,” Joseph began again, “we’ve rearranged a few things but it’s still much as it was. We
haven’t...”
Interrupting the relentless flow, Luke asked, “Was anything removed?”
“People don’t always have the same tastes, do they? A wall-hanging, a piece of sculpture, a certain style of chair. They might look gorgeous through one person’s eyes, but through another...”
“So, what did you get rid of?”
“We’re not great animal-lovers, are we, Cherelle? The animal embroidery went and she had quite an aquarium...”
“An aquarium? Do you happen to know what sort of fish she kept?”
“We’re actors. We know every play you’re likely to...”
“But you don’t know fish?” said Luke, trying for a shortcut to the answer.
“I’m sure fish have their merits – I suppose some people would think they’re beautiful. Serene, perhaps. We’re more likely to recognize them when they’re served on a plate. You see, fish can’t throw much light on the human condition...”
Now, Luke was getting annoyed with Joseph’s habit of turning every reply into an earnest and rambling speech. “What did you do with the aquarium?”
“As I said, people don’t always take pleasure in the same things. We’re sure there are lots of people out there who’d appreciate a fish tank, so we called in Dundee Pet Supplies and they took it away. We hope that the fish found a good...”
Luke decided to dive in and change the subject. “Have you seen a short man with a beard and cap in the building?”
“I suppose everyone looks short to you...”
“But have you seen someone like that?”
“I don’t think there’s any harm in him. He’s never bothered us anyway. He lives upstairs somewhere. I don’t know who he is, but he skulks about the place like a lost and tormented soul. It’s like he’s stalking someone after they’re dead. He’s more tragic than threatening in our view. I get the impression he’s still obsessed with Emily Wonder. Not the Emily Wonder, you understand. The one that...”
“Thanks,” Luke said, trying to bring the tiresome conversation to an end. “That’s all. But, just one last thing. When did you say you moved in here?”