Buffalito Bundle

by Lawrence M. Schoen

  “Mr. Conroy, you are not of Trakus and so I must excuse your ignorance of our ways. There are certain protocols that apply to the noble born, protocols that have sadly been ignored. Though it pains me to say so, I believe you have worn out your welcome here.” His eyes locked with mine and I could feel his desire to have me out of the embassy. More than that, there was a strong suggestion that I pack immediately and never so much as speak to the Baroness again. I recognized the cold, hollow sensation at once; the same thing had happened the day before when Spencer Novato placed his hand on my shoulder.

  It all clicked. Whether by some natural ability or technical marvel, Novato was immune to the projective influence of Trakens. He had extended that immunity to me while he touched me. Then as now I could feel the desire from Vishto, recognize it, but not give in to its compulsion. I turned my back on the Chancellor and rebuttoned my shirt, fingering the disc hanging from the chain around my neck. I was beginning to appreciate the gift Calinda had left me.

  A diffident knock sounded on the door and a servant stepped in pushing a small cart.

  “May I help you with your luggage, sir?” he said.

  This too was Vishto’s doing. His wish to have me out of here radiated from him and influenced the staff accordingly. I shook my head at the servant. “No thanks, I’ll manage by myself.” I stepped over to Chancellor Vishto, meeting his stare. He still looked every bit the kindly old man and I could feel his devotion and concern for the Baroness. His wants had no power over me. He was just trying to protect her, and it wasn’t my place to convince him that the lady didn’t need protecting. I’d already managed to piss off one Traken; I didn’t need to pick a fight with another.

  “My apologies, Chancellor, if I have through some ignorance offended your hospitality. If you will excuse me, I will change my clothes, gather my few belongings, and depart within the hour.”

  He rose from the chair and leaned heavily on his walking stick. “Thank you, Mr. Conroy, you are a gentleman and I confess to a personal enjoyment of your company. It is indeed a pity that you are not of better lineage; you would do it great credit. And these actions would not be necessary.”

  The compulsion to leave lessened, an all but done deal. In its place I felt his relief and a genuine sadness. None of it could reach through to manipulate my behavior. I watched him walk from the room and smiled to myself. The old man had really liked me. More importantly, he loved the Baroness. It was disturbing to see how much.

  Years of working third-rate lounges had taught me the discipline of traveling light. I switched into fresh clothes and stuffed everything else into a single carpetbag. On the way out I scooped Reggie up under my right arm. A limousine was waiting to whisk me to the city. I lingered only a moment in the grand foyer of the embassy to pen a quick note of apology to the Baroness and entrust it to one of the staff, slipping him a fifty cred note at the same time. Then I left to look for a hotel.

  Like most mercantile worldlets, Brunzibar played host to a lot of industrial high rollers. It catered to them with an assortment of five star restaurants, luxury hotels, and extravagant conference centers. The manager of the Brunzibar Star gazed in amazement at Reggie, confirmed my credit rating, and personally escorted us to the penthouse. The accommodations were remarkable, but I couldn’t help thinking how much better they’d be if Calinda were there to share them.

  Reggie skipped across the room in a blur of tight dark curls and laid claim to a richly embroidered throw pillow. I wasn’t sure if he planned to eat it or sleep on it and I didn’t much care. I just wanted a shower. Call me fussy, but I like to start each day with a dousing of hot water and a bar of soap, something I hadn’t had time for on my way out of the Traken embassy. The penthouse had three bathrooms and the one in the master bedroom contained the sort of huge and richly appointed plumbing that makes you think of parties at Caligula’s palace. I hung my clothes safely out of Reggie’s reach (just in case the pillow didn’t satisfy his hunger) and surrendered myself to the pleasures of hot water and rich lather.

  The police chose that moment to break down the door.

  Chief Miles himself was there, with a dozen uniformed police trailing behind, a small throng of hotel staff, and curious onlookers following after. He calmly strode into the master bathroom and announced “This is the police!” I turned off the water, wrapped a towel around my waist, and emerged from wet opulence to see what was up. He tossed a pair of electro-static cuff gloves at me. I caught them and managed not to drop my towel.

  “Mr. Conroy, you’re under arrest for the murder of Lord Ramilon Nerkt.”

  My first mistake was in not looking surprised. An announcement of murder is typically something of a shock, and the innocent are supposed to be astonished. But I’ve spent too many years on stage making people say all kinds of outlandish things. My professional reflexes kicked in and kept any reaction from my face. Besides, Nerkt had already demonstrated himself to be a first class bastard. Plenty of people had to want a man like that dead.

  “Chief Miles,” I said, “there must be some mistake.”

  “If there is, it will be sorted out down at the station. Now you can come along easily, Mr. Conroy, or you can be difficult. What’s it going to be?”

  “Do you plan to parade me through the hotel buck naked, or are you going to allow me to dress first?”

  Miles signaled an assistant, who stepped forward and pulled my clothes off the hook, giving them a once over. Under the watchful eyes of the local police, hotel staff, and a few guests, I slipped into my clothes, zipped and buttoned and buckled, and then ran a hand through my wet hair. Miles gestured toward the gloves he’d given me and watched as I slid them on. He pulled my hands behind my back, waited as I laced my fingers, and then activated the gloves. A charge ran through them and turned the flexible fabric into unyielding metallic mesh. Then, gripping my left bicep with one hand, he guided me out of the bathroom.

  On the way out I caught the gaze of the hotel manager. “I’ll be keeping the room. Look in on my buffalo dog, if you don’t mind,” I said. “I expect him to be happy and whole and here when I return.” Reggie had eaten a large hole in his pillow, pulled much of the stuffing free, and curled up inside it for a nap.

  The ride to the police station was uneventful. I’d been arrested plenty of times before, but never made to feel like a guest. The cuff gloves were infinitely more comfortable than the traditional metal-on-wrist variety, and Miles’s men showed me courtesy and professionalism, as if they’d all had a refresher course on police etiquette. The civility unnerved me.

  Politeness aside, the police on Brunzibar processed suspects no differently from anywhere else I’ve been. I put all of my belongings into a polyfiber envelope—my watch, Calinda’s medallion, my belt—and sealed it. Then I was searched, photographed, x-rayed, and scanned. They compared the data with the details encrypted into my travel visa and deposited me in an interrogation cell as comfortable as an apartment, if you made allowances for the ugly green paint and overly harsh lighting. I took inventory: several large chairs, a sturdy table, and a dirty gray carpet. Matthew Miles sat in one of the chairs, reading a datapadd. He set it on the table as I entered. I caught a glimpse of the word “murder” and a distinctive logo on the screen. I recognized the logo; it was from a popular series of notes used by students going through police academies, a sort of “procedures made simple” collection.

  “Boning up?” I asked.

  Chief Miles blushed, scowled, and slapped the off-switch on his datapadd.

  “We don’t have violent crimes here, Mr. Conroy. In fact, we have almost no crime at all. This is a business world and crime is bad for business. Our legal system, and more importantly our penal system, provide vigorous and effective deterrents. Justice on Brunzibar is swift, whether you cooperate with us or not.”

  I thought about that. During my years as a hypnotist I’d spent more than one night as an innocent man in jail. Innocence wasn’t always enough. But Miles hadn’t arres
ted the Amazing Conroy; he’d arrested the CEO of Buffalogic, Inc. I wasn’t a two-bit stage performer any more. I could afford as many lawyers as I needed to get me off. Innocence combined with money made a big difference. I tried not to let lack of anxiety show. Miles was just doing his job; judging by the datapadd he hadn’t had a lot of experience at this aspect of it.

  “Why do you think I killed Lord Nerkt?” I asked.

  “The killer wasn’t a professional; it was messy, amateurish. Murder isn’t as straightforward as they make it seem on the vids. The victim was stabbed repeatedly with a sharp implement, probably a knife. There was a great deal of blood. The killer no doubt cleaned himself up right away, but the experience lingers in the mind. I’ve seen it before. First time murderers become fastidious for days after the killing.”

  I tried hard not to laugh. For a cop interrogating a murder suspect he was awfully chatty. I doubted he’d had time to do more than skim the datapadd. “You think I did it because I was taking a shower?”

  “Hardly, Mr. Conroy. Though that is an extra bit of consistent information, isn’t it? Let me ask you a question now. Where have you been since you left Spencer Novato’s party yesterday? If you have an alibi for the last twenty hours now would be a good time to share it.”

  Calinda immediately came to mind, and just as quickly I knew I wouldn’t mention her at all. I recalled Vishto’s remarks before I’d left the embassy: Protocols of the noble born. It was one thing to consort with commoners for business, and quite another to allow more intimate contact. My Baroness and I had crossed that line. Only Vishto knew of it; no lasting harm had been done, but that could quickly change. Even the risk of hurting her reputation was cause to keep silent. I had a team of expensive lawyers already on Brunzibar who could probably get me out of this jam. Calinda had only me to protect her good name.

  “No,” I said, “I don’t believe I do.”

  He smiled and picked up his datapadd. He tapped the screen with the business end of a stylus. “Do you remember what you said to me yesterday? Just after your encounter with the deceased? When I asked you if you wanted to press charges?”

  “Not especially, no.”

  He read from the padd. “You said, ‘I’ll let him have that one, but if he tries it again it will be the last time.’”

  “What of it?” I said.

  “You don’t see that as a threat, Mr. Conroy?”

  “Not especially, no. Do you? I’d just been sucker-punched by the man. What should I have said?”

  “He’d struck you more than once actually, four times. Three blows to the face, one to the stomach, according to witnesses. Let’s be honest: he beat the crap out of you. He did it front of the wealthy and politically connected woman with whom you attended the party. She even had to come to your rescue, to save you. Now, I’m no expert on psychology, Mr. Conroy, but speaking as one man to another, a beating like that, in front of your woman, doesn’t do much for the old self-esteem. So, yes, I do consider your earlier remark to be a threat. On other worlds, men have been killed for far less. You come from another world, Mr. Conroy, and you had ample motive to want Lord Nerkt dead. And men of means, such as yourself, are used to getting what they want.”

  I had to laugh at that, which didn’t earn me any points with Chief Miles. I shook my head and said, “I’m sorry, you need to run a better background check. My social status is newly acquired. A year ago my income was probably less than your lowest grade officer. I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man, Chief. I didn’t kill Nerkt. I’m not sorry somebody did, but it wasn’t me.”

  As if on cue the door opened and the Baroness stepped into the room. Two sheepish officers stood behind her in the hall. I felt a wave of relief mixed with anger and the desire to stop all this fuss, all coming from Calinda. But it was muted, hollow, and not remotely compulsory.

  “We’re sorry, sir,” said one of the officers. “She insisted on seeing the prisoner at once.”

  “That’s fine,” said the chief. “The Baroness can be very persuasive. Leave her with me and go back to your duties.” He stood and gave her his full attention. “How can I be of assistance, Baroness?”

  “Chief Miles, this action of yours is unacceptable.” She was slightly taller than him and looked down her nose as she fixed him with a fair imitation of Vishto’s patented stare. “I insist that you release Mr. Conroy at once.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, ma’am.”

  The Baroness frowned. “You do know who I am?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s why I took Mr. Conroy to this specific interrogation room. The walls are equipped with dampers to block the influence of Traken nobility.”

  Baroness Parmaq pulled herself up straighter. “I have the full authority of an ambassador of Trakus, complete with diplomatic immunity.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I choose to extend that immunity to Mr. Conroy.”

  “No, ma’am, I’m afraid not.” Miles winced. He looked like he was weakening, but not enough.

  “What do you mean, ’no?’”

  “Baroness, you should know better. Mr. Conroy is not a native of Trakus. Nor is he an authorized representative of your government. Immunity cannot be extended to him. Nor is this the Traken embassy; you are not on sovereign soil and as such the laws of Brunzibar apply.”

  “But you have no reason to hold him.”

  “Baroness, please. After yesterday’s altercation he’s our most likely suspect for the crime. No one saw him since the two of you left Spencer Novato’s party yesterday. He has motive and no alibi.”

  “He has an alibi,” said Calinda. “He was with me. We left the party together and returned to the embassy. He was there all night.”

  “Baroness, I appreciate your efforts, but we’ve moved very quickly on this. My people have already talked with several members of the embassy staff. I have confirmation that Mr. Conroy was not in his suite last night. The embassy is a large facility. He could easily have returned with you and then slipped away unnoticed.”

  “No, you don’t understand. He couldn’t slip away as you say. He was with me. All night. Must I be more blunt?” Her cheeks reddened and she looked away.

  “Baroness, no, you don’t need to—” I said. I rose from my seat to go to her, but the Chief pushed me back and stepped between us.

  “You’re saying you were with him, from the time you left Novato’s until...” He let it trail off.

  “Until just past dawn. I had a morning meeting with the Consortium of Aligned Technologies, a discussion of trade futures that couldn’t be rescheduled. When I left he was still asleep.”

  “The coroner placed the time of Nerkt’s death at well before dawn,” said Miles. “Are you willing to sign a written statement of what you’ve just told me?”

  “Calinda,” I said. “We both know I didn’t do it. My lawyers can clear me in time. You don’t need to involve yourself. The police will find the real killer and let me out in short order. Please, I’ll be fine.”

  But she looked at me, her eyes welling with tears, and I knew that more than anything else my words just confirmed her resolve. A solitary tear broke free and trailed down her perfect face and she turned back to the police chief. “If that is what you require, then I will sign.”

  Ten minutes later I was taking my possessions out of a polyfiber envelope and signing forms to verify that I’d gotten everything back. Chief Miles was doing his best to soothe the Baroness. I wanted to hurry over and do the same. I slipped Calinda’s gift around my neck and only my motivation changed. My desire to comfort her wasn’t a result of her need to be comforted any more; it was something I wanted to do all on my own. I stuffed the remaining items into the pockets of my slacks and hurried over to her, taking her hand in mine. She turned to me and I leaned close and whispered, “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Almost on cue two of Miles’s officers rushed into the room, strong-arming a disheveled and dazed Spencer Novato between them. Novato’s onc
e elegant suit was soaked in blood.

  “We went to his home to take his statement like you told us, Chief,” said one of the cops. “We found him in his car, asleep. We also found this.” He held up a transparent evidence bag containing a bloody polyblade. “He claims he doesn’t remember anything.”

  Novato lifted his head and seemed to realize where he was. His eyes widened as he looked at Miles. I could almost smell his panic. “Matt? What’s happening?”

  “Sir, we used the field analysis kit on the way in.” The second officer eagerly handed Miles a datapadd. “It’s not conclusive, but the preliminary results show the samples on both his clothes and the knife are consistent with Traken blood.”

  Calinda’s fingers tightened on my arm and waves of shock and disbelief rippled from her, infecting Miles and his officers. “Murderer,” she said. “Was it for money? Did you take a life over some business disagreement?”

  Miles jerked his head at one of the officers and pointed at us. “Get them out of here.” He took Novato’s arm, shaking the man to get his attention. “Spencer? I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Lord Nerkt...” The rest of his words were lost to us as the officer ushered us out.

  I exited the police station arm in arm with my Baroness and returned to the hotel a free man. The murderer was in custody and Brunzibarian justice would be served. The whole affair with Chief Miles had taken several hours and both Calinda and I were drained. When we arrived at the penthouse Reggie was still sound asleep in the hollow of his pillow. I sat on the floor to be at his level and roused him with a vigorous head scratch. He woke, yawned, and rewarded me with a few licks of his coarse tongue against my wrist. Calinda knelt alongside me and took my other hand in both of hers.