Mystery!

by Chantelle Aimée Osman

  “You said one more question,” Porter growled.

  “I lied,” I said. “Dr. Darrian?”

  “That’s essentially it,” Darrian said, frowning. “Obviously, a bit more complicated.”

  “I’m sure it is.” I looked back at Renée. “So tell me, Dr. Mercier. If we examined the samples you brought, would we find Samson Four? Or would we find some mix of Samsons Two and Three?”

  “Samson Four, of course,” Darrian said.

  “I was asking Dr. Mercier,” I said. “Shall we ask Ms. Porter’s chemists to take a look? No, wait,” I added before she could answer. “You already know what’s in them, don’t you, Ms. Porter? Because this was the arrangement all along.”

  “All right, that’s it,” Porter said. His famous charm was gone, his voice and expression in full intimidation mode. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Detective, but no one insults my wife on my own property.”

  “I wasn’t insulting her, Mr. Porter,” I assured him. “On the contrary, I think the whole thing was brilliant.” I pointed at Beth. “Your husband had brand-new technology he wanted people to love.” I shifted the pointing finger to Renée. “You had the way to make them love it. And here, in a party crammed with the rich and powerful, was the perfect place to start all those little love affairs.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Renée protested. “Everyone already loves Portal phones.”

  “Interesting how close that is to Ms. Porter’s own catchphrase for the Portal Seven,” I said. “Still, skittish investors and all that. A little extra nudge certainly couldn’t hurt. So the two of you came up with a plan to secretly add some of Dr. Mercier’s drug and some skin absorbent to the Portal Seven case, at least for the investors you wanted to bring aboard.”

  “Get out,” Porter snarled. “You hear me? I said get out.” He took a step toward me, his hands bunching into fists.

  And stopped as Jacoby stepped between us, her hand resting casually on her Taser. “He isn’t finished,” she said mildly. “It is a nice plan, you know. Portal Seven gets its backers, and Dr. Mercier gets a big fat grant for her research. Win-win all around. Win-win-win if the investors who get suckered also make their money back.”

  “It would have worked perfectly,” I said, watching their faces closely. “Except Tizt stumbled to the scheme, or at least got wind that something odd was going down. Maybe she spotted the two of you chatting earnestly in a dark corner somewhere, or maybe she tracked some off-books phone conversations. She figured something was going on, but needed the details. Out in the world there are security cameras everywhere, so while it was safe enough to start your conversations out there you couldn’t risk doing the actual handoff where it might be recorded. But inside Porter House everyone’s blissfully anonymous, so you two figured you’d finalize the deal here.”

  “Detective—” Porter began, his angry tone edging into full-blown threat.

  “And of course, Tizt was professional enough to spend some time following each of you in search of extra clues,” I went on, ignoring him. “Probably spotted you buying the dresses and vests and figured out how she could pull it off.

  “Unfortunately for her, one of you spotted her masquerade and confronted her in the powder room. Maybe she identified herself and told you what her silence would cost. She didn’t count on reputation and social standing being important enough to kill for.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Renée protested. “You’ve completely lost your mind.”

  “Hardly,” I said, mentally crossing my fingers. “You see, we found Tizt’s vest.”

  And there it was: the automatic flicker of horror and betrayal across Beth’s face, a corresponding flicker of horror across Renée’s. So Renée had been the one who promised to dispose of the vest, and Beth was the one who’d trusted her to do the job right.

  “Enough of it anyway,” Jacoby added, picking right up on my logic. “Enough to see that it was reversible: one side red, one side blue.”

  “Tizt needed information on both halves of the scheme,” I said quietly. “So she had to impersonate both of you. Playing Beth to Renée; playing Renée to Beth.”

  “You’re insane,” Porter said. But the words were reflexive, with all the fury and threat vanished. He’d seen the flickers of guilt, too.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Officer Jacoby is going to stay here with Ms. Porter. I’m going to take Dr. Mercier across the hall. Whoever tells us the whole story first, with all the details, gets to make a deal. Come on, Dr. Mercier.”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Jacoby murmured as I passed her.

  “Twenty,” I murmured back.

  In the end, it took less than ten.

  “Do you believe them?” Jacoby asked as I drove her past the last remaining police cars to where she’d parked her car.

  “You mean about it being an accident?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said, doppels are fragile. Doesn’t really matter, though, does it?”

  “Probably not,” Jacoby said with an edge of bitterness. “When you travel in the circles that get you invited to a Porter House party, you don’t get the bread and water treatment. Especially when the only one who’s dead is a doppel.”

  “That’s going to change,” I said firmly. “The more that doppels are integrated into mainstream society, and the more their abilities are used for things other than crime and espionage, the more they’ll be accepted.”

  Jacoby gave a little snort. “Brave new world. Maybe they’ll even be able someday to show their true faces.”

  “Not sure I’d go that far,” I warned. “Like Walden said, you are pretty ugly.”

  Back to TOC

  The Name of the Saints

  Bryan Young

  “Brother,” she called as we met on the road. “What is your name?”

  By her armor and sword, I knew that she had been ordained, so I bowed my head respectfully. “I am called Dominguez, Sister Saint.”

  “Well met, Brother Dominguez, I am called Sister Agatha. Where are you bound?”

  “To the abbey of Mount Saint Edrador to accept my new charge.”

  “An initiate then, splendid,” she said. “Fortune smiles upon us as that’s where I’m headed. The lonely road has worn on me, if it please you, we shall travel together. I’m to inspect the abbey.”

  I bowed again. “If it please me, Sister Saint? It would be my honor.”

  So together we traveled. It was a journey of a few days as the Orcish territories where the mission served were far removed from the capital city and the shadow of Mount Saint Edrador wasn’t long enough to reach even the ancient borders of St. Argon. On the road, Sister Agatha spoke freely about many things, including many that I didn’t believe appropriate for an initiate of my level. But she kept a smile on her face and seemed grateful for my company.

  Four days passed in this manner until we finally arrived at the abbey. But instead of an idyllic mountain mission, we came upon a house in disarray.

  The abbey itself was walled in and small buildings were scattered on the inside, but most paled in height to the tower on the north side. Beneath it was a wide, castle-like passage that would grant myself and Sister Agatha entry to the courtyard. Yet a mob of brothers and sisters, heading away from us, prevented our entrance.

  “What’s all this, then, Brother Dominguez?” she said. More rhetorically than anything.

  As I had no answer to give, I gave none.

  We dismounted, secured the horses and hurried after the crowd.

  “Do you hear that?” Sister Agatha asked.

  I nodded. Of course I heard it. Something was wrong.

  Only when we reached the edge of the crowd could we hear the murmurings; “Murderer!” was the most common refrain.

  The crowd was pressed in close around the door of a tall stone building on the far side of the yard.

  Sister Agatha yanked sister back from the shouting mob. “What happens here?”

&n
bsp; The sister bowed her head reverently. “The abbess has been murdered. They’ve caught the one responsible.”

  Hearing this caused a lump in my throat. I was to report to the abbess upon my arrival. How could she be dead, murdered in her own mission?

  “Where is the vice-abbess?” Sister Agatha asked.

  “Abbot,” the sister said. “The vice was a brother of the order. And he’s with the murderer.”

  “And where is the murderer?”

  “In the cells.” The sister pointed to the door of the stone building around which the crowd had gathered.

  “Come, Brother Dominguez,” Sister Agatha said, resting her hand on the pommel of her sword. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  She grabbed me by the scruff of my robe and pulled me forcefully through the crowd, pushing sisters and brothers away until we made it to the door and down the stairs. In the cellar of the building was another crowd, this one more animated, but they too parted when they realized it was a fully ordained shield maiden pushing through.

  And in the cell?

  An orc. In monk’s robes like mine, only larger.

  An initiate.

  He was bigger than any of the humans in the room, but cowered in the back of the cell, stained with thrown vegetables and spit. His forest-green face, lit by torches, showed nothing but fear and despair, despite his menacing tusks.

  I’d never heard of an Orcish initiate, but the abbey of Mount Saint Edrador was a mission to convert the savage wilderness of Orcish territory and bring them civilization. It stood to reason that one of them would eventually enter the order.

  “What happens here?” shouted Sister Agatha, struggling to be heard over the din, but no one seemed to notice.

  “What happens here?” she repeated, unsheathing her glowing sword.

  A hush fell over the room. The initiates bowed their heads. The new abbot, however, in his fine embroidered robe and skull cap, turned to us.

  “Sister? A welcome surprise.” He pointed an accusing finger at the orc. “We’ve caught a murderer.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Sister Agatha sheathed her sword and stepped toward the abbot. “But we’ll see, won’t we?”

  An initiate raised her hand. “It’s true, though, Sister Saint. I saw it happen.”

  “You watched your brother here murder the abbess?”

  “Well,” the sister wrung her hands, “I came in and it was plain as day.”

  “You see, Sister? Don’t let this unfortunate instance stain your visit. We’ll carry the sentence here and I’ll meet you in my office after. I imagine you’re here for the inspection.”

  “It’s all a lie,” the orc murmured. His voice was deep and guttural, like an animal trained to speak. But there was a defeated sadness to him too, something I never expected an orc capable of.

  “What’s that?” Sister Agatha asked.

  But the new abbot interrupted, stepping forward with his hands raised. “What murderer wants to admit their deed?”

  “Brother Abbot,” Sister Agatha said, “if it please you, I would like to see the site of the murder before you carry out your sentence.”

  “Of course,” he said. “If that is how you’d like to spend your visit.”

  “Have you moved the deceased?”

  “Not yet,” he stammered. “We haven’t had time…”

  “Allow no one passage until I inspect the deceased. And clear this mob. This is unbecoming of your abbey.”

  “At once, Sister Saint.”

  The abbot tried to lead us outside, but Sister Agatha rebuffed him. “No, brother, my initiate and I will remain for a moment to question the accused.”

  When she said “my initiate,” I almost choked. Unless I’d misheard, it sounded very much like she was changing the nature of my orders and taking me on as her own personal aide. It was an honor I’d never believed I could be chosen for. And probably a mistake.

  “As you wish,” the abbot said begrudgingly before leaving Sister Agatha and I alone with the Orcish monk.

  I’d never seen an orc up close. I’d been in a caravan that had been attacked by a hunting party of Orcish warriors before, but the closest I’d got to any of them was as far as a longbow could let an arrow fly. This one, despite his size and inhuman appearance seemed almost gentle.

  Despite the blood covering the sleeves of his robe.

  Tears ran down his face.

  “And what is your name, brother?” Sister Agatha asked him.

  “Krognak, Sister Saint.”

  “I am Sister Agatha and I mean to find out what truly happened, so I will need you to tell me exactly what transpired as you remember it. Can you do that for me?”

  “I didn’t do it,” he said.

  “I understand that’s what you’ve stated. Now, if you please, just tell me what happened.” Then she turned to me, “Brother Dominguez, please listen carefully. I’ll have questions for you after.”

  “Yes, Sister Saint.”

  “Now, Brother Krognak, please tell us.” She addressed him with a dignity I doubted anyone else would have afforded him.

  Brother Krognak wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. “It was my duty to bring the abbess her mid-day meal and I entered her office with the tray, as I have done for these last few weeks.”

  I hung on every detail, trying to imagine it clearly in case Sister Agatha really did have questions for me. His mastery of the common tongue, even with his slight lisp as a result of his fang-like tusks, was startling.

  “When I entered today,” he continued, “I saw her slumped over. Something was wrong.”

  “Where was she exactly?” Sister Agatha asked.

  “Seated at her writing desk in the center of the room, she had been working on a manuscript.”

  “And then what?”

  “Well, I noticed that she wasn’t breathing and spotted a glint of silver at her back. I dropped the tray and ran to her. It was a knife. I removed it and pulled her to the floor, trying to revive her…”

  “And that’s when you became bloodied?” Sister Agatha pointed to the cuffs of his robe.

  “Yes, Sister. I shouted for help and that’s when Sister Arellano came in and accused me of the murder.”

  “How long did it take Sister Arellano to arrive?”

  “Mere seconds. Almost as soon as I called out.”

  “Interesting. And then what happened?”

  “She called me a murderer and the vice-abbot dragged me down here.”

  Sister Agatha folded her hands neatly behind her back and furrowed her brow. “Interesting, indeed.”

  She spent a moment in thought. Hearing the Orcish brother tell his account, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more to it. They wouldn’t be so ready to pass their final sentence on such thin evidence, would they?

  Breaking her silence, Sister Agatha bowed her head to Brother Krognak. “I assure you, Brother, we will get to the heart of this matter, one way or the other.”

  He offered no thanks, only a grim nod.

  Sister Agatha ushered me up the stairs and I could tell the wheels in her head were turning. “Fascinating, isn’t it? We’ll need to talk to Sister Arellano, but first we’ll see the scene.”

  There was a thrill in her voice that I couldn’t understand. An abbess, a respected sister, was dead. And the one most likely responsible, a new brother of the order and a bridge to Orcish converts, was sitting in a cell.

  “But who else could it have been? You already heard Sister Arellano say she saw him murder the abbess. Can we take his story for granted?”

  “There’s truth in every account, Brother Dominguez. We’ll see for sure. And there’s no goodness or justice in convicting the wrong party, so we do our work, just to be sure.”

  “Yes, Sister Saint,” I said, humbled.

  The abbot waited for us nervously in the yard. “The high office is this way,” he said, leading us to the abbey’s tower.

  As we walked, Sister Agatha peppere
d him with questions. “What did you see, Brother Abbot?”

  “Well, I was a floor below in my office chambers when I heard the commotion. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could.”

  “And what did you see?”

  “Eh?”

  “What did you see, Brother Abbot?” Sister Agatha repeated.

  “I saw Sister Arellano wrestling the knife from that Orcish savage. Blood everywhere. It was horrible.”

  At the high tower, Brother Abbot led us to a spiral staircase.

  “My office is here, and the abbess’s office is up one more flight.”

  “I wonder, Brother Abbot, if you might fetch Sister Arellano for us while we see what there is to see.”

  “Of course,” he said before stepping out onto the landing that led to his office and waved us by. “I’ll fetch her immediately. I await you when your task is completed.”

  “Many thanks and blessings of the saints upon you, Brother.”

  “And also with you, Sister Saint.”

  With him gone, a tension left us and I found that curious. Though, I supposed under such questionable circumstances, anyone would be nervous. I imagined no one wanted to step into a job where their predecessor had been assassinated.

  I followed Sister Agatha up the stairs and was not prepared for what I saw.

  The abbess’s body was still on the floor behind her desk, blood stained her clothes, the desk and the carpet. I gagged at the sight.

  “There, there, Brother Dominguez,” Sister Agatha said. “If you take up the sword as a brother, you’ll see far worse than this.”

  The office was beautiful. The highest room in the tower and capped with a stained glass skylight that let in light of yellow and blue and red. Windows cut into the side walls of the office let in the midday light.

  Sister Agatha was inspecting everything with the eyes of a hawk. The center of the desk held the manuscript the abbess had been working on. A space had been cleared to her left for the tray of food the orc was to have brought. What details she found interesting I couldn’t say, but every so often, she would make sounds of awe or say something like, “Fascinating…”

  Not taking my eyes off her, I hovered in the doorway, almost afraid of stepping inside. It seemed like a sensible thing to focus on, rather than the death in the room. Twice I closed my eyes and offered prayers to the saints on behalf of the departed abbess.