Jimmy laid out the pics we’d perused previously on the coffee table. “These salacious snaps are of Lola. The real Lola. Now, compare those with these ones from three weeks ago, and the corpse you got at the junkyard…”
“That’s not Lola Marquez,” Leslie gasped.
“We may make a dick out of you after all, Detective.” I hung the focus on Jeff. “Your studio was so far in the red it needed a transfusion, and fast. You figured you’d plug two turkeys with one shot—get a newer model and all the dough—but your goose is cooked.”
“Yeah? Prove it.”
“Well, Juan here will testify you hired him to plug the first Mrs. Shelbourne and make you a new model, won’t you, Juan?”
“Sí, Señor Turner.”
“Gracias, Juan. But you’re cheap and on delivery the new model wasn’t all you’d hoped for. The glitches made you recalculate, which is why you came to me to prove it wasn’t your wife who came back. So you could legally have her declared dead—knowing full well you’d paid for the first model’s lead supper. Then you’d have the gravy and the freedom to try out all the new talent that came your way.”
“How…how did you—”
“I got you dead to rights, or maybe the better word is…alive. You hired Juan here to do the switch, but what you don’t know is, well,” I raised my voice a little. “Honey, you can mosey on in now.”
The door to the kitchenette swung open and in sashayed the screen siren we all knew, and no one in this room seemed to love, followed by a cadre of uniformed coppers. They converged on her hypothetically homicidal hubby, whose face fell faster than a ton of bricks.
“Juan did the double and stuck her on the plane as planned. Problem was, the first Mrs. wasn’t doing her dirt nap. Mr. Shelbourne—” I looked over at Detective Leslie who nodded the go-ahead, “—I think it’s safe to say you’re under arrest for attempted murder.”
Jeff grimaced as they were cuffing him, probably a little tighter than necessary.
“Why, Jeff? Wasn’t I everything you ever wanted?” A drop of oil dripped down her puss.
“You got obsolete, Lola. Everybody knew it but you. I couldn’t justify you headlining every picture. No one bought you as the ingenue, not even me.” As the led him out the door, he turned one last time. “And you shoulda smiled more.”
“I smiled plenty at Juan, that’s why I’m still alive. The only reason I went down to Mexico was to get a refurb for you, Jeff. I didn’t even care about the pictures, I just wanted you to look at me the way you used to. Juan tipped me off to your plan—he’d always liked platinum blondes—and I ran. Nothing was ever enough for you. My love wasn’t enough. So I had to die for you. But I’d like to live…for him.” Escorted by officers, Juan and Lola headed downtown arm-in-arm to make their statements.
Detective Leslie hesitated in the doorway. “I’ve just got one last question. The fake Lola, the dead bot… I mean, for all intents and purposes she was Lola, and you can only gas somebody once, so it doesn’t really matter. But I’m curious. Who was she, and what happened to her?”
“We’ll probably never know. Cupcake showed up at Juan’s too far gone. Discontinued design.” This crazy caper had made me thirsty. I poured myself a drink, sat down and put my feet up on the desk. “In the end, I suppose she musta had a screw loose.”
The detective nodded, “Like so many, I guess she was just a spare part.” He closed the door behind him.
Back to TOC
Fire and Fuel
Dylan Birtolo
The pavement still radiated heat.
That struck Antonia more than anything else about the scene, which spoke volumes considering the chaos surrounding her. She rested on one knee, hand a few inches over a gouge in the pavement. The edges curled back like ballistic gel when someone sliced it with a laser saw. This cut stretched for three feet and down a couple of inches. Despite the fact that she felt the heat through her gloves, the pavement didn’t smoke or smolder. When she prodded it with a stick, it didn’t deform. She had never seen anything like it.
The other officers gathered around the collection of bodies. Three of them littered the ground, in various states of dismemberment. Based on their placement, the communal guess was that the largest victim had dropped first. He had a slash down his back that severed his spine. The second victim had defensive wounds over her arms, and more cuts than Antonia could count. The sight was gruesome, even to her weathered sensibilities. The final corpse lied about ten yards from the others, tendons in the back of his legs severed. He had managed to crawl a few feet before the attacker finished him.
“What is it, Detective Caito?”
Antonia pushed up off her knees and stood at attention even before she turned around to face her superior. Sergeant Turner wasn’t a tall man, having only an inch over Antonia. His uniform was so meticulous as to appear unworn. But she knew he joined the field often, trying to keep cases moving. The metallic glint of his eyes gave away his augmented nature, but otherwise he passed for a natural.
“Something marred the street here, and it’s still warm. Like someone cut into it with a blowtorch, but much hotter.”
Antonia stepped to the side so the sergeant could see.
“But this is well away from the scene. What makes you think it’s related?”
“It’s still warm,” Antonia repeated. “It had to be done fairly recently otherwise it would’ve cooled off by now.”
Tapping a button on her wristband, Antonia summoned an AR display of the current weather conditions. Even though it wasn’t quite winter, the ambient temperature was low: forty-one degrees. As she brought her wrist closer to the hazard in the road, both she and the sergeant watched the temperature climb until it capped at eighty-seven degrees just an inch from the curled edge.
“Good work. Any idea what it means?”
“None. I don’t even know what could do something like this. But I’d be willing to bet that our murderer came this way, and it’s somehow related.”
Sergeant Turner reached up and tugged at his beard a couple of times as she talked.
“Keep at it. You’re on to something. I want you taking point on this one. I’ll dismiss the other detectives, but the officers here are yours.”
He gestured to the officers maintaining a barrier to keep the inevitable crowd from advancing too close. Violent crimes attracted attention, and this was the most violent crime in Sacramento that Antonia could remember.
As she scanned the crowd, Antonia felt her attention drawn to one individual in particular. Most of the people were jostling for position to get a better look at the body, but one man seemed focused on the street. And her.
He stood almost a head taller than the others, at least six feet, and his entire right arm had been replaced with a robotic one. Tendrils of burn scars danced up his shoulder to his neck and face, as well as disappearing beneath his shirt. Something about the way he stared kept her transfixed. Then she blinked. He turned and walked away.
Antonia jogged over, trying to catch sight of him through the crowd.
“Did you see where that guy went? The one with the robo-limb?” she asked the closest officer.
The officer shook his head. Antonia sighed, but she couldn’t blame him. To the officer, the stranger was just another face in a sea of people.
She walked back to the scene, but the hairs on the back of her neck refused to lay down. She stood next to the gouge and faced the final victim, drawing a line in her mind between the two points. Turning around, she walked away from the murders, along the imagined path.
Something glinted near her feet and Antonia crouched down for a closer look. She pressed a button on her wristband and turned on the flashlight. Several small black particles sparkled when the light hit them, rather like obsidian.
Antonia didn’t know what the substance was, but she didn’t need to in order to use it. If the murderer left a trail, she could follow it. Grabbing a small cartridge from her belt, she harvested a few of th
e flecks, placing them in the container. She sealed it, walked over to her car, and retrieved a sniffer drone from the trunk. Antonia carried it to the trail and placed it on the ground facing the direction she guessed the murderer had taken.
The sniffer drone chirped a couple of times before lifting off and flying forward. Its size enabled it to dart through the legs of the bystanders. Antonia had more difficulty, but people parted for her. The drone followed the path and stopped when it came to a closed door of a five-story building. There was a private garage with a chip reader outside the main entrance. Even the pedestrian door had a security scanner. Antonia rushed up to it, waving her wristband to give her credentials and get access to the stairwell.
Following the drone’s guidance, Antonia climbed up to the third-floor landing, pausing to glance through the window before bursting into the parking garage. Her hand slid to her gun, and she drummed her fingers against the handle without grasping or drawing it. She didn’t see any movement, just lines of cars illuminated by minimal lighting.
Antonia opened the door, glancing in both directions, scanning for any signs of life. It shut behind her and the latch clicked loud enough to echo. The scent of tar was heavy enough to make her want to gag. Off to her left, a portion of the garage floor looked like it had been liquefied. Antonia scooped up the drone, turning it off before it zipped away on the trail.
Antonia crept forward, hand on her weapon, avoiding the marred ground.
Movement flashed at the edge of Antonia’s vision, and she jerked her gun free, aiming at the target. A rat scuttled across the pavement, scurrying into the shadows with a series of shrill squeaks. She was re-holstering her weapon when she heard the latch from the door to the stairwell. Turning around, she didn’t see anyone. Antonia held her breath. Seconds passed. Something scuffed the floor behind her, and Antonia whipped around, her gun in position before she could fully turn.
She glimpsed a figure in the shadows, wearing clothes that billowed around him. The stranger carried something in his right hand, but she couldn’t make it out at this distance. It looked like a sword.
“Police! Freeze! Don’t move!”
The figure gestured, and a flash of light made Antonia drop to the side and cover her eyes. Some instinct screamed for her to get out of the way, so she rolled to her left just as a burst of flame tore through the spot where she had been standing. The heat washed over her and made her break into a sweat.
Sitting up, Antonia fired. He spun and fled down the ramp. She ran across the melting pavement after him. She stopped behind a pillar, slowing her breathing and listening. When she closed her eyes, she heard footsteps moving away slowly. The attacker wasn’t running, which meant he might be setting a trap. Antonia lifted her gun and took a couple of deep breaths.
A strangled shout had her out and around the corner in time to see two men tumbling across the cement, elbows and knees flying. A familiar flash lit the parking garage, making Antonia wince and shield her eyes. Even without the spots in front of her vision, there was no clear shot as the two men jostled for position.
After another flash and a growl of pain, the two separated, one darting behind the cars. Antonia fired as the other tried to get up. The bullet sparked as it hit the ground a few inches from the man’s hand. He looked back at her, eyes narrowed. She met that stare, widening her stance and holding her ground. She recognized him—the man with the robotic arm from the edge of the crime scene.
“Don’t move. You’re under arrest.”
When he didn’t respond, Antonia crept forward, keeping her weapon trained on him. He watched her, moving to keep her in the center of his field of vision. Small cracks appeared under his hand as his fingers tightened.
Off in the distance, she heard a car start.
“Who are you?” Antonia asked. “And what are you doing here?”
“Einar Svensson. I was trying to stop him.”
“I think we need to have a chat. Stand up, nice and slow, and put your hands behind your back.”
Einar hesitated a moment but followed the instruction. Antonia took her cuffs and placed them around his wrists with one hand, refusing to holster her weapon. Once the restraints were in place, she gave a tug, pulling him back in the direction of the staircase.
“Let’s take a ride so we can get to know each other better.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”
Before the words registered, Einar flexed his shoulders and the chain of the handcuffs snapped. His elbow came up and back, slamming into Antonia’s arm and knocking the gun out of her grip. She rolled with the impact as best as she could and grabbed his wrist, but her biological muscles were no match for his mechanical ones. He yanked her toward him, stepping out of the way at the last moment to toss her to the ground.
“I don’t want to hurt you, but this involves things you wouldn’t understand.”
He ran, leaving in the same direction as the other combatant. Antonia picked herself up and retrieved her weapon, holstering it before using her wristband to pull up a three-dimensional map of the area. The tracer she slipped into Einar’s pocket showed up as a small red dot, moving through the floors with surprising speed.
Antonia left the garage and went back to her vehicle. By now the bodies had been carted away and only a handful of officers stayed behind to try and finish up any information gathering. The only officer of rank still in the area was Sergeant Turner. He saw Antonia approaching the scene and walked over to ask questions before she crossed the perimeter.
“Did you find him?”
“I believe so, sir. He attacked me in the garage a block and a half away. I tried to stop him, but he got away.”
The sergeant stopped and turned to face Antonia. “How is that possible?”
Antonia clenched her fists at her sides but kept her face impassive. “Another assailant entered the scene. His interference prevented me from apprehending the suspect.”
The sergeant’s eyes flashed for a moment and he hunched forward. It was subtle enough that Antonia almost missed it, but for a moment he looked predatory. Antonia took a small sliding step back and looked to the side.
“Another assailant? Let me guess, he had a robo-limb for a right arm? Tell me about him.”
“Not much to tell, sir. I tried to bring him in for questioning, but he broke free and escaped.”
“Well, if you do manage to apprehend this mystery man, I’d love a chance to talk to him.”
With that, the sergeant left, walking into the crowd and leaving Antonia to stumble over the exchange. She walked over to one of the forensics on site.
“Something seem strange to you about the sergeant?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not quite sure how to explain it, but he didn’t seem like himself just now.”
“Just now? He went back at least ten minutes ago.”
Antonia drove through the streets of Sacramento, following the tracker at a distance. She didn’t want to get too close and risk Einar recognizing her and panicking. Right now, he was her chance to find out what was going on, and she wasn’t going to let him get away because of her recklessness. She glanced over at the passenger seat and the special set of handcuffs she’d requisitioned. They looked more like shackles but should be strong enough even for someone with a robo-limb. She hoped the claims were accurate.
The trail led her to a mall, its nearly empty parking lot was a modern-day wasteland. Only two other cars sat in the entire lot. One rested in the spot closest to the entrance, the other, crashed on the small flight of steps at the entrance.
If Antonia had any doubts that the killer had come this way, the melted doorway dispelled any such notions. Whatever the killer used had liquefied the glass, so it formed still-warm drops like a piece of taffy left to hang until stretched almost to the breaking point. She crawled through the opening, careful not to touch any of the edges.
Inside, most lights were off, just enough left to maneuver around the
shelves and racks of clothes without bumping into them. The murderer had burned another large hole through the metal security gate between the store and the mall interior. Small pools of metal collected on the floor. The acrid odor was overpowering.
Checking her tracker, she saw Einar had stopped moving on the second floor. Antonia took the escalator, ducking low to keep from being seen as she climbed up the steps. She saw Einar up ahead, his attention focused on something she couldn’t see. She crept forward, drawing her weapon and holding it ready at her side. She stopped just out of his reach.
“Hands up and turn around. No sudden movements.”
Einar held his hands up even with his head and eased around. “You need to leave.”
“No. You need to put these on and explain what the hell is happening.”
She grabbed the reinforced cuffs and placed them on the ground, giving them a kick to send them over to the stranger. Their sheer weight kept them from sliding far, and Antonia took a step back so as not to be within his reach. He let out a sigh and shuffled forward, grabbing the cuffs and placing them on his wrists.
“You won’t believe me if I tell you.”
“Try me.”
“I’m trying to recover stolen property. A weapon. In the wrong hands, it could level the entire city.”
A shout echoed from below, followed by a hiss like water striking a hot pan filled with oil.
“What kind of weapon? Like a bomb?”
Einar shook his head. “A weapon of the gods. A sword.”
Antonia stepped back and cocked an eyebrow so high it threatened to join her hairline. “God made a sword?”
Einar sighed. “Not God. The gods. It’s Surt’s sword, not that I expect that will make a difference to you. It carries the flames of Muspelheim in it. You’ve seen what it can do, and it’s only growing in power.”
“I don’t know what that guy has, but I do know that he needs to be stopped. If you really want to help, stay here. I have more questions.”
Mystery! Page 10
