“This is Loow’s office.” I pushed a claw through the hole burned in it. “The lock has been shot off.”
“Yes, and they shot the lock off the toilets.”
“Can’t be a bar regular then, the lock on the toilet hasn’t worked for years.”
The office had a desk, computer terminal, two chairs and empty glasses on every flat surface including most of the floor.
“Daisy and crew do the cleaning,” I said. “But they’re not allowed in here.”
“Wow,” Daisy said from the doorway. “Now I know why we’re always short on tumblers.”
Someone had dropped the holopic of Loow’s clutch lining up for their first migration on the floor. The Heedyin species consider that the entry to adulthood. The pic had covered a small wall safe which had been burned open. Marshal Harry ran a finger around the hole, thoughtfully.
“Lucky he’s dead,” I said picking up the broken frame. He loved this picture, seeing it damaged would have broken his hearts.”
“Two safes?” she asked.
“Loow stopped using that one after he got Big Sam adapted. He said a safe that shoots back must be more secure than a hole in the wall with a lid.”
“Someone expected the cash to be in here, though, must have been a nasty shock to find it empty.”
“Good. Let’s find them and give them another nasty shock.”
“No killing, though.”
“But Loow was one of my oldest friends.”
“No killing,” Marshal Harry said. “Or I take you off the case. Which will make things difficult since we’re the only marshals on the planet.”
“But Loow was one of my oldest friends.”
She gave me expression number seven, which meant the subject wasn’t open for argument. Humans have so many facial expressions I found it easier to number them.
“Okay,” I held up six claws in surrender. “I’ve already set most of my weapons to stun.”
“Most? Let me guess, Trembling Bob and Old Number Seven don’t have a stun setting.”
“Well, Old Number Seven’s an anti-tank gun and you can’t stun a tank. I’ve tried explaining it, but Trembling Bob doesn’t understand the concept of a stun. But I promise not to use them.”
“Good enough.” Marshal Harry took another scan of the office. “Break out your crime scene kit.”
I took out the chem lab, all four samplers and one general poker and went to work. Sometimes it is handy having fourteen claws. I used the general poker to work through a pile of empty glasses. Readings showed the hard gunk holding the glasses together was two centuries old. One centimetre long Tribblers piled out of a nest and attacked the poker.
“Sorry, ladies,” I said. Funny how speech can become a habit. I leaned down and drooled an apology glob of pheromones to one of the soldier Tribblers and then gently pushed the nest back into hiding. The Tribblers ran back into the pile.
“How come,” I asked as I worked my way round the floor, “it’s always me doing the crime scene stuff?”
“Because it takes me half an hour, while it takes you three minutes.”
I took a piece of chalk from one of my pouches and drew a circle reverently on the floor between the desk and the window.
“This blood stain is four centuries old,” I said. “It must belong to Oui Lee Big, the first owner of the bar.”
“Okay, but we need more recent evidence,” Harry said. “Any organic residues from the thief?”
“Hey, this stain should be in a museum. This is part of the history of Port City.”
Marshal Harry raised one eyebrow.
“Okay.” I sterilized the poker and ran the tests a second time on the old unused safe that had been blown.
“Nothing,” I said. “No trace of organic residue, fingerprints, claw or tooth marks. Someone used the same explosive to blow the office door and this safe, and left no trace of themselves.”
“Right. In that case, we’ll have a look round the bar and then wake up the suspects.”
“So you think one of them shot Loow then made an arse of setting up Big Sam to take the blame? That’s my theory.”
“I won’t know until I speak to them and please don’t use that form of language.”
“Sorry, my latest language app is Scottish, certain words just slip out.”
We heard movement from the toilets.
“I only looked in there a minute ago,” Harry said. “It was vacant.”
“The trapdoor to the cellar is in there,” I said. “The killer could have hid downstairs and then come back?”
“Oh, come on, what kind of idiot commits a murder and then hangs around at the crime scene?”
“Two murders,” Daisy said from the doorway.
“A criminal idiot.” I said. “You must agree that whoever shot Loow and then left the most valuable currency in the safe, isn’t going to be a genius.”
“Good point.”
I pulled my flegmatic pistols and showed the marshal they were set to stun.
“Daisy, open the door?” I asked.
When a two ton warbot opens a door, it stays open. I sprang through, rolled and reared my front half. “Nobody move! Armed marshals- and we haven’t had breakfast!”
A large quadruped squatted on one barrel. His mouth fell open revealing long yellow canines. I covered him with one pistol and another quadruped shovelling the blue snacks into his mouth with the other.
“Chunglie?” the squatter said. “I nearly shit myself.”
“You’re in the right place then. Sorry, got carried away in the moment.” I holstered my pistols. “Marshal, meet Long Barnacle and one of his sons.”
I’d known Long Barnacle for years. He was a trader with his own ship and wore the platinum nipple chains of a high status Moordanaap although one time he got drunk and admitted they were plated metal. The platinum collar around his neck was a translator and the bag hanging at his waist did the same job as human pockets.
“I am Isamary,” the son said, choking on a mouthful of grubs. “Who do you people think you are, barging in here and pointing guns at us?”
“We think we are marshals investigating a homicide,” Marshal Harry said. “Sorry if we startled you.”
“What do you mean marshals? There are no marshals on Smuds.” Isamary had the bright glossy orange and black stripes of a Moordanaap in his prime, while his father’s fur was mostly silver.
Harry looked down at her uniform and pointed to the gold badge.
“There are now.”
“We do our own law in these parts,” LB said. “And what do you mean homicide? Who’s dead?”
“Big Sam,” Daisy Tubes said, aiming her guns into the room. If one of you admits they did it, I’ll let the other one live.”
“Stand down, Daisy,” Harry said. “Justice doesn’t work like that. The owner of this bar was murdered last night... and his bartender Big Sam... and we are investigating. Were you two sleeping here last night?”
“Yes?” Isamary answered.
“You don’t seem sure?”
“I am sure we slept here last night. I’m just not sure if I should answer your questions.”
“Of course we should,” LB said. “We are legitimate traders carrying out legitimate trade and have nothing to fear from the law.”
He grinned at the marshal. “At least on this occasion. Now, are you telling me they murdered my old friend Loow, while we were asleep downstairs?”
“You heard nothing? Two safes were blasted open and Big Sam had holes shot through his armoured hull.”
Long Barnacle pointed a thumb at the open hatch at the back of the room. “That door is soundproofed, so people can sleep while the bar is still open.”
“Ah... so... Long Barnacle is a very Earther sounding name,” Harry said. “Have you been to Earth?”
“No, we haven’t,” Isamary answered. “In the ancient tongue of our people, Long Barnacle means Aging Fraud With A Glint In His Eye.”
“And Isamary
means Twenty Years Of Economic Dependence And Then He’ll Crash The Car,” Long Barnacle supplied. “Very perspicacious our ancestors. So how can we help?”
Marshal Harry drummed her fingers on the edge of an earth filled barrel. I hoped her shots were up to date. The toilets were steam blasted once every five years.
“There more people in the cellar?”
“Yes, a few.”
“In that case, I’ll have a look in the bar first, and then I want to talk to them.”
“We’ll come with you,” LB said cheerfully. “If anything is missing, we’ll be able to tell you.”
“Father might. I spent as little time in there as possible,” Isamary said.
“My son disapproves of my lifestyle,” LB admitted.
“I don’t call spending your life smoking, drinking and gambling, while mother does the real work, a lifestyle.”
“I do the things I am good at, and leave your mother to do the things she is good at—”
“And I didn’t crash your car.”
“That is true, and I am grateful for small mercies.”
CHAPTER 4
I led the way through to the bar.
“This is where I got most of my jobs,” I said, pushing the door open.
“Really?” Marshal Harry asked. “Wouldn’t an employment agency work better?”
“Depends on the jobs you’re after.”
No fancy booths here. A large room with chairs and benches clustered around tables. Holopics of the previous bar owners had hung on the walls, but they’d been flung on the floor.
“This is... nicer than I expected,” Marshal Harry said. “The green holopaint on the walls makes the place look almost... jolly.”
“Most of the regulars in here are forest dwellers,” I explained. “Green makes us feel safe.”
“That explains the leaf litter on the floor, in place of the carpet I was expecting.”
“Not been away from Earth long, have you, Marshal?” LB said. “That’s not leaf litter, that’s the bar snacks.”
He picked up a dried pickle and tossed it into his mouth.
“Right...” Harry decided. “You scan that side, Chunglie, I’ll go this way.”
I got my crime scene kit out and worked my way between the seats and tables. Isamary followed, watching what I did with the equipment.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing.
“It’s a general poker.”
“What’s it do?”
“It pokes things.”
“What’s that?”
I sighed and reared my front half.
“It is a delicate piece of equipment which can detect fresh blood spatter if I use it properly. Do you mind if I get on with this?”
“Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen a murder investigated before,” Isamary said. “Can I hold the general poker?”
“No.” I got on with the job and tried to ignore the one ton hairy ape watching everything I did.
“The regulars knew about the safe built into Big Sam,” LB bellowed. “Loow bragged on it. Frequently.”
“I already said that,” I pointed out.
“Pardon me for trying to be helpful,” LB said. He leapt the bar and passed a bottle to Isamary. “Let’s have breakfast.”
It surprised me when Daisy didn’t stop him.
“Sorry,” Harry said. “But you can’t touch anything in here, it’s a crime scene.”
“And I don’t drink breakfast,” Isamary said pointedly.
“But Loow owed me money—”
“Sorry, no.”
“So I figure he owes us breakfast.”
“Sorry, no.”
LB gave in and clambered over the bar. You can’t win an argument with the marshal, because she doesn’t counter argue.
I see in infrared, but my cybernetic enhancements let me scan the rest of the electromagnetic spectrum. I still found nothing out of the ordinary. The only fingerprints on the holopics were Loow’s. While the cybernetics were doing the work, my mind wondered. Or is that wandered?
“I have a question,” I said. “If Big Sam is programmed not to shoot the boss, how come Loow’s body is half disintegrated?”
“I wondered that,” Marshal Harry said. “I’ve called the crime scene bots, but they can’t get here for another six hours.”
“They coming from orbit?”
“Afraid so.”
“I know I’m new at this Marshal Service thing, but I think we could use more help around here.” I chewed a dried leaf.
“Afraid so.”
“Hah, I did fifteen years in the military police when I was young,” LB said. “Nothing changes.”
“Mum said she was proud of you back then.”
“Trading for forty years, supporting my family with my wits, doesn’t count?”
“Dis-honest trading brings shame on the whole—”
“Have you noticed,” Marshal Harry interrupted firmly. “There are no organic traces of the murderer in the office or on these holopics? No fingerprints, foreign DNA or biome traces.”
Biome is the aura of bacteria that lives on and around any organic being. So, odd when that’s missing from a room as small as the office.
“Are you thinking the killer is a robot?” I waved a claw. “Because I’m thinking an anti-grav drone could do the murders and carry off the takings.”
“Big Sam can out shoot any drone,” Daisy scoffed.
“The building has no windows, and the doors were locked from the inside,” Harry pointed out. “So how did the drone escape with the cash?”
“Ah... so what’s your theory?”
“I’m trying not to theorise ahead of the facts, I’m just noting the oddities.”
“My theory is a time traveller did it,” Daisy said. I would have scoffed in return, but for the 50 cal blasters.
“I already scanned for chronotron radiation,” Marshal Harry said without looking. “And teleporter waste quarks, before someone suggests that.”
LB closed his mouth.
“So someone came in here and searched for the safe in a hurry,” I said. “Does that get us closer to the killer?”
“Not sure yet,” Harry said. “The back door was locked, and the front door shot from the inside, so the killer was in the building before closing time. If they have not left, that means one of the people downstairs is the killer. But it seems stupid to commit murder and hang around.”
“I did say, we’re not after a genius,” I pointed out.
“True. Right, Daisy, guard the lounge, let no one touch the bodies. Do not kill anyone. Let’s wake the sleepers and ask questions; lead on Macduff.”
“That’s not my name.”
“It’s just an expression.”
“Another one? That’ll be number thirty-three.”
I led the way to the back of the toilets. Marshal Harry’s eyes watered and she held her nose. The steps into the basement were broad, shallow and crossed the width of the building. Ideal for most body sizes.
“Is there a light switch?”
“To your left, just inside the door,” I said. “But we never use—”
My eyes and sensors were blind for a moment. The grumbling, complaints and shouted expletives of rudely awakened sleepers, were therefore the first things I noticed were missing.
“What the fu—?”
“Mind your language,” Harry interrupted.
“I have been a smuggler, a pirate and a gun for hire,” I replied with dignity. “I refuse to say `dang it` or `poot` when I am surprised.”
The cellar was empty. There were twelve pallets in the floor space, empty of bodies. They had scattered blankets on the floor. Along the back wall, lay a pile of dried leaves and straw, flattened through the middle.
“Aw look,” I said. “Loow kept my bed exactly the way I left it.”
A large, fat green butt blocked the long narrow window which led to the alley at the side of the building.
“There’s an exit no one t
old me about.” Harry pointed at the window and the butt. “Who does that backside belong to?”
“Big Walter,” I said. “Just a sec, I’ll get him.”
I trotted down the stairs, across the floor and climbed my front half up the wall until I reached him. His body was bulgy and pale green. It wriggled as I grabbed it in four claws.
“Quit that,” I shouted. “This is Deputy Chunglie, so you know I will shoot if you run.”
The wriggling stopped. I pulled. He stretched. I marched backwards and the pale green body stretched more. It was like grabbing hold of three tons of marshmallow and pulling. My mouth started to water.
“Chunglie.” Harry held up a hand. “Maybe you shouldn’t do that? What if he snaps?”
“He’ll be fine,” LB said, grabbing a double armful of green marshmallow tastiness. “Walt’s last meal got stuck in the window, otherwise he would have escaped. Walt’s species are very elastic.”
I leaned in and grabbed a big mouthful of Walter. The goo squirmed in my mouth. I was in gastronomic heaven until Marshal Harry pulled my mouth open.
“I’ve told you before- we don’t eat suspects.”
Walt’s head popped back into the room.
“That’s okay, Marshal,” LB said, dragging Walt to the middle of the room. He stroked the soft green flank.
“We’ve all been tempted to eat Walt, but he’s a mate.”
“A marshal? Don’t shoot,” Big Walter said in a metallic voice, raising half a dozen of his stubby limbs. “I surrender.”
Harry pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Sir, you are not under arrest,” she said, slowly. Everyone talks slowly to Big Walter. He’s an accountant. “We caught you attempting to flee a crime scene, but we are willing to overlook that, if you co-operate with our investigation.”
Big Walt’s face was smaller than the marshal’s and made up of two compound eyes and two small pincers for jaws. Compound eyes? Insect eyes, made up of hundreds of small lenses. There was a collar around his neck with various devices attached to it, and two boxes stapled between his stubby limbs.
“Big Walter will co-operate,” he said.
“Why did you run,” I asked.
“Because everyone else nebbish,” Big Walter said. His voice ran down to a whisper and then nothing. He smacked the metal box stapled between his third and fourth limbs a couple of times. Two small lights came on.
Curse of the Full Mental Packet Page 2
