“So you can’t think of any reason why someone broke into your apartment and killed him?” Salvi asked.
Myki looked down at her fingers again. Salvi noted her hands were shaking. Salvi wondered whether it was due to the drug withdrawal or if Myki was terrified of something.
Salvi softened her voice. “If you’re scared, Myki, we can protect you.”
“I don’t remember anything,” she said, her voice barely audible.
Beggs exchanged another look with Salvi, which told her he was thinking the same thing: that Myki wasn’t telling them the entire truth; that she knew or at least suspected who had killed her partner. Her limited eye contact was a giveaway. It could’ve been shame, but Salvi wasn’t getting that feeling here. Myki didn’t want to tell the truth, and she struggled with lying.
Salvi stepped closer. “We’re accessing the data from your apartment’s AI, Myki. Our department AI is also accessing nearby security footage. If you know who did this and don’t tell us, you are protecting them and you are hindering our investigation. Do you want Devon’s killer to walk free? You want his death to go unpunished?”
“I don’t remember anything… I swear… I just went to sleep and when I woke up there were cops in my bedroom.”
“So you remember going back to your apartment and getting into bed, then?” Salvi asked.
“No, I… I just woke up and there were cops in my bedroom.” Tears began to roll down Myki’s cheeks, and she lowered her face into her hands and brushed them away.
Salvi studied her. Myki was too raw right now. Salvi sensed she had layers to peel away, but they were fragile, and it would need to be done carefully. It was going to take time and patience to get this woman to talk.
Beggs seemed to sense the same thing. He looked at Salvi and motioned for them to leave.
Salvi got back into Beggs’ sleek, black SFPD Raider.
“So where to now?” she asked Beggs.
He tapped at the Raider’s console. “Riverton? Request update. Barker case.”
Riverton appeared on the console screen. “Yes, Detective Beggs. I think I may have found a link for you to investigate.”
“Yeah?” Beggs said. “Proceed.”
“Firstly, the warrant for the apartment AI has been granted. I have gained access to and analyzed the security footage and other sensory information at the apartment and confirm it has been erased. I’ve found evidence of a hack but have as yet been unable to trace the source. Whoever hacked the system was very good at wiping their fingerprints. All data from the two hours leading up to Barker’s death has been wiped and is irretrievable, this includes building security footage and the immediate surrounding street area. I have, however, scanned our facial recognition systems for the wider area. Two blocks away and shortly before the estimated time of death for Devon, the facial recognition systems detected a man by the name of Vincent Calabri, walking with two other men in the direction of the apartment. Mr Calabri has a small rap sheet and is in the employ of one Francis Mellon. Francis Mellon, detectives, is the ex-boyfriend of Myki Natashi.”
Salvi and Beggs exchanged a look of surprise, as Riverton disappeared from the screen, replaced by socialite photographs of Myki and Francis together. “They dated for approximately three years.”
“What was Calabri wearing?” Salvi asked. “Was he in black?”
“No.” Riverton brought up a still image of the man walking along the street with his two associates. “He wore a white suit.”
“He could’ve changed,” Beggs said. “What’s Mellon’s line of work? His name sounds familiar.”
“He works in the financial industry and has no criminal record. However, he is a known acquaintance of John Dorant.”
“Dorant?” Beggs said, glancing at Salvi. “So he has ties to organized crime then?”
“Loosely, Detective Beggs,” Riverton said. “He has been linked to Dorant in terms of friendship. There is no evidence as yet of any business dealings.”
“On the books, sure, but what about under the table?” Beggs said. “Dorant is a big fish.”
“So Mellon has friends in high places,” Salvi said. “That could be why Myki’s claiming she doesn’t remember. She’s terrified.”
Beggs nodded. “Sounds like it. We need to have a talk with Calabri.”
Salvi nodded and looked back to the Raider’s console. “Riverton, what’s the status on Myki’s toxicology report?”
“The results are in, however, I’m afraid they’re currently locked by the Narcotics Division.”
“Locked?” Salvi said, darting a glance to Beggs. “This is our case. They can’t do that.”
Beggs sighed. “Ah, shit. We’ve stepped into Narc territory. If they’re working on an undercover investigation involving Mellon or Dorant, we’re going to struggle to get near it.”
Salvi looked back at Beggs. “This is a homicide, Beggs. We have every right to that information. Let’s head back to the hub and have a little chat with them, huh?”
3: MOVING PICTURES
Salvi and Beggs entered the hub a little under an hour later. Mitch and Caine weren’t around but Hernandez and Bronte were just heading out.
“Hey,” Hernandez said, pulling on his coat. “That body you had last night, the photographer, was it in the ‘Sation?”
“Yeah,” Beggs nodded. “Why?”
“We just got a call. A body’s been found behind a dumpster there. You tied yours to this new drug yet?” Hernandez asked.
“Not yet, but we’re about to have a talk with Narcotics about it.”
“Alright. Keep us posted,” he said, then walked out the door with Bronte.
Salvi and Beggs exchanged a curious look.
“Is it just me, or is the ‘Sation turning into a hot zone of late?” Beggs said. “How many callouts we had there these past few months?”
“This Fyte thing might just explain the spike in homicides,” Salvi said.
“Yeah,” Beggs said. “And that’s what I’m worried about. If they say it hasn’t hit big yet, then our case load is about to spiral out of control.”
“Let’s see if we can find out more from the Narcs, huh?”
They walked on to the Narcotics division and, as they entered the bullpen, saw a couple of detectives working at their portals and Detective Kara Shadid standing by the window. Her eyes held a silver sheen indicating she was on a call with someone. Dressed in her funky undercover streetwear, she looked a little tired and edgy, which Salvi didn’t think was part of her costume. Kara noticed them and quickly finished up her call.
“Hey, how you doing?” she said, approaching them, her long silver earrings catching the light against her warm skin tone. “Good to see you back on active.”
“Thanks,” Salvi said. “I’m just hitting day two. Listen, we got a case, but the toxicology report is locked by Narcotics. The doctor at the hospital wasn’t immediately sure what it was. Just wondering if this is the new nasty Narcotics warned us about?”
Kara shrugged at them. “Hey, if toxicology is locked, I can’t help you.”
“Why’d you bother warning homicide about the drug if you weren’t going to share any other information about it?” Beggs asked.
“Professional courtesy, I guess,” Kara replied.
“What’s so important about this drug, it’s gotta be locked?” Beggs asked.
“Can’t tell you. Is it critical to your case?”
“Well, we don’t know yet. That’s the point,” Beggs said.
“Talk up the line, man,” Kara said. “It ain’t up to me. You gotta problem, then get Ford to talk with Sorensen.”
Salvi sighed. “Well, can you tell us if you’re dealing with Francis Mellon?”
Kara jutted out her bottom lip and shook her head. “It’s not ringing a bell with me.” She turned to Lee Hinde, sitting close by; a stocky detective with a shaved head and three-day growth across his jaw. “Hey, Hinde? You know anything about Francis Mellon?”
“
Mellon?” he said, scratching his head, before he shook it. “Not me. I’ve heard of him, though. He’s pretty connected.”
“Connected, how?” Salvi asked.
Hinde smiled. “He’s a rich businessman. He has a lot of contacts, like they all are. You got money, you can pay to play any game, you know what I’m saying?” He turned back to his console and continued working.
“Alright,” Salvi said to Kara. “We’ll get Riverton to check it out. Thanks.”
They turned to leave but Kara stopped them. “Hey, you seen Caine?”
Salvi shook her head. “Not today.”
“Okay,” Kara said, but Salvi detected concern.
“Everything alright?”
“Yeah. I was just expecting a call. I’ll catch him later.”
Salvi nodded and she stepped back into the corridor with Beggs. “Is Caine seeing Kara now? I thought he was dating Belle from Cyber?”
Beggs shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t keep up with the pretty boy’s girlfriends.”
They arrived back at the homicide bullpen, lost their coats and logged into the hub’s systems.
“Riverton,” Salvi spoke, “show me the rap sheet for Mr. Calabri.”
“Yes, detective.” Riverton briefly appeared, then disappeared again, before Calabri’s rap sheet displayed. Salvi scanned the short list, which showed a couple of assaults and speeding fines, but little else.
“No drug busts,” Beggs said, reading the details at his console.
“No,” Salvi said, leaning back in her chair, thinking. She bent forward again. “Riverton, can you estimate when Myki broke up with Mellon and when she hooked up with Barker?”
“One moment, detective, while I scan my data.”
“Well, there were no fingerprints on the forensics report, so the killer was wearing gloves,” Beggs said, reading his screen. “Riverton, was Calabri or one of his associates wearing gloves?”
“No, detective,” Riverton answered. “Not in the security footage.”
“None were wearing black either,” Salvi said, studying the image.
Beggs nodded. “Let’s see what the fibers Weston found tie us to. Hopefully it links Calabri to Barker somehow.”
“If we’re lucky that’ll give us Calabri or one of his companions, but not Mellon,” Salvi said. “If Mellon ordered Barker’s murder, we need to take him down too.”
“Linking him to the crime is going to be hard,” Beggs said. “We gotta take what we can get.”
“Screw that. Myki remains in danger if we don’t get Mellon.”
“Detectives,” Riverton’s image lit up their screens. “My best estimate, based on analysis of public photographs and from Barker’s phone records is that a period of approximately one to two weeks passed between relationships.”
“One to two weeks,” Salvi repeated. “Myki said they’ve been dating for three months. Why would Mellon wait three months to do something about it?”
Beggs shrugged, “Maybe they didn’t go public until now.”
“That is incorrect, detective,” Riverton said. “Their first public photo on social media was three weeks after the breakup with Mellon,” Riverton told them.
Beggs shrugged, “Maybe Mellon spent the past three months stewing over it.”
“What about Barker’s business records?” Salvi asked. “Do we have warrant clearance for those yet?”
“Yes, detective. I am analyzing the data as we speak. I have also made contact with the landlord of Barker’s photographic studio. He will meet you there in an hour.”
“Good,” Beggs said, standing. “Let’s check it out.”
Caine walked in then, looking like he’d slept in last night’s clothes.
“Hey,” Salvi said, looking him over. “Kara Shadid was looking for you.”
“Yeah?” he said, moving quickly to his desk and looking for something. “I’ll see her in a minute.”
“Everything alright?” Beggs asked, studying him too.
“Yeah,” he looked up at them, flashing his Hollywood smile, then found what he was looking for in his desk drawer, a card of some kind, which he placed in his wallet.
“Where’s Mitch?” Salvi asked.
“Ah…” Caine said, distracted, walking for the door again, putting his wallet back in his pocket. “Don’t know. I’ll meet up with him in a bit.”
Salvi looked at Beggs but he shrugged it off.
“Probably had a big night and knows his ass is in the shit.”
Salvi stepped aside as the landlord for Barker’s studio, Reg Clumsky, unlocked the door for them. Reg stood around 5’9 and weighed about 160lbs. He wore an expensive suit and a gaunt, worried expression, like at any given moment he was about to lose a lot of money, or his pet dog was about to be killed. Or maybe cops just made him nervous. Ever since Riverton had identified the studio as Barker’s, there had been a uniformed officer placed outside on watch.
Barker’s studio was located in a newly redeveloped industrial area, where warehouses offered inner city access with modern design. In the row of reformed warehouse spaces beside Barker’s, Salvi saw a scrunch workout studio, a training salon for hair and make-up stylists, and a small property outlet selling off-the-plan high spec molecular apartments. She also saw several expensive cars parked out front.
The landlord’s movements were rushed as he rolled the large door back.
“Ever get any trouble around here?” Beggs asked the man.
“No,” he said, darting his nervous eyes to Beggs’ holo-badge, knowing he was being filmed. “Never had any complaints and he paid his rent on time. He seemed to get a lot of business, so he must’ve done good work.”
Clumsky turned on the stark white lights and waved them forward. “I don’t suppose you know how long you need to keep this for before I can rent it out again? He was due to pay rent this week for the coming month, which means I’m going to be short.”
Salvi and Beggs stared at the man. He read their answer clearly.
“I’ll… go wait in the car,” he said, darting his eyes to the uniformed officer standing close by. “I have to attend to something.”
They watched him leave.
“Anyone been snooping around, Sinclair?” Beggs asked the officer on guard, reading his name badge.
Sinclair shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen anything, and nothing’s been reported by the night shift.”
Beggs nodded and they stepped into the large open white space that was Barker’s studio. To their right sat a small waiting area with artsy white loungers. To their left was a desk with a series of consoles and monitors that looked to be his main working space. The rest of the warehouse was Barker’s photographic set, complete with backdrops, props and large lights.
Beggs moved to the desk, snapped on some gloves, and began looking through drawers. Salvi moved toward his studio, stopping to study the digital frames along the wall, displaying slideshows and short videos of his work. From what she saw, Barker did a lot of glamour photography along with socialite ‘out and about’ people-shots at nightclubs and events.
She briefly looked through the glamour photos and recognized Myki in several of the artier shots and short films. Next she moved on to the social images, largely taken at expensive, exclusive events, seeking anyone she recognized. Both Francis Mellon and Vincent Calabri were absent. She moved onto the next frame which seemed to focus on shots taken at various clubs in the city. She saw a whole lot of beautiful people, neon lights and expensive drinks.
A new image appeared showing three young, attractive and scantily clad women. They stood in a nightclub somewhere, raising exotic cocktails and seemingly having the time of their lives as they flashed their blindingly white teeth. In the corner of the image, pink neon text had been added: Dancing On The Ceiling!
“Looks like he did a lot of work at clubs in the city,” Salvi said. “His specialty seems to be capturing the beautiful people,” she added.
Beggs engaged his lenses and his eyes to
ok on the silver sheen. “Riverton? Request a list of clubs Barker worked for. See if there’s any link to Mellon. End request.”
Salvi looked back to see the image had changed to a couple at a different club. She suddenly noticed a ‘play’ icon at the bottom of the screen. She reached out and touched the icon and watched as the couple smiled and kissed, before the short clip began to loop. She touched the screen again, pausing the clip, and saw a menu appear in the top corner. She tapped the back button to show the three women again. That image also had a play icon, so she pressed it and watched.
Laughter and music sounded. The three women raised their glasses as they tossed their hair about and pouted for the camera. A glint above the ear of one woman as she flicked her hair back caught Salvi’s eye. She wondered what it was and watched the footage loop over again. Though the woman’s hair was long on top, the area above and around her ears had been shaved, and that was where the glint was coming from. On the fourth loop, Salvi paused on the glint, moving her face closer until she figured it out.
When she realized what it might be, she paused.
She let the footage play again to be sure, and when she was, she felt an uneasy feeling slide over her.
It was a neural device of some kind.
Similar to the ones the Subjugates at the Solme Complex wore, this was much smaller and she could only see it on one side of the woman’s head.
“Beggs,” she said, the tone of her voice drawing his attention. He moved to her and she played him the footage.
“Does that look like a neural implant to you?”
Beggs leaned closer, tapped his lenses to focus. He nodded. “Could be.”
“But they’re illegal outside of the Solme Complex.”
Beggs nodded. “Most people had ‘em removed after The Crash, but every now and then you see someone who’s still got ‘em. Some people hold hope they’ll become legal again.”
“That’s not going to happen any time soon.”
“Where is this?” he motioned to the image.
Salvi shrugged, staring at the glinting silver device curving from the woman’s temple, back behind her ear.
“Somewhere they’re dancing on the ceiling.”
The Sensation Page 4
