“We’re going to have to reroute you over to Branson Prime. Suspicious death.”
Daniel grunted. “A death on a mining base—are you serious? I’m the only marshal in the district who can take this on?”
“No. But you’re the only good one. Got a rookie on his first cycle assigned to the area and I need a pro on this one. We’re not talking some guy taking his buddy out with a sledgehammer.” Kyle paused before continuing. “It happened on a Mercy ship. A woman’s dead.”
Daniel whistled. “That’s not good.” He studied the screen, watching his flight plan change. The new blue line erased the older red one on the tracking screen, showing his changed route. “You’re thinking there’s more to this.”
“I don’t think anything. I’m worried. Remember the Purge,” Kyle murmured. “Thirty women dead on five Guild ships. Nearly gutted the Guild a decade ago.”
“There’s no Puritans left out here, boss.” Daniel tried to sound confident. He’d been a wet-behind-the-ears rookie barely out of training, but he remembered the shock they’d all felt when the story broke and the pictures came out.
Daniel cleared his throat. “No one’s going to kill the women ’cause they’ve got a disagreement with the morality. Guild ships have upgraded self-defense systems inside, and every base is held responsible for anything and everything that happens while a Mercy or Charity ship’s docked. No one wants to take that risk no matter how much they hate the idea of courtesans selling their services.” He chuckled. “Most of them don’t make it out here anyway. They tend to stay on their colonies with their own kind, religious groups keeping each other in line.”
“I’d like to think so. But I don’t have to tell you about how being out here changes someone. Space madness turns a man from an upstanding citizen into a murderer easy enough. You’ve seen it.”
Daniel scratched his chin. “It’s being called a suspicious death? Are we talking murder or suicide?”
“Captain classified it as suspicious. I figure she’s afraid of making the wrong call—say it’s murder when it’s suicide or vice versa and she’ll be in deep with the Guild. Wise of her to leave it to the medical officer for the gory details and to us to make the decision as to what to call it.”
“Hmm,” Daniel replied. “Smart lady.”
Kyle grunted his agreement. “I’d like to think this is just a courtesan losing her mind and taking her own life. A whole lot less messy and we can deal with that easy enough. But if it turns out to be murder I need a good man to run the investigation and find the killer.”
He ignored the compliment. “What’s the story with the captain? Is she going to be an asset or is she going to be in the way?” He envisioned a mousy little woman begging to be left alone in her quarters until Daniel slapped handcuffs on the offender.
“She’ll be helpful. Probably more than most Mercy captains.”
“You sound pretty sure of that.”
Kyle chuckled. “You’ll see when you check her file. I trust her judgment and so will you.”
He didn’t pursue it. “The Guild been notified?”
“Standard procedure. They’re already chewing my ass, wanting a fast resolution.”
“Can’t blame them. Bad for business.”
“Bad for everyone. These mining companies don’t need downtime and they don’t need to worry about possible murderers on their staff. Bad for morale, bad for business and bad for everyone involved.”
“Especially the dead woman,” Daniel added.
“Don’t be a smart ass. Just go do your job.” Kyle paused. “And don’t piss off anyone this time.”
“I do my job. You know that.”
“I know that. But you’re stepping on too many toes, Danny boy. There’s a reason you’re still sitting in a ship running patrol routes.”
Daniel couldn’t deny the truth. He and Kyle had been in the same class and now he answered to his old friend.
“If it turns out to be murder, how many suspects am I looking at?”
“The entire station. Two hundred miners plus support staff. Not to mention the captain and crew of the Mercy ship, as well,” Kyle replied.
“I thought you trusted the captain.”
“I said she gave a reliable report. I didn’t say she couldn’t be manipulating this to make herself appear as innocent as possible. There’s always the outside chance she lost it and went space-happy. Given her record I wouldn’t put it past her having some bats in her belfry.”
“And you’re telling me she could be helpful?”
“You’ve got to use any and all resources at hand, Marshal.”
“Oh, good. Here I thought it might be a tough one.” Daniel yawned, stretching his hands over his head. He smiled—it was time to start negotiations. “Give me two weeks’ vacation time after I finish this one up.”
“One week.”
“Two weeks from the end of the case and travel time to the nearest colony.”
“Done.” Harris chuckled. “I’d have given you three, you bastard. Remember that the next time you face me across the poker table.” The communicator went silent.
“A Mercy ship.” He spun in his chair, ignoring the jibe. “Now that’s something.” He glanced up at the computer monitors. “Etts, pull down all the info we have on Mercy ships and the current personnel file of the...” He frowned. “What’s the ship?”
The computer let out a series of tweets.
“Okay, the Bonnie Belle. We’ve got a bit of time before we arrive. Let’s see how much ground we can cover.”
The AI hummed and beeped, sending a wave of information scrolling across the screen in front of him. Daniel nodded as the computer spoke to him, the implant in his skull translating the chirps into words.
Images flashed across the small monitor, cycling through during Etts’s briefing.
The Bonnie Belle was a typical Guild ship, not built for speed. It resembled a rather ugly insect, the fat torso taking up most of the mass with a small landing bay set at the back and the cockpit at the front, both narrower than the body of the ship. The engines on each side were set close to the torso, solar panels hanging free to suck up as much power as they could to help save money.
The Guild was all about the money. Saving it, taking it and spending it.
Standard self-defense systems. Knock-out gas, tear gas for putting down problems inside the ship. No external weapons, in keeping with the Guild’s official statement of neutrality, allowing their ships to travel anywhere without getting into local politics.
Daniel turned his attention next to the crew. The Belle was running with four women and two men, the usual complement of courtesans. Only one of them, Kendra Champagne, had been around for longer than a year. She was actually on her third contract extension, a novelty within the Guild. Usually the women did their five-year tour, cashed out their contracts and settled somewhere on the Rim in communities that welcomed and embraced former courtesans.
Daniel studied the dark chocolate face. Her wide brown eyes gave her a look of sensitivity mixed with sensuality. She was a lifer, for lack of a better term. Played up the mother hen angle, gave the old-timers someone their own age to talk to, to whine to, to have gentle sex with. It didn’t remove her from the suspect list. Anyone could kill, given the right circumstances.
Bianca Montgomery was new to the Belle, having transferred in from another ship just three months ago, trading spots with another courtesan. Brunette and in her early twenties, she was on her second year of her first contract. A performer of the Japanese tea ceremony—not an uncommon skill, but her ability to perform it in low gravity made her unique. Handling hot water and tea leaves took more than good wishes.
April Osano. Aside from being qualified as a BDSM mistress, she held a couple of black belts and was licensed to teach and train up to level
-five security personnel. She’d be able to get a good job on any colony doing security when her contract was up. Would definitely have the ability to kill.
And give a hell of a good sex session. One of her portfolio pics included her wearing a black leather jumpsuit and carrying a whip, looking over her shoulder at him.
Daniel shifted in his chair and brought up the next two files.
Dane Morris. The youngster held a few low-level boxing titles and a handful of wrestling wins under his belt. Bisexual. First contract, no problems noted on his processing evaluation. Excellent physical condition and well able to take down someone if he had to.
Sean Morrison. Medical officer and courtesan, making solid money on both fronts. Second contract and third ship, reassignments more from trying to find the right billet for his talents than any personality problems. Most ships didn’t keep live medics on hand; they relied on the ship’s AI to keep them healthy and alive until they reached port. Morrison had access to medical supplies, possibly including scalpels and medication.
Jenny Bonaventure traveled with the Bonnie Belle as chief mechanic and had done so for the past seven years, outlasting a dozen courtesans and two captains. Daniel studied the blonde woman’s smiling image on the screen. She looked like she loved her job.
He scanned her certifications. The woman came from a family of mechanics. Qualifying to care for the Belle hadn’t been hard.
Keeping it running had been.
She had the skills to keep the Belle going where spare parts weren’t easy to come by. Mercy ships traveled for days, sometimes weeks at a time without any easy access to a supply base or even another ship. Sometimes the best route between two mining bases went far into the deep, off the beaten path for civilian and military ships. If you broke down out there you had to make do with what you had or you didn’t survive.
Daniel nudged the screen again.
The smiling redhead winked at him, her lips slightly parted. Her head was cocked to the side, just enough to increase the power of her come-hither look.
The victim.
Halley Comet.
Daniel checked the file, not believing that was her given name. It wasn’t unusual for people to change their names when they began working for the Guild.
It was actually the same on her birth certificate, given by parents who apparently had an awful sense of humor. Second trip out, and she had renewed her contract just last month. He sighed, knowing the next part of the cycle for the dead woman. It was the same whether you were a miner or a courtesan, captain or crewman on the freighters.
The body would be shipped back to Earth courtesy of the Guild, who would pick up all costs. Since her parents were still alive and living in New York City, notification would be through the local police with a Guild rep standing by to make sure all the forms were signed and the paperwork processed. The life insurance would be paid out and her family would wait to see if there’d be any justice for their dead daughter.
That was his part of the equation and he was determined to see it done.
Etts began tweeting, confirming the necessary messages had been sent and received. The base was awaiting their arrival as was the Belle. Both had initiated the mandatory lockdown procedures. No one was entering or leaving Branson Prime.
That’d cost the mining company a pretty penny. Not to mention the Guild, for not fulfilling their appointments and leaving their customers high and dry, so to speak.
Daniel shook his head. At least he didn’t have to do the dirty work and inform the family about Comet. He’d done it enough times in the past, delivered bad news to a small colony where a man’s death could put his family so far behind the eight ball that they might not survive. It was hard, soul-busting work that had cored out lesser men in the Service on their first tour. You had to be able to put up walls when dealing with the raw emotions the sight of a UNS uniform could bring up, even for those who wanted to see a marshal.
He turned his attention back to the dead courtesan.
Comet’s expertise was in financial and paralegal matters. A rare commodity out here in space, where usually the only thing you needed to worry about was if you had enough creds to buy your way out of jail. Here was a woman who helped write up wills, made suggestions about investments on the stock market and dealt with child support and divorces. Her first skill might be finances but there wasn’t a courtesan working for the Guild who wasn’t also an expert in the bedroom.
Now Halley Comet was dead. Possibly murdered in her quarters, within striking distance of the other courtesans, the mechanic, the captain and God knows how many clients either in the other rooms or waiting their turn.
At least the captain had the common sense to lock the ship down and keep the entire group quarantined. It’d raise hell with the foreman and the Guild, but she’d done what she had to do to secure the scene.
He allowed himself a smug smile. She was a smart cookie. The few Mercy captains he’d met so far didn’t have much to them other than the ability to sit and stare at a screen for hours at a time. Little personality and definitely no initiative other than to burn through their five-year contract.
He hit a button on the keyboard. Another personnel sheet flashed up on the monitor.
The current captain of the Bonnie Belle, Samantha Keller.
Daniel leaned back in the chair and felt the straps across his chest grow tight as they automatically retracted.
The redhead glared at him from the official Guild photograph, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
This wasn’t a promo shot—it reminded him more of a mug shot.
He tapped the screen. She’d taken command of the Belle six months ago, her first trip out on a five-year contract. Usual terms, usual agreement.
Except for her history.
Sam Keller was one of the most over-qualified Mercy captains out there right now. A combat veteran who’d spent most of her life in the military, she’d asked for and received an honorable discharge at the rank of Chief Master Sergeant a year ago. But instead of retiring to a sweet spot, working security on some colony or going back to Mars or Earth, she was running a Mercy ship and tied into a five-year contract of ferrying courtesans around to various mining colonies. And there was no explanation why.
It took a special type of woman to run a Mercy ship, someone who didn’t mind seeing the best and the worst of humanity’s basic urges. Someone who knew how to hold the customers and the courtesans in check until it was time not to.
Someone who didn’t mind denying herself.
Daniel studied the data. A huge glaring hole existed in the information, something that you didn’t see too often at his security level. She’d been posted to the Hub with her combat team and then her record was blank for most of a year, until her discharge and signing on with the Guild.
Daniel picked up the water bottle at his side and took a sip.
She’d been at the Hub.
He’d heard some rumors about what had gone on at one of the biggest military bases outside of the inner planets—the terrorist cells attacking the base being larger than first reported and the rebels inflicting more damage on the arriving reserve troops than initial reports had let on. The news had been hot for only a few days before going off the front page to be nothing more than a footnote.
Sam’s expression said more than that. She’d cut and run after the Hub, gone as far as she could from the military. Sam Keller had something in her past that she didn’t want anyone to know about, including Marshal Daniel LeClair.
Which made her all the more mysterious and enticing. He reached out and traced her cheekbone on the screen, his long slender finger pressing on the glass. Damned fine-looking woman, to boot.
His eyes dropped to check her marital status. Single. No surprise there. You didn’t get a lot of married couples running Mercy ships. Wonder
if she paid someone on the Belle for an hour of passion, something to relieve the tension created by working on a ship that sold sex.
Wonder if she was searching for something a little different.
Etts gave a chirp.
“Yeah, yeah. Kick it into high gear—we need to get to Branson Prime yesterday.”
He let out a sigh. When he started fantasizing about Mercy ship captains, he knew he’d been out for far too long.
* * *
It’d taken a few minutes for Sean to arrive, gripping the handles of his worn green canvas medic’s bag with white knuckles. He’d paused at seeing Sam’s expression, his blue eyes darting to the closed door behind her.
A shake of her head and he turned his attention to April, cooing to her as he’d offered a pill and a tube of water to calm down the near-hysterical woman. She’d reacted quickly to the medication and now sat near the floor, still floating but slumped over in a half-conscious state.
Sam envied her.
“It’s bad,” Sean said.
“Yes.” She didn’t see any reason to fill him in on the details. “Thanks for the help.”
“It’s my job.” He gestured at the courtesan nearby. “I’ll get April back to her suite and get her settled. She should sleep for an hour or so once she goes down. I’ll go back to my cabin. Call me if you need me for anything else.” He hesitated. “Are you okay? Do you want something to take the edge off?” His gaze went again to the closed door. “This isn’t going away anytime soon.”
A hell of a strong drink, Sam’s inner voice screamed. She might have been wired before but this took it to whole new levels of stress. There was going to be hell to pay and not only for the killer, if and when they found him. Or her.
She was responsible for this.
She was the captain.
She drew in a deep breath, counting to three.
Just like the therapist said.
Letting it out on another three beats.
One, two, three.
“I’m fine. Thanks.” She paused, trying to figure out how to phrase her question delicately. “Do you have company?” She winced inside, wondering how to swear his customer to secrecy. The gossip train would be running soon enough but she didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire by having Sean’s client know something was afoot. Having him run in and out with his medical kit wasn’t going to help keep this quiet.
In the Black Page 5
