Sean smiled. “I’m between customers. Seems a grumpy old man isn’t as appealing as he used to be.”
“Ah.” She didn’t know what to say to that. “Okay. I might have to call you again depending on how things go. Thanks for the help.”
He nodded and touched his index finger to his temple. “At your service.”
She wasn’t sure what else she could do but wait and stand guard.
Sean pulled April upright, whispering to her in that low Irish accent that had probably broken a thousand hearts.
April sniffled once and rubbed her eyes with both hands in an attempt to regain her composure before turning to Sam. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?” Sam replied.
“I should have—” The courtesan fumbled for words. “She—”
Sam held up her hand. “Go lie down. When the marshal arrives he’ll want a statement, and you should rest.”
She left out the part where April would be the most likely suspect. The first person to find the murdered woman usually was the one who did it.
Reading all those mystery novels had come in handy after all.
Good thing the Belle didn’t have any butlers on board.
Sean clucked his tongue, his hand tight around the slender woman’s waist. “You’re in no shape to be thinking about this right now. Come along, let’s get you into your home.” He nudged April toward her quarters. “Get settled and have a cuppa. That’ll set you right.” He caught Sam’s eye and nodded toward the locked door.
“Belle.” Sam heard the bolts retract.
Sean opened the hatch for April and helped her through. He gave Sam another weak salute, then pulled the door shut behind them.
“Let me know when he goes back to his own suite, Belle. Lock him in after he gets back and relock April’s door, same as the others.” A deep throbbing started behind her left eye. Right now they were all suspects, all of the crew and a good portion of the base personnel.
This wasn’t going to end well.
“Chief Medical Officer Danforth is at the entrance. I’ll send him through.” Belle’s voice was soft but firm. “He is alone.”
“Thank you.” Sam’s attention went to the end of the hallway. “Keep everything secure. No one moves, no one leaves. Anyone wants to dispute that, tell them to take a number and wait for me to call them back.”
“Affirmative.”
A few minutes later the doctor came into the hallway, pulling himself along by the straps. He wore the same drab coverall as the other miners except this one had patches on the shoulders bearing the white-and-red cross of the medical department. A slew of stripes on his right sleeve showed he’d spent years working for the company, a lifer. He carried the typical doctor’s black leather bag, a custom brought out from Earth by most of the medics she’d come across.
The snick of the bolts slamming home echoed behind him.
The older man nodded to Sam. “Fred Danforth.” He extended his hand. “Chief Medical Officer for Branson Prime.”
“Sam Keller. Captain of the Bonnie Belle.” She shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you. Sorry I had to drag you out here right away. Hope you weren’t busy.”
He shrugged. “A few cuts and scrapes, the occasional STD. Excitement central. And I’m fine with that.” He peered at the closed door behind her. “But I’m guessing you’ve got more for me to look at than a cold sore or a rope burn.”
“I need official verification of a death.” The words tasted sour. “I’m not allowed to do that and neither is my medic. The Guild demands a neutral qualified observer if one’s available, and that’d be you. UNS marshal is on the way.”
The surprise on his face showed for a second before the professional side took over, clamping down his shock. “Okay.” He looked at the hatch, his knuckles white where they gripped the handles of the medical satchel. “Let’s do this.”
She moved to one side. “Belle, unlock the door. After we enter lock it again, please.”
The last thing she needed was someone wandering into the crime scene unannounced and unwanted. In theory everyone should be locked down, but still...
Danforth pulled himself to the entrance and went inside. Sam followed.
It took less than five minutes for him to officially declare Halley Comet deceased.
Sam floated nearby, watching. She couldn’t afford to have the crime scene contaminated before the authorities arrived but she needed the official stamp of the medic in case the courtesan sprang to life and started talking through her slit throat. It was a compromise she had to make.
Danforth stripped off his latex gloves and turned away, swimming back into the arrival area where Sam floated. “I tried not to touch anything. My report will reflect that along with my limited examination of Miss Comet.” He scowled as he tucked the gloves into a pocket. “Damned messy.” He shook his head. “Damned waste. Damned horrible situation.”
“Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”
“Sure as hell you will.” Danforth sighed. “I’ve been to some bad scenes but I never thought I’d see this. I’ll set up the autopsy room for her arrival—it’s full of record boxes right now. Haven’t had a dead body in...” He hummed under his breath. “Forever. Call me when the marshal releases the body and we’ll pick it up and start processing.”
Danforth put up his hand before she could speak. “Don’t worry, I know the routine. Automatic blood testing for booze and drugs, the usual. Been a while since I had to do the dance but I remember how it goes.” The medical officer swam to the hallway door. “Hell of a change from stitching up bar fights.”
“I don’t have to tell you to keep this quiet—”
Danforth snorted. “Young lady, I know my job. And the last thing I want to do is increase my workload by getting the boys all riled up and searching for someone to take their anger out on.” He tapped his ear. “Eyes only for you, the security chief and the marshal on the report. I won’t use an assistant so there’ll be less gossip floating around. Still going to be some, though. People going to talk, people love to talk.”
“But it’ll just be that.” Sam nodded back toward the suite. “Her parents deserve better than to have her autopsy photos displayed on somebody’s screen for chuckles and giggles. And you know there’s people who will do that.”
“Unfortunately I do.” Danforth put one hand on the hatch leading out of the hallway. “I’ll treat her as if she were my own daughter, take care of her right. Least I can do for her and her family.”
“Thank you.” Sam glanced upward. “Belle, let him out.”
The door unlocked and Danforth carefully crossed the threshold into the landing bay, placing his feet on the metal panels as full gravity took hold. The door swung shut as soon as he cleared it.
Sam glanced up and down the corridor, suddenly feeling self-conscious. The silence was uncomfortable, more suited to a library.
Or a morgue.
“Security Chief Huckness is waiting outside. I told him you were occupied. Now that Dr. Danforth is exiting, I’ll let him in.” Belle’s voice was soft but firm. “As you requested, he is alone.”
“Good.” Sam ran her palms over her thighs, wiping the sweat on the thin shorts. The cool air coming out of the vents didn’t seem to be making any difference. “Thank you.” She waited by the dead courtesan’s door and offered up a fast prayer for Halley. The woman might have been frustrating as hell but very few people deserved to die.
She went through another series of breathing exercises to settle herself and focus on the task at hand. Last thing she needed was to look like a weakling in front of the security chief.
Her ship, her responsibility.
She didn’t have to wait long for the chief. The hallway door swung open and shut within seconds. Belle was doing her best to
make sure no one saw inside—not that there was anything to see other than Sam floating in front of a door.
Huckness swam toward her at a fast clip, the older man’s movements giving him away as a military veteran. One of the first things you learnt in boot camp was how to get the most out of every action in zero-g, and Huckness knew all the tricks. He’d kept his mag-boots turned off, choosing to get more mileage with measured movements in zero-g rather than exhaust himself walking down the center of the corridor making contact with the metal plates.
He wasn’t wearing the same grey jumpsuit everyone else was, and his black T-shirt and matching military-style pants marked him as someone not to mess with. There was no rank or insignia on his uniform but the way he carried himself said it all.
The chief stopped next to her, hovering in the air.
“Heard you got a problem bad enough to lock the base down.” His eyes flickered to the door before going back to lock with hers. “How bad we talking?”
“Dead woman.” There was no easy way to say it. “One of my girls.”
Huckness sucked in his breath through coffee-stained teeth. “Shit.”
“Indeed.” Sam spotted a fraction of a tattoo on his bicep peeking out from the black sleeve. “Third Corps?”
He grinned and tugged the fabric up to show the smiling skull. “Retired five years ago with full benefits. Just doing time here until I get enough saved up to go to a colony.” He squinted. “You got one?”
Sam smiled. “Not for public viewing. First Corps.”
“Ground pounder central.” He nodded. “Now that we’ve exchanged secret handshakes, what do you need from me?”
“M.O. already declared and I’ve put in the mandatory calls to the Guild and the Service. But now we’ve got a lot of horny miners sitting in our loading bay waiting to find out if they’re going to get laid or not. And we have to tell them it’s not.” She pointed at the other cabins. “I know a few of the women still have customers. I’m going to send them out one by one to join the rest of the crowd but I need you to take statements from them first about what they may or may not have seen or heard. These suites are supposed to be soundproof but something might have gotten through or they might have spotted something on the way in for their appointments.”
He eyed her. “You’re thinking murder.”
She nodded, inwardly cursing their shared military background. He wasn’t going to be put off by the standard babble.
They’d both seen enough death in the field to know the difference between self-termination and murder. Enough soldiers taking their own lives versus a fight gone bad, a grudge carried too far.
“I think so. Supposed to look like suicide, put us off the trail.”
“But you and I know different.” He put up his hand before she could answer. “I get it, you can’t do much until the marshal shows up and the official investigation starts. Got to cover all the bases.” He jabbed a thumb toward the loading bay. “Think one of them’s your man?”
“No idea. But they might have seen or heard something, won’t think it’s important until they get asked.” Sam paused. “And they’re more likely to talk to you than to me. I’ve got no authority beyond this ship and they know it—shop steward’s going to freak out if I try to do it.”
“Got ya.” Huckness scratched behind one ear, fingers rubbing on thin white hairs. “I’ll take statements from the clients still here right now. After that I’ll work my way through the waiting men. I’ll order some food and drink and try to get them to calm down once they figure out they’re not getting laid or going back to their barracks anytime soon.” He inspected his fingers. “They’re not going to hold forever, shift change happening in three hours. Base’s locked down, and that’s going to start affecting us within three days as far as supplies go. Marshal knows this is a priority, right?”
“So they said.”
“Hope the fucker turns and burns his way here. Boys’ll only keep for so long before the foreman starts banging on my door and we all stop playing nice. Keep me informed.” Huckness turned to leave.
Sam hesitated for only a second before speaking. “When this is over let me know if you want your visit rescheduled. We’ll work you into the schedule.”
Huckness gave her a wide grin. “Damn straight. At twenty percent off.” He tossed her a sloppy salute before swimming back to the hatch. “Let me get some gear, check on my guards and I’ll start collecting statements and evicting the last of your clients.”
“Right. Belle, give Chief Huckness full access to the suites and landing bay. Lock down after he enters and exits each room on his command.”
“Affirmative.”
Sam stared at the courtesan’s door for a few minutes, running through a mental checklist. Medical, security, base locked down and everyone notified who had to know.
There was nothing else she could do for Halley other than wait for the marshal to arrive.
“Belle, I’m going back to the cockpit. Keep this door locked—no one gets in unless I approve it. And I mean no one. No marshal, no security chief, nobody.” She grabbed one of the straps and pulled herself down the corridor. “Remind everyone to stay in their quarters until they hear otherwise from me and to fully cooperate with the security chief. Even Jenny. I don’t want her sneaking around working on ship repairs. I know she’s probably got ways of getting around the locks but I can’t have her doing that. Not now, not during this mess.”
“Affirmative.” The neutral tone followed her through the deserted hallway into the galley and into her cockpit.
* * *
An hour later Sam sat on the bridge and listened to the internal base communication chatter, mostly men griping about having their visits to the Belle canceled along with random pleas to trade porn for other porn. The rumor mill was in full force with gossip running from one of the customers having a heart attack to the Guild about to announce a sudden hike in prices.
If only.
She reached up and began massaging her temples, feeling the headache threatening to break free. Asking Sean for painkillers would have been an option at any other time but she needed to be on top of her game now and couldn’t afford the chance of being fuzzed up by drugs.
This was bad, and not only because Halley was dead.
This could kill the ship’s reputation. The Guild might have to take the Belle out of commission. She’d end up searching for another job or worse, be stuck on Earth while the Guild waited for a slot to come open for another captain because they didn’t want to cancel her contract.
Her conscience barked in her ear, reminding her that a woman had died under her watch. She flashed back to the Hub, to the orders that’d sent her and her men to Hell. They’d only been doing their job, just like Halley. And once again, Sam was stuck picking up the pieces.
She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. No time to dip into that memory pool. She needed to stay on top of this. A marshal had been routed from his vacation break to deal with the murder, according to the one-line reply she’d gotten from the Service.
Pulled off his vacation time. Whoever this guy was, he was going to be in a fine mood when he arrived, probably ready to slap irons on anyone who looked at him sideways so that he could close the case and get back to his wife or mistress.
Justice would be a priority but not if it took too long.
Everyone would want this solved quickly to get the ship open for business again. Time was money and they had only two weeks before the Belle left for the next slot on the list. The Guild would want justice but they also wanted a profit.
It was her job to try to give them both.
Except right now she was giving them a dead courtesan and a base on edge, ready to explode given the right trigger.
“I can do this,” she mumbled to herself. “I can handle this.”
&
nbsp; She took a deep breath. One, two, three.
“Captain?” Belle asked. “Kendra would like to talk to you. May I put her through?”
Now it started.
She glanced down at the screen showing the outside tube connecting the Belle to the base. A few hours ago it had shown a long line of men waiting to get into the landing bay and onto the Belle. Now it was empty. The small security detail usually at the hatch was gone, probably reassigned to elsewhere on the base or now inside the Belle, keeping order with the interned miners.
“Captain?”
“Put her through, Belle. Thanks.”
A flick of her finger brought up the visual link to Kendra’s quarters on a second monitor. The image took a second to resolve. Kendra wasn’t wearing any makeup and her eyes were red.
“I’m here. What can I do for you?” Sam said.
“I know about Halley,” Kendra answered. “Can I help in any way?”
Sam rubbed her chin. She wasn’t stupid enough to think the courtesans didn’t have their own way of communicating outside of the Belle’s system.
Kendra tilted her head to one side. “The security chief helped to remove my client. He was less than amused at having his visit cut short.”
“Sorry ’bout that.”
Kendra smiled. “Don’t be. He wasn’t as interesting as he could have been. I approved a full refund through Belle. Hopefully the others will be as kind with their customers. Good reputations are important in this business.”
“Thank you for handling it so well.” Sam noticed Kendra didn’t ask for any details on Halley’s murder.
“Given the situation, I chose the path of least resistance. Better to lose a few credits than start a fight.”
Sam’s gaze went to the monitor. “We’ve got a lot of pissed-off men.”
In the Black Page 6
