The Galactic Sentinel: Ultimate Edition: 4 Books with 2000+ Pages of Highly Entertaining Sci-Fi Space Adventure

by Killian Carter

  “Weird.” I packed the camera and photos away.

  “My scanner’s been on the fritz too ever since I got here. It might just need maintenance. It’s long overdue. It didn’t pick up anything interesting.”

  Walsh had one of the subtle eye implants—you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know what to look for. Nothing like that twisted block of metal stuck to Marco’s face.

  “I’ll try the Spectrumtech.” I retrieved the headset and put it on, pulling the eyepiece down over my left eye. I leaned in for a closer look at the wound, swiping through the frequency presets. I’d configured them myself, using decades of data collected from hundreds of cases. And it was a hell of a lot more powerful than a micro-lens fitted over the human eye. “Doesn’t look like bites or burns. Could be a weird chemical reaction, but I’m not finding any obvious chemical traces.”

  I jotted the details down as I spoke.

  I switched to low-light optics. The headset servos whirred softly as I zoomed in on the wound.

  “Looks like bubbles.” I magnified as much as I could without sacrificing image quality. “Not bubbles. Patches of skin around the hole are red and pitted. Maybe it is a chemical burn. We’ll have to see what forensics comes back with.

  “You find anything else interesting around here?” I said, gesturing at the racks.

  “I’ve combed through this place and the penthouse twice. No tracks. No murder weapon. No clues. Nothing.”

  “The guard downstairs mentioned two bodies.”

  “Up there.” She pointed her flashlight at the hole in the ceiling.

  It was fifteen feet up and had likely been made from above.

  “Let’s take a look.”

  I gave the mess under the light one last glance before following Walsh to the door. “Come on, Cat.”

  “It’s a bad one, huh?” Walsh said.

  “You told me it was bad, but I would never have guessed it was that bad.”

  “Wait till you see the next one.”

  5

  Penthouse

  To say the penthouse was extravagant would have been an understatement of the highest order.

  The apartment door slid open to a modest hallway with storage for outdoor wear. A black bomber jacket with a Wilder Security badge—property of Jonny Sanchez I assumed—hung next to a lady’s long, white coat. Beyond the hallway, however, expanded into a studio apartment that could have held my cabin with room to spare. An open plan kitchen and dining room took up the left with a sectional defining the living area on the right. Past the sectional, a bed was semi-screened by a half-wall.

  Ornaments and overturned furniture were scattered around the couch.

  I whistled. “Looks like Jonny put up a fight.”

  “Not that it did him any good.”

  I surveyed the penthouse again. “This is quite the apartment.”

  “Imagine living in a place like this.” Her eyes were wistful. “These people live in an entirely different world.”

  “I couldn’t see myself living here. It lacks something.”

  “Of course you don’t,” she mocked.

  “I’ve never seen the appeal of studio apartments. Why not build an actual wall to keep your bedroom private?”

  “People like Vince Wilder are used to being seen. They like to feel like they have nothing to hide.”

  “Must be an insecurity thing,” I said. “People like Vince Wilder always have something to hide.”

  Walsh rolled her eyes.

  I had Cat wait in the hallway. Walsh led me to the living area, careful not to step on anything. She pointed to the hole behind an overturned cream leather couch.

  I looked through the hole at Jonny’s remains. “Yup. That’ll kill ya.”

  “Jesus, Miller. Have some respect.” Walsh snapped.

  I crouched for a closer look and ran my finger along the edge of the hole. I pinched the edge and wood crumbled to dust between my fingers. “No burn marks or residue. It’s dry as bone. I expected to find signs of a plasma grenade or a chemical explosion.”

  “I told you it was weird.”

  “Let’s see what we’ve got inside the bedroom.”

  I updated my notepad as I rounded the low wall. I looked up and my stomach lurched. Not that I wasn’t used to seeing dead people, I’d seen plenty. I just didn’t think there could be a more gruesome corpse than Jonny’s even though Walsh had warned me.

  This one was female. She was naked too. Laying on top of an open gown, like she’d torn it off to find her left breast as it melted away. Strangely, her other breast, along with the rest of her body, was untouched.

  “You ID this one?”

  Walsh shook her head. “No purse. No comex. No nothing.”

  “Cheating on her partner with a one-night-stand.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “She left everything that could identify her in her car or at home, including her wedding ring, but if you look close enough, you can see the mark on her ring finger. She’s been married for about a decade. Probably put on a little weight over that time. Unhappiness does that to you. She took every precaution not to get caught.” I pointed at a comex on the bedside table. “Plus, she had Sanchez turn his comex off. She was afraid of being recorded. Chances are she was rich and important.”

  “Hopefully, her prints are on file.”

  I pulled my camera out. “This’ll be quicker if you take notes,” I said, handing Walsh my notepad and pen.

  I ran through the same procedure, taking pictures and scanning the scene while Walsh took notes.

  I realized she was transcribing onto her comex and gave her the eye.

  “Come on.” She held up the notepad and pencil. “You really want me to write with these artifacts?”

  “You have to wonder what went wrong with the world that people can no longer write by hand.”

  She muttered a curse. “You need to get with the times, Miller. Resisting change is bad for your mental health.”

  “A psychologist and a detective. I’d hate to see your monthly universal education repayments.”

  “A comedian and a PI. I’d hate to see your overdraft.” She chuckled.

  I shrugged. “You got me good.”

  “So, any theories?” she said.

  I’d been trying to piece one together ever since I got off the elevator. “I got nothing.”

  “My ass is about to be drilled, Miller. We need a head start on the press. I got nothing isn’t good enough.”

  “If you want a rough guess—and this is as rough as they come—Jonny worked body for Vince Wilder at some fancy event. Caught the eye of a rich lady at the bar. He’s handsome. She’s cute. They hook up and have dinner at Deeno’s Diner. Sounds like a dive, but she probably wanted to keep it low key. Make sure she didn’t bump into anyone she knew. Possibly wanted to get back at her husband for sleeping with his secretary but wanted him to find out on her terms. They got drunk. Came back here. Sanchez had to show off, so he brought her to the penthouse.”

  “Sounds plausible,” Walsh said. “Even if some of it’s a stretch.”

  I shrugged. “Like I said, it’s a theory.”

  “Would you put money on that theory?”

  “Nice try, Walsh.” I tapped the brown envelope in my breast pocket. “You aren’t getting any of this back.”

  “A beer at O’Sullivan’s says you’ve got it all wrong.”

  I didn’t honestly have that much confidence in the theory but I figured a beer couldn’t hurt. “Sure.”

  “I wonder what really happened,” Walsh said turning back to the body.

  “The real question is, who did the killer want dead? Jonny Sanchez or Jane Doe.”

  “Or both,” Walsh said. “Maybe her husband found out.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe the killer didn’t want to leave any witnesses.”

  “Whoever the killer was, he or she succeeded on that front.”

  “We’re missing something big, Walsh. I can feel it but I
don’t know what it is. If it’s just a bodyguard and some random rich girl, why is Vince Wilder adamant that this is dealt with quickly and quietly?”

  “The Wilders have an image to protect.”

  “Maybe.” I was missing something else, I was positive. “Mind if I have a peek under?”

  “As long as you don’t move her too much and put her back the way you found her.”

  “I always do.”

  “Except for that time you didn’t.”

  “That was the first time that happened and the last. I can’t believe you’re still holding it against me.”

  I moved to the bed and lifted the dead woman a few inches. The bloody sheets underneath were stuck to her back and came with her. I peeled them away. Almost her entire upper back was bruised black. In the center of the bruise was a small weeping hole. The skin around it appeared dried and cracked. I gently touched the edge of the hole. The cracks spread. Chucks of brittle flesh broke away. Liquified entrails exploded onto the bed.

  I jumped back, dropping the body.

  The room wobbled, and I stumbled into the edge of the dresser, holding onto it for dear life.

  “Are you okay, Miller?” Walsh sounded like she was talking to me through a wall.

  “Low blood sugar is all. I’ve barely slept in days and haven’t eaten much.”

  I didn’t tell her how much I’d had to drink.

  It had been a long time since I almost fainted at the sight of gore. I know what you’re thinking. An ex-homicide detective turned PI homicide consultant nauseated by a little blood. Ludwig van Beethoven was deaf, but he still composed some of the best music in history. Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles were blind, but they still played piano. Hell, Franklin D. Roosevelt led the U.S. through World War II from a wheelchair. I’m not saying I’m the Ludwig, Steve, Ray, or Frank of investigators. But I used to be.

  The spinning room finally slowed.

  Walsh appeared by my side with water.

  I drained it in three gulps and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, the latex glove pulling on my lips.

  “Can I get you anything else?” Walsh said, her words clearer.

  “Give me a second.” I eyed two glasses on the dressing table, just out of arm’s reach. One was almost full, the other looked like its contents were melted ice. A bottle of whiskey behind them. I wasn’t a big fan of the Japanese stuff, but Kurasaki was better than nothing. I licked my lips.

  Walsh caught me looking, and I could tell she wanted to move the glasses and bottle. I didn’t know for sure, but I suspected her father was an alcoholic when she was a kid.

  I steeled myself on wobbly legs and held on for another few seconds. “Actually, I think I should leave. I’ve got enough to go on anyway.”

  “Sure,” Walsh said, a touch of worry in her voice.

  I pushed myself off the dressing table and managed to keep my balance this time. “Keep me posted on anything that comes back from the database and the lab.”

  “Of course.”

  I grabbed my field case and made it to the door, using the wall for support.

  Walsh touched her earpiece. “Shit, thanks for the heads up.”

  “What is it?”

  “Ron just radioed in.” She made a face. “He tried to delay the mayor, but she and one of her guards are on their way up.”

  “What’s she doing, sticking her nose into things on the ground? Whatever, I’m out of here.”

  “Power’s out on the upper floors, remember. That includes the skyway platform.”

  ““I’ll take the stairs,” and picked up my pace.

  “Come on Cat,” I called. “Let’s get out of here before that bitch Lisa gets here.”

  I pulled the door open.

  A pale-skinned man, with black hair and dark rings around his eyes, gave me a preview of seeing the grim reaper on my deathbed.

  But that was nothing compared to the scowl on the tall blond woman at his side.

  I swallowed hard. “Hey, Lisa.”

  “Max.” No one else could have filled one word with so much venom.

  She poked me in the chest hard and I backed into the apartment.

  She shot Walsh the dirtiest look I’d ever seen, but the cop held her own.

  “What is he doing here?” she snapped.

  “You said you wanted the best on this case.”

  Lisa snorted. “What happened to the Brit?”

  “Flew back to London for a while. Scheduled maintenance on the implant he’s testing.”

  “Fine,” she pointed an accusing finger at me. “But don’t let the bastard swindle you.”

  I stopped myself before I said I’d never swindle anybody. That’d just open another can of worms and it was already starting to feel like a bait shop. “I’ll charge a fair price.”

  The way she squinted said she didn’t believe me. “I trust you got everything you need?”

  “More would have been nice, but it’s a start.”

  “You’re done here?” Her eyes brimmed with hope.

  “I was just leaving.”

  “Good. I’ll let you stay on the case for now, Max. Get to the bottom of this. Speak a word to anyone, and I’ll cut your balls off and feed ’em to your damn dog. Now get out of my sight.”

  I looked to Cat for support, but he just sat there with his tongue hanging out. He’d probably eat them without a second thought.

  Lisa followed Walsh to the bedroom and I went for the door.

  Grim still blocked the exit.

  He looked at me like a corpse would at a pathologist. For a second, I even thought he was dead, but before I could check for a pulse he looked past me to the bedroom and without a word, followed the mayor.

  Cat padded to the sectional.

  “Cat, get back here,” I hissed, going after him, hoping Lisa and Grim wouldn’t hear.

  He sniffed the edge of the hole.

  “You found something there, Cat?”

  I went in for look, crouching behind the couch so Grim and Lisa wouldn’t see me if they stuck their heads out of the bedroom.

  Cat nudged the edge of the fluffy rug.

  I pulled it up, but there was nothing there. “What is it boy?”

  He sniffed, moved closer, and nudged the rug again.

  I pulled it back further and found a small piece of a card. I picked it up and turned it between my fingers. It was fairly light cardstock. Glossy. Like a corner from a cheap business card. The end of a word in fancy bold lettering—ess.

  “Find something?” a low, grating voice asked.

  I slipped it into my breast pocket.

  I turned to find Grim leaning over the couch.

  I wondered how long he’d been standing there.

  “Nope. Just getting my dog. You know how they can be.” I gave him my best smile.

  He grunted, “Didn’t the Mayor tell you to leave?”

  “Those were her words yes, and I was just leaving.”

  As I got up, he grabbed the hem of my trench coat with long, spindly fingers. He was surprisingly strong. “I know you and the Mayor go way back, but if I ever hear you disrespecting her again, I’ll break your nose.”

  “Listen, Grim, your precious mayor doesn’t like me any more than I like her.”

  I pulled my cuff but he maintained his grip.

  His flat dead eyes bored into mine. I thought he’d stopped breathing.

  I pulled away and he let go. I almost stepped into the hole, and barely managed to keep from falling on my ass.

  He silently ushered Cat and me out of the apartment and locked the door behind us.

  I pulled out the hip flask, unscrewed the lid, and cursed Grim, and drank until there was nothing left.

  That was the thing about Lisa. She trained her dogs well.

  That was why our relationship had fallen apart. I refused to be anybody’s mutt.

  6

  Dark Alley

  I drove back to Grayson Tower and parked in the alley again. This time I made
sure to park as far away from the loading bay as I could. I didn’t like the idea of Old Man Joe watching me getting out of my car.

  It was almost 0800, but it felt like noon. The sky was still heavy, but at least the rain had stopped.

  I stepped out into a deep puddle and swore, shaking water off my boot and pant leg.

  Cat leaped out behind me, the resulting splash soaking me further, just when I was beginning to dry off.

  “Cat! For god’s sake.”

  He looked up at me wide-eyed, his tail wagging.

  He pointed his nose in the direction of the street and barked. “Starve. Starve.”

  He clearly remembered my promise to buy him lamb from O’Sullivan’s over the road. I still felt a bit lightheaded from almost fainting earlier, but my stomach growled.

  “Okay, boy. Lamb it is.”

  I passed a rusting dumpster at the end of the alley. Something moved in the corner of my eye.

  I turned and went for my gun only to find a familiar face.

  “Maya, what the hell are you doing hiding behind dumpsters? I could have killed you.”

  “You wouldn’t go shooting a pretty girl like me now, would you?” she said unabashedly fluttering her eyelids.

  Maya Oliveira’s straight black hair framed her oval face. Her yellow floral dress put a lot of bronzed Brazilian skin on display considering the weather. With enough cleavage to park a bike, it was hard not to look. She had long, toned legs and an hourglass body. The kind of body a lot of men craved, and she knew it too. Attributes that no doubt helped in her line of work.

  It had been a while since I’d been with a woman. I had to remind myself why that was. Her tricks didn’t work on me anymore, but that didn’t stop her from trying every time I got tangled up in a high-profile case. Someone had clearly tipped her off.

  “Do you like my new dress?” she said with a wiggle.

  “Shouldn’t you be wearing a coat?” I said, stepping around her.

  “Wait.” She walked briskly alongside me.

  It was a wonder she could move so fast in her three-inch heels.

  “I take it you didn’t stop by for the views.” I gestured at the dreary buildings around us. “Or my rugged good looks.”