Dancer (Wine of the Gods Book 15)

by Pam Uphoff

  She looked glumly down at her blouse. Not going to work.

  Then she went down to dinner, and to socialize with the family after.

  A triple ding, from the side. Raod glanced toward her purse. "One is friends and family, two is business."

  "So this is a nuisance call?" Rael asked.

  "Oh no, those go straight to the most odious music site I can find. Shaker, at the moment." She stepped over and fished her comm out . . . "Oh. That policeman, the Senior Investigator. He's left a note that he wants me to come to the office again. In . . . about an hour."

  "I'll come with you. I've got a couple of things to talk to him about."

  The Investigator 'suggested' that Rael take a seat while he spoke to her sister.

  She sat, and eyed the busy office. Fairly quiet, voices low, people busy. Puppy stomped up and frowned down at her.

  She smiled sweetly. "I wasn't sure you had much information on Actinicide, so I called an expert at the Princess School. She said with the standard formulation and dosage it is completely metabolized inside of two hours." Rael heard the door open behind her, but didn't turn. "She was quite appalled when I told her the levels detected. She said he was either dosed within fifteen minutes of his dying, or given a massive overdose, probably no more than three hours prior to that blood sample being taken. Which with actinicide is utterly pointless."

  "So nice to know experts, isn't it?" The Investigator growled from behind her.

  "She was a bear to take lessons from, but she knows her subject." Rael smiled sunnily at the cop, and pretended to not notice Raod's stubborn expression.

  "So, was that all, Princess?"

  Rael batted innocent eyelashes at the trio of policemen. "I had a thought about your Dream problem. I remembered something that might be relevant to your drug investigation. Or possibly just extra speedy gossip."

  He heaved a sigh. "Do tell."

  "It was months ago, a few weeks after I got here. I was sitting in the Benito Street Park when a young man approached me, warned me off what he apparently assumed would be an attempt by me to gain information on illegal drugs. I never did figure out where that idea came from." She waved the thought airily away. "The point is, almost immediately after that Raod and Ogto had a public confrontation right there. There were very few people who might have been within hearing range. But not fifteen minutes later, we encountered two women, who made catty remarks about it. I think the drug gang had a remote pick up on us, and . . . the time frame is so tight, I think one of those women was listening in."

  "Why would they go out of their way to be catty?"

  "Ooo! You're sharp!"

  Raod snorted. "It was Tiyf. Ogto's second wife. She . . . Ogto touched the twins, and didn't get any zap at all. Tiyf wanted to rub it in. She called the twins bastards and generally scored bitch points against me." She tossed a glance at Rael. "She did hear about it very quickly, didn't she?"

  "Yep."

  Puppy scowled. "Why are you so sure they had a mike on you?"

  "I . . . managed to embarrass the kid they sent out with the message. He's picked up an unfortunate nickname—Kitchen—from it. The gang was listening."

  "And kept listening?" Puppy shrugged. "Kitchen? I've heard worse." He glowered at her.

  "One of them must have been in contact with whoever was watching Kitchen warn me off. They must have had a directional mike, with damned good equipment, and kept it running, pointed at me, afterwards. And caught that encounter with Ogto. Now . . . were they interested in Ogto? Why? What does he have to do with a drug gang? And why did they pass that on to Tif or Towel?"

  "Or was one of them operating the mike?' Ox shrugged. "I'll look into their connection to the Dream epidemic."

  "Ooo. Very déclassé, Withiones doing the fieldwork themselves." Rael eyed the cop. "Is Dream a local problem?"

  He nodded. "Very much so. We've recently become the source of a large percentage of the world's supply. When we heard you were coming here to recuperate, we all—us cops—all leaped to the conclusion that you were here to investigate them."

  Rael snorted. "The drug gang assumed that as well. Hopefully just a coincidence."

  Ox winced. "Well, you're famous. But it's been over a year. Everyone assumed you'd recovered ages ago. That your obvious problems were faked."

  Rael pinched the bridge of her nose. First finger and thumb only. The other fingers looked normal, slightly curled. "Would you like to see my medical file? I've got a copy. Personally I'm too squeamish to read it. I had to live through it all."

  "And coming from you, I should trust it?"

  "Cops. Sheesh, do you take a paranoid pill every morning?"

  "No, but a large dose of cynicism is required at the start of every duty cycle. What about that messenger boy? Ever see him again?"

  "Yeah. My stray puppy. I think he got laughed out of the gang. I've been giving him lessons and pointers on the beach, Mondays, half the time so early he ought to be in school."

  Ox pulled out the picture of Ymti's underaged chauffeur.

  "Yes, that's him. Does he have anything to do with the murder?"

  "He was driving the car that hit Ogto, who was his father." Ox sat back and enjoyed having made the woman boggle.

  "Damn. He didn't show this morning, and I was hoping it was because he was in school."

  "He was. We're keeping an eye on him. And you. We're running out of people to follow all the suspects. I'll have to scrape up another to watch this Tiyf person."

  Rael snickered. "Perhaps I'll abuse my position and see if there's anything interesting in either of those women's federal files."

  "And I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." The Investigator didn't quite touch Raod's elbow as he steered them out.

  Rael did an automatic sweep of the dark parking lot for threats. Not even any cops. Obviously the sensible ones had gone home. So the Investigator is single, and probably Puppy and Yummy as well. Either that or I pity their wives and kids. "So, what did he want from you?"

  Raod's lips thinned. "He thinks I killed Ogto. For the money. Or maybe my lover killed him. I told him I didn't have one, and he pointed out that my twins, who are rumored to not be Ogto's, must have been conceived while I was still married to him. And who was it, who had broken up our marriage?

  "I refrained from striking him."

  Rael opened her mouth, then shut it. Thought about how to be diplomatic about saying that that interpretation was, on the surface, obvious. "I, umm, got the impression that your marriage was on the rocks months before you picked up and left."

  "Oh yes. I was disappointed to have failed, again, to get pregnant. Ogto was peeved that, as he put it, he was being shown up as no better than Itsu or Eglo. He called me barren." Her lips thinned, spots of color on her cheeks.

  Rael snickered. "Well, you proved that wrong. C'mon, let's go home. You can cheer yourself up, playing with babies."

  And I'll run every name I've encountered through the system, and see if anything interesting falls out.

  The Directorate level had never heard of the women, but had pretty good, in depth bios of the rest. Rael settled down to read. Great for inducing sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tuesday, 15 Safar 1398

  "I've taken a quick look at Ogto's bank record." Ymme looked bright and alert, so early in the morning.

  "At first glance, it looks completely legitimate. A regular deposit direct from the War Party, sizable checks from various companies at irregular intervals. Automatic payment to two ex-wives and one in the process of divorce, plus a former lover—that kid's mother. Payroll for two servants. A landscaping maintenance company, utilities. Quarterly taxes. Property taxes. Food and fuel. A moderately well to do lifestyle, mostly because of the inherited house. Although the local taxes are nasty, it's still cheaper than buying a house half the size, back from the coast. The only unexpected thing was a one time deposit from another bank, six months ago, that he used to buy that car. The car isn't flashy, on
the outside. At first glance it looks like a very nice well-to-do businessman's type of car. Inside, it's got everything and top quality everything, at that. The lab boys are all drooling over the engine and talking about gearing and such. Anyone who knows what they're looking at will know it cost him damn near a year's salary."

  Ymme flashed a grin. "So I traced the deposit, and found the other account. It was in his name, so it was no problem getting a subpoena. It's set up as a family trust, but it's only four years old, and he's the sole signatory." He held out his pad, open to an account summary.

  "He had how much money?" Ox looked at the bank statement in blank disbelief. "How much does a local party chief make, anyway? Most of this must be family money. Keep digging, there's probably an investment account somewhere, sending out monthly transfers." He tapped the sole deposit in the three month history on the screen. "Or quarterly."

  "The account it's coming from isn't his. I'm heading back to the judge for another subpoena." Ymme shook his head. "Now I wish I'd listened to my Dad when he told me I ought to go into politics."

  "You're too honest." Ox frowned at the statement. "I wonder just how honest Ogto was? Keep your eyes open for . . . dirty sources of money. Such as this Dream lab, and whichever gang is exporting it to Europe. Gah. On top of a . . . possibly bent Princess I get shady politics? This is . . . a challenge."

  "And fun. 'Puppy' wants to kill your princess."

  "A nickname will do Uqpy a world of good."

  "He had his shoulder cam on, you know. He got beat up by a very badly damaged, very badly hungover, very nearly naked Princess."

  Ox paused. "But a very competent Princess."

  "That point is arguable. Good reflexes, then she very nearly fell down. Hard to believe she survived a chest wound like that. She's . . . she really is messed up." Ymme's smile faded, then returned. "But then, so's Puppy's reputation as the biggest baddest most deserving of a promotion cop on the force."

  Ox cleared his throat, and Ymme took the hint.

  "The War Party accounts are pretty straightforward. Lots of donations in various amounts were deposited, generally once a week, with the majority of the funds coming in two waves, twice a year. There was apparently one fund raiser before the primaries and a second, larger, fund raiser before the general election. The money stayed there for a week or so, then either transferred to an investment account or to a fund from which donations to specific campaigns were made, or payments to commercial ad firms for party wide publicity. A fourth account was for overhead. Office space rental, and occasional temporary secretarial workers, as well as the small permanent payroll."

  Ymme shifted uncertainly. "Those accounts were all owned by 'The War Party' with the local committee president, vice president and treasurer as signatories. Ogto, Axse and Uzke."

  Ox frowned. "Uzke?"

  Ymme shrugged. "He's the VP. Apparently he has little to do with the whole thing, and just serves as a third person with access to the money, should the others be busy or whatever. He's a bureaucrat, works in the District Councilman's Montevideo office and lives down there. He attended the reunion, graduated from here, even though he's actually Rioja Clan. I haven't talked to him. Axse—he's a cousin of yours, isn't he?—called the manager of the bank and actually told them to give me complete access to the records, and he said he'd get an independent audit and let us know if there were any problems. So I don't even need a subpoena for the War Party accounts."

  "Good to hear that. I'll add Uzke to my enquiry list. And maybe have a nice informal chat with Axse."

  ***

  The Investigator had someone in his office when Rael dropped by after physical therapy torture.

  "I'll wait." She grinned at Ymme. "You've got to work harder on the stern face. Tell you what, why don't you report to your boss that you cleverly tricked me into admitting that Interior's files had nothing whatsoever on the two women we talked about yesterday, and what they had on the men was absolutely soporific, but I'll try to plow through it all."

  Puppy huffed angrily behind her. "You do realize that we have to shove requests through five levels of bureaucrats to get to those sorts of things?"

  "Actually, yes, I've heard about how time consuming it is, for what usually winds up totally unhelpful. Would you like the list of badges Governor Itsu earned as a scout?"

  Ymme snickered. "No, but thank you very much for offering, Princess."

  The Investigator stuck his head out of his office door. "Yummy . . . " He broke off and eyed Rael. "Princess. Do come in, won't you?"

  She followed him back through the doorway.

  "This is Axse Withione Cobo Montevideo. Head of the District War Party."

  "Oh, how odd. I'd gotten the impression that was Ogto. Pleased to meet you." Axse and Ahxe?

  He didn't offer to shake hands. Old fashioned. Women are not businessmen. And just as well, her grip was too obviously not right if someone liked squeezing contests. She'd been lucky so far, but sooner or later . . .

  The man shrugged. "He was the treasurer. He handled all the donations and disbursements. I did the political end of things. One damn it all! He's going to be hard to replace." He shifted, and eyed her.

  "Even after that debacle a year and a half ago, we're the largest political group. Some people believe in our motto, that the best defense is a strong offense. We have people who donate regularly." He frowned at Rael. "Your father stopped. Out of duty to you, not a lack of conviction in us."

  "Actually he gave out of a grudging sense of obligation. He quit when he realized he was just funding the Game. How do you stand now, in the Game, Axse?"

  He snorted. "I'm not pushing. The governor, our three councilmen, and the mayor of Montevideo do most of the playing around here. I'm comfortably married, three kids. The kids'll be grown about the time the Governor retires. If I want to move up, that's when I'll do it."

  "Very sensible." Rael glanced between the two men. "And how closely are you two related?"

  The men traded scowls.

  "We're cousins." The Investigator switched the scowl to her. "Our mothers are siblings, Black Point Clan. I was raised up there. My parents died when I was sixteen. I moved down here to finish school, living with my aunt and uncle. His parents."

  "And both of you in law?" She gave them her best innocent look. "But practicing it differently."

  "He doesn't have a degree." Axse's nose rose.

  "Third?" Rael grinned at the double glare. "Well, must be off, to find something else to abuse with my god-like powers." Twinsies! They're both kind of cute, not that it matters to me. She rose, trying to just look mildly amused.

  But apparently you weren't at the reunion, oh mister policia. Not a party type? On duty that night, and couldn't switch? I could check you out, but it'd be a waste of time. You fairly radiate honest cop. If someone pocketed some actinicide from your evidence room, it wasn't you. And in the mean time, maybe I ought to try a bit of charm on your cousin, because I suspect the lists of donors to the War Party will take a court order to shake loose, trigger a call to some lawyers, and probably get fought tooth and nail until it doesn't matter any longer. Damn the state of my body. This isn't going to be easy.

  She pretended to not see the plainclothesman who just happened to be strolling along half a block behind her. Pity I'm not in better shape. I could amuse myself leading him all over the enclave. Instead, I think I'll just stop for lunch.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tuesday, 15 Safar 1398

  The little café overlooked the park, and on a sunny afternoon it was pleasant to sit in the shaded patio and take time over a leisurely lunch. Recuperate from Mr. Zip's stair climbing machines.

  Rael started a list. And tapped her pad impatiently.

  "Motive. Means. Opportunity. Who wanted him dead?"

  "Who wanted who dead?" Bruno sat down across from her.

  "Ogto Withione. My sister's estranged husband. She's set to inherit several million dollars worth of property, so the police ar
e practically assuming she killed him. Or that I killed him for her."

  Bruno sat back in surprise. "Oh, him. Well, maybe she did."

  Rael glowered. "No. She. Did. Not. And I am going to prove it."

  "How?"

  "By finding the person who did kill him."

  "Like in a book? Look, Rael I wanted to apologize for . . . "

  "Drop it, Bruno."

  "I was drunk, and upset, and it didn't come out the right way. You looked . . . damaged, and I wanted to wrap you in cotton wool and, and . . . I don't know. Not throw you on the ground and make mad passionate love to you, which had been my first thought when I spotted you across the room."

  Rael boggled a bit, then shook her head and looked at the list. "So, why did you want to kill Ogto?"

  "What the One Hell?"

  "No? You had the opportunity. All I need is a motive."

  He laughed out loud. "You aren't going to talk about us, are you?"

  "Not a chance. Now, he was, like, the treasurer for the War Party. Did he embezzle any money? This is so strange, being on the outside. I used to be able to call a cop and ask, and get an answer. Being . . . a civilian, not to mention a suspect, is weird."

  "Not half as weird as you."

  "I wonder who his friends are, who he talked to?"

  "Who his enemies were, who he had the dirt on?" Bruno scowled. "I'll bet it was the revolving wives. I'll bet they all gossip like mad. Any indication that he was blackmailing anyone?"

  Rael pretended to study her pad. While pondering the man's grip on the table edge. His fingertips were white from the pressure. Interesting. Who's blackmailing you, about what, Mister Superstar Bruno? "So . . . did you marry either of Ogto's former wives?"

  "Oh One hell no! Me? Marry some snooty Withione who couldn't ever give me a son?" His grin came back. "Although I did think about it once. Hell of a shock, the day I called your house and your dad said you'd left for Princess School. You didn't even say good bye."