Edge of Crime: A Collection of Crime Stories

by John Moralee

  *

  Nolan was keen to get out of the Floridian heat when he returned to his hotel. In his suite he stripped off his suit and showered in almost cold water until his body felt refreshed. Then he put on some casual clothes before making a call to Peter Falcon. They arranged to play golf the next morning at seven. He also made a call to DART asking to be put through to Dr Harker’s office. She answered on the second ring.

  “This is Dr Angela Harker,” she said formally.

  “Hi,” he said, suddenly feeling awkward, like a young boy trying to ask out a girl. “It’s Geoff Nolan.”

  “Oh! Is something wrong?”

  “No, no. I just wanted to say that I enjoyed meeting you today. I’m going to be in town for at least a week, helping out Ken’s wife and things … I was wondering … Would you like to have dinner with me somewhere?”

  “Are you asking me out on a date?” she said.

  He decided to be direct. “Yes,” he said. “Are you interested?”

  There was a pause during which he expected her to hang up the phone or come up with an excuse, like her diary was full for the next century. But she surprised him by saying, “When did you have in mind?”

  “What about tonight after you’ve finished work?”

  “Tonight’s fine with me.”

  “That’s great. Uh - I’m not familiar with the restaurants around here. Is there somewhere special you’d like to go?”

  “There’s a lovely restaurant on the coast. It’s called The Oceanic.”

  Nolan wrote down the information and told her he would book a table. They arranged to meet at seven at her home, where he would pick her up in his car.

  Her home was in a quiet section of the town close to the beach. It was a beautiful sand-coloured house overlooking the ocean. He rang the doorbell and heard her coming to the door. It sounded like she tripped over something because she muttered a curse.

  Moments later, she opened the door and laughed nervously, flicking her hair out of her eyes. He liked her navy blue dress, which was cut down the thigh. He forced his eyes upwards and ignored the imperative of his libido.

  “I’m not quite ready,” she said, looking down at her bare feet. “Please come in while I finish dressing. Oh - don’t trip on the welcome mat like I just did.”

  Nolan noticed Dr Harker kept her home neat and tidy as she showed him into a study. She left him there with a couple of black and white cats prowling the carpet, watching him from afar.

  “So. How long have you lived here?”

  “Three years,” she called out.

  “I see you like cats.”

  “Yeah. You’re not allergic, are you?”

  “No, no. Just saying. I have a few goldfish, that’s about all I can manage.”

  “That’s nice,” she said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  He didn’t know what to say next. He waited for her to return. She had on her shoes now. They matched her dress. He admired her shapely calves, the sleekness of her legs, the curve of her hips … The word “ravishing” leapt into his head, only to make him wonder if that was politically correct. “You look … good.”

  “Thanks. So do you.”

  Awkward, awkward, awkward. “The restaurant …”

  “Right.”

  The restaurant. It was as good as she’d said. They talked a combination of personal and business … more personal than business as the evening progressed. She invited him to call her Angela once they were comfortable with each other. He learned that Angela had been something of a nerd in high school, being about the only person in her class good at science. She hadn’t dated anyone until college, when she’d lost her puppy fat and suddenly become attractive to the opposite sex. She’d been engaged once, but she found out just in time her husband-to-be was cheating on her with three other women. She’d not had a serious, long-term relationship for years because her work was so demanding, but she was still cheerful about the prospects. Nolan felt good around her. He could tell she felt the same. They had something.

  But then he ruined it by returning to the subject of Ken.

  “Did you notice any change of Ken’s behaviour in the last few weeks?”

  She stopped eating, her fork poised at her mouth. She put it down and looked at him. “Can I ask you something and get an honest answer?”

  “Yes, sure. Ask.”

  “Do you think I killed him or something?”

  “What? No. Why’d you ask that?”

  “Because you clearly have some kind of secret agenda, Geoff. Do you seriously want to work for DART?”

  “I – uh –”

  “Honestly.”

  “No.”

  “So why this dinner? Pumping me for information? Want me to confess?”

  He shook his head. “That’s not it.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I like you, okay? I like you. You’re clever and sexy and funny. Judy thinks some kind of conspiracy is going on, so I agreed to ask some questions for her. It doesn’t mean I think you’re guilty. Right now, I don’t know why Ken died. That bothers me. I won’t deny I want answers. But I genuinely wanted to see you tonight because I wanted to know you better, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, quietly. “You realise Falcon’s gonna be extremely angry when you turn him down?”

  “I know,” he said. “But let’s not talk about that. Let’s just enjoy a meal together. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Angela paused. “About Ken. I did notice a change. I didn’t think it was about the project, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “There was a day when he went out for lunch on his own. It was a Wednesday, I think. That was pretty unusual because most of the guys on the team eat in the canteen, then get back to work as fast as they can. But he went out. Didn’t say where he was going, just he had something to do. He came back looking shell-shocked.”

  “Shell-shocked?”

  “Like he’d seen a ghost. I’m not kidding you. He was as white as a sheet. He said nothing was wrong, but he nearly got into a fight with Ed.”

  “When was this?”

  “An hour after he returned. I saw them arguing about something in the Think Tank. Ken lost his temper and stormed out. Something was definitely bothering him.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “Oh, about a month ago.”

  That tied with the “H” in Ken’s diary. “What’s Ed’s last name?”

  “It’s Hubert. Why?”

  He told her about the diary entry. “What’s he like?”

  “Ed’s smarter than everyone, but he’s also dumb about people. Why?”

  “Could he have sabotaged Ken’s plane?”

  She laughed at the idea. “Ed? I suppose he could have done anything to it - but I don’t believe he would. Ed might not care about people, but he wouldn’t do anything to harm the Phoenix Alpha. The only people to benefit from that are Professor Ripley and his protesters. But they don’t have access to the plane, so they couldn’t have done anything. Can we talk about something else now?”

  They finished their dinner and he gave their waitress his credit card, who swiped it through a card reader, then they went outside.

  It was a cool, starry night. Romantic couples were walking hand in hand on the lantern-lit path on the cliff’s side. Nolan and Angela walked down it, too, talking in hushed voices about their hopes and dreams.

  They stopped at a stone bench and sat close to each other. Angela was just a shadow next to him, a lovely shadow. They looked up at the stars and moon and Nolan tried to convey the emotions that he’d felt visiting it.

  On the moon he had felt at peace with the universe. In touch with creation. It was such a lonely place, but it was also such a fulfilling place. In his opinion, everyone should visit the moon once in their life, just so they could truly understand their role in the universe, their purpose for being.

  “I felt like I’d achieved something special, something wonderful,” he told her. “Th
ere aren’t many things you can do that make you feel so damn good about yourself. When I see what’s going on in America these days, I wish we could get that innocent optimism back. If only the money spent making wars was spent on exploring space, we would be on Mars by now. It’s so sad. No wonder people crave TV like Star Trek. We as a species need to explore space. Pretending we don’t is lying to ourselves.”

  “You’re a dreamer,” she said. “I admire that. When I was a girl, I dreamt about going into space instead of playing with barbie dolls. You have to tell me more about what it felt like to be on the moon.”

  He did so as they walked back to the restaurant’s parking lot, where he noticed something wrong with the side of his car. Someone had spray-painted the doors with what looked like a broken arrow.

  “What the hell?”

  He looked around but he could see nobody nearby. The paint was red like blood. He touched it. It was still wet.

  “Who did this?”

  “I’m betting it was the anti-DART protesters. They must have recognised your car from your visit. They like to vandalise vehicles owned by employees. I’m so sorry, Geoff.”

  “They do that to anyone who visits DART?”

  She nodded. “They’ve been harassing us for a long time. I keep my own car locked in my garage to avoid them doing this. I should have warned you.”

  “Haven’t the police done anything?”

  “They’ve been informed, but so far they’ve been unable to catch anyone in the act. Vandalism isn’t a priority, unfortunately. What do you want to do about it?”

  “The car’s a rental, so I’d better make a call.” He phoned the police and reported the incident. A local deputy showed up eventually to take a statement, but Nolan could tell he wasn’t very interested. However he suggested a garage that could clean off the paint, which was helpful. Nolan’s insurance would cover the cost so there was no real harm done, though the incident had ruined his evening.

  As he drove Angela home, Nolan kept checking his mirrors to see if they were being followed. He didn’t want to lead a fanatic to her home address. He didn’t see any vehicles behind him, but he took a circuitous route as a precaution.

  Her house was in darkness, surrounded by midnight blue sky. Angela opened her car door a crack, but didn’t get out. She looked at him. Her face was barely lit by the orange glow of the dashboard. He could see her teeth as a white line. They were perfect. He thought she wanted to say something … He wanted her to say it, whatever it was … in her own time. In the gloomy interior, the heat flooding out of the car from the open door, Nolan’s mood was somewhere between melancholia, excitement and dread. Dread in case she didn’t want to see him again. Excitement in case she did.

  “Well …” Angela said. The thought was left uncompleted.

  “Can I –” he said, before the sentence faded. “Can I see you again?

  “I would … like that.”

  She would? Yes. He grinned. He leant forward, and she leant forward, the leather seats creaking, creaking, until their lips joined. It was a sweet, gentle kiss. Not too fast, not too slow. He looked at her eyes, so close, so deep. Her pupils looked like eclipses, with a slight orange corona. Soul to soul contact … He didn’t want it to end. But it did. She detached slowly, her lips slipping away, leaving his tingling with the memory.

  Flustered, she said goodnight and hurried to her door, waving as she went inside.

  He waved back.

  *

  The hotel’s desk clerk was waiting for Nolan with a package that had just arrived. It was a padded envelope with a return address in Washington. Inside he found a heavily redacted 400-page TOP SECRET incident report and a CD marked BLACK BOX REC.

  Thanks, Tommy.

  Nolan didn’t have a CD player so he read the report first. Most of the names of witnesses had been erased, but he could still read what they had seen happen. They all agreed on the basic facts. Ken’s plane had been flying low over the test range when his plane suddenly turned over and nose-dived into the ground. It crashed into scrub land exploding in a fireball. The report’s writer had written in conclusion: “Analysis of the wreckage was inconclusive. No obvious defects/sabotage. Likely to be pilot error. Case remains open.”

  What kind of pilot error made an experienced pilot turn his plane upside down low to the ground?

  Nolan called Judy and asked her if she had a CD player. She did – so he drove there.

  Judy had a hi-fi system with a CD deck. She looked nervous when she put in the CD.

  “So this is Ken’s last words?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Should I listen to it on my own?”

  “Yes – no. I have to know.”

  They both sat down before playing the CD. The recording lasted twenty-three minutes – the duration of the flight. Ken’s voice could be heard in communication with ground control and the other pilots. Everything sounded routine – until a few seconds from the end, when Ken yelled out a curse. Then the recording ended with an ear-bashing bang followed by a numbing silence.

  *

  The next morning Nolan met Peter Falcon at the most exclusive golf club in the county. Mark Twain once wrote “golf is a good walk spoiled”, a sentiment Nolan agreed with completely. He wasn’t an enthusiast, but he pretended to be for his round with Falcon. While they played, Falcon talked about business, letting Nolan know what kind of money he would earn if he took over Ken’s job.

  “I’ll give you 250K, plus a bonus for completing the Phoenix Alpha project ahead of schedule.”

  “Wow. That’s generous. But what about Dr Harker?”

  Falcon looked blank. “What about her?”

  “Isn’t she running things now?”

  “Yes, but I haven’t promised her it would be a permanent role. She’s a great scientist, but she’s not got the political connections of someone like you. I need someone who can bring in new contracts. You’re knowledge of NASA is invaluable, Geoff. Everyone loves astronauts. Especially moon-walkers.”

  “Like Ken?”

  “Exactly like Ken. Ken was a scientist, but he also connected with people. For example, he was trying to end that embarrassing protest by talking to Ripley for the company. Ripley wouldn’t be seen talking to me, but he was happy to see Ken. Before Ken died, he was trying to negotiate a way of ending the protest that satisfied both sides.”

  “That can’t have been easy. I know from personal experience what the protesters are like. Last night anti-DART graffiti was sprayed on my car.”

  “What? They targeted you?”

  Nolan nodded. Falcon looked outraged. “Did you contact the police?”

  “Yes, but they didn’t seem very interested.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. The local cops are a bunch of lazy -” Falcon shook his head. “I’ll have the company pay for any damage, Geoff.”

  “There’s no need. My insurance covered it.”

  “Good. Don’t let it put you off joining DART. I’m going to figure out a way of ending the harassment one way or another.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “Ken was very close to making a deal with Ripley. I’m sure someone else can close it. That person could be you, Geoff.”

  Falcon explained what he had been prepared to offer Ripley to end the protests. DART had been willing to donate money into a wildlife conservation fund run by Ripley in exchange for him publicly changing his attitude towards DART. If the protests stopped as a result, Ripley would receive the entire sum.

  “I authorised Ken to offer up to ten million dollars, though I would have preferred it to be less. Ken was confident he could get Ripley to sign the deal, but it all went wrong with his death, of course. Now we’re back to square one. Ripley’ll probably want a lot more money to deal now.”

  *

  Nolan wanted to meet Professor Ripley himself so he called Ripley’s office and arranged to visit his office during a free period later that morning.

  Next he returned to DART to
ask more questions about Ken’s death. His visitor’s pass limited his access, but he was allowed in the canteen, where he chatted to some of the pilots, who were forthcoming with information because they knew he was an ex-astronaut. None of them gave him the impression they were covering up anything.

  Nolan noticed Ed Hubert coming in alone. The bald man sat on his own eating a sandwich with a large coffee. When Nolan walked over, Ed stopped eating.

  “Good morning,” Nolan said.

  “Er … yes. I suppose it is. Humidity is well within acceptable factors.”

  “I just thought I’d introduce myself properly, since I might be joining the team. How long have you worked for DART?”

  “Eight years and sixty-two days,” Ed said.

  “That’s … interesting. Ed, I have a question for you.”

  “It had better not be classified.”

  “It’s not. It’s about Ken Mayer. Do you remember about a month ago when Ken had some kind of argument with you?”

  “Unfortunately, I do. It was most unpleasant. I hate displays of emotion.”

  “Why was his angry?”

  “Ken asked me if I could speed up my research so he could test the Phoenix Alpha at the end of the month. When I said no, he told me to do it anyway because he couldn’t wait another six months without any results. He threatened to replace me with someone else if I could not hasten my work. I told him to do that if he thought I wasn’t good enough, knowing that he could not hire anyone with my intellect. That made him angry.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “He came to see me the next day with an apology for losing his temper. He asked me again if there was any way of speeding up the project. I told him the only way I could work faster was if I had more assistants. So he hired a couple of Harvard graduates to do my grunt work. That’s how I managed to complete the project on his schedule.”

  “Why do you think he crashed?”

  “I haven’t made any conclusions yet,” Ed said. “But it wasn’t the plane’s fault. Which means I’m not to blame, so will you please let me finish my meal?”