Victoria Cross: United Federation Attorney (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 9)

by John Bowers

  “I was going to call her after the other two, but maybe I’ll skip Dorcas and go straight to Maggie.”

  “I think so.”

  Godney stared at the screen for a moment, then cleared his throat.

  “Uh…”

  “What is it?”

  “I was wondering…I know you’re busy with Frie, but Maggie really seemed to like you. I think she might be more forthcoming on the stand if you handle her direct.”

  “You want me for one witness?”

  “If you can squeeze it in?” Godney looked at once hopeful and apologetic.

  Victoria sighed.

  “Okay, I’ll do it. But make sure Nick Walker is out of the building.”

  “I’ll make sure of it. Maggie won’t take the stand until after lunch.”

  “Okay. Who follows Maggie?”

  “Elder Keyser.”

  “What about Thomas and Mary Hawkins?”

  Godney grimaced.

  “I was gonna ask you about that. It seems a little late to tack a murder charge on Groening, doesn’t it? I was thinking of holding that until this trial is over, then file it separately if we need to.”

  “We need to. Leah Casper is dead and deserves justice.”

  “I agree, but—”

  “Follow your instincts. Go ahead and finish this trial, then file a fresh charge for murder. And don’t forget Billings.”

  “Billings? I thought you were going to charge him.”

  “I’m not greedy. Since you’re handling Groening, you might as well take him, too.”

  Godney nodded. “Okay. I will.”

  “Are we done here? I need to get moving.”

  “Yeah, I think so. Thanks, Vic.

  “By the way, don’t forget that Walker is coming in this afternoon. We’re gonna review his testimony. You might want to be somewhere else.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.”

  *

  Nancy Swift was not in the office, but Anderson Gabel was. Victoria stuck her head in his door.

  “Good morning, Andy. Want to take a field trip?”

  “I’d love to, but…” He stopped, then grinned. “I was going to say I got a lot of shit to do, but the truth is I’d rather be doing something else. What do you have in mind?”

  “I need to visit the crime scene where Lloyd Randal was murdered, but I’m afraid to go out alone.”

  Gabel laughed, a loud guffaw.

  “Yeah, right. Like you’re afraid of anything.”

  Victoria smiled.

  “Okay, I thought you might want to go but were afraid to go alone. How does that sound?”

  “That one I might believe. Sure, why not. Let’s go.”

  The Randal Residence – Lucaston, Alpha Centauri 2

  Lloyd Randal’s house was located in Topper Hill, a somewhat exclusive neighborhood on the north side of Lucaston. Crime scene tape was still strung around the edge of the property, but the driveway and landing pad were clear. Randal’s widow still lived there, but Victoria didn’t see her as Gabel parked his surface car in front of the house.

  They stepped out and looked around. Victoria took in the house with slightly expanded eyes; it wasn’t a rich neighborhood, but it was the next best thing, in her estimation. It was a large house with two stories; she counted six dormer windows on the second floor, which suggested six upstairs bedrooms. Standing on the street, she couldn’t see the entire property, but homes in this area typically sat on half-acre lots, which increased or even doubled the market value. Tall trees around the front gave the home a look of permanence and suggested that it had been built at least twenty years ago, probably thirty or more.

  As she gazed at it, a terro-counter spun inside Victoria’s head. Even in a depressed economy, this place was worth at least a quarter million, twice that in a good economy.

  They spent twenty minutes looking over the driveway. According to his wife, Randal had worked late and she had gone to bed early. When she woke the next morning, he still wasn’t home, but minutes later she found him dead in the driveway.

  They spotted blood stains where the body had fallen, saw paint circles where shell casings had been found, and inside a hedge found a depressed spot where the killer had probably lain in wait. They found nothing new and nothing that added weight to the case, but it was always useful for a prosecutor to visit the scene to get a perspective on how things had gone down.

  They walked around the back of the property—it was a full half-acre deep—to the alley where the trash bins were located. It was a standard setup—someone inside the house dumped garbage into a chute, then pressed a button; a conveyer transported the trash underground to the alley and dumped it into a bin, where it was collected every week by a two-man sanitation team.

  Wallace Frie had been part of the sanitation team.

  Everything in the alley appeared to be in order. Victoria studied the fence along the back of the property. She saw no house numbers or other signs that might identify the owner of the house. The question in her mind was—how did Frie know this was Lloyd Randal’s residence?

  But it was a weak question. Frie could have known for years where Randal lived.

  She dismissed it.

  They returned to the street and rang the bell on the front door. A woman appeared at the door. She seemed to recognize Gabel. She offered him a wan smile.

  “Good morning, Andy.”

  “Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Randal. This is Victoria Cross, U.F. Attorney. She’s going to prosecute the man who murdered your husband.”

  Mrs. Randal turned fresh eyes on Victoria. She offered her hand.

  “Thank you. I hope you send that man to his death.”

  “That’s my job,” Victoria said.

  “Won’t you come inside? Can I offer you some coffee?”

  “Not for me, thanks.”

  Gabel also declined. They followed Mrs. Randal into the house, which was even more impressive on the inside. As they walked from the front door to the dining room, they passed through several opulent rooms. Victoria saw antique furniture and what appeared to be expensive paintings on the walls. The entertainment center in the living room was modern, state of the art, and obscenely expensive. High ceilings were decorated with colorful murals that had to be hand-painted. From the dining room, a patio opened onto the back yard; beyond the patio sat a swimming pool and tennis court.

  Victoria gazed around in amazement. She felt unsettled again, and this time it had nothing to do with Nick Walker.

  Lloyd Randal had been loaded!

  “I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Mrs. Randal,” she said.

  “Thank you. Please, sit down. Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

  Victoria started to shake her head, then reconsidered.

  “Do you have any sparkling water? My throat is a little parched.”

  “Of course! Andy?”

  “What the hell. I’ll have one, too.”

  Mrs. Randal seemed eager to serve them. Maybe it was a strategy for dealing with her loss, serving other people. Victoria could hardly begrudge her that.

  “How long have you lived here, Mrs. Randal?”

  “Eleven years.”

  “It’s a beautiful home.”

  “Thank you. It needed a little fixing once we moved in, but Lloyd did a lot of the work himself. He was handy that way.”

  Mrs. Randal—Danielle, according to the paperwork Victoria had been reading—handed them each a cold bottle of sparkling water and a glass. Victoria ignored the glass and took a shot straight from the bottle.

  “Ah,” she said. “Fuzzy water. Hits the spot.”

  “I’m glad you like it. Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, thank you. Sit down, please. We won’t take much of your time.”

  Danielle Randal settled onto a kitchen chair, but looked restless, as if she needed to be doing other things. Probably another symptom of loss.

  “Mrs. Randal, can you tell us about the morning you…found you
r husband’s body?”

  The woman nodded, her expression clouding. She went through it in thirty seconds and it was exactly the same as in the crime report. Randal hadn’t been there when she woke up, but when she looked in the driveway to see if his car was there, she saw him lying in a pool of blood. She called emergency services and…that was about it.

  “You didn’t hear the shots that killed him?”

  “No. But this house has very good soundproofing. You could set off a bomb in the street and I might not hear it. We barely hear sirens in the neighborhood.”

  “Did your husband ever mention running into Wallace Frie? Or any communication from him?”

  “No. But he hardly ever talked about his work, so even if Frie did contact him, or threaten him, he probably wouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Did he have any other enemies besides Frie?”

  Danielle Randal’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Other enemies? Do you think maybe Frie didn’t do it?”

  “He’s been charged with your husband’s murder, and we’re moving forward on that. What I need to know is if anyone else might be involved. Just to cover all the bases.”

  “I see. No, I’m not aware of anyone else.”

  “No trouble at work? Conflicts with coworkers?”

  “No.”

  Gabel was looking at Victoria with narrowed eyes.

  Victoria stood up.

  “That’s all I have for now. We’re going to trial a week from Monday, so if you think of anything else…” She handed the woman her card. “Please call me. And I’ll need you in my office next week, if you can make it. To review your testimony and the trial strategy.”

  “Of course. I’ll be there. Just tell me when.”

  “Thank you. Sorry to bother you on a Saturday.”

  Gabel also rose and gave the woman a hug.

  “Keep your chin up,” he said. “Miss Cross is the best we’ve got, so Frie will end up in the vacuum chamber. You can count on it.”

  Mrs. Randal smiled as she showed them out. Victoria waved as they walked back to the car.

  As Gabel drove away, he cast her a sidelong glance.

  “You still looking for another perp?” he asked bluntly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Just that it’s a slam-dunk. I can’t figure out why you’re working overtime looking for an alternate crime theory.”

  Victoria gazed out the window.

  “It’s like I said earlier, Andy—I’m very thorough. I’ve been that way ever since you’ve known me, so relax a little, will you? Let me do my job.”

  Gabel grunted but didn’t reply. He didn’t speak again all the way back to the Federation Building.

  Chapter 15

  The Semper Fi – Lucaston, Alpha Centauri 2

  Victoria returned to the office a few minutes before noon. The crime scene had been interesting, but the visit with Mrs. Randal had raised still more questions in her mind.

  She had plenty to do this afternoon, but Godney had told her Nick Walker was coming in, so she packed up her satchel and laptop and headed for the lift. Six minutes later she crossed the street and entered the Semper Fi. Even on a Saturday, it wouldn’t be terribly busy until after dark.

  She found a small table in the rear of the bar and sat down with her back to the door. It was quiet here, and dark; her laptop threw enough light so she could see her materials. To justify her presence, she ordered a Kombucha, which she sipped occasionally as she worked.

  It was barely noon and the place was deserted except for the bartender and two lone customers.

  About forty minutes after she sat down, Victoria heard the door open and another customer enter. She didn’t bother to look around. As long as things didn’t get too noisy, she could continue to work, and so far conversation had been kept to a minimum.

  Suddenly she froze and her heart began to race. She was sorely tempted to turn and look, but forced herself not to…

  But she knew that voice!

  *

  “Kopycat? Jesus Christ, is that you?”

  U.F. Marshal Nick Walker stared in disbelief at his old friend, who he hadn’t seen since his separation from the Star Marines. His skin tingled with disbelief as he gazed at the grinning face behind the bar.

  “Nick Walker, as I live and breathe! How the hell you doing, Perfessor?”

  Alvin Kopshevar stretched his hand across the polished surface of the bar and Nick took it, suppressing a sudden urge to leap the bar and grab his old buddy in a bear hug.

  Nick shook his head, all but speechless.

  “I’m…I’m…hell, I’m stunned! I had no idea you were on Alpha 2. How long have you been here?”

  “Just a few months in Lucaston. What’ll you have, Nick? First round is on the house.”

  “I’ll have a beer. You got Coors?” Nick removed his hat and laid it on the bar.

  “Damn right I do. One Rocky Mountain nectar, coming up.”

  Kopshevar dug into a nitro-cooler and produced an ice-cold bottle, which he popped open and set down in front of Nick.

  “I was hoping to look you up one of these days,” he said. “But getting this bar off the ground took up most of my time. You wouldn’t believe all the hoops you have to jump through to start a business. Licenses and permits out the wazoo.”

  “I’ve heard that. But what the hell are you doing here? I thought you were still in CentCal.”

  “I went home for a while, but it wasn’t the same. I don’t know if I’m different or if everybody else is, but after what we went through, the shit that most people worry about just doesn’t seem very important, you know?”

  “I hear ya, brother. They don’t have a clue.”

  Kopshevar—“Kopycat” to the Star Marines he’d served with—shook his head.

  “It seemed like every time someone found out I’d been in the Star Marines and fought against the rebels, all they wanted to know was how many people I’d killed. Like it was some glorious fucking adventure, or a holo-vid.” He placed both hands on the bar and shook his head again. “You have the same experience?”

  Nick sucked his beer and nodded.

  “Yeah. Even my own mother and sister were like that. I knew they meant well, but it got irritating after a while. And when the nightmares came, they wanted to help, but they didn’t know how. How could I explain any of it to them? You had to be there.”

  “Exactly. After a few months, I realized I had to get away from everyone I knew.”

  “You must be a wealthy man,” Nick said. “Starship tickets aren’t cheap.”

  Kopshevar grinned.

  “I played it smart. I decided I wanted to come back to Alpha 2, so I re-upped in the Star Marines for another four years.”

  “You did what!”

  “Yeah. Only I wrangled a deal out of them—I would re-up if they would assign me to occupation duty. I came back on the Federation’s dime, and when my time was up, I took my discharge here.”

  Nick’s eyebrows lifted and he raised his bottle as if in a toast.

  “I would never have thought of that.”

  Both men regarded each other like twins separated at birth. Neither spoke for nearly a full minute, then Kopshevar misted up and gripped Nick’s hand like a lifeline.

  “Goddamn, man, it’s good to see you! When I opened this place, I hoped you might wander through that door one day. How are you doing?”

  “Gets better every day,” Nick said. “I have a wonderful woman I’m crazy about and she’s been like an angel of mercy. She knows I’ve been through some shit and she doesn’t push me, just stands at my side and helps me get through it.”

  “That’s wonderful, Nick. I’m really happy for you. I hope I’ll find someone like that one day.”

  Nick laughed. “I had to go all the way to Sirius to find this one. But I’m sure there are a few more out there.”

  “I was gonna ask you about that,” Kopshevar said. “Your name keeps popping up in the news. Sou
nds like you’ve been all over the galaxy since you became a U.F. Marshal.”

  “Not the whole galaxy—at least not yet—but enough to keep life interesting.”

  “And now you’re back at the scene of the crime.” Kopshevar laughed. “I hear you got involved with our old enemies again.”

  “You mean the cult people? Yeah, that was pretty ironic. It was kind of therapeutic, actually, meeting the men behind the revolution. Turns out they were just human beings after all.”

  “What were they like? They give you a lot of shit?”

  “One of them was okay, but the other was a real corker. Definitely unhinged. He’s going on trial in a couple of days for attempted murder, which is why I’m in Lucaston. I’m slated to testify.”

  “Do you like being a U.F. Marshal? Are you happy doing it?”

  “Yeah, as happy as I’ll ever be doing anything. It keeps me saner than I ought to be, and keeps me from thinking too much about things I’d rather forget.”

  “I heard they planted a statue of you over in Trimmer Springs. Is it a pretty good likeness?”

  Nick grimaced. “Close enough, but I wish they’d tear the damn thing down. It just rubs salt on the losers, and a lot of them still live there.”

  “Still, I think it’s pretty cool, Nick. You saved the town that day, and they’re grateful.”

  “I didn’t do any more than anyone else to save the town. I just did it from a higher perch.”

  Kopshevar smiled and let the subject drop. He reached into the nitro-cooler and pulled out a beer for himself.

  “I think I’ll join you. Here’s to the Star Marines.”

  They lifted their bottles and clicked the necks together.

  “Here’s to Rudy.”

  Kopshevar’s smile faded and he gave a solemn nod.

  “To Rudy. I loved that kid.”

  “So did I.” Nick took a slug of beer. “I promised to keep him safe, you know. All the way back in Goshen, right after we landed.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. You did the best you could, but there’s so much shit flying around in combat that you can’t control everything. Rudy went down fighting, which is the most anyone can hope for in a situation like that.”

  Nick frowned, pain in his eyes.

  “Just two minutes before he was killed, he saved my life. I was pinned down in the street by one of those armored cars, and they had me dead to rights. Then Rudy rolled a grenade under it and the damn thing blew up. I would’ve been cooked.”