Alien Rites

by Lynn Hightower

  TWENTY-NINE

  David settled the girls under a shady tree in a tiny park catty-corner to Angie Nassif’s duplex. Mel crossed the road tracks, waving at the girls.

  David looked at him. “Meet my deputies.”

  “The pig too?” Mel asked.

  “He’s got a badge,” Lisa said.

  “Get out of here.”

  “Yep, Della give it to him.” Mattie put her arms out and Mel swooped her up. She gave him a sticky kiss. “We dropped in on Daddy at the office. We took Pid.”

  “Yeah? How’d you kiddos get downtown?” He looked sideways at Kendra. “Or are you driving now?”

  “No. I brought us in on the SART.”

  “You kidding?” He raised an eyebrow. “You ever wonder what they call the rapid transit system down in Florida?”

  David put a hand over Kendra’s mouth. “No, Mel, she doesn’t.”

  Angie Nassif’s door sensor picked them up before they made the top porch step.

  “Please state your name and business.”

  “Detectives Silver and Burnett.” David held his ID up to be scanned, glanced back at the girls.

  It was a good enough neighborhood. They should be okay out of the sun and under the tree. In his mind’s eye, they sat together, talking and laughing softly, discussing literature. In reality they were fighting.

  David sighed, raised his voice. “Lisa, Kendra!”

  They looked up.

  “Quit playing accordion with your sister.” David looked at Mel, wondering if he should voice his conclusions about Miriam. “You ever thought about having some of your own, Mel?”

  “Some what?”

  The door was opened by a waif with long blond hair and ears that stuck out. She wore a T-shirt three sizes too big, and loose, boxy cotton shorts, as if she were hiding behind her clothes. Her heavy, high-top boots were untied, the laces loose and sloppy, though the current look was buttoned-up. Her hair was parted in the middle, and it hung heavily in her face. She brushed it out of her eyes and shifted her weight to her left foot.

  David saw rubbery red scars crisscrossing one slender wrist.

  “Can I help you?”

  Her voice was so soft, David found himself leaning forward to hear. “Detectives Silver and Burnett, here to see Angie Nassif.”

  “Please come in.” The girl stood back, head bowed.

  David caught her peeping up at him and he smiled.

  She ducked her head.

  “Angie’s in the middle of her workout, but you can come on back.” She waved a hand that was shaking.

  David wondered if she was always this nervous. He kept his voice gentle. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

  “Crystal,” she said, as if it were a shame.

  It embarrassed David when they trooped in behind Crystal and caught Angie Nassif in tight pink shorts and halter bra. She was built like a fireplug, arms muscular, slick with sweat as she lifted the barbell. David wondered how many pounds the end weights came to.

  More than he could lift, no doubt.

  Angie did a double take when she saw them, and irritation emanated from her like an electric current. She set the weights down carefully, pulled the pink bandanna off her head and wiped her cleavage.

  David looked away.

  “You guys aware I have an office?”

  Crystal took a step backward. “They said they were homicide police, Angie; they probably want to talk to you about—”

  David looked up, interested, but Angie waved a hand curtly, cutting the girl off.

  “That’s okay, Crystal. Why don’t we all sit down?”

  Mel took the red plaid couch, David the matching chair. The furniture was expensive, new, bland. Shades of deep red and hard blue, a combination David did not find soothing.

  Nassif sat in a Bentwood rocker, the only thing in the room David did like. She laid her palms on her bare knees.

  “So. What’s this all about?”

  “Annie Trey. And her baby,” Mel said.

  David watched Crystal. She had stayed on her feet and folded her arms. She leaned against the sliding glass door in a position that should have looked relaxed, but didn’t.

  “What about them?”

  Mel leaned back against the couch, crossed one leg. “I’ve seen you on the news and stuff. Very evenhanded, careful not to presume innocence or guilt.”

  Nassif nodded as if this were a tune she’d heard before. “That’s the job description, fellas.” She smiled tolerantly in a way that made David want to smack her.

  “How’d the investigation get started up, anyway? Who brought you in?” David asked.

  Nassif waved a hand. “Routine hospital inquiry.”

  David watched Crystal out of the corner of his eye, saw her fold her arms tighter and wedge herself against the glass. Nassif saw him watching, gave Crystal a look. The girl turned her back on them, peered outdoors.

  “I don’t think so,” David said.

  Nassif smiled pleasantly. “Pardon?”

  Mel scratched the side of his nose. “He means you’re lying to us and we’re calling you on it.”

  Nassif sat forward. “Gee, thanks for the translation, Detective. Now look, guys. I deal with assholes like you two every day of my life. It’s all part of the crusade, so don’t think you’re rattling me. I get tired of men like you. Guys who don’t believe bad things happen in good families, judges who—”

  “There are three little girls across the street in the park playing with a baby pig,” Crystal said, blinking and smiling shyly at Nassif and the detectives, as if she had not heard any of their conversation, or been aware they were having one.

  “Piglet, Crystal,” Nassif said.

  “What?”

  “A baby pig is a piglet.”

  She would always have to be right, David realized. Angie Nassif would have rules of behavior for everyone, and a solid, ingrained conviction that she knew what was best and let the chips fall. Definitely one of the scariest women he’d ever met.

  “Crystal. Why don’t you go see if the girls will let you pet the baby pig?”

  It was an order, but Crystal smiled at Angie Nassif like she’d been offered a treat. She slid the door open, careful to close it behind her.

  “Piglet,” Mel said.

  Nassif blinked. “What?”

  “A baby pig is a piglet.”

  “What a funny guy. Did the two of you just stop by to make me laugh? Because I think you’re out of line, coming to my home like this.”

  Mel wagged a finger at her. “Now, Angie, if you hadn’t been a naughty girl and sneaked home early, we wouldn’t have to be here in the middle of your red plaid couch. Who does your decorating, anyway?”

  She took a hard, short breath. “You’re Burnett, right?”

  “Two t’s,” Mel said.

  David did not like the look in her eyes. “Who put you on this, Ms. Nassif? Who called it in?”

  She would not meet his eyes. “You can’t ask me that. It’s confidential. Anonymous source.”

  “Not in an ongoing homicide investigation.”

  “Did you find Luke’s—” She stopped.

  Mel raised an eyebrow. “Body? No. But we got a bloody tennis shoe, you want to drop in and look at it, and no sign yet of the kid.”

  Nassif bit her lip. “What’s Annie got to do with this?”

  “You know Miriam Kellog?” David asked.

  Nassif’s lips formed a tight, straight line. “I’ve met the woman. An expert forensic scientist.”

  David knew without looking that Mel was ready to blow. “What was the problem between you?”

  Nassif shrugged. “No problem.”

  “She riding you?” Mel asked. “Maybe she was wondering why you’re having Annie Trey crucified in the press. Maybe she was wondering what started you pointing a finger and running around in circles yelling ‘poison.’”

  Nassif shook a finger at them. “You know if I didn’t do anything, and the other chil
d came up dead, you’d be screaming negligence. I got a job to do and I do it.”

  David leaned forward. “Who, Ms. Nassif? Who made the complaint?”

  She shook her head. “Not going to happen. Not going to tell you.”

  “I’ll have your records subpoenaed.”

  “Best of luck, Detective. In the meantime, how’s your home life? You got kids of your own?”

  The anger was so sudden and so intense that for a moment David could not breathe. And laced with the anger was a sliver of fear. How was his home life? Okay, except his wife threw things at him whenever he walked through the door. Perfect environment for nurturing children.

  Mel leaned forward. “Hey, lady, you late for your medication or something?”

  Nassif stuck her chin up. “Everybody’s vulnerable to Social Services.”

  Mel leaned back against the couch, stretching his arm along the top. He smiled. “So true, Angie girlfriend. And Crystal there looks underage to me.”

  Nassif flushed a thick dusky red that crept from the top of her halter bra, up her neck, across her cheeks. “That girl has been victimized all her life, victimized by men just like you. My home is a haven for her.”

  “No doubt you make beautiful music, blah blah blah, so what? My partner here happens to be a world-class father, so don’t give yourself airs. ’Cause you mess with him, and that’ll piss me off.” He leaned forward, voice going low. “And believe me, you don’t know from victimized.”

  “You guys get out.”

  David stood up. “I’ll have a court order ready in twenty-four hours. Watch for it.”

  “Have somebody read it to you,” Mel said.

  THIRTY

  There were no restaurants that allowed pigs in the dining room in any capacity other than barbecue, and it was too hot to leave Pid in the car, which was why they ended up eating at the Thunderboat. The kids loved eating there, and though he complained about the food, David liked it too, grease and all. It was a period piece, shaped like a sailboat, blue paint peeling. The hook was car speakers that fit in your windows, and human employees who brought food on a tray that clamped to your door.

  There were picnic tables and a playground, a scummy fish pond, and a sandpit for pouchlings where the girls put Pid while they ate. The pig was feeling energetic, and tried to climb the sides of the pit three times, each time sliding back down to the bottom. He finally curled up and went to sleep.

  The girls sat at a table near Pid, and David sat farther away, across from Mel, String, and Aslanti. Aslanti was part of String’s chemaki—the Elaki family grouping String had formed to meet the needs of the human child he had co-adopted with another Elaki police officer. The child was the son of Arson Investigator Yolanda Free Clements, who had died in the line of duty, and left the care of her son to her Elaki partner, another member of the chemaki.

  One thing that David loved about the Thunderboat was that it only catered to humans. Elaki were welcome, there was a sandpit for the pouchlings after all, but there was no cinnamon in the food and no tacos on the menu.

  String licked the straw in his root beer float.

  Mel shook his head. “You don’t lick it, String, you suck it. Haven’t you figured out straws?”

  “The ice cream bobs and will not be still.”

  “That’s why it’s called a ‘float,’ so it’s not like you weren’t warned.”

  David unwrapped the double-wide cheeseburger with catsup, mayonnaise, onion, lettuce, tomato, and pickle. It had almost sounded good, thirty minutes ago. He looked at a grease spot on the table. A dead fly had died happily in the middle.

  Mel crunched an onion ring. “So then I say, ‘Hey, that girl of yours, Crystal, looks like she’s underage to me.’”

  Aslanti took a bite of chicken salad on whole wheat. “Must take care with these workers who are social.”

  David rewrapped the burger, shivered, looked at Mel. “You forgot the part where you asked her if she was late for her meds.”

  String quit eating and David saw his belly ripple. Elaki amusement.

  Mel looked at David. “You can’t be cold.”

  Aslanti swiveled an eye prong in his direction. “Outdoor temperature still in the eight zeros now, even as the sun packs up.”

  Mel wiped his fingers on a napkin. “You don’t look good, David. You sick or something?”

  “Tired.” David took a sip of iced tea. It felt good going down his throat.

  “You’re pale, you know that? And you’re sweating.”

  “You’re sweating too,” David said.

  “Yeah, but I’m not shaking.”

  David turned to look at his daughters. Mattie was feeding Pid the end of her chili dog. Sometime during this long day the pig had crossed a threshold, and was eating almost everything in sight. Lisa wore her disc phones, eyes dreamy, tuned out. She nodded her head to music only she could hear, and divided her barbecue into tiny little pieces, then chewed them slowly, one by one.

  David was glad, suddenly, that his daughters were with him. He was convinced that Annie Trey had not hurt her infant son. He promised himself that somehow, in the course of the investigation, he’d clear her name. Some days he liked his work.

  He looked at the car. The drive home was going to be long and grueling. He promised himself early bed.

  He thought of Crystal, how she had happily been stroking Pid’s soft white flank when he and Mel came out of the house. She seemed quite comfortable with his daughters, but as soon as she saw David and Mel, she’d headed back across the street. She had a peculiar walk, a kind of sideways shuffle where she stared at the ground, then lifted her head in a quick, furtive reconnaissance before tilting it sideways, and staring back down.

  David watched that walk and would have known, even without Nassif’s backfill, that Crystal had the kind of background he didn’t want to know about.

  He looked up, realized Mel was watching him.

  “Welcome to the world, David.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Aslanti wants access to some of the physical samples Miriam took during the baby’s autopsy.”

  David looked at the her. “You’ve seen Miriam’s notes?”

  “String bring them. Some bits of true interest. Would like to run a simple test, maybe three. Even four.”

  David frowned. “I doubt we can get you access.”

  Mel quit chewing. “What about that Caper guy, Sam? He seemed okay; maybe he could run them for her.”

  “Yesss,” String said. “Runs tests under wing span homicide.”

  “Something like that,” Mel said.

  David nodded. “Worth a try.” He was tired of craning his neck to look up at the Elaki. He put his cheeseburger back in the bag. Maybe one of the kids would eat it on the way home. “Okay, guys, I’m going to call it a night. You going home, Mel, or coming with me?”

  “No offense, David, but peace and quiet sound attractive tonight.”

  “Must not be coming to my house.” He turned away, heard Aslanti say “please to excuse,” heard her sliding along the pavement behind him.

  He glanced backward, gave her a lopsided smile. “You want me?”

  She kept rolling, moving along at a good clip. David saw Mel give them a look.

  “Progress further into the parking lake for to get privacy.”

  “Lot,” David said.

  “What?”

  “Parking lot.”

  She looked at him, a look that gave him pause. He followed her, hands in pockets. She stopped by an empty speaker, and David leaned against the white metal support post. His back scraped shreds of paint and he knew they would cling to his shirt. He was too tired to care. He held his jacket, sweaty palms making wrinkles in the khaki sleeves.

  “What’s up,” David said.

  “You have had much time spent with this Trey, Annie?”

  David scratched his neck. “Some. If you want my opinion, I think she’s innocent.”

  “And she has other c
hildren?”

  “A little girl. Jenny. Eighteen months old, give or take.”

  “Girl for sure, no boys child? Other than sad infant mortality?”

  David swallowed, tried not to think about how sore his throat felt. It was the heat, that was all. This heat would take it out of anybody.

  “And you, Silver David? These three noise happy ones are yours?”

  “All mine.”

  “Are there more? Male ones?” Both of Aslanti’s eye prongs were slanted his way, and layered beneath the Elaki nonchalance was a concern that made him wipe the sweat from his upper lip.

  “No. No boys.”

  “Good this is.”

  The normal thing to do would be to ask her why—why did it matter if he’d spent time with Annie Trey, if either of them had male children? Her newborn baby had been male, and her newborn baby was dead. If the child hadn’t been poisoned, what had killed him?

  Something extremely toxic, according to the autopsy. Something swift and nasty.

  Oddly enough, he was not curious. He just wanted to take his girls and his pig and go home. He tried to smile.

  “We appreciate your time and trouble, Aslanti. It’s late, though. Time I got my girls home and in bed.”

  “Detective David, pleasss. How physical do you be feeling?”

  “Listen, Aslanti, don’t go all medical on me. Learn to leave your work at the office.”

  “My work is how I finds me. Please answer.”

  David shrugged. “Fine. I feel fine.”

  “Do not looks fine.”

  “I’m a little tired, that’s all.”

  “Throat sore? Hot the cold sweats, panic tight in the chest?”

  David’s mouth went dry. “No. Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, maybe a little, but not that much.”

  She skittered sideways. “Blood, please.”

  “What?”

  “Quick sample souvenir.” She had that tension in her belly that let him know she was attempting a joke.

  He felt strange following her to her van—as if he were walking on the bottom of the ocean. He looked at String and Mel, deep in conversation. They did not notice Aslanti take out a thin blue case, reach for the packet of latent nano retrievers. She opened a small laptop, about the size of a sandwich, spoke to it softly, emptied the packet into an opening at the top.