The Spare Man, page 18
And they were alone on it.
DEATH IN THE AFTERNOON
5 oz sparkling wine
.75 oz absinthe
Pour absinthe into a Champagne flute, top glass with sparkling wine.
Shal backed away from the rail. “We have to move.” He licked his lips, looking from the elevator back toward the yoga studio and then down the length of the promenade. “Shit. Goddammit. Maybe if we … Come on.”
He started to walk back toward the studio, sliding his hand into his pocket as he went. Tesla had a hard time looking away from the scene below. Staff was pushing people back in an uneven circle as someone strung a yellow cleaning tape across the far end of the Terran level.
On the Martian and Lunar levels, people hung over the edge like gargoyles come to gawk at a tragedy.
Shal looked over his shoulder. “Doll, we can’t stay here.”
“Shouldn’t we go down to help?” She followed him, still staring at the crowds more than the person on the floor.
“At the other scenes, they’ve been using a spoofer.” His brow was knit tight with concentration. “We need to get back with witnesses so the gap when no one can vouch for us is as small as possible. Also, if they fell from the Lunar level, whoever pushed them didn’t come this way, so would have had to pass by the entrance to the yoga studio.”
Tesla’s stomach went tight and queasy as the reality caught up with her. There were already two bodies on the ship, the chances of this being an accident were slim. There had been no accidents while Shal was in custody, and now … She looked again at the people crowded along the balcony rails on the Martian level, where the trajectory could have originated, and took a snap with her subdermal camera. “Do we pretend that we did or didn’t see it?”
“We’re honest but don’t volunteer information. The more you say, the more apparent contradictions people can find—” He cut off as they approached the studio.
The class had spilled out past the curtains, most looking toward the railing. Jalna stood near the front, talking to Ewen, and seemed to be trying to keep them from approaching the rail. Other members of the studio gathered in the entrance, looking toward the atrium, but stayed packed in a protective cluster around the teen. Jalna glanced over her shoulder and saw Tesla and Shal.
“Ah—here! Our dear Tesla will have thoughts on this.” She caught Tesla’s eye and beckoned her closer with a smile that seemed more than a little strained. “She is a specialist in robotic enhancements of the human form.”
“Was.” Tesla’s smile was definitely strained. The PAMU had been a robotic enhancement. This conversation with Jalna would have made her tense enough, but there was a body lying two floors below them. “But I keep up with the field.”
The teen’s face was flushed red, and they were shifting from foot to foot as if they wanted to go look at the railing but also didn’t want to miss out on talking robots with Jem Tafani. “I was just acid-interested in octopoids and how their central brains make it easier to translate haptic feedback. So, such as, what do you think about ultrasound transducers versus air vortexes?”
“Well … those both still give analog sensations.” Ewen’s father wasn’t with the group. Had she seen Ory Slootmaekers in the room when they’d left? “Gimlet, go say hi.”
The little dog flopped down and rolled over on her back, legs sticking up at undignified angles. Her tail wagged as she gazed up at Ewen with an unabashed plea for belly rubs. Her trainer would complain that all of the people petting her was not good for Gimlet’s training, but right now Tesla needed her as a distraction. Ewen succumbed to the inevitable and bent down to scratch Gimlet’s belly.
“Yes. Direct brain stimulation is better at translation for non-anthropomorphic figures, although it also has its limitations.” Over their head, Jalna’s face tightened with concern again. She looked out the entrance of the yoga studio toward the bridge. In fact, all of the other members of the yoga class seemed tense except Mahjabin, whose placid expression was a perfect mask of tranquility.
And Annie, who wasn’t there.
“Right. The analog options are usually the most accessible for those who cannot afford direct brain stimulation, which is where the octopoid’s central brain comes in handy.” Tesla scanned the room, which still had the same low, ambient Titian flutes playing, interspersed with the occasional chime. It would not have masked the scream.
Some of the yoga mats were askew, as if their occupants had risen quickly. A green running shoe lay on its side near a mat. The vivid magenta-and-gold capelet that Annie had loaned to Tesla was puddled on the floor by one of the columns.
Tesla used her subdermal camera to take a picture of it. She did a quick count and only Annie and Ory were missing.
From the way everyone was bunched around Ewen, she was guessing that they were trying to keep the kid from thinking the worst, so she went with the safer of the two questions. “Where’s Annie?”
“I do not know.” Jalna’s voice trembled. “She was not here when I got back, and she is not…” She tapped her temple in the universal reference to a HUD. It wasn’t unusual for families to share their locator information with each other even if it was only used for emergencies.
Shal’s voice sounded more relaxed than it should. “Is it unusual for her to go offline?”
She nodded.
“It’s probably just a system thing.” Ewen spoke to Gimlet’s belly. “My dad won’t even let us run HUDs because they’re acid-unreliable, and a ship like this is practically a Faraday cage.”
“The ship has signal boosters for guest comfort.” Jalna gave a strained smile. “But they are correct. The signal in the yoga studio is wildly unreliable. I am sure it is nothing.”
Three possibilities. It was genuinely nothing. Or Annie was a murderer and had just killed again. Or the murderer had seen Annie at karaoke and eliminated a witness. And maybe the same three possibilities for Ory.
Tesla opened the pictures stored in her local drive, unspooling the selection across her HUD. Under any other circumstance, she would have avoided using it in polite company, so she didn’t have the vapid eye twitches of a network addict, but right now she wanted to see if she could zoom in on the body.
A pixelated heat haze of spoofer distortion surrounded the figure on the floor. Two other spots in the image had the blurred fog of spoofer activity. One on the Terran level near a glass divider wall. Another on the Martian level at the ice-cream shop and … She blinked twice, enlarging the image.
“Annie is on the Martian level.” In the image plastered across her HUD, Tesla could see Annie leaning over the rail on the edge of the spoofer distortion. She wasn’t looking at the body though. She had been looking straight at Tesla.
“She is?” Jalna’s brow was crinkling. “How do you know that?”
And this was why Shal told her not to volunteer anything. “Oh. Well…” Her mind emptied of possible lies that wouldn’t create contradictions.
“The elevator hadn’t come yet. So we…” Shal waved his hand out the door of the yoga studio and left a wealth of statement implied in his ellipses. “Do you want us to walk you down to her?”
Jalna’s mouth compressed for a moment and she turned from them to walk over to Annie’s capelet where it lay in a shock of color on the floor. The rough raw silk shushed against wood as she scooped it up. “That is not—”
“Hey, class over already?” Ory Slootmaekers sauntered into the yoga studio, grinning at them all. “And here I was, looking forward to corpse pose … what’s wrong?”
Ewen looked up from petting Gimlet. “Someone fell off the balcony.”
“Oh shit.” Ory gaped and he turned to look out the entrance of the studio toward the balcony. “I was in the bathroom and…”
“And what, Mx. Slootmaekers?” There was a laziness to Shal’s voice when he was questioning someone. It hid the sharp, acid bite of his wit.
“And I had—I didn’t hear a thing.”
“I hope you’re feeling better.”
Ory glanced over his shoulder at Shal, red blotches high on his visible cheek. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean … you were gone for a long time. I just hope nothing’s wrong.” Shal’s shrug was a study in casual. His smile was gentle, as if he were sharing a secret with the other man.
“Yeah. Thanks. I have IBS. Always happy to have that pointed out.” Ory ran a hand over his scalp, then turned to his child quickly. “Ewen. Let’s go.”
“Can we go down to look?”
“Absolutely not.” Ory nodded to them all and walked over to bundle up their yoga mats. “Let’s go. Now.”
“But Pops—”
“Ewen.” When he straightened, his face was red and sweat prickled on his scalp. “Hourglass.”
Something changed in the kid’s posture. Their face went still and they swallowed. “Copy.” They clambered to their feet with the awkward gangliness of a teen. “Thanks for letting me pet your dog.”
“Sure. Anytime.” She smiled at Ewen. What the hell was going on? “Maybe you and your dad can come by and have a playdate with Gimlet.”
The kid shrugged and moved to pick up their mat, then hurried out of the room with their father.
In the silence, Mahjabin cleared her throat. “I can lead anyone who needs it through some simple meditation exercises to clear our minds. In a time of loss and distress it is not uncommon for the mind to become unquiet.”
That was an accurate statement and also the last thing that Tesla wanted to do in the moment. It felt like her brain was charged with liquid oxygen and steaming from overpressurization. She wanted to talk to Shal. Not just send pings, but actually talk. “Thank you. I think I need to head back to our room to lie down.”
Shal nodded, and the relief in his features lay just below the skin. She tapped her left leg and Gimlet heeled into position with her gaze fixed on Tesla.
The leash was slick with sweat in her fingers. The threads bumped beneath her touch as they walked toward the bridge. A line of yellow tape stretched across it now, and there were uniformed crew standing at the entry to the bridge. People stood in clumps on the other side of the yellow tape and stared openly at the activity. And in the midst of the group, someone lifted what looked like a film camera and pointed it at them. Tesla turned her head away, heart rate ratcheting up.
A spoofer could mask things from digital cameras, but not from film. Almost every time Tesla saw one, it belonged to someone who was going to sell a picture of her. And now this entire secluded part of the ship was suddenly an area of focus and interest. She needed to get out of here as quietly and discreetly as possible.
And they were trapped on the wrong side of the bridge from the elevators.
“Seriously?” Officer Piper’s voice stopped her. “Why am I not surprised to find you two here?”
“Maria!” Shal turned to face the security officer, who was crossing the bridge. “I’m not sure this is the best time for a playdate with Gimlet.”
“Agreed. We’re a little busy.” Her face was hard and her mouth tight, as if she were holding in a torrent of anger.
“Of course. Do you have someone to spare that can get us back to our cabin so we can get out of your way?”
“Negative. I need you to stay put until I can ask you some questions.”
“We’re happy to help.” Shal spread his hands in an easy gesture of openness.
That was all fine and good, but Tesla did not want to be here. “Absolutely. It’s just … Gimlet needs to do her business.”
“I thought you needed to go back to your cabin?”
“Potty pads.” Tesla shrugged, and sweat beaded on her back. “I’d prefer the animal relief area, of course, but didn’t want to put anyone out.”
Officer Piper watched her for a long moment, then switched her measuring gaze to Shal. Her lips pursed quickly. She looked past them toward the crew members guarding the area at the end of the bridge and then down to the broad expanse of the promenade. Her shoulders shifted with a slow, measured breath, and for a moment Tesla thought she was about to let them go back to their cabin.
Then her gaze snapped back to Tesla. “Why didn’t you want Dr. Fish to treat Shal?”
“Wha—I…” Tesla glanced at Shal, wishing she were holding his hand so they could confer. He gave a slight nod. Answer direct questions honestly, but don’t volunteer. “She had been drinking and I didn’t trust her.”
With a flat stare, which seemed to be scanning her core components, Officer Piper waited. The urge to fill the void in conversation built in Tesla, but she’d heard Shal talk about leaving spaces for people to spill the beans. Tesla knew how to wait calmly. She imagined golden sunlight filling her from the top of her head. Soft warmth filled her toes, rolling up to her ankles. Around them crew members with safety vests over their uniforms directed people.
Nodding, Piper shot a look at Shal as if she knew exactly why Tesla didn’t take that bait. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What else?” She held up her hand to stop Tesla. “I’m going to ask you not to pretend that your reaction to Dr. Fish was proportionate. You did not want her treating your spouse before you realized she’d been drinking.”
“True.” Tesla wet her lips, and by her side, Gimlet pushed her head against Tesla’s leg. “George Saikawa was alive when Dr. Fish took her away. I had entertained the thought that she might have … been involved in Saikawa’s death.”
“Maybe she was.” Officer Piper stared over the railing again. “We’re going to hold you both for questioning.”
“For crying out loud. We weren’t—”
Beside her, Shal made a sudden inhalation, following Piper’s gaze with his own. The officer turned to him, and her mouth quirked to the side. She nodded and walked away, catching the attention of a crew member. “Put these two with the others.”
“Excuse me.” Righteous indignation was never a good look, but it was hard to express anything except that. “What is your reason for holding us.”
Over her shoulder, Piper said, “Ask Shal. He gets it.” She kept walking, checking in with crew members and answering questions.
Tesla turned to Shal, whose mouth was turned down in a tight frown. She cleared her throat. Grimacing, he nodded at the scene around the body on the floor below them. “Pretty sure that’s Ruth Fish.”
SATAN’S WHISKERS
1 oz gin
.5 oz Grand Marnier
1 oz dry vermouth
1 oz sweet vermouth
1 oz orange juice
2 dashes orange bitters
Shake ingredients over ice for 15 seconds. Strain into coupe.
“Hi. Did you want this personalized?” Tesla smiled at the eleventh person to approach her in the fifteen minutes since they’d been herded into the Olympus Mons Lounge on the Martian level with the other witnesses. She took the offered ship newsletter from a stylish passenger wearing a white asymmetric skirt with teal crocheted edging and a matching capelet.
“To Nora. And I just wanted to say that my parent has Parkinson’s and uses a mini-PAMU, and having mobility again made all the difference in their life and thank you so much. I know how much developing it cost you personal—”
“Thanks.” She jotted the name above her signature and kept her smile in place through long practice. The first person she’d tried to put off because she didn’t have a pen, but a ship crew member had “helpfully” provided one. At least she could try to use the time wisely. “So … where did they collect you from?”
“Terran level. They passed just over my head. I thought it was part of the show at first and then…”
“I’m so sorry. That must have been horrible.”
Tesla shifted in her chair, trying to ease the tension in the base of her spine. And by tension, she meant pain, and by pain she meant red webs of anger that spread out like a spider’s revenge. These had to be the solar system’s worst chairs, and she had to leave the safeties in place so she knew which positions would do the least damage. She hated everyone.
Tesla kneaded her fists into the tightest spot, trying not to grimace too visibly, since it felt like half the lounge was staring at her. The security team had rounded up anyone who was in the spoofer fields that Tesla had spotted. Or rather, they’d rounded up the people they could identify, but there was no telling who had slipped away before security got there.
Shal slid his arm behind her and took over. “You okay?”
“For God’s sake, who designed these chairs?”
At her feet, Gimlet whined and bumped her head against Tesla’s calf. She bent down to scratch the little dog’s head, bracing herself with a hand on her other knee. It helped stretch her back out some, but not enough. Still, it meant that she could plausibly delay addressing the next person in her impromptu signing line.
The urge to ask for a manager was very, very strong, but would not actually do a lot of good. And she’d tried that already. The staff had set up blockers through the Olympus Mons Lounge so that no one had access to the network while they were investigating. “As a temporary measure,” since they were clearly and obviously not preventing anyone from speaking to their legal counsel before answering questions. This was “just to keep communication lines clear.”
The next passenger had a souvenir T-shirt in their hand and held it out. “Um…?”
“Of course, I’m happy to sign your shirt.” T-shirts were a total pain in the ass to sign. “What’s your name?”
“Jakim Porter, ze/zir.” The passenger had the remnants of a delivery tan, with pale skin around zir mouth and hands from wearing a courtesy mask and gloves outdoors, which meant that ze was from Earth.
“And where did they collect you from?”
“I was getting ice cream at the Snow Queen.” Ze winced and shook zir head. “Heard the screaming and only caught a flash of color. I just found out that she jumped.”
“She? Did you know her?” Shal stood by Tesla’s chair, ready to bounce anyone who was a problem, broken ribs or no. When ze shook zir head, Shal said, “Who told you she jumped?”
