Alien Nation #3 - Body and Soul (10 page)

BOOK: Alien Nation #3 - Body and Soul
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“Now he was . . . what? Third baseman for the Dodgers, right?”

“Who?”

“Jonas Salk. Batted .380 in the World Series?”

George blew an irritated whistle through his lips. “Never mind,” he said in exasperation.

He took quick strides and Matt practically had to run to keep up with him. “George, for cryin’ out loud, I was kidding. Okay? Salk, the vaccine guy. Right?”

“Yes,” said George, with some slight relief. “It’s good to know you’re not completely devoid of historical knowledge, Matt.”

“No, not completely. All I’m saying, George, is that we can’t lose sight of the fact that we’re here to question somebody in connection with a murder investigation. I don’t care who it is we’re questioning, we’ve got to maintain professional distance. We can’t let ourselves get caught up in whatever glamour or reputation that person might have. Otherwise there are going to be questions that don’t get asked and maybe, just maybe, crimes that don’t get solved.”

George fixed him with an icy stare. “The time we questioned that female rock singer, Sheila E., I believe she called herself. Your participation in the interrogation was limited to several buckets of drool, as I recall.”

“Yeah, well, that was different.”

“How?”

“She was hardly wearing anything.”

“Since I anticipate that Dr. Tivoli will be fully dressed, I assume that I’ll be able to control myself.”

“Sure, George. Whatever you say.” Sikes was too busy pulling up pleasant memories of that particular case involving Sheila E.

They entered the lobby. There were messengers hustling in and out, and some employees already heading out to an early lunch. The odd pairing of Francisco and Sikes brought glances of mild interest from some people going in or out, but no reaction beyond that.

There was a guard table at the far end of the lobby, and two guards were seated at it. Sikes and George noticed immediately that one of the guards had clearly had a rough time of things lately. He was wearing a large bandage over his nose.

Sikes was already flashing his shield as he and Francisco approached, but he decided to start things in a more conversational manner. “What happened to the honker, pal?”

“I slipped on a bar of soap in the shower,” said the guard.

Sikes grinned significantly at George. “You see? It does happen every now and then, doesn’t it.”

George rolled his eyes.

Sikes turned back to the guards. “I’m Sergeant Sikes. This is my partner, Francisco.”

The guard with the unadorned face extended a hand. “Hudson River. I’m Dr. Tivoli’s chief of security. This is my associate, Bic Penn.”

Sikes nodded deferentially to both of them. By this point in his life he’d gotten rather practiced in not bursting into laughter upon hearing Newcomer names. It made the investigative process that much easier when you didn’t laugh in people’s faces.

“We called ahead?” said George.

River nodded and gestured toward a private elevator. “I’ll take you to him.”

They stepped into the elevator, with River leading the way. He pushed a button that was labeled simply “P” and the elevator started upward.

“So is this part of some sort of fund-raising thing for the police?” asked River neutrally.

“Not exactly. It’s a homicide investigation,” said George.

River looked taken aback. “Homicide? You mean someone was killed.”

“Yeah, that’s generally how homicide investigations start,” said Sikes, hoping he didn’t sound too sarcastic and knowing that he did.

“Would you mind telling me the details?”

Sikes stared at him. “Are you going to be accompanying us to our meeting with the doctor?”

“Yes.”

“Then why should we repeat ourselves?” said Sikes, reasonably. “We’ll fill in the Doc and you all at the same time. How’s that for efficiency?”

River merely nodded.

The elevator doors opened onto a spacious office, with an interior design that was very much along the lines of the exterior of the building. A Newcomer receptionist was seated outside, and Sikes began to wonder if he was the only human in the entire building. The receptionist gestured for them to enter the inner office, and they did so.

From behind a large desk rose the formidable form of Dr. Hadrian Tivoli. He appeared to be middle-aged (it wasn’t always easy to tell with Newcomers), and he had a force and presence that simply could not be ignored. Hudson River stood to one side as Sikes and Francisco firmly shook hands with the doctor.

Remembering Matt’s cautions, George tried not to gush. He was only partly successful. “I want you to know what an honor it is to meet you, Doctor,” he said, pumping Tivoli’s hand.

“Thank you,” said Tivoli. His voice was low and seemed to rumble throughout the office. He indicated the two chairs in front of the desk and said, “Please.”

As Sikes and Francisco sat, he continued graciously, “Would you like some coffee? Herb tea?”

“No, thanks,” said Sikes. He glanced at George, who was still sitting there with an enormous respectful grin on his face. It was clear to Sikes that he was going to have to keep the show moving. He pulled out a notepad and flipped it open to where he had jotted down the few facts they had about the case. “Now as we mentioned to you on the phone, William Perkins, a security guard in your employ, was found dead in Little Tencton last night.”

“Yes. A shocking business,” said Tivoli.

Sikes glanced around to see River’s reaction. His face was immobile. He turned back to Tivoli. “Do you have any idea what Perkins was doing the night he was murdered? Who he was with?”

“I have very little contact with the security staff,” replied Tivoli. He indicated River. “Hudson might know.”

But River shook his head slowly. “Perkins was off duty. His time was his own.”

Weil, River certainly didn’t sound all that choked up, Sikes observed. Guy just learned one of his underlings was killed, and handled it pretty damned well. Could be that Tivoli had already filled River in on what the investigation involved, and River was just being coy on the elevator. Or maybe River just didn’t like humans and really didn’t care about Perkins’s demise.

Now George stepped in. “Witnesses say the man who killed him was a huge Newcomer. A giant. They say that two other Newcomers and Perkins were chasing him.”

Tivoli looked at them skeptically. “A giant?”

Sikes was still not quite willing to move his attention away from River. “Was Perkins ever seen with anyone fitting that description? Did he ever mention anyone?”

“No,” said River. “I’m sure I’d remember. A conversation involving a Newcomer giant . . . that would stick in my mind, I know.”

George sensed his partner’s interest in River’s responses. He’d generally learned to trust Matt’s instincts when it came to such things. “The suspect was carrying a Newcomer infant that was left at the scene. Do you have any idea who that child might belong to?”

River looked a bit bored by the whole thing. “No.”

“Haven’t the parents come forward?” asked Tivoli with genuine concern. It reminded George of the true humanitarianism that flooded through the veins of this very great individual.

“Not yet,” said George. “The child is . . . unusual.”

“How so?”

“Her head is disproportionately large with no spots. She appears highly intelligent, but she doesn’t move or make any sounds.”

Tivoli leaned back, giving it some thought. His fingers steepled under his chin. “Has she been examined? Maybe it’s a congenital syndrome.”

“We’re still waiting for a doctor.”

Tivoli rose from his chair. He turned his back to them and walked slowly toward one of the large windows that overlooked Los Angeles. He stood there, staring out, his hands clasped behind his back.

The esteemed doctor appeared to have zoned out for the moment, and Sikes took the opportunity to pursue his questioning of River. Every question had been a dead end, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something there. “You ever have any trouble with Perkins on the job?”

River shook his head. “He was a model employee.”

Sikes tried to frame a follow-up question, but nothing came to mind. Neither River nor Tivoli had really given him a useful enough answer on anything to develop a follow-up question. It’s not that they had been hiding anything that he could tell, or had stonewalled him. It’s just that they had not been especially helpful in providing information.

He pulled his card out of his jacket pocket and handed it to River, “If you think of anything that might help us, give me a call.” He didn’t hold out much hope for it. River didn’t strike him as the kind of guy who would suddenly say, “Wait! How could it have slipped my mind? I completely forgot to tell Sergeant Sikes about Perkins’s ties to organized crime!”

“Sure,” said River, taking the card.

Tivoli, meantime, turned back and said slowly, “If the parents aren’t found, we could provide care for the infant here. Our research is focused on genetic defects in both humans and Newcomers. Perhaps we could help her.”

George smiled gratefully. It was exactly the sort of thing he had expected Tivoli to say. “That’s very kind of you. The baby’s going to be placed temporarily in a foster home. But I’ll tell Social Services of your offer.”

“However you wish to handle it, Sergeant,” said Tivoli. “After all, you are the professionals.”

“ ‘You are the professionals.’ Wow,” said Albert. His eyes were wide as, back at the police station, George related the details of his meeting with the esteemed Dr. Tivoli.

Sikes, for his part, was busy doing his system of filing, which consisted of taking all the papers that he didn’t know what to do with, and shoving them into a desk drawer until he could get around to it.

“Thoughtful and yet humble,” George intoned. “That’s how the truly great ones are.”

“Yeah, and right after that, he turned water into wine,” said Sikes.

George looked at him reprovingly. “Sarcasm wasn’t called for, Matt.”

“Well, something was,” replied Sikes.

George picked up a phone message that had been left on his desk. “I think this is for you, Matt. Put on my desk by mistake. Someone named Kris is asking about your date for the Perelli dinner?”

“Oh yeah,” said Sikes.

“I assume you’ll be sitting with Susan and me.”

Sikes looked up and couldn’t quite hide his surprise. “You’re going?”

“Certainly,” said George.

“But you’ve never even met the guy!”

“You’ve spoken most respectfully of him,” said George, reasonably. “Also, his reputation as a police officer precedes him. I think it only proper that every able-bodied ranking officer turn out for his retirement dinner.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sikes seemed very distracted by the entire notion, and George was about to ask why when Albert interrupted with an amused, “Whoever Sergeant Sikes’s date is, I bet it won’t be the Newcomer he was trying to copulate with last night.”

George looked at him curiously. “Will you be taking Cathy as your date, Matt?”

“I didn’t say I was trying to copulate with her last night, George!”

“There was someone else?” George asked in surprise.

“For the last time, I—”

“Slipped on a bar of soap in the shower,” Albert and George intoned together. Albert grinned and moved off to complete his duties for the day.

“As for Cathy, well . . .” said Sikes, “I haven’t decided yet.”

“I hope you won’t be holding the difficulties you encountered last night against her.”

Sikes leaned forward, almost into George’s face. “I’d watch what I’d say if I were you, George. You gotta go home and tell Cathy about your little mercy boff with May. And we’ll just see how
your
jaw looks in the morning.”

“You,” said George calmly, “have no faith. None at all.”

“Oh yes I do, George. I just have faith in different things than you.”

“I have faith in Susan.”

“So do I,” replied Sikes. “So what we got here, George, is a crisis of faith. And woe to you, unbeliever, for most surely, you’re gonna be in over your spotted head.”

C H A P T E R
   7

L
IKE A HOMING
pigeon, he had returned.

Through the streets of Little Tencton lurched the giant. Returning to the site where he had lost his precious cargo had been easy. The truck had gone a far piece on the interstate before pulling over to a rest stop. And while the trucker had been inside, the giant had simply climbed down from the freight area and climbed into the cab.

The cab of the truck had been even smaller than the cab of the vehicle he had previously driven. But he had managed by the simple expedient of ripping out the seat so that he had extra room. It had required that he drive in a semicrouched position, his back up against the interior of the cab. But he had barely even noticed the physical demands put upon his huge frame. Nothing was important to him except recovering the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

He had ditched the truck by the side of the road a mile before arriving back at Little Tencton. Some deep need for stealth had kicked in, warning him that driving the stolen vehicle any longer than necessary meant possibly attracting the notice of the police. Not that being seven feet tall was the easiest thing to hide either. But at least he could hide among alleyways and shadows. You couldn’t hide a truck, no matter how clever you were.

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