Alien Rites (11 page)

“Old habits die hard,” Mel said.

David nodded. “What about finances?”

“Preliminary shows he's the typical starving student.”

Mel looked up. “How'd he afford the car?”

“That's what I want to know. Della, look into that job he had at the university, see what they pay.”

“They pay him enough for a car like that; I'm applying.”

“String,” David said. “That business last night in Elaki-Town. What was going on there? You got any idea?”

“Hard to be of the sureness. Much tension, odd behavior.”

“Let's say we don't believe in coincidence,” Mel said. “We got Cochran's car on the exit ramp leading to Elaki-Town. Miriam gone. Elaki weird shit all around.”

“Eloquent,” Della said.

David swallowed. His throat was sore. “Any idea what the connection could be?”

“None in the hereafter,” String said. “Must go to see, and carefully.”

“Can we use uniforms on the legwork?” Mel asked.

String cocked an eye prong. “No. Must be calling Walker for help.”

“Walker?” David looked at Mel.

Mel rolled his eyes. “
Walker?
No. Please. Nada.”

“There's got to be another way,” Della said.

“She has connections out of the kazoo.”

“Wazoo,” Mel said.

String twitched an eye prong. “Whatever.”

TWENTY-ONE

David braced himself just before string drove the van up onto the curb.

“Will you
please
learn to parallel park?” Mel said.

“This I have done.”

“No. Parallel parking is beside the curb, not up on it.”

David climbed out of the van. “Where's Walker?”

“Did not wish to arrive together. Will meet at taco shop. Must do this her way, the old sledgehammer.”

David looked at Mel, who shrugged.

“Isss human expression. To mean rough hard difficult female unattractive.”

Mel scratched his chin. “Let's see. One word for—”

“Battleax,” David said.

“Kind of like working a crossword puzzle. Hey, David? You feeling okay?”

David wiped a hand across his forehead. He was sweating—it was hot out, but he felt cold. “Yeah, fine.” He looked up and down the street, hoping the taco shop was close and he could sit. “String, did she say which taco shop?”

“No, just the taco shop.”

“I count three from where I stand. You sure she didn't specify?”

“No.”

Mel groaned. “We'd have more luck going to Chinatown looking for a place that serves rice.”

String waved a fin. “One by one to be the methodical.”

“Can't we just give her a call?”

Elaki-Town was relatively safe in daylight hours, in the area between Cass Avenue and Nix Street. But the three of them stayed together, walking nonchalantly, keeping a watch on their backs.

The walls were plastered with ads, all of them featuring Elaki selling human products—Elaki without hair selling shampoo, Elaki driving cars, Elaki wearing the latest sweatshirts from Gap Three.

David heard an overwhelming grinding noise and the throb of a large diesel engine as an Elaki tourist boat rolled into the street, stopping traffic.

“What the hell is that?” Mel said.

The boat was red and black, lacquered prow shaped like a dragon. Rows and rows of Elaki crowded the sides, taking video cams. All of them wore red ball caps, identifying them as part of
TOURS, RANGER-ROVER
. The caps sat behind their eye prongs, and looked uncomfortable. Elaki loved ball caps.

String slid sideways, shedding scales. “Elakitours—many crave the experience yachting. But water has the vice connotations, and Elaki do not do well with the wave roll. So a street-bottomed boat cruise of Elaki-Town, with a small exposure to pretend danger, is much to be desired.”

“Looks like a Chinese junk,” David said.

The boat passed and the three of them moved on. The streets were maintained fairly well, David decided, in this part of Elaki-Town. Not bad, considering the area—no doubt the Elaki influence. Walkways were narrow, alleys were lined in gravel for no reason David could fathom, and stores were more like stalls—tall, narrow, and crowded. They passed a noodle shop that smelled like cinnamon. An Elaki played an accordion in the middle of the sidewalk, eye prongs bent, scales missing, hide ragged. Someone had put a taco in his bowl. It was wrapped in paper with a logo that said
TACO SHOPPE
.

David pointed. “A clue.”

TWENTY-TWO

They found walker standing outside the taco Shoppe, muttering something about fairy lights and doughnuts. She did not sound happy.

Nothing new, David thought.

Mel waved a limp hand. “Yo, Mama, how's it hanging?”

Walked hissed. “How is what hanging, Detective Burnett?”

“Uh—”

“As if I do not have the knowledge.”

David sighed. This was not getting off to a good start.

Mel squinted at her. “What is it you think you do not have the knowledge of?”

“Is crude reference to drooping prongs.”

Mel grinned. “More like drooping d—”

“Mel,” David said.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Let's go inside.”

David had forgotten that in an Elaki restaurant there would be no chairs. He leaned against the table while everyone went up to get tacos. The food smells made him nauseous, particularly the sweet and tart odor of lime and cinnamon that permeated any area frequented by Elaki. David swallowed hard and wondered if he could stand to watch them eat.

He glanced around the restaurant. The establishments in Elaki-Town were unusual in that they employed Elaki for the scut work, instead of humans. This place was not up to the usual standards of Elaki cleanliness. The walls had been slapped over with sandy-brown stucco. For some reason, the Formica tables were Pepto Bismol-pink—a popular color with the down-at-heel Elaki—a shade that seemed to give them the same muted comfort humans found in beige. The tables were high. The tabletop lined up with David's shoulder blades, giving him a child's eye view. He had to remind himself that he was not in a foreign country.

Mel settled between Walker and String. He opened his taco, took a bite, made a face. Glanced over at David.

“I know these guys put cinnamon in everything right down to their coffee and beer, but this is unbelievable. Take a bite.”

David shuddered. “Can we get on with this?”

Walker twitched an eye prong. “The human is sick.”

David tapped a finger on the tabletop. “The human has a name. You can call me David, or Detective Silver, or sir. Don't call me the human.”

String skittered sideways. “Detective David is not up to the par, so will be somewhat the testicle.”

“
Testy,
” Mel said. “I think the Elaki attempts comic relief.”

String took a bite of taco. David noticed that the Elaki could eat them now without shattering the shell. It was a good indication of how long an Elaki had been on Earth. He hadn't met one yet who did not love tacos. If they could eat without making a mess, they'd been around awhile.

David looked at Walker. “You up to date at all with the Cochran situation?”

“Ssssure, Detective David Silver, sir. I have no life's work but to study you the caseload.”

Mel wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You know, Walker, you could be the poster child that spearheads the drive to send every Elaki home. Put you in a couple vids, and donations will start pouring in.”

Walker slid sideways, shedding scales, and David hid a smile. She would take Mel's mind off his worries, if nothing else. He wondered why he was so tired, and why it felt so good to be still. Wondered if he was coming down with something awful.

Old age?

Mel took a drink of beer. “Okay. Cochran kid is in his dorm room, talking on the phone to his—”

“I have knowledge for this, I live in the world.” Walker picked taco shell out of a breathing slit. “This girlfriend is the Annie Trey who has poisoned the little newborn pouchling.” Walker's eye prong twitched. “So admirable the Mother-One.”

David felt a rush of heat, wondered if his face was as red as it felt. There was a peculiar tightness in his chest that made him take two or three deep breaths. He swiped a napkin off String's tray, wiped his face.

He made a conscious effort to keep his voice mild. “Annie Trey's been crucified by the media rock, but we're a long way from being sure she's responsible for the death of that baby. There are a lot of things that need looking into.”

“Such as be?”

“Such as Cochran,” David said. “And Miriam Kellog. She was doing the Trey baby autopsy, and her notes make me think she'd decided Annie Trey got a bad deal. She was going to meet Annie and Luke Cochran the night she disappeared.”

“She is disappear? The Kellog Miriam?”

David avoided Mel's look.

“Out of the trunk of Cochran's car,” Mel said. “Got bloodstains that match hers and Cochran's. The scenario is Cochran looks out the window in his dorm, sees a couple—”

“Three,” String said.

“Yeah, three—”

“Three has the significance.” Walker cocked an eye prong in String's direction.

Mel shrugged. “So I been told. Anyways, all of them wind up going for a ride, Miriam in the trunk. We think what happened is Miriam crawls from the trunk into the cab of the car, starts whacking on Elaki with a crowbar, and the car goes over the guardrail and off the ramp. This is the Elaki-Town ramp, which is why we're all here.”

String tore a napkin into small pieces, which he balled up and rolled across the table. “Blood in car. Scales, of the many. Shoe cap of Cochran identified by the Trey.”

“Tennis shoe,” Mel said.

“Do not correct the proper. Shoe cap is best,” Walker said.

Mel looked at David. “They never heard the expression
when in Rome
?”

“So the car full of dubious human and pirate Elaki come here for the reason what?” Walker folded her napkin into a precise square.

“That's the question,” Mel said.

David's back was aching. He shifted his weight, trying to find relief. “Another thing, Walker. It was very odd here the other night. Tense. String said it was scary enough to rush the physical investigation and bug out.”

“Bugs were out?” Walker said.

“Don't play the dumbkin,” String said sharply.

David eyed the two Elaki. He had been suspecting for some time now that the constant Elaki misunderstandings were a subtle form of Elaki fun.

String swayed back and forth, and David found the constant motion almost hypnotic. “Elaki out late—no lights, all hush dark. But wait and watch on the doorstep, thick hubrits—”

David looked at Mel.
Hubrits?

“And quiet the watchful,” String said.

“No approachments?” Walker asked.

“No,” String said. “And coming here, to find this meeting. Much observation of the human. Hostile.”

Walker swayed back and forth, and David noticed she was keeping time with String. Two Elaki in agreement, he thought.

“Hostile the norm,” Walker said.

“Norm overflowing,” String added.

Mel wadded his trash and stuffed it in a box. “Yeah, I noticed that too. Not the staring so much, but a feeling. Very unfriendly. Nervous, too. You pick that up, David?”

“Yeah,” David said. He hadn't, really. He wasn't noticing much of anything all of a sudden. The flush of heat started up again, making him sweat. He shifted his weight again and wished he could sit down.

“I have some contacts for the information. You will question them for knowledge. Is gravel stand, we talk to Brian.”

“Brian? An Elaki named Brian?” Mel asked.

Walker looked at him oddly. “So why not?”

TWENTY-THREE

Walker swore the gravel stand was in walking distance, and she rolled ahead of them down the sidewalk without a backward glance.

Mel moved in close to David. “Something funny here, David. I mean, you noticed there are no other humans,
none
, but us?”

David nodded. He had been noticing just that. The layout of Elaki-Town had an odd feel—narrow streets, tall thin stalls, all very cheap. The low-end Elaki market, catering to fringe elements, criminal or weird or both. A shiny bus, triple-decker, went slowly past, Elaki standing fin to fin, holding straps and staring out the window. More upscale Elaki, fascinated by how the other half adapted to humanity—Elaki watching Elaki, with the typical narcissism of their race.

David saw String exchange looks with Walker, then swoop behind them, so that Walker went ahead and String brought up the rear, with Mel and David between them. He looked to the right, saw storefronts—antique stores, lots of those, taco stands, coffee stalls, harness outfitters, rip-off contraptions that would allegedly anchor the aliens in a strong wind. There were vids, and little vests on display. The crowds seemed thinner than usual, business slow, a lot of places closed. And a trio of Elaki across the street, keeping pace.

David frowned. Three meant trouble.

“String's worried,” Mel muttered. “Four police officers in the light of day, and believe me, he's worried. David, are you listening to me here? You paying attention?”

Walker turned suddenly, moving into a dark storefront, and David followed Mel, glad to be in off the streets.

The gravel stand reminded David of the delicatessens of his childhood, minus the cacophony of spicy smells. Motes of dust jittered in the bars of sunlight that came in through a small rectangle at the top of the ceiling, and lay like fine ash on the walls, the floor, the countertop. Inside a glass display case were trays of gravel, some colored, most grey-blue or white, of different sizes and grades, from medium chunks that would bite bare feet, to tiny marbleized sludge-like caviar, and about as expensive. A scale hung from a wall—the old-fashioned balance kind that had been used to weigh fruit and vegetables when David was a boy.