Alien Rites (14 page)

She would look at home behind a tractor, or on a loading dock.

She raised a square, callused hand. “I'm doing my best to cooperate here. I've studied police work, police methods.” She grinned—strong, white teeth. “I'm on your side, Detective, okay?”

It was gentle, but she was chastening him. He looked at her coldly.

“I've got enough on you for obstruction of justice, easily, so you're definitely going to be held.”

“Obstruction of—”

“It's a b.s. thing, as you likely know. But we'll keep you with it till the DA decides what level of homicide to go with. Where we move from there depends a lot on how much you tell me, how much help you can be.”

Her mouth hung open, and David could see a clot of spittle at the edges.

“
What
are you talking about? Are you sure you don't have me mixed up with somebody else?”

He glanced at his notes, though there was no need. “Professor Elizabeth Dunkirk, Saigo City University, teaching and research position.”

“But what is all this about?”

David gave her steady look. “It's about Luke Cochran, Dr. Dunkirk, and you've already wasted five minutes of my time with your posturing.” He shifted sideways. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew his body ached and moaned, but he felt good. He was going to get his teeth into this one.

He lifted a hand. Languidly. “I'll tell you the truth. I think you're a waste of time, and it's time I don't have. I'm in the middle of a murder investigation, and I've got a missing person. Looks like we'll have more luck with your friend next door, and that's good enough for me. You want your paralegal, I'll put the word out, and we'll put an end to our little session right now.”

Her eyes went wide; her feelings were hurt. He looked at her hands, which were steady. Interesting. They should have been shaking—anger, fear, something. He was giving her the rough end; she ought to be upset. Her words said “upset,” but her body did not.

Formidable, this one.

“You haven't even told me what this is about.”

She was toying with him. David felt a spurt of admiration. Decided to turn up the heat.

He slammed a hand hard on the tabletop. “See? You're doing it. Stalling, playing dumb. I don't feel good, I'll be honest with you. I'm sick as a dog. I don't have the—”

“Luke was sick, too.”

David settled back in his chair. “What?”

“I said Luke was sick, too. That's what this is about, isn't it? Luke Cochran?”

David stared at her.

“Is he dead?” she asked.

“Where'd you hide the body?” David asked back.

She gasped. “
What?
”

“The
body
. His mortal remains.”

“
I
didn't kill him.”

“We know all about the extortion scam. We know it blew up in your face.”

She folded her arms.

“We know he came to you for help, and you turned your back.” A shot in the dark, but it hit home, he could tell. He was getting to her, finally. “I don't blame you for being scared. Elaki blood sanctions are a death sentence, and not a very nice one. I'll feel sorry for you when this hits the papers.” She flinched. “But Luke Cochran was a twenty-year-old college kid.”

“If he had a sanction out on him, and I'm not saying he did, why would I bother to kill him? Makes no sense, Detective.”

“But it does,
Dr
. Dunkirk. If the Elaki get hold of him, he'll talk. He'll mention
your
name. It's only human, right? He'll give them you, to try and save himself. And you're still walking around and he's gone. If the Elaki got him, they'd have you too—you're a bigger prize. In my book, your very presence in this room means you did it.”

“I
did not
kill Luke Cochran.” There was a coating of sweat on her upper lip and she licked it clean with a beefy red tongue. David felt his stomach churn.

“Fine,” he said. He stood up and headed for the door. He actually had it open—he was moving quickly—when she broke.

“You let this hit the media, you'll get me sanctioned for sure, Detective.”

David caught sight of Della in the hallway. She winked, held up the Excedrin Inhalant.

His head was pounding, he wished he could have the inhalant, but he was playing the big scene here, and had to let it go.

He shut the door and leaned his back into the knob. “I really don't care.”

She looked at him.

“Speaking objectively, if I were you, I'd remain in police custody. That won't be hard, because you're going to be charged. And the Elaki may have forgotten you, by the time you get out, because I'm not stopping with the murder of Cochran; I'm looking into that Elaki student who got killed, in spite of the protection money her Mother-One paid up.” He stuck a thumb in his belt loop. “Come to think of it, I guess you're right. You may be breathing, right at the moment, but you're probably dead.”

“I
did not kill
Luke Cochran. I
did not
have anything to do with the death of that Elaki kid; it was a bad coincidence.”

“I'll say.”

“Look, I'm not stupid. I know you can keep this out of the media, or at least see my side gets told. I know you can.”

David folded his arms. Looked at her. She was bent almost double in her chair, leaning toward him, hands out.

“Give me a reason,” David said coldly.

She sat back. Took a deep breath. “First off, I didn't kill anybody. The student who got shot was killed by the gang thing. It was a holdup really; she was down on Race Street, for crissake. I guess … I guess she felt safe.”

“Her Mother-One paid protection money. They thought they were protected.”

“It was a risk factor I never even thought of.” Her voice had dropped; she was almost conversational.

David shook his head. “Easy money, right, Beth? Elaki are terrified of gangs, they watch all those old Spike Lee movies. So you go play on that fear, in the guise of a survey. Find out their habits, analyze their risk factors, and lo and behold, the magic computer program predicts with a ninety-nine percent probability that they're going to be a victim.”

“Eighty-nine.”

“What?”

“Eighty-nine percent probability.”

“And then what?”

“Then they pay our expense money and we tell them exactly what they need to do to alter the risk factor and stay safe.”

“And since Elaki don't trust their own police, much less ours, nobody complains.”

She shrugged. “We only hit them once, and then it's over.”

“Not for the family of this female student.”

Her eyes went dull. “We forgot the stupidity factor.”

David scratched his chin, realized he'd forgotten to shave. The rasping noise seemed to bother her, so he kept doing it.

“Once I walk through that door there, Beth, this conversation is over and you'll be alive at five. If that's not what you want, you better talk to me now, and you better talk to me fast, and you better tell me things I want to hear.”

“I don't think Luke got sanctioned at all. You find a body?”

David said nothing.

“Because he had friends over there in Elaki-Town. Did you know about his job with that antique dealer, Sifter?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll bet there's things about that job you don't know.” Smug, this.

“I'm listening.” David made a point of not looking impressed, but inwardly he smiled. It was a nice cross-ruff he had going. Sifter Chuck was happy to tell him everything about the university scam to draw attention from his own involvement, and vice versa. The main complication was deciding which of them had Luke. And where the hell Miriam was.

Dunkirk leaned sideways, one elbow on the table. “They were faking antiques, manufacturing them on the home planet, then bringing them down here. Luke hid them, made the plants, so they could be discovered one by one over the next few years.”

“What antiques were they faking?”

“Teddy bears, believe it or not.”

David believed it. “I don't see anything here that would get him killed. Nothing that would cause a blood sanction. The best murder motive still involves you, Elizabeth.”

“Think so? Because my experience is that revenge; hell, everything always takes a back seat to money.”

David kept quiet, but he didn't disagree.

“He pinched one of the bears,” Dunkirk said. “Gave it to his girlfriend for her kids. Those bears are worth a fortune to the Elaki, plus there's always the question of where she got it. So not only did Luke cost this Sifter a big hunk of money, but he endangered the whole operation.”

“How'd you find out about all this?”

She shrugged. Touched the package of cigarettes, but didn't take one. “He was talky, Luke was. He was young; okay, guys that age always want to talk about it. Actually, he asked my advice. He decided he better get that bear away from his girlfriend, but he didn't want to let her know what was going on. Seemed to me he'd have been better off just telling her flat-out, but he was very touchy about that part. Said she absolutely could not know it was a fake, manufactured off-planet. And he was getting sick. He'd get better, then worse. So he was getting hard to deal with.”

“What was wrong with him?”

“I'm not sure. First they thought it was the flu. Then it was some kind of mono, or walking pneumonia. Then a virus.”

“He was seeing a doctor?”

“Going to Student Health. Tell you the truth, I advised him to go to a real doctor. I think he tried, but the waiting lists were unreal, and he didn't have any kind of clout. They told him he was stuck with Student Health. Which, believe me, Detective, is stuck.”

“Luke ever mention a Miriam Kellog?”

Dunkirk made a face. Nodded slowly. “He mentioned the name; I just don't remember the context. I think she may have been the baby's doctor. The one who died.”

“How did Luke take it?”

“The baby dying? Kind of weird. I always suspected the kid was his. He seemed stunned, and kind of worried. Anxious, like. And he definitely did not like this Miriam woman. Said she was pushy.”

“Did he ever admit he was the baby's father?”

She shrugged. “He never came out and said it. It was just the way he talked about the kid. Kind of proud. And he took both of the kids toys sometimes. Tried to give his girlfriend money.”

“Tried?”

“Kind of pissed him off, as I recall. Cause she never would take it.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

The last person David expected to see in the homicide bullpen was his daughter Kendra. As soon as she saw him, she swallowed hard, turned her head to one side.

“Uncle Mel wouldn't mind me sitting at his desk,” she said quickly, chin jutting.

David wondered how their relationship had gotten so adversarial. He perched on the edge of the desk, leg swinging. “Everything okay at home?”

She shrugged. He was aware of the benevolent interest of his coworkers, grateful that they went about their business as if nothing was amiss. Why, he thought, was it such an aberration for a child to visit the bullpen? A lot of the detectives had kids, but you never saw them anywhere but at the annual picnic.

Someone had put three candy bars, two Cokes, and one Dr. Pepper on the desk, next to the phone. David felt a rush of gratitude to whoever had provided the goodies. Della most likely.

“Sisters around?” David asked mildly.

Kendra's bottom lip quivered.

David leaned toward her. “What's the matter, Kendra? Tell me.”

She pulled away. “I know you're going to be mad, so yell at
me
, okay? Because this was my idea.”

David looked at her. “Is your mother all right?”

Kendra looked guilty, gave him an impatient look.

“She know you're here?” he asked.

Kendra shook her head. “She had to go out. But she called to see if we were okay. I told her about Pid, but she said to let her worry about it when she got home for supper. She said for us to do our homework and clean our rooms, and not to bother you. But you're our dad, aren't you?”

David nodded, wary here. “How'd you get down here, Kendra?”

She gripped the edge of the desk. “We took the SART.”

David opened his mouth. Closed it. “You took the transit? You took SART?”

Kendra nodded and blinked back tears. “I watched both of them the whole way—”

“Both … Lisa and Mattie? You took Mattie on SART?”

“I held her hand and we took the long route, so we wouldn't go anywhere near Little Saigo.”

People were staring. No doubt, David thought, he had turned chalk-white. He felt chalk-white.

“You know better.” He was aware of the ominous parental overtone in his voice. “Where are your sisters?”

“In the bathroom.”

“But they're here?”

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

David took a breath. “So all of you are okay, or you will be until I kill you?”

“Daddy, we didn't have enough money for cab fare all the way in from the house! We were afraid he was going to die. We tried to feed him milk and sugar, just like you showed us, but he wouldn't eat no matter what.”

David was afraid to ask. He closed his eyes. He? Surely not. He heard a shriek and a squeal and he recognized the distressed and excited voice of his youngest. He hesitated. He did not want to look.

The piglet ran across the floor, small legs pumping. More of a hop than a run, slow but frantic. Mattie and Lisa were right behind him, hot and sweaty, clothes wrinkled and stained, hair windblown and tangled.

“You guys rode the SART with a pig?”

“
Daddy
.” Mattie ran and grabbed his knees, turned her small face up to look at him. “We put him in a backpack, but he wouldn't stay. He wouldn't be still.”