Alien Rites (15 page)

The pig made it to David's feet and collapsed on his shoes.

Lisa looked at him from across the room. “I'm afraid he made a mess in the bathroom, Daddy.” Somewhere behind him, David heard snickers, a giggle. Lisa put her hands behind her back. “I cleaned it up as best as I could.”

The laughter stopped suddenly. The room got quiet.

“Something going on I should know about?”

David recognized the voice of Captain Halliday. He turned around slowly.

“Uh, Captain—”

“David? Is that a—” Halliday's frown cleared when he spotted the girls. “Hi, kids. Mattie. Lisa. Kendra, when did you grow up?”

David's daughters smiled politely, little faces tight and worried.

“Is it take-your-daughter-to-work-day again already?”

Lisa shook her head. “No, sir.”

“It's take-your-pig-to-work-day,” someone said. David wasn't sure who.

Halliday moved close to David, pointed chin dropping to his chest. He was wearing suspenders every day now, and as usual, they sagged off the narrow, sloping shoulders.

“Is Rose around?”

“No, no she's not.” David shook his head for emphasis. Halliday did not like Rose.”

“I see. But, isn't that a—”

“
Livestock!
”

The shriek made Mattie frown and tear up. Walker waved a fin and skittered toward Pid.

“A pig in the—”

Halliday turned, his face going dark, corners of his mouth tight. “Walker. A little decorum, please; you're upsetting the children.”

“Pouchlings and pigs in bullpen?”

Kendra moved in front of Mattie. “It's not a bullpen now, it's a—”

“Don't say it,” David told her quietly. She glared at him.

“Pigpen!” Walker said. “This is the unprofessional worst.”

Halliday went stiff. “Quit waving your flippers there at those children. You don't have little ones in your home place, Walker?”

“No pouchlings in office.”

“You got pigs,” someone muttered. “Of a sort.”

Halliday put a hand on one hip. “We're
human
here, Walker, most of us anyway. That means we can be flexible. David?”

Get rid of the pig, David thought.

Halliday nodded at him. “When you get your, um, domestic crisis resolved, I'd like an update.”

“Yes, sir.”

Halliday gave him a nod and headed for the glass cubicle he called home.

Walker emitted a whistling sigh, rocked back on her bottom fringe, and cocked one eye prong at David. “That works well. You thank me now.”

“What?”

“He was to blow the sky till I come in the offender. Humans all stick together, so predictable.”

David lifted Pid up off the floor. “You want to pet him?”

“No need. One Earth creature of a much like another.” Walker rolled away, leaving a trail of flaking scales.

“Go and molt yourself,” David muttered.

“I hear this, Detective David Silver, sirs. Some big thank you much.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Lisa, Kendra, and mattie stood in a horseshoe around David's chair, watching anxiously as Pid lapped milk from David's coffee cup.

“He wants more,” Mattie said.

The pig looked up and snuffled the can of Coke, nudging it close to the edge of the desk. The girls looked at David, a question in their eyes. David shrugged and poured Coke into the mug. Pid took a small, timid taste, then began lapping the sweet fizzy brown liquid.

“He likes it!” Lisa said.

Della leaned over the back of David's chair. “I'll be darned. A Coke-swilling pig. What will they think of next, those Silvers?”

David looked at her. “I won't make the obvious comment.”

She hoisted her ever-ready can of Coke. “Not if you value your life, you won't.”

The phone rang. David looked for Della, his arms full of pig. Wondered where had she gotten to in such a hurry.

“I'll get it, Daddy.” Kendra picked up the receiver, cleared her throat. “Homicide, Silver. What?
Castrated?
It's me, Uncle Mel. Yeah, I'll forget what you said.” She glanced at David. “No, Daddy didn't hear you. Can I take a message or do you need to talk to Dad? Oh. Feeding a Pig.”

David groaned.

“What? Yeah, I'll tell him. Huh?” Her eyes squinched tighter. “Okay. Okay. Yeah, I got it. Okay. Yeah. Okay.”

“Let me talk to him,” David said.

Kendra hung up. “Uncle Mel has a message for you, Daddy.”

“So I gathered.”

“He says … Now what was it?”

“
Kendra.
”

“Just kidding. Him and String talked to some doctor at that hospital.”

“Which hospital?”

Kendra frowned. “He didn't say. He just told me that the hospital guy said they didn't suspect the mother, and it wasn't them that started the circus.”

David felt Pid lick his fingers. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, it was the social worker who blew the whistle. Uncle Mel called her office but she went home early. You want to meet him over at her house?”

“Yeah,” David said.

Kendra nodded. “Good. That's what I told him.”

“I don't suppose you got the address?”

“Eighteen-oh-four Mercer. Be there in forty minutes. And don't worry about us, Daddy. We can go back on the SART, I know what I'm doing.”

David pointed a finger at her. “No, you will not.
Ever
again. That clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

David glanced around the room, wondering where that fourth “yes, sir” had come from. The pig licked his fingers and moved up his wrist, nuzzling his shirt sleeve. He glanced at his watch, which was sticky.

“No time to take you ladies home, so I guess I'll have to make you deputies.”

Mattie touched the piglet's soft pink ear. “Can Pid be a deputy too?”

Della looked at them over the top of her terminal. “No problem, girlfriend. Let me get that sucker a badge.”

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 child came up dead, you'd be screaming negligence. I got a job to do and I do it.”