Alien Rites (3 page)

String. His alien partner.

The Elaki had come to Earth with attitude—patronizing, fascinated, slightly repelled. They were way ahead in the social sciences and shared their knowledge freely. If some speculated that their generosity was motivated by the opportunity to use humans as objects to further their studies, so be it. The benefits were many—a cure for schizophrenia and manic depression, to name two. Elaki were openly racist; people were inferior and smelled offensively of strong cheese, yet Elaki doctors were more compassionate than human ones, and Elaki excelled in law enforcement as well as in crime.

They also brewed a mean cup of coffee.

They were, on the average, seven feet tall, dark on the back and sides, pink to ivory on the tender belly. Their eyes protruded from stalks, and they moved with a peculiar rolling motion on a set of muscles beneath a scaled, iridescent fringe. They were thin, no ballast, and would blow away in a strong wind, constructed very much like an upright stingray. They smelled faintly of freshly cut limes. Intelligent usually, ever curious, and always judgmental.

String was not a particularly handsome specimen—he had bare patches where the scales had fallen away and not grown back. Elaki scars, David decided. His left eye prong drooped and his colors had faded, as if he'd been one too many times through a hot-water wash.

David saw String's eyestalk twitch. The Elaki was nervous; David could tell from the side-to-side jitter that reminded him of a little kid who has to go to the bathroom. String swiveled an eye prong and caught sight of him coming up the exit ramp.

“Ah. Detective David.” The Elaki turned his back on the crime-scene band and scurrying humans, and focused his attention on the bottom of the ramp. Elaki-Town. “This must wrap around to be quick and gone.”

David gave the Elaki a half-smile, meaningless to an alien. “Do you mean wrap things up?”

String turned slowly, his back to the bottom of the ramp. “Much is the menace, Detective David. Do you not feel it?”

Actually, he did. “Elaki-Town?”

String waved a fin. “Where would the light be if not on? Why the congregation?”

“Elaki on the sidewalks. That's unusual?”

“But yessss.”

David felt the hair stir on the back of his neck. String was afraid. String was never afraid.

The Elaki moved close to David, almost touching, voice low. “Most unusual, the behavior this. I ask you, if is just to be the gawking of, why not closer, where they can see?”

“They'd have to turn their backs if they came close. Elaki etiquette.”

String cocked an eye prong. “That is the politeness, Detective David.”

“If they keep their distance, can they look?”

“This is not so, Detective David. There are many Elaki, hidden down in darkness, all but to watch. And in such a place. These are not the best elements Elaki here, surely you know this.”

David frowned. “How bad, String?”

“Remember hate crime riots, and fire bombs?”

David raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“Potential worse if it goes,” String said. “This is not to be the kid.”

“The kid?”

“I am not to joke you.”

“Okay.” David tried to look everywhere at once, caught sight of Angie Nassif and the media man. The camera was out, a recorder going. He looked at String. “Where's Mel?”

The Elaki grew still. “Have spoken to Halliday, Captain. Mel messaged first. Should be on the route.”

David nodded. “Get with the techs and see how long before they can wrap. Push everybody but the holographer—if we have to leave in a hurry that may be all we'll have to fall back on.”

String waved a fin. Assent. Holograms made good casebooks for presentation in court.

David looked over his shoulder at Elaki-Town, bit his lip. There was movement on the sidewalks, where before it had been still. Tension made his stomach tight. He wondered where Mel was. Decided he couldn't leave with his partner enroute and possibly arriving alone to face who knew what. He crooked a finger at the uniform who had taken his arm in the weeds.

“Two things, and quickly. Get the comm tech to see if he can get voice contact with Detective Mel Burnett, Homicide. And then I want you—and you personally, you understand?”

The boy nodded, and David saw a film of sweat on his upper lip. He looked closer. Not sweat. A thin attempt at a mustache.

Hiring before they could grow facial hair? Something very disturbing about that. He looked around, wondering if he was the only grown-up. He had a strong feeling of responsibility to all these young faces, and he wanted everybody out.

He heard bells, suddenly, distant but distinct. He looked at String, saw the Elaki freeze, twitch, and swivel an eye-stalk his way. They'd been partners a while now. David knew, without asking, that the sound of bells was not a good thing, and that it was high time to haul ass.

String scurried to the CSU van and David turned back to the uniform. “Get a car and drive Ms. Trey and her baby home.”

The boy's eyes widened, and he nodded.

“I didn't catch your name,” David said, squinting at the shoulder tag.

“Alec Arnold. Patrolman Arnold.”

David nodded. “I would consider it a personal favor, Patrolman Arnold, as well as a good sign of your professionalism, if you show Ms. Trey the utmost courtesy.”

The patrolman's eyes went tight.

David frowned. “Is that a problem for you?”

“No sir, it's not a problem for me.”

David looked at the boy's blank face. “You're sure?”

Arnold nodded stiffly.

The bells rang again. No time.

“She won't hurt you,” David said.

FIVE

The technician waited while David went over the trunk quickly, focused. The breeze carried the hint of raindrops—nothing to two men who had spent the evening in a downpour. The CSU van was loaded, engine idling. String cocked an eye prong, swaying from side to side. Elaki impatience.

“See where it's torn through there?” The tech was a big guy, big nose, cleared his throat a lot.

New on the job, David decided. And nervous.

“You think whoever was trapped in the trunk of the car crawled through this hole here into the cab?”

The tech nodded. David frowned, trying to remember the man's name. Samuel Caper.

David looked at the dark opening, the jagged rent of fabric. “What did he use to open it up?”

The trunk was clean, except on one side where someone had spilled popcorn—a few weeks ago, from the look of it. No one carried tools in their cars these days. Not unless they were up to something.

David peered into the side pockets of the trunk. Luke Cochran had tools.

He looked up at the blue ball of light that wavered over his head. “Light lower please, and move to three o'clock.”

The blue ball zipped sideways almost as the words were out of his mouth, giving the impression of an intelligent and underchallenged assistant.

Just a microchip, David reminded himself. He crooked a finger at Caper. “You looked at these?”

“Yes, sir. Waiting for the holographer to get them down.”

David nodded. A shovel, almost new, bottom blade clumped with dried mud. David touched the dirt. Dry and brittle; a tangle of dried brown root hanging loose. Blue plaid work gloves, also new, were tucked into the handle. Trowels.

“Everything's new,” the technician said.

David gave the man a second look. He had a round baby face, stubbled with beard here in the middle of the night. His hair was razor cut and short, ears overlarge. Not a handsome man, but appealing, like a puppy.

“Good,” David said.

The man's cheeks went pink. He had a big, sloppy grin that came from the heart.

“This is my first murder investigation, sir.”

“David.”

“What?”

“Call me David.” David turned back to the trunk. “Doesn't look like he used the shovel to get through here; that dirt isn't disturbed. Check the trowels—”

“I'm not sure it was a he, sir.”

David looked up. “Not a he?”

“Well, um, I know it would seem like the killers—”

“We don't have a body yet,” David reminded him.

“No, sir. See, at first I thought Cochran had been put in the trunk, maybe, and tunneled into the car. But this Cochran was a big guy and that's a pretty small opening.”

“Think birth canal.” The voice was tired, and there was an edge.

David looked over his shoulder, saw his partner, Mel Burnett. Wondered how long he had been standing there. His suit was wrinkled and spotted with rain, shoes muddy. His brown, curly hair had gone wiry in the humidity.

“Where've you been?” David said.

Mel shrugged. “Out and about.”

Something in Mel's voice made David give him a second look. “You okay?”

“Sure,” Mel said, carefully offhand.

“Mel, this is Sam Caper. This is his first murder investigation.”

Mel grinned, shook the man's hand, plastic gloves and all. “And us without a body.”

Caper smiled like a cowed puppy.

“Mel won't hurt you,” David said.

Mel looked at Caper. “You were saying?”

The technician blinked. His eyes were blue, bright and alert. “About the size of the person who crawled through that hole. I'm just guessing, but I don't think Cochran could have gotten through there.”

Mel bent over and stuck his head in the trunk. He poked his hand through the hole. “Elaki might have made it through, but the sucker would have shed a million scales, and I don't see any. I got to say I agree with Sam here.” Mel glanced up at David. “Whyn't you try and get your shoulders through there, David? Cochran's bigger than you, so—”

“I think it was a woman,” Caper said.

David cocked his head. “Why? Could have been a small man.”

“We, um, found a bracelet. An ankle bracelet, I think; it's bigger than the other kind.”

Mel exchanged looks with David. “The other kind?”

Caper shifted his weight to one foot. “The wrist kind.”

“You might have brought it up,” David said mildly.

Mel grinned. “See, Sam, we don't mean to be irritable with you or nothing, but a real murder investigation's not like on TV where everybody gets together at the end and the hero brings out the surprise evidence. We don't have to bring people back after the commercial break, kiddo, so we try to share the evidence as it comes up. Especially since we're all kind of standing around in the rain. Being human.” Mel glanced at String, standing next to the driver's window of the CSU van. “Some of us, anyway.”

Caper lifted his chin. “My fault. It's sealed up, they've got it in the van. Want to see it?”

“Sure,” Mel said.

David shook his head. “No. Let's clear out. The tow truck—” He heard a shout, looked up. “Good. It's here. We need to get the car and everybody out of here.”

Mel raised an eyebrow. “What's your hurry, David? I just got here. You interviewed the car yet?”

The tow truck pulled up, and the driver leaned out the window. “Okay if we set the program and let it go in under its own speed?”

David took a deep breath. “
No
. Put it on your flatbed, I don't want it out on the road. Evidence, and we're still looking at it.”

“They told me at Dispatch it was a rush.”

“It is a rush. But put it on your flatbed.”

“Yessiree, boss.”

David grimaced.

“Should I take the tools?” Caper asked.

Time, David thought. Caper would have bags. Labels. He realized he hadn't heard the bells in a while. Was that good or bad? He looked at String. Hard to tell.

“Pack up and go?” Caper asked.

“Yes.”

Caper stuck his hands in his pockets. “Come on, Leon.”

The light zipped out of the trunk, whizzing close to David's cheek. Caper headed for the CSU van, light bobbing obediently behind.

“Now ain't that sweet?” Mel said.

David looked at him. “Leon?”

Mel shrugged. “So what's the rush here? You worried the rain's gonna start back up?”

“Hey, Mel, you think I could get any wetter?”

“Now that you mention it, no.”

“Elaki-Town,” David said.

The tow truck operator headed for the car, and David and Mel moved away, huddled close up into the tree line.

Mel took a breath, waved a hand toward the town. “It looks weird down there. Dark. Something going on?”

“I don't know. String said—”

“Something obtuse, no doubt.”

David nodded, stuck his hands in his pockets. The scrape on the back of his hand stung, started oozing blood. “Where were you tonight?”

Mel hunched his shoulders. Rolled his eyes. “You sound like my mother.” He said it lightly. Always a joke.

David waited.

“David, I'm getting worried about Miriam. Damn worried, you want to know the truth.”

“You seen her since your last fight?”

“
Last
fight? You make us sound like contenders. Considering you and Rose—”

“We aren't. Considering me and Rose. Answer the question.”

“Yes sir, Officer. The answer is no. I haven't seen her or talked to her. And neither has anybody else.”

David frowned, looked at Mel carefully. Even in the dim street light he could see Mel's face was drawn, pale beneath his tan, eyes dark, smudged, exhausted.

“No one?”

“No one I can find, and I been looking. She hasn't been in the lab, won't answer the phone, missed the last two classes she was supposed to teach.”

David felt odd, prickly, the old cop instinct revving, a call to arms. “Talked to her sister?”

Mel swallowed, voice rough. “No. Can't get her on the phone.”

It seemed the obvious move, but David did not comment. “You been inside her place?”