Pet Noir (28 page)

“Ling2's too busy to worry about that sort of thing.”

“Huh? That sort of thing is exactly what she should worry about. And she does, too. She cares about her customers.”

I jumped down from the table and went over to the bed, where Devin was lying staring at the ceiling. I sat down and curled my tail around my feet.

“You're just pissed off because she didn't answer your calls.”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “She's not usually like that.”

“Maybe the whole dead customer thing kind of distracted her.”

“But that's what I was calling about!” Devin sat up and swung his feet to the floor, then sat there, hunched forward, looking sulky. “Something's going on with her. She was pretty cold tonight.”

“Maybe Janine told her about you two playing Catch the Lightning Bug.”

His face took on a pained look. He sighed, then rubbed at the sides of his mouth. “Wish I understood women better.”

“You and half the galaxy.” I hopped onto the bed to get more on a level with him. “So how about this guy in the warehouse? The one Judge Callahan put away. Should we check him out?”

Devin frowned. “I dunno. He seemed like a dead end.”

“We got anything better to do?”

“Maybe. Depends if Janine is mad at me too.”

I rolled my eyes. Humans have to complicate everything.

“Well if you're busy I could go,” I offered. If he was going to romp around with Janine, I'd just as soon be elsewhere.

Devin shook his head. “He's on the day shift. He'll be home by now.”

“Or out and about. I could check Molly's, and Pulsar—”

“Geez, didn't you get enough to eat?”

Stupid question. A cat can almost always eat more. I was about to tell him so when I noticed something strange.

“Dude. You're drooling.”

He'd been sort of staring off into space, absently rubbing his fingertips. He gave me a startled glance and raised a hand to his mouth, then his eyes went wide.

“I don't feel so hot.” He stood up, then clutched at his gut.

“Shit,” I said, and glanced at the empty food containers. “Devin, stick your finger down your throat!”

He frowned uncomprehendingly at me, took a step, and stumbled. I got out of the way in a hurry.

My heart was pounding double-time, which was bad news if I'd been poisoned. I couldn't feel anything, but maybe it was different for cats.

“Get in the bathroom and throw up!” I yelled at him. “NOW!”

He stumbled into the bathroom while I called for emergency medical help. Over the sound of his ralphing into the toilet I heard them promise to come right away.

I crawled under the bed and contemplated throwing up myself. It's not so easy for us cats since we don't have fingers. I tried to get zen and think hairball, but was distracted by Devin stumbling back into the room and collapsing on the bed. I winced as the springs bounced overhead, then came out and looked Devin over.

He looked not great. Kind of pasty in the face. At least he was breathing.

It occurred to me that I should get in touch with the chief. If I'd been poisoned too, he'd be the only one who'd make sure I was given medical attention. He'd make damn sure of it, whereas to anyone else I'd be just a sick cat, oh well.

I pulled my portable com out of my holster and signaled the chief. The few seconds he took to answer seemed like forever.

“What is it, Leon?” He sounded cranky.

“I think Devin's been poisoned.” My voice came out in a squeak, and I tried to bring it down. “Ahm. I called in the medics. He and I shared dinner, so—”

“I'll be right there!”

I put away the com, feeling slightly better about things. I hopped up on the bed next to Devin to keep an eye on him. His breathing was kind of shallow and his eyes were closed. I curled up next to him and purred, hoping to reassure him.

While I waited I thought about the shrimp we'd eaten and paid attention to every small sensation in my body, watching for any telltale symptoms. My mouth wasn't tingling, and I didn't feel sick. I felt … hungry, actually. I wouldn't have minded a snack.

The door slid open and a pair of medics came roaring through so abruptly I instinctively dived under the bed. Devin was unconscious by that time and barely breathing at all. The medics went to work on him at once, plunking heavy boxes of gear down on the floor, hauling out equipment and shouting instructions at each other. I retreated to the far corner under the bed.

“Leon?” called the chief. “Where are you?”

“Yowr.”

“Come on out.”

The chief's face appeared at the foot of the bed, looking worried. I slunk along the back wall toward him. The bed was jouncing anyway, with the medics working on Devin. I came out and the chief actually picked me up, something he hadn't done very often.

“Are you all right?”

His hand petted my head and he peered at my face. I glanced toward the medics and said, “Mew.”

He took the hint and carried me out into the hall. One of the neighbors stood in her doorway, staring at Devin's open door in frank curiosity. The chief frowned her down and she went inside.

“What happened?” he asked me quietly.

“We got take out from Ling-Ling's Lightspeed. Shrimp in lobster sauce. We shared it, and a few minutes later Devin started feeling bad.”

“What about you?”

“I feel fine.”

“You shared everything? Rice and everything?”

“Yeah. Except the fortune cookie. Devin ate that.”

The chief's mouth flattened into a hard, thin line. He went back into Devin's apartment. The techs were strapping Devin to an antigrav stretcher. An oxygen mask covered his face.

That was the first time it really hit me. I'd been running on adrenaline, just trying to get through each moment. Now the truth of what was happening struck home. Devin might die.

I let out a low, unhappy yowl as the medics took him away on the stretcher. The chief exchanged a few words with them, then carried me back into the apartment and put me down.

“OK, I want all the food wrappers,” he said, rummaging in Devin's cupboards. “Everything. Does he keep shopping bags?”

I was sitting on the floor, feeling stunned. Took a second to realize I'd been asked a question. “Nah, recycles them. There's the takeout bag, though. It's under the table here.”

The chief grabbed the bag and started shoving the food cartons into it. I spotted the balled-up fortune next to my food dish and remembered the cookie. Devin had dropped the wrapper on the floor. I found it next to the bed, and was about to pick it up when the chief snatched it away from me.

“Don't put that in your mouth! It could be poisoned!”

He stuffed it in the top of the bag, then stood up. “Is that everything?”

“Yeah, except for this.” I batted the fortune out from beside my bowl. The chief picked it up and dropped it into the bag.

“OK, let's get to the lab.”

~

Phil Kramer met us at Security and took the bag of food wrappers from the chief. We followed him into the lab and watched him scan things with a rapidity only a four-armed tech could achieve.

Phil's engineered and originally worked in the mines out on the Fringe. He hated it, and quit the minute he was clear of his contract. Mining's loss was our gain; he's a whiz in the lab. A nice guy, too, and pretty good looking, perfectly human except for the extra arms.

“Bingo,” he said as the scanner lit up and let out an urgent bleep.

It was the fortune cookie wrapper. Phil zoomed the scanner in on it and threw an ultra-magnified image up on the wall. A small, round hole in the wrapper was edged with blinking green.

“There's your tetrodotoxin. Looks like someone put a hypodermic needle through the wrapper.”

“Thank God,” said the chief.

Phil gave him a funny look. The chief picked me up from the chair where I'd been watching.

“I mean, thank God it wasn't the shrimp. Leon ate some of that.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Leon's a nice cat, boss, but come on. Who would you rather lose, him or Devin?”

The chief didn't say anything. Truth was, he had a lot more invested in me, financially anyway.

He cleared his throat. “You're right, of course. Speaking of Devin, I'd better go check on him. Thanks, Phil.”

“Sure thing.”

The chief carried me out into the corridor and then out into the rotunda. I stuck my face in his armpit and whispered angrily.

“What do you mean, ‘You're right of course'?”

“Hush. I just said that for Phil's sake. You know I wouldn't want to lose either of you.”

The chief carried me all the way to the clinic, a couple of levels down from the rotunda. It wasn't like him to be cuddly, but I guess he was upset, too. Sure, the attack on Judge Callahan had been disturbing, but this one struck home.

Devin was in a high-priority unit, with a monitor array hooked up to him and a respirator helping him breathe. Still unconscious.

“I'm sorry, sir, no pets are allowed in here,” said a thin, freckled medic who paused as she passed us.

“Oh, of course.” The chief put me down. “Could you wait outside, Leon?”

“Mrow,” I said in a tone indicating we needed to have a private talk.

“Sir?”

“I'll be right out,” the chief said to me.

I strolled past the medic and down the hall to the entrance. Glancing back from the waiting room I saw her staring after me, wearing a funny expression.

Tough, I decided. The chief was the one who had told me to wait outside. Who was I to argue with my boss?

Truth was, I was in a bad mood. I don't like radical changes in my living conditions. Devin might not be the ideal roommate, but his absence was unsettling. Who was going to give me my kibble, and make sure the litter box cycled? I wasn't sure I could sleep without Devin snoring in the room. And I guess I sort of missed his company.

I jumped onto a waiting room chair and curled up, thinking a nap might help. Couldn't get comfortable, though, even after getting up and turning a few circles. The chair was fiberfoam and had no cushion to knead. I sighed and lay down with my head on my forepaws.

Someone had tried to kill Devin. Probably the same person who had killed Judge Callahan. What did Devin and the judge have in common? A bunch of busts and convictions here on Gamma. The killer was definitely a local.

I could double-check the list of suspects and narrow it down a lot by adding Devin as a parameter, but I had a hunch what the result would be. Our friend working down in the warehouses, Reuter Galloway. Roy to his buds.

He was a typical thug. Devin had busted him in the enhancer sting, and he'd gone to the pokey with the rest of them. He wasn't a major player, but those big, strong, dumb types could get vindictive. Now he was back, working for Tristar, and probably feeling none too charitable toward Devin. Judge Callahan had convicted him, of course. She handled most of the cases that came up out here, anything that couldn't be autoadjudicated.

The chief came out, looking grim. I raised my head and he met my gaze, then glanced toward the receptionist. I hopped down and headed for the door, and the chief followed.

There were a few people out in the hall. We headed for the lifts, and lucked out to find an empty one waiting.

“Rotunda,” the chief said as we got in.

“Excuse me, Chief,” I said after the doors slid shut, “but ah—where am I going to stay while Devin's out of commission?”

“Oh.” He looked at me. “I hadn't thought about it.”

“I'd rather not stay at Devin's place by myself. Unless maybe you unlocked the kibble cupboard?”

“No, no,” he said hastily. Apparently Devin had told him about the kibble incident. “I guess you'd better come stay with me for a few days.”

“OK.”

The lift doors opened on the rotunda. It was well into the evening by now and the partiers were out. We walked along the parkway, passing laughing couples (some dressed up fancy for Steakmeister and the Gardens, others in casuals), knots of pretty women in colorful clings set on tight, and packs of beer-toting guys who watched the femmes with hungry eyes. A typical night in the rotunda.

My gaze automatically went to the dark corners and service hallways. I saw a ball of orange fur crouched under a potted ficus beside one of the ornamental fish ponds, and detoured to say hello to Butch.

“Leon?” the chief called.

“Mrow,” I answered, glancing back at him and flicking my tail. Devin would have understood that I'd catch up with him, but the chief frowned and followed me.

“Butch,” I said, joining my pal by the pond.

He looked up and his round, orange face brightened in a grin. “Hey, Leon, buddy! I'm waiting for Spats. We're going to go cruising. Wanna join us?”

“Not tonight, thanks. Tell Spats I want to talk to him.”

“OK. He won't remember, though.”

“I know. I'll be up his way tomorrow.”

The chief stopped next to us. “Oh. Hello, Cuddles,” he said, bending down to give Butch a scratch on the head.

“Haven't seen you hanging out with this guy in a while,” Butch said. “Where's your usual human?”

“He's sick.”

“Bummer. Hope this guy feeds you.”

“He will.”

I didn't really have anything to say to Butch. I just wanted his company—it was reassuring. He was the one who had shown me the ropes on Gamma. He'd been a substitute for Ma, sort of, when I'd first come to the station.

I realized I hadn't thought about Ma in a long time. Life, and work, had kept me occupied. I still missed her, but it had been so long. She'd probably forgotten about me.

I stood up and shook myself, trying to throw off the gloom. “Well, seeya Butch,” I said. “Happy hunting.”