Starship Winter (David Conway 03) (9 page)

The alien blinked with what looked like very human surprise, but for all I knew might have indicated intense hatred. He said, “Forgive my grasp of your language, Mr Conway. What I intended to mean was that on my world, murder is proscribed. We Elan do not kill anything.”

I said, “Then it’s either one of us, or someone who entered the house during the night.”

The Elan said, “The latter is impossible, Mr Conway. All the exterior doors are locked, and the windows likewise.”

I recalled seeing Hawk on the patio: perhaps he’d left the door open when he returned inside, unwittingly allowing the killer into the building?

He caught my glance and said, “I stepped out for a breath of air around four this morning. I was out there perhaps ten minutes, the door open behind me. I didn’t see anyone enter, and I locked the door when I came back inside.”

Maddie said, wide-eyed and incredulous, “So if it wasn’t Fhen, then…”

“Then it must have been one of us,” Hannah finished.

I experienced a sickening sensation in my chest, like nausea.

The ensuing silence was interrupted by the diminuendo of a jet engine as a police flier came down on the front lawn. I guessed I was not alone in feeling relief, and not a little apprehension, at their arrival.

Hannah let the team into the house and explained the situation. We were ushered from the lounge and kept in an adjacent room, under the watchful eye of a uniformed officer, while the scene-of-crime team moved into the lounge and set up their apparatus.

“So what happens now?” I asked.

Hannah said, “We’ll be questioned individually. I suspect we’ll be released then, with binding conditions, and asked to report to the Mackinley police HQ until the investigation is closed.”

I looked around at my friends, unable to believe that any one of them would have killed Dortmund, no matter how strong the provocation.

Matt and Maddie stood by the window in murmured conversation. Hawk stood before a shelf of old-fashioned books, scanning the titles, while Kee sat cross-legged on the floor, head bowed, eyes closed.

The Elan Ambassador sat on a chesterfield by the window, upright and silent.

Hannah curled beside me on a lounger, holding my hand. “I don’t believe this,” I said. “I curse the day the bastard set foot on Chalcedony.” I laughed bitterly. “And to be honest, I don’t feel one iota of regret about his death.”

She squeezed my fingers. “For what it’s worth, David, nor do I. Dortmund was a bastard.” She shook her head. “Anyway, for all the Elan’s protestations that his people don’t kill, I suspect that Fhen did it.”

The door opened and the investigating officer showed his head. “Lieutenant van Harben?”

She rose and left the room with the officer. She was gone perhaps twenty minutes, and when she returned I had no time to ask about the interrogation. “Mr David Conway, if you’d care to come with me…”

The interview was conducted in a sunlit front room, with three officers and a recording device present. This was the first time I’d been so much as spoken to by investigating officers, and I felt an odd sense of guilt – especially when it emerged that I was the last person among all the guests last night to see Darius Dortmund alive.

“And did you or anyone else present have any reason to wish Mr Dortmund dead?”

I stared at the array of monitoring devices aimed my way. The question was so crass that I could only assume it was intentionally so, in the hope that the monitors would pick up something incriminating in my response.

I said, honestly, “None of my friends had any reason to kill Dortmund.”

“And the alien, Fhen?”

“What about him?”

“Is it true that Dortmund and Fhen were seen arguing yesterday?”

I nodded. “That’s right…”

“Do you know what they were arguing about, Mr Conway?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry…”

“When was the last time you saw the alien, Fhen?”

“That would be when I left the lounge and Fhen showed me to my room, just after midnight.”

The officer looked me in the eye and asked, “And was Dortmund alive when you left the room, Mr Conway?”

I returned his stare. “He was.”

The officer nodded, murmured something to a colleague, and I was escorted back to the library.

For the next couple of hours, the police questioned each of us in turn. A sergeant brought refreshments into the room and we were allowed escorted toilet breaks. I felt like a suspect in a classic murder mystery.

A second police flier landed on the lawn towards the end of the interrogation period, and the last of us to have been questioned, the Ambassador, was returned to the room. The investigating officer said, “Lieutenant, if you’ve a minute?”

With a glance at me, Hannah slipped from the room.

She was back five minutes later, accompanied by the officer. “Right,” he said. “That will be all, for now. You are free to leave. For the time being – that is, for the period of the next week – I’d be obliged if you would remain on Chalcedony and report to the Mackinley police HQ every other day. I advise that you all hire lawyers. Ambassador,” the officer went on, “I’d be obliged if you would come with me…”

Hannah took my hand and we hurried from the villa.

We gathered in the parking lot. I said, “What did they want with Heanor?”

“That second flier,” Hannah said. “It was an officer sent to check at the Telemass station. Apparently, Fhen took the early morning transmission from Mackinley, bound for Proxima Centauri II – that’s a relay station for his homeworld, Epiphany.”

“So…?” Hawk said.

“It would look very much like Fhen, whatever the Elan proscription on killing, has gone and incriminated himself.”

I looked around at my friends, and I knew I was not alone then in feeling a subtle weight lift from our collective shoulders, and not a little relief.

Hannah took her car and returned to her apartment in Mackinley, arranging to meet me in Magenta later that day, and I drove back with Matt and Maddie.

That day I appointed a lawyer and a couple of hours later I received a call from him. The news, I learned, was good; forensics had detected traces of Fhen’s DNA on the hilt of the hleth barb; however, the authorities on Elan had refused to begin extradition proceedings to have Fhen returned to Chalcedony. My lawyer said that the investigation was as good as over.

I called Hannah, but received only a recorded message. Next I called Matt and Maddie, then Hawk and Kee: they’d been informed of the good news, and agreed we should meet in the Jackeral that night to celebrate.

Later that afternoon Hannah called.

I was sitting on the balcony of the
Mantis
, nursing my third beer, when my com chimed. “Hannah,” I said, staring at her face on the tiny screen. “My favourite person. Heard the good news?”

“David,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard a word I’d said. “I need to see you. Can I come up right away?”

“Of course,” I said, the words sticking in my throat. “What is it, Hannah?”

Her expression remained neutral. “It’s about what Dortmund said, David.”

“What he said?” I was aware of my pulse throbbing.

“About what I was hiding,” she said. “I need to tell you the truth.”

* * *

I was on my fifth beer when Hannah’s two-seater drove off the road and braked beside the
Mantis
.

The truth, she had said. Whatever the truth was, I knew I wasn’t going to like it. Between the end of the call and her arrival, I’d had plenty of time to worry myself sick at what she might have to tell me. How much of what she had told me so far was a lie, and was she about to admit that it was she who had, for whatever reasons, murdered Darius Dortmund? Worse, I feared that what we had shared together, what she said she felt for me, might be nothing more than a charade enacted as part of that duplicity.

I left the balcony and took the elevator to the entrance hatch. The door slid aside. I had expected, for some reason, Hannah to be cold, distant, but to my immediate relief she stepped forward and held me tight, murmuring my name over and over.

I squeezed her. “Hannah. Come on, let’s go upstairs. I’ll get you a drink.”

We rode the elevator, Hannah gripping my hand.

I fixed her a scotch, and one for myself, and led her onto the balcony.

We sat side by side on the lounger, and I turned to look at her.

“David,” she said, clutching her glass and looking into my eyes. “First of all, David, I want to tell you that I love you, that for the first time in years I’ve met someone I can trust.”

I took her hand. “You can. So tell me…”

“I want our relationship to continue. That’s more important to me than anything at the moment, my job, my life on Earth…”

“Hannah,” I smiled, uneasy despite her reassurances, “you aren’t making much sense.”

She laughed. “Okay. Okay—” She took a breath. “First of all, what I said about moving here from Rotterdam, joining the Mackinley police… that isn’t quite true. I was seconded to Chalcedony for six months, or for however long the case took to wrap up – after which time the plan was that I’d return to Earth and resume my old life there.”

I nodded, taking it all in and feeling sick. “What case?” I asked.

“The Dortmund case. I was sent by the European Police Agency to keep an undercover surveillance on Dortmund. I had a team of six officers with me who monitored his movements around the clock.”

I looked at her. “Why? What had he done?”

“Not what he had done, but what he was about to do.” She took a swallow of scotch then held up the glass. “Dortmund was an alcoholic, as you might have guessed. About three months ago a woman he knew came to us in Rotterdam and said she had information about the famous Darius Dortmund that we might find of interest. He’d told her, probably bragging while drunk, that he intended a theft that would make the Montreal jewel heist of ‘58 seem like child’s play. That’s all we had to go on. It seemed out of character, but the information was filed away, until a few weeks ago.”

“What happened?”

“Dortmund made plans to leave Earth for Chalcedony and attend the opening of Matt’s exhibition – he’d obtained tickets for himself and his Elan aide via some high-ups he knew in the European government. The information was logged and cross- referenced on our com-system, and it flagged up the earlier report we’d received about him. We couldn’t see how he meant to go about the heist, but we thought we’d better be there to monitor the situation. The last thing we wanted was a diplomatic incident with the Elan.”

I nodded, staring at my drink. “So why the secrecy, Hannah? Why couldn’t you tell me?”

She reached out and stroked my cheek. “Think about it,” she said gently. “Dortmund was an empath, maybe even a telepath. If you’d known the truth about me then he would have read it in your mind – and my cover would have been blown. Do you understand now why I couldn’t tell you?”

“But why didn’t he read you—?” I began.

She reached into the pocket of her trousers and pulled out a small, emerald-green stone set in a silver broach. “This”, she said, “is a shield. It damps my thoughts, makes them unreadable to empaths and telepaths.”

I smiled. “So that’s why Dortmund was so suspicious of you. He even mentioned the gems. What did he say, something about such ornamentation hiding the truth…?”

Hannah nodded. “He was suspicious all right. I hoped he’d be so suspicious that he might think twice about stealing the stones.”

“Well, it probably worked.”

“Or”, she said, “he was killed before he could effect the heist.”

I smiled. “You know something, a part of me feared you were going to tell me that it was you who’d murdered him.”

“Well, after what he said about you and your friends… I admit I felt like it.” She shook her head. “But like the authorities, I’m pretty sure it was Fhen.”

“Why? Because he knew something about Dortmund’s plans?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. We might never know. But it brought the case to an abrupt halt.”

I indicated our empty glasses. “A refill?”

“That would be lovely.”

While I was in the kitchen, pouring the scotch, I thought over what I wanted to ask Hannah when I returned.

My mouth was dry as I carried the drinks back onto the balcony.

I sat down beside her. “The other thing I feared”, I said, “was that the ‘truth’ you mentioned might be about me and you, our relationship…”

She reached out. “David, I told you I love you. I’ve only said that to one person, in all my life.”

I stared at the disc of scotch in my glass and said, “You said, when the case was over, the plan was to return to Earth.”

“David,” she said, “that
was
the plan. Before I met you. “

I looked up. “And now?”

She shook her head. “I’m going back on the next Telemass transfer to Earth, on Wednesday, resigning my post with the RPD, putting my affairs in order, then coming back just as soon as I can. That is,” she finished, smiling, “if you’ll have me?”

I pulled her to me. “What the hell do you think?” I said.

* * *

We adjourned to the Jackeral at seven and met Matt and Maddie, Hawk and Kee. We sat on the patio, watching a late display of spindizzies playing out their pyrotechnic mating ritual. There were only a few hundred scintillating creatures disporting themselves that night, and something told me that this would be the last display of winter.

We discussed recent events, Dortmund and the Elan, and Hannah disclosed her undercover work.

Kee said, “Do you know something? Even though Dortmund was an evil man, I feel a little guilty that I’m not sorry he is dead.”

Matt gestured with his drink. “That’s an indication that you’re a good person, Kee. Myself…” “Yes?” I prompted.

He smiled. “I feel no pity at all at the passing of such a complete bastard.”

Maddie turned to Hannah. “But if you were here just because of the Dortmund case…?”

I couldn’t help grinning like a idiot. Maddie noticed and said, “What?”

Hannah said, “I’m going to Earth later in the week, settling a few things, then coming straight back. David and me”, she said, taking my hand in a tight grip, “will be living together in the
Mantis
.”