Eros at Zenith: Book 2 of Tales of the Velvet Comet (3 page)

Except for a small platinum-and-ruby ring she wore no jewelry of any kind, and kept her make-up to a minimum.

“You're the Dragon Lady?” Crane asked.

“And you must be Mr. Crane.”

“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.

“Now,
that's
a cordial greeting,” she replied dryly.

“It's better than the one you gave me,” said Crane.

“Where were you?”

“Busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Tightening the security in the Resort. We can
assume
that none of the patrons are in any danger, but we can't
know
it.”

He considered her answer for a moment.

“All right,” he said at last. “I approve.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a hint of irony.

“I thought all Security personnel wore green uniforms,” he noted.

“All except me.”

“Any particular reason?”

“It's part of the illusion,” she explained.

“I don't follow you.”

“When you came through the airlock, Mr. Crane, you stepped into a fantasy world. Aboard the
Velvet Comet
the mask is more important than the face. I am the Dragon Lady; therefore I dress like the Dragon Lady. This is my public persona.”

“And no one else in Security has a mask?” he inquired wryly.

“
Their
mask is a green uniform,” she replied with a smile. “Mine isn't. It's one of the nice things about being Chief of Security.” She gestured toward the door. “Shall we go inside?”

He nodded and followed her into the hospital. It was a small but efficient complex, with private facilities for treating up to 30 patients, two operating theaters, a pair of physical therapy rooms, a low-gravity ward for heart patients, and a number of diagnostic centers. The walls gleamed a cheerful yellow, the floor was tan and polished, the atmosphere seemed expensive and formal. The overall impression Crane got was one of luxurious efficiency. He couldn't imagine that the standard cuisine here differed markedly from that of the Resort, or that the prostitutes weren't encouraged to stop by the sickbay now and then to give a patient some special therapy.

“The hospital doesn't have a mortuary, so we put him in here,” said the Dragon Lady, stopping by a door bearing an OBSERVATION WARD notation.

“Nobody saw you bring him in?”

She shook her head. “There were only two patients here at the time. One was sound asleep, and the other was in surgery.”

“How about the patrons in the Mall?” asked Crane.

“There's a service area below the tramway level. We brought him here on a truck lift, and took him in through the service entrance.”

“Well, at least somebody did
something
right,” he commented.

“How thoughtful of you to notice,” she replied.

She recited a six-digit code, and a moment later the door slid back. The ward contained four beds, each capable of being tied into a bank of life support systems. Three of the beds were empty; the fourth contained a nude male body.

Crane sniffed the air and made a face: even the filtration system couldn't totally mask the odor.

“How long has he been dead?” he asked.

“The one doctor who's been allowed to see him estimates that he died between 64 and 72 hours before we brought him here. We'll have a more accurate idea after the autopsy.”

“And his name is Edward Infante?”

“That's right.”

“Have you run a computer check on him?”

“Of course. All the information is back at my office, though I can call it up on one of the hospital's computers if you'd like to see it.”

“Later,” answered Crane. “Unless there's something in it that might tell us who would want to kill him.”

“Not at first reading.”

Crane had been walking around the bed, looking at the body. Finally he stopped and placed his hands on his hips.

“Where the hell is the wound?”

“Just behind the ear,” she replied.

He rolled the body onto its side. “Not big enough for a knife,” he commented, staring at the single puncture mark. “It looks like something about the size of an old-fashioned knitting needle. How deep is it?”

“About eleven centimeters, according to the doctor.”

“That'd do it,” he muttered. “Nice and neat. And dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” repeated the Dragon Lady sardonically. “It was deadly.”

“Dangerous to the killer,” replied Crane, examining the wound. “Do it right and you kill instantly; do it wrong and you've got a flesh wound or else you break off the point of your weapon against the skull, and your victim starts screaming bloody murder.” He looked up. “Well, that narrows down our list of suspects.”

“To someone who would be skilled enough to hit the right spot on the first try?” suggested the Dragon Lady.

He shook his head. “You'll never pull that kind of information out of your personnel files.”

“Then I don't follow you.”

“There are surer ways to kill a man,” he said. “Why do you suppose our killer chose this method?”

“Guns and laser weapons can be traced.”

“Of course,” he said impatiently. “But why not slit his throat or stab him in the heart? Even if you botch it, he's still going to die in a couple of minutes.”

“He'd have time to scream for help,” said the Dragon Lady.

Crane looked irritated. “You're not thinking. I already told you: he'd have time to scream for help no matter how you screwed it up.”

“If you know something I don't know, Mr. Crane,” she said, “why don't you just tell me what it is? I've been up for almost 24 hours, and I'm in no mood for guessing games.”

Crane stared at her coldly for a moment, then shrugged. “This wasn't a lucky blow,” he said at last. “The killer knew exactly what he was doing. To the untrained eye, everything back there looks like bone; if you don't know anatomy, you're a hundred times more likely to stab someone from the front, where everything looks soft—or if you
have
to stab from behind, you go for the middle of the back and hope to hit a vital organ. And since our killer knew what he was doing, he also knew he was taking a chance. A quarter of an inch up or down and he's blown it. So why would he go for the most difficult kill?”

“You're asking questions again.”

“Because there's no blood,” he explained. “You stab a man from in front and you're more likely to kill him, but you're going to get spattered with his blood in the process. This way is clean.”

“So you think the killer couldn't afford to get blood on himself ?”

“I
know
it,” answered Crane. “So that narrows down our list of suspects to people who had to appear in public right after the murder, people who didn't have a chance to change their clothing.”

“You're wrong,” said the Dragon Lady firmly.

“The hell I am.”

“
Everyone
appears in public when they get off the tram,” she pointed out. “After all, it only goes to the Resort, the Mall, and the Home. There are people and security cameras in all three locations.”

Crane shook his head impatiently. “The killer was carrying his weapon, and he had figured out how to beat the tramway's security system, which means that this was a premeditated murder—and
that
means he could easily have hidden some clothing in the tunnel if he'd wanted to. It took you a couple of days to find the body; there was no reason to assume that you'd find a fresh change of clothes any sooner. No, he had to kill him in this manner because he only had a couple of minutes, tops, before he was due to appear elsewhere.”

“That still doesn't help much,” remarked the Dragon Lady. “During the eight-hour period when the murder occurred, the computer says that more than 200 people took the tram; I already checked it out. You'd have to pinpoint the time almost to the minute before your conclusion will be of any use to us.”

“I will,” he said emphatically.

“How? Even the autopsy can't help that much.”

He shrugged. “I don't know yet; I just got here.”

“And yet you're certain you can do it?”

“Absolutely.”

“You're a very confident young man, Mr. Crane,” she remarked.

“Not without cause,” he replied.

“So I've been told.”

“Oh?..

She nodded. “When I was informed that you would be in charge of the case, I spent some time checking up on you.”

“And what did you find out?”

“Andrew Jackson Crane,” she recited. “Age, 28.

Height, six feet two inches. Weight, 161 pounds. Unmarried. Graduated with honors at 20, master's degree at 21. Joined Vainmill's Security Division on Komornos in the Atria system, transferred to Spica II within the year, transferred to Deluros VIII two years later. Nine promotions in seven years, currently the Syndicate's chief detective and troubleshooter in the Deluros and Canphor systems. Specialty: murder. 28 assignments, all completed successfully.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Only that you have expressed dissatisfaction at not yet obtaining a supervisory position, and that your associates find you difficult and demanding to work with.”

“That's because I
am
difficult and demanding to work with,” he said, not without a trace of pride. “As for my associates, they're a bunch of maladroits and incompetents.”

“I hope you will find me an improvement,” said the Dragon Lady.

“I'll let you know.” Crane took a final look at the corpse. “I've seen all there is to see here,” he announced.

“Tell the doctor to save some tissue samples from the wound and ship the body to whoever wants to bury it, once he's through with the autopsy.”

The Dragon Lady entered the order on a small computer by the bed.

“All right,” said Crane. “I want to get something to eat, and then we'll take a look at where you found him.”

“There's a small commissary in the Home, very near Security headquarters,” she suggested.

“I'm sure there is,” said Crane. “But I'll eat at the Resort.”

“Shall I meet you when you're through?”

“You're coming with me.”

“I have a lot of work to do,” said the Dragon Lady.

“None of it is more important than catching a murderer.”

“Also, I'm really not very hungry.”

“Then you can watch me eat.”

He walked out into the corridor, and after locking the room she turned and followed him.

“How many doctors does the hospital have?” he asked, looking into an empty therapy room.

“Three,” she replied.

“Eight-hour shifts?”

“Unless there's an emergency.”

“I imagine most of their work consists of surreptitiously treating various social diseases.”

“Why should you think so?” she asked.

“Because I saw a scanner in the airlock. I suspect that no one gets past the security team until they check out clean, and that if they don't pass they're discreetly directed to the hospital.”

“You don't miss much, I'll grant you that,” commented the Dragon Lady.

They exited the hospital and stepped out into the Mall, which was a little busier now than when he had first arrived, they took the slidewalk to the airlock and descended to the tramway level.

“Where did you find the body?” he asked as they reached the small platform.

“About 250 yards from the Resort,” she replied. “You can't see it from here.”

“How often does the tram run?”

“That depends,” said the Dragon Lady. “It can get from the Resort to the Home in about two minutes nonstop, three if it stops at the airlock. But once it's empty it will stay where it is until the computer notifies it that someone is waiting on a different platform. During our peak periods it's in constant motion, but there are times when it's not in use for ten or twelve minutes at a stretch.”

The tram arrived, and they entered the car, which also contained two handsome young men and a satin-and-feather-clad woman who were on their way from the Home to the Resort. They rode in silence for 80 seconds, then emerged from the car, ascended to the foyer, and were soon walking toward the
Comet
's complement of gourmet restaurants.

“Which one's the best?” asked Crane.

“They're all very good,” replied the Dragon Lady.

“Fine. Recommend one.”

She scrutinized him carefully. “I think you might like the Cosmic Room,” she suggested.

“Lead the way.”

She walked past three restaurants, then paused before an ornate door.

“You don't suffer from vertigo, do you?” she asked him.

“No.”

“Good.”

She opened the door, and they stepped through it onto a narrow transparent walkway.

Crane's first impression was that he had suddenly intruded upon the birth of the Universe.

The room seemed to extend to infinity, and all about him were exploding stars and embryonic galaxies whirling through space. Here was a meteor swarm, there a spinning star cluster, off to his left a quasar shooting its matter billions of miles into the void. Suddenly he became aware of the fact that he, too, was in motion, and he reached for a narrow railing to steady himself.

“It's all done with holographic projections,” she said matter-of-factly, “but it
does
make an impressive display, doesn't it?”

“Very,” he answered. “Is the room moving?”

“It rotates very slowly.”

He studied his surroundings again, and this time he was able to pick out about a dozen tables located randomly throughout the room, each at a different height. Then a comet shot off into space, and two more tables were revealed.

“How big is this place?”

“The room or the capacity?” she asked.

“Both.”

“Well, the room is about 60 by 80 feet, and perhaps 20 feet high. It holds 24 tables, though the projectors are programmed so that you can never see more than 14 at once. This walkway we're on eventually leads to each of them.”

Suddenly the
maitre d'
approached them and warmly greeted the Dragon Lady. Then, as an afterthought, he turned to Crane.

“Have you a reservation, sir?” he asked.

“No,” said Crane.

“Then I'm afraid that —”

“Give us the house table,” interrupted the Dragon Lady.

“Excuse me,” he said placatingly. “I didn't realize you were together. You are so rarely accompanied by —”