Eros at Zenith: Book 2 of Tales of the Velvet Comet (6 page)

There were two connecting rooms, both decorated in a minimalist high-tech style, with shining chrome furniture, angular sculptures, and non-representational paintings and holograms. The bedroom was dominated by a huge hexagonal waterbed made of some clear vinyl substance; a small school of alien fish swam inside it, darting in and out of the multi-colored underwater garden that flourished on the floor of the bed. Both the bedroom and the living room had small, functional wet bars, and shared a translucent quartz fireplace that was set into one of the walls.

There was a door at the far end of the bedroom, and he ordered it to open. It did so, revealing a bathroom possessing a sauna and a whirlpool, both with solid gold fixtures.

Crane returned to the living room, picked up the bottle of complimentary champagne that had been left in a silver ice bucket on a low chrome table, and took it to the wet bar's refrigerator, where he found that someone had learned enough about his tastes to provide him with a pitcher of iced coffee.

He examined his surroundings for another minute, then pulled his card back out of his pocket and began experimenting with it. In quick order he discovered how to dim the lights, flood the entire suite with music, activate the sauna, create a roaring and very realistic fire in the fireplace, and lessen the gravity in the bedroom.

He ran through the remainder of the card's three dozen functions, then put it away and pulled a contour chair up to the computer.

“Activate,” he said.

The computer hummed to life.

“Examine my retinagram, match it up with your personnel file, check my security clearance, and then access all information concerning a patron named Edward Infante, recently deceased.”

He waited a few seconds for the computer to acknowledge his command and follow his instructions.

Suddenly the holographic screen became two-dimensional and turned amber in color, and the word READY appeared in rich yellow letters.

“All right,” said Crane. “Start by listing all of Infante's living relatives.”

NONE.

“All known friends, on or off Deluros VIII.”

NONE.

“List all known business associates.”

NONE.

“Do you mean none, or do you mean that you have insufficient information?” he asked sharply.

BASED ON THE DATA I POSSESS, I MEAN NONE.

“Can you access Vainmill's master computer on Deluros?”

YES.

“Do so, give it my name and clearance, and tell it to start hunting down any friends, family or business associates of Edward Infante. Tell it to access any other computer available, if necessary.”

DONE.

“Good.” Crane paused. “Did he have a job?”

NO.

“If they let him on the
Comet
, he had to have a source of income,” continued Crane. “Give me a readout of his financial statement.”

2000 SHARES OF DELUROS POWER AND LIGHT: VALUE 3,000,000/CR.

6500 SHARES OF AMALGAMATED MINING: VALUE 4,500,000/CR.

400 SHARES OF BELORE TRADING CORP.: VALUE 1,500,000/CR.

INVESTED IN 11% CERTIFICATES OF DEPOSIT: 2,000,000/CR.

MINOR INVESTMENTS: 350,000/CR.

INDEBTEDNESS: 200,000/CR.

NET WORTH: 11,150,000/CR.

“Well, he sure as hell wasn't killed for his money,” muttered Crane. “Eleven million credits is nothing to sneeze at, but it probably puts him in the bottom two percent of the
Comet
's clientele.”

THE BOTTOM 1.3%.

“Thanks,” said Crane sardonically. “Well, let's see where he's been. Maybe there's a clue there. Computer, list all previous residences.”

BORN ON SPICA VI, MOVED TO LODIN XI AT AGE 23, MOVED TO SEABRIGHT AT AGE 26, MOVED TO BETA HYDRI II AT AGE 27, MOVED TO NEW SUMATRA AT AGE 29, MOVED TO BOWMAN 23 AT AGE 34, MOVED TO DELUROS VIII AT AGE 35, MOVED TO BELORE II AT AGE 35, MOVED TO DELUROS VIII AT AGE 36. DIED WHILE A RESIDENT OF DELUROS VIII AT AGE 42.

“The man was well-traveled, I'll give him that,” said Crane, scanning the screen. Suddenly one of the names seemed to stand out from the others. “Hold it a minute,” he said, staring at it. “New Sumatra. I know something about that world.” He paused, then snapped his fingers. “Got it! The Quintus Bello affair. Do you have anything about it in your memory banks?”

NO.

“Access it from Vainmill's master computer and put it in storage,” said Crane. “I may want to refer to it later.”

The computer hummed again.

DONE.

“All right,” he continued. “Run a check on all ship's personnel and see if any of them were ever on New Sumatra—or on any of the other worlds, excluding Deluros VIII. If you come up positive, see if you can match the dates with Infante's.”

ANALYSING. THIS MAY TAKE A FEW MINUTES.

IN THE MEANTIME, I CAN CONTINUE SERVING YOU.

“Fine. How frequently did Infante come to the
Comet
?” asked Crane, walking to the wet bar and pouring himself a glass of iced coffee.

HIS FIRST VISIT WAS 13 MONTHS AGO, AND HE HAS RETURNED 8 TIMES.

“On a regular basis?”

RELATIVELY. HIS VISITS WERE NEVER LESS THAN 5 WEEKS APART, AND NEVER MORE THAN 8.

“How long did he usually stay?”

HE STAYED FOR 3 DAYS ON 5 OCCASIONS, AND FOR 4 DAYS ON THE OTHER 4 OCCASIONS.

“And how long was he here this time?”

HE IS STILL HERE.

“Prior to his murder, I mean.”

WITHIN THE LIMITS DELINEATED BY THE EXAMINING PHYSICIAN, HE WAS HERE BETWEEN 16 AND 24 HOURS.

“When he didn't show up the second day, why didn't alarms go off all over the Security compound?”

INSUFFICIENT DATA.

Crane returned to his chair, sipped his iced coffee, and stared at the screen for a moment.

“Who would know?” he asked at last.

AUTHORIZED SECURITY PERSONNEL.

“Patch me in to the Dragon Lady,” he said. “Cancel that!” he added quickly. “She said she was going to get some sleep. Hunt Paxton Oglevie up for me and set up a two-way communication channel.”

SEARCHING ... Suddenly the screen became three-dimensional, and an instant later Oglevie's form was reproduced, life-sized, with holographic precision and clarity. His desk, like his green Security uniform, was as neat as a pin, with everything in its proper place, ready for inspection.

He heard the small beep that indicated that a channel had been opened, spent just a little too much time pretending to be oblivious to it while immersed in his work, and then looked up in feigned surprise.

“Mr. Crane,” he said with a smile of greeting. “I was just about to page you, sir.”

“What's up?” asked Crane.

“We have a positive identification on the fabric. It was definitely Infante's.”

“Any prints on it?”

“We're still checking, sir, but it doesn't appear to be the type of material that would retain them. We'll know for sure in another hour or two.”

“All right,” said Crane. “I've got a question for you, one that the computer doesn't seem able to answer.”

“I'll do my best, sir,” Oglevie replied smoothly.

“Why didn't anyone notice Infante was missing when he didn't show up in his room or at any of the restaurants?”

“He had told the girl he spent his first night with that he might be leaving the next day. When he didn't show up in any of the public rooms, we ran a quick scan of the suites, found that he wasn't there, discovered that his luggage was gone, and assumed that he had gone home. It's uncommon to leave early, since our minimum billing is for a three-day visit, but it's not totally unheard of.”

“Don't you run an exit check at the airlock?”

“There's never been a need to, sir,” explained Oglevie. “Anyone aboard the
Comet
has the credentials to be here, so we don't check them again on the way out.” He paused. “I might add that that has changed, as of 0600 hours this morning.”

“How long could his continued absence have gone unnoticed?”

“It depends on the other end. If no one on Deluros VIII asked after his whereabouts, we might very well not have known until his next scheduled trip up here: if he hadn't cancelled his reservation and he then failed to show up, we'd have made a routine inquiry.”

“Okay,” said Crane. “I'll be in touch with you later.”

“Sir...” said Oglevie quickly.

“Yes?”

“I don't mean to seem forward, sir, but before you break communication I just want you to know that if there is any way I can be of service, I'd be happy to donate my free time to assisting you in pursuit of the killer.”

“I'll keep your offer in mind.”

“I am not totally without experience in such matters, sir,” Oglevie persisted. “I worked for the Belmath Agency before coming to Vainmill, and assisted in two murder investigations during my tenure there.”

“That's one of the bigger detective agencies, isn't it!?”

“They have offices on 27 worlds, sir.”

“Why did you leave?” asked Crane.

“Personal reasons, sir.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

“Anyway, sir,” said Oglevie, “thank you for listening to me.”

“Any time,” said Crane, breaking the connection.

He noticed that his glass was empty, and set it down on the thick white carpet.

“Computer,” he said at last, “when was Infante's next scheduled visit?”

FIVE WEEKS.

“Well; at least we've got an outside limit on the time frame,” he mused aloud. “Whatever the reason for the murder, the killer couldn't wait five weeks for it to be discovered. Computer, how many employees are leaving the
Comet
in the next five weeks?”

IN WHAT CAPACITY?

He shrugged. “Quitting, vacationing, making business trips, whatever.”

38 names flashed on the screen.

“Well, that's a start. What's the name of the girl who spent the night with Infante?”

THAT INFORMATION IS SEALED UNDER THE BLACK PEARL'S PRIVATE CODE.

“Just that one name, or
all
information concerning liaisons?”

ALL INFORMATION.

Crane frowned, then picked up his empty glass and walked to the wet bar. As he was pouring himself another iced coffee, the screen flickered once more, and four names appeared on it.

“What's this all about?” he demanded.

THE ANSWER TO YOUR EARLIER QUESTION.

ESTEBAN MORALES SPENT 6 YEARS ON NEW RHODESIA, SCARLET RIBBON WAS RAISED ON BOWMAN 23, SATIN ODYSSEY SPENT 2 YEARS ON SEABRIGHT, AND TOTEM POLE WORKED ON LODIN XI FOR THREE MONTHS.

“Totem Pole?” repeated Crane, unable to suppress a laugh. “You've got to be kidding!”

TOTEM POLE, A/K/A WILHELM SCHNABLE, HAS BEEN EMPLOYED BY THE VELVET COMET FOR 867 DAYS. HE IS ONE OF ITS MOST POPULAR EMPLOYEES.

“I don't doubt it.” Crane paused. “Who is Esteban Morales? His name sounds out of place with the other three.”

ESTEBAN MORALES, AGE 53, VIDEO TECHNICIAN FIRST CLASS, HAS BEEN EMPLOYED BY THE VELVET COMET FOR 402 DAYS. SINCE HE NEVER MEETS THE PUBLIC, HE HAS NO NEED FOR A PROFESSIONAL NAME.

“Do any of the dates match up?” asked Crane.

NO.

“Well, it was a thought.”

Suddenly 22 more names appeared on the screen.

“Who are these?”

EMPLOYEES WHOSE RECORDS ARE INCOMPLETE.

I AM TAPPING INTO THE VAINMILL MASTER COMPUTER ON DELUROS VIII, AND TWO GOVERNMENT COMPUTERS THAT I AM PERMITTED TO ACCESS, ATTEMPTING TO COMPLETE MY FILES ON THEM.

The machine paused.

THIS MAY TAKE SOME TIME.

“How long?”

POSSIBLY AS MUCH AS 3 HOURS, AS THERE IS A CONSIDERABLE WAIT FOR ACCESS TO THE GOVERNMENT COMPUTERS.

“Well, keep at it.”

I SHALL. IS THERE ANY OTHER SERVICE I CAN PERFORM FOR YOU?

“Maybe,” said Crane, returning to his chair and staring at the screen. “You know why I'm here, don't you?”

TO SOLVE THE MURDER OF EDWARD INFANTE.

“And through your security monitoring system, you've accessed all the information we have on it?”

EXCEPT FOR WHAT TRANSPIRED IN THE TUNNEL: I RECEIVED THAT DATA SECONDHAND WHEN YOU TOLD THE LABORATORY TECHNICIAN WHERE YOU FOUND THE FABRIC.

“Take my word for it, it was true,” said Crane.

I WILL ACCEPT YOUR STATEMENT UNTIL SOME FACT CONFLICTS WITH IT.

“Good,” said Crane. “Now, since you know everything I know, suppose you see if
you
can come up with the identity of the murderer.”

The machine went dark for ten seconds, then blinked back to life.

INSUFFICIENT DATA.

“Let's attack it another way,” said Crane. “Let me offer up a hypothesis, and see if you can find some flaw with it.”

I SHALL TRY MY BEST.

“Fine,” said Crane, draining his glass. “Feel free to interrupt whenever you want.”

I AM READY.

“All right. Edward Infante was murdered by an expert. This killer hid the body in a ventilation shaft in the tramway tunnel, then moved it two days later to a service port. The only conceivable reason he could have had for doing this is because he wanted the body to be discovered, and he was afraid it might remain undetected in its first hiding place.”

WHY WOULD HE WANT THE BODY TO BE DISCOVERED?

“Hypothesis: to scare somebody aboard the ship.”

WHO?

“I don't know. But if his only purpose was to kill Infante, he'd have left the body where it was less likely to be detected. The fact that he moved it means that he wanted it to be found—and since the murder was meticulously planned to the point where it required the complicity of the victim, the logical conclusion is that it was committed to precipitate or halt some action on the part of a third party. Furthermore, that party has to be a member of the
Comet
's crew, since we've placed no restriction on any patron who wishes to leave.”

THAT IS LOGICAL.

“Thank you,” said Crane dryly.

HOWEVER, I MUST POINT OUT THAT BEING LOGICAL DOES NOT MAKE IT RIGHT.

THERE ARE NUMEROUS OTHER EQUALLY VALID HYPOTHESES.

“I'm game. List a few of them.”

THE MURDERER MAY BE A PSYCHOTIC WHO CRAVES EXPOSURE AND PUNISHMENT.

THE MURDERER MAY HAVE ACCESS TO THE STORAGE LEVEL AND MAY HAVE DECIDED THAT THE BODY WAS MORE LIKELY TO BE DISCOVERED IN ITS INITIAL HIDING PLACE.

THE MURDERER MAY FEEL SO SAFE FROM DETECTION THAT HE IS DELIBERATELY TAUNTING THOSE PEOPLE CHARGED WITH APPREHENDING HIM. THE MURDERER “Stop,” said Crane.