Dead Man on the Moon (18 page)

"And it would mean all your stuff would be impounded into the evidence room," Linus said. "That what you want?"

Pause. A deep breath came over the link. "No."

"Listen, ki—Noah, the University has a counseling department, and they have people who help mediate roommate conflicts all the time. Give them a call, see if they can help."

"Yeah. Okay."
The voice was calmer, more subdued now.

Linus hesitated. He was about to bring up Gary's complaint but then suddenly he just couldn't do it. Yeah, the kid needed to know, and sure, eventually Linus would probably have to have it out with him, but the confrontation could wait a day, couldn't it? Right now Linus just had too damned much on his plate to mediate a spat between deputies.

"Anything new on the Viktor Riza case?" he said instead.

"Melissa Rose in the biology department told me he had fish scales and algae under his fingernails
—
no human DNA. So he didn't fight his attacker. On the other hand, we know he was doped out on Blue, and he may not have had the chance."
Noah coughed.
"I also tracked down the women Riza was with. One of them said she saw Riza and the other woman talk to an unknown male in the Dome. She suspects they bought Blue from him, and I'm thinking it's where Viktor's near-overdose came from. The dealer
—
if that's what he was
—
creeped her out, so she went home. I tried to talk to the other woman, but her roommate said she
hadn't occupied their apartment in months. Possessions gone, everything. I checked with the databases, and she's still listed as a student, though she hasn't registered for classes yet."

"Really? Interesting. Where do you think she went?"

"Unless she's gone Morlock , she's probably living with someone else and not registered the fact with housing. I'm guessing a lover, one who somehow got a private apartment or who has a really laid-back roommate. Maybe even the dealer from the Dome."

"Sounds worth following up on," Linus said. "Any leads on the dealer?"

"Not yet. I don't suppose there's any surveillance in the Dome?"

"Nope. Privacy issues, you know."

Noah sighed.
"I'll keep digging and keep you posted."
He signed off.

Linus drummed his fingers some more. Noah's investigative instincts were sharp, no doubt there. Maybe it would be best to wait a bit longer before acting on Gary's complaint. Or should he? Linus grimaced. He
hated
being in doubt, hated having half the evidence. His detective instincts told him to haul the kid into the office, sit him down, and get his side of the story. His managerial instincts told him to lay off for a while. Why did the two sides never match?

The door opened, and Karen Fang walked in without knocking, her shiny dark hair bouncing slowly, in contrast to her quick stride. "Hoy, love. How's things down here in the refrigerator?"

Linus looked up, and was surprised at how glad he was to see her. Karen held a competent, no-bullshit air, but she also retained a doctor's practiced bedside manner. And she was damned fine to look at.

Now where the hell had
that
come from?

"Refrigerator?" he said to cover his consternation.

"You always keep it so cold in here." She hugged herself for warmth. "Makes us delicate tropical flowers want to close up for the winter."

"Oh. Sorry."

"So getting back to my original question," she said, "how are things?"

"Messy," Linus replied. "I've just had a ... I guess you'd call it a run-in with Noah."

Karen raised her eyebrows and lowered herself into the only other chair in the room. "What's that, then?"

Linus told her. She listened without interruption. "So you think there's a problem with Noah, then?"

"I don't know," Linus said. "That's the damned problem. I still have to talk to him."

"Give the lad a break," Karen said. "He hasn't been here three days and already he's up to his eyebrows in two murder investigations. His classes haven't even started yet, and Roger Davids bullied him into giving a vaudeville show tomorrow night. Anyone might crack under all that." She paused. "And besides—it wasn't his fault that the bone broke."

Linus sat up straighter. "Oh?"

"I examined the break in greater detail. The bone was already cracked at the time we picked the body up." She drew a data button from her pocket and flicked it toward Linus, who had plenty of time to catch it as it sailed slowly toward him. "I took images. When Noah broke the bone, a fair amount of powdery calcified material sifted into the surrounding desiccated tissues, but it wasn't enough to account for the entire break."

"So something cracked or broke the bone before the body was fully dried out," Linus said.

"Exactly. Might have been the same trauma that broke the victim's other bones. In any case, that foot would have come off no matter how carefully someone lifted the victim."

"Have you told Noah?"

"Of course. He was relieved, I can tell you." Karen got up and leaned across the desk. Her blouse was professionally high-necked and showed no cleavage, but Linus found himself checking for it anyway. He was also seized with an
odd desire to touch her face, let her warm skin heat up his chilly office. "And I've got tickets."

"Tickets?" Linus repeated, caught off-guard again.

"Tickets to Noah's show. Tomorrow evening at eight. Want to go? I hate sitting alone in a theater."

"Uh ... all right," Linus said. "Sure. It'll be fun."

"I'll pick you up, love," Karen said, and turned to leave. Linus, still feeling off-balance, failed to notice the happy smile on his own face.

Noah set his duffel bag on the living room carpet, still fuming. At least everything appeared to be there. Either Luna City's crime rate really
was
as low as advertised or Noah had gotten home before anyone else had come across the mess. He stood next to the packing crate coffee table, taking deep breaths and trying to get his temper under control, but it was difficult. He wanted to wrap his fingers around Wade's neck and rap his head smartly against a nice, hard object. One with corners. Or maybe spikes. Calling Linus had probably been a mistake, he could see that now. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't be . . . creative.

Besides, Noah was still investigating a crime, one that Wade had a connection to, however tenuous.

He sat down on the sofa, his carefully packed duffel at his feet, and told his obie to hook into the Security database. Text and images scrolled across his monocle as he searched for the name Wade Koenig. In seconds, he had full information. Wade Koenig. Citizen of Miami, Florida. Student visa. Graduate student in biology. Did Melissa Rose know him? Something to pursue, perhaps.

Busted twice for drug possession. Blue.

"Well, well, well," Noah said aloud. "You've been a bad boy, Wade."

A few more commands conjured up Luna City law regarding illegal substances. As Noah suspected, Luna City and Loony U had a three-strikes law. One more drug bust, and Wade would take the long fall back to Miami.

Whistling a little Irish tune, Noah pulled on a pair of gloves, stepped into the bedroom, and pawed expertly through Wade's dresser drawers. Nothing interesting. He checked the clothes hanging in the tiny closet. Nothing there, either. Then he stood in the doorway of the minuscule closet and ran his fingers carefully around the inside lintel. His questing hand found a smooth lump. Noah pulled, and it came off. It was an ampoule, half-full of clear blue liquid.

"Busted," he murmured.

Noah tilted the ampoule, and the Blue inside flowed sluggishly from side to side. A thought occurred to him. Had
Wade
administered Viktor's overdose? He could have slipped out of the apartment, found Viktor with Bredda, given the drug to him—either accidentally or on purpose— and then drowned him in the fishpond. Motive? Lover's quarrel. And Wade clearly had a temper.

The main door to the apartment opened. Noah pulled off the glove that held the ampoule, folding it inside out around the little vial to create an impromptu evidence beg. Then he stripped off the other glove, stuffed it into his pocket, and poked his head into the living room. Jake was setting his backpack on the couch.

"Hi," Noah said. "Been a while."

Jake turned with a grin. "Yeah. You're turning into the ideal roommate—never around. How've you been adjusting?"

"Decently. I haven't really had time to think about it." Noah paused. "Jake, does Wade use Blue a lot?"

Jake looked at him for a long moment, and Noah let the silence hang. "Are you talking as a cop or as a roommate?"

"Look," Noah sighed, "I know he uses the stuff. He's been busted for it twice, and I found an ampoule of it in the bedroom just now. Unless it's yours."

"Nuh uh." Jake held up his hands in a defensive posture. "No way. It's like tying your dick in a knot. I don't know how Wade stands it."

"So how often does he use?" Noah pressed. "Is he an addict?"

Jake dropped onto the couch, a languid gesture on Luna. "I don't think so. Give him another couple of months and maybe. Look, I don't want to get caught in a fight between you two. I hate that shit."

"One phone call and Wade's history." Noah waved the glove with the ampoule in it. "Third strike. Hard to have conflicts with a guy who's Earth-side."

"Don't," Jake said. His large brown eyes turned pleading. "I know Wade can be a jerk, but he can be a nice guy, too. He's fun to hang out with, and he helps me study for English."

Noah perched on the coffee table. The rough boards pressed uncomfortably into his backside. "Maybe, but the guy who was killed yesterday had enough Blue in his system to keep a prize stallion from launching his rocket. Maybe Wade gave him the overdose."

"How?" Jake countered. "I slept in the bed next to his all night, and you were sleeping out here on the couch. He couldn't have snuck out without waking at least one of us. Hell, I wake up if someone gets up to take a leak, let alone rummages around in the room to find drugs."

"Did you wake up last night?"

"Nope. Not once. You?"

"No," Noah admitted. "Okay, so he didn't administer Viktor's overdose. He still dumped all my stuff out in the hallway."

"Oh." Jake paused. "Well, I said he can be a jerk. Look, why don't you talk to him first?"

"I will," Noah said. "I have to. Any idea when he'll be back?"

"Well. .."

"Oh god—now what?"

"Sometimes Wade's the ideal roommate, too," Jake said. "He disappears for two or three days at a shot. It's why I haven't tried to move out. Even I can only take so much Wade jerky."

"Wade jerky?"

Jake blushed. "Oops. My term for Wade being a jerk. Don't tell him, okay? Please?"

"I won't. I have to keep
some
friends around here." Noah got up and checked the refrigerator. Green Luna-grown vegetables and pale tofu cheese looked back at him. His groceries were still there. Apparently Wade's rampage hadn't extended to innocent foodstuffs. "You think he's avoiding me?"

"Probably. And in a total change of subject," Jake added, "I hear you're doing a show tomorrow night?"

Noah groaned. "Yeah. I just had the tech rehearsal, and I'm wiped. I don't need this right now. Why'd they hand this to me fresh off the shuttle, anyway?"

"I'm sure they thought it'd be easier on you," Jake told him. He crossed his ankle over his knee. "You know—get it out of the way before classes start and everything gets hectic."

"If this is
before
hectic, I think I'll take a stroll in vacuum now and get it over with."

Linus Pavlik's corn-link chimed. He reached automatically across his desk, then saw the call was originating from the Mayor-President's office. His hand froze. Not now. Maybe he could pretend his link was off, let the computer take a message.

And have the call hang over him until he returned it. The link chimed again. Linus abruptly remembered a chilly spring day when he was maybe seven or eight years old. Spring in the Near North Side of the St. Louis projects meant people on the upper floors—the floors that didn't worry about gulp-heads breaking in to steal food or pets to eat—were opening windows and hanging threadbare rugs out to air like strange flowers draped over the rails. It meant traffic noises in the house and damp air wafting in from the river. It meant roasting in his winter coat because he didn't own a jacket and squishing in damp shoes because he didn't own boots. Mom had started spring cleaning, and Linus had been assigned the task of airing out their own rugs.