In the Black (5 page)

The Guild believed in home protection.

“What did you see?” she asked April.

The courtesan shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

Sam’s pulse shot into triple digits. She’d only known April for a few months and the woman wasn’t given to overreacting.

Whatever was inside wasn’t normal for a Mercy ship.

“Thanks, Belle. Stand by for further instructions.” She paused. “Activate within Halley’s private quarters. I want to be able to talk to you while inside.”

“Affirmative.”

Sam pulled the door open. She’d never been invited into anyone’s quarters and all she knew was from the model the Guild used to prep new captains as to what a Mercy ship looked like in the business areas.

First would be the arrival room. Where the wheeling and dealing went down, where the client and courtesan bargained over what was wanted and how much it’d cost.

The standard dim lighting restricted any real clear vision. The theory was that it helped create a mellow calming mood, encouraging the clients to relax and enjoy themselves.

She reached for the dimmer switch on the wall. The lights came on, blasting full illumination inside the suite.

Sam swam around the receiving room, the pastel colors of the floating curtains and pillows grinding on her nerves. This was the first thing the clients saw when they entered, a neutral safe zone for them to negotiate what they wanted.

She ran through the blueprints in her mind to try to calm her racing pulse. The public bedroom was off to the left, personal quarters to the right. Each courtesan’s quarters had three rooms to use as they wished, two branching off the main arrival room.

Her right hand instinctively went to her side, searching for an invisible holster. She wished for her old sidearm, locked away in her quarters. Captains weren’t supposed to wear weapons in public—it tended to destroy the peaceful image the Mercy ships were trying to create.

Sam approached the public bedroom, grabbing the nylon straps one by one to keep a hand free at all times. Belle hadn’t said anything about a customer in the suite but it was possible she’d missed something and Sam was about to find a disgruntled, angry man wondering where his date was.

Trust no one. Even a super-smart computer AI.

Sam swam into the room.

Empty.

The king-sized bed was anchored to the floor with tight leather straps, floating just above the beige carpet. A picture frame on one wall ran through a variety of landscapes. The opposing wall held the same frame but displayed a series of erotic pictures.

No sheets, no pillows. Nothing but a bare mattress.

Either Halley’s last client had wanted to talk or she’d already cleaned up, then tossed the laundry into the nearby chute for Jenny.

Sam swam back into the arrival room and turned toward the personal quarters. There was only one other place for Halley to be.

She paused in the doorway and stared.

Nothing special in there.

Nothing except a dead body.

Halley hung just over the bed, floating above the white-and-yellow bedspread and matching sheets. A single drop of blood rolled off a finely manicured fingernail and into the air, orbiting around to rise above the corpse and head for the ceiling.

Crimson globs dotted the walls.

Halley slowly rotated toward her, her slit throat a second mouth smiling with the lips opening and closing as she continued her circuit. Her face was frozen in a scream, the open gash dribbling even more drops into the scarlet scene. The long-sleeved red dress fluttered around her, giving her wings.

A carving knife hovered nearby, near her right hand. Blood stained the blade in spite of the zero gravity.

The crimson drop hung in the air in front of Sam, revolving slowly as it continued to dance. It shifted from an oval to a circle to a teardrop as she watched. But whatever shape it took, it was still red. And one of the
Belle’s
crew was still dead.

Sam retreated into the corridor, taking deep breaths to push down the nausea. It never got any easier to see death and she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted it to. A second later she slammed the hatch shut.

“Belle, contact the base authorities. Get the medical officer out here right now. Cancel all reservations with full refunds.” The words were hers but she heard them through a long tunnel, echoing in her ears. “No outgoing calls except through my direct authorization. Call the security chief and—” She paused, unsure if she wanted to say her thoughts aloud.

“Captain?”

“Tell him we have an emergency. I need guards on the other side of the landing bay to help keep the men inside until they’re cleared. And I need to see him after that, solo.” She caught her breath. “Call Sean, unlock his cabin and tell him to come here and bring some tranqs for April.”

She knew what it was supposed to look like, a stressed-out woman taking her own life by slicing her throat.

She knew what it was—a murder.

It was a crap shoot if the killer was still on the ship. If he was smart he’d high-tailed it out after killing Halley and avoided getting caught in the arrival area with the rest of the incoming and outgoing clients.

Even if he got off the ship he’d be stranded on the base along with the rest of the miners.

Along with the occupants of the
Bonnie Belle
.

“Affirmative.” The soft voice rumbled around the walls. April floated down to the floor, hiding her face in her hands as she sobbed.

Sam pressed against the wall. This was definitely not in the manual.

Chapter Two

Marshal Daniel LeClair dozed in his command chair, his mind wandering toward landfall and the chance to get his boots onto some solid rock.
Razor’s Edge
, his ship, was set on autopilot for the nearest relief station. It had been a long three months patrolling the shipping lanes and he was good and ready for a break, even if it’d be on one of the outlying colonies. Relief bases weren’t pretty or luxurious but it would give him a chance to get into a few poker games with some real people and hopefully take their money.

Not to mention updating his video collection. There were only so many times he could watch
Linda Does Lunar
before it actually became boring. And when
that
became boring—

The communication console chirped at him. “Danny? You there? Danny?”

The white-haired man sighed, shifting slightly in the cushioned chair. “Etts, tell them we’re not home. Leave a message at the sound of the beep.”

The answering chirps and toots brought an annoyed frown to his face. His computer AI was smart enough to realize this was a situation beyond the computer’s capacity to deal with.

“Danny.” The single word held a note of command. “Answer the fucking phone. I don’t have time to screw around right now. This is a priority call, not an invitation to a damned poker game.”

He groaned before sitting up and tapping the button. “I’m here.”

“You’re on your way to Allenridge 44, right?”

“No secret, Commander. You’ve got my flight plan. What’s up?” The use of the title was intentional. Kyle Harris was a nice guy but he loved to pull rank, especially if he was losing at cards.

“We’re going to have to reroute you over to Branson Prime. Suspicious death.”

Daniel grunted. “A death on a mining base—are you serious? I’m the only marshal in the district who can take this on?”

“No. But you’re the only good one. Got a rookie on his first cycle assigned to the area and I need a pro on this one. We’re not talking some guy taking his buddy out with a sledgehammer.” Kyle paused before continuing. “It happened on a Mercy ship. A woman’s dead.”

Daniel whistled. “That’s not good.” He studied the screen, watching his flight plan change. The new blue line erased the older red one on the tracking screen, showing his changed route. “You’re thinking there’s more to this.”

“I don’t think anything. I’m worried. Remember the Purge,” Kyle murmured. “Thirty women dead on five Guild ships. Nearly gutted the Guild a decade ago.”

“There’s no Puritans left out here, boss.” Daniel tried to sound confident. He’d been a wet-behind-the-ears rookie barely out of training, but he remembered the shock they’d all felt when the story broke and the pictures came out.

Daniel cleared his throat. “No one’s going to kill the women ’cause they’ve got a disagreement with the morality. Guild ships have upgraded self-defense systems inside, and every base is held responsible for anything and everything that happens while a Mercy or Charity ship’s docked. No one wants to take that risk no matter how much they hate the idea of courtesans selling their services.” He chuckled. “Most of them don’t make it out here anyway. They tend to stay on their colonies with their own kind, religious groups keeping each other in line.”

“I’d like to think so. But I don’t have to tell you about how being out here changes someone. Space madness turns a man from an upstanding citizen into a murderer easy enough. You’ve seen it.”

Daniel scratched his chin. “It’s being called a suspicious death? Are we talking murder or suicide?”

“Captain classified it as suspicious. I figure she’s afraid of making the wrong call—say it’s murder when it’s suicide or vice versa and she’ll be in deep with the Guild. Wise of her to leave it to the medical officer for the gory details and to us to make the decision as to what to call it.”

“Hmm,” Daniel replied. “Smart lady.”

Kyle grunted his agreement. “I’d like to think this is just a courtesan losing her mind and taking her own life. A whole lot less messy and we can deal with that easy enough. But if it turns out to be murder I need a good man to run the investigation and find the killer.”

He ignored the compliment. “What’s the story with the captain? Is she going to be an asset or is she going to be in the way?” He envisioned a mousy little woman begging to be left alone in her quarters until Daniel slapped handcuffs on the offender.

“She’ll be helpful. Probably more than most Mercy captains.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

Kyle chuckled. “You’ll see when you check her file. I trust her judgment and so will you.”

He didn’t pursue it. “The Guild been notified?”

“Standard procedure. They’re already chewing my ass, wanting a fast resolution.”

“Can’t blame them. Bad for business.”

“Bad for everyone. These mining companies don’t need downtime and they don’t need to worry about possible murderers on their staff. Bad for morale, bad for business and bad for everyone involved.”

“Especially the dead woman,” Daniel added.

“Don’t be a smart ass. Just go do your job.” Kyle paused. “And don’t piss off anyone this time.”

“I do my job. You know that.”

“I know that. But you’re stepping on too many toes, Danny boy. There’s a reason you’re still sitting in a ship running patrol routes.”

Daniel couldn’t deny the truth. He and Kyle had been in the same class and now he answered to his old friend.

“If it turns out to be murder, how many suspects am I looking at?”

“The entire station. Two hundred miners plus support staff. Not to mention the captain and crew of the Mercy ship, as well,” Kyle replied.

“I thought you trusted the captain.”

“I said she gave a reliable report. I didn’t say she couldn’t be manipulating this to make herself appear as innocent as possible. There’s always the outside chance she lost it and went space-happy. Given her record I wouldn’t put it past her having some bats in her belfry.”

“And you’re telling me she could be helpful?”

“You’ve got to use any and all resources at hand, Marshal.”

“Oh, good. Here I thought it might be a tough one.” Daniel yawned, stretching his hands over his head. He smiled—it was time to start negotiations. “Give me two weeks’ vacation time after I finish this one up.”

“One week.”

“Two weeks from the end of the case and travel time to the nearest colony.”

“Done.” Harris chuckled. “I’d have given you three, you bastard. Remember that the next time you face me across the poker table.” The communicator went silent.

“A Mercy ship.” He spun in his chair, ignoring the jibe. “Now that’s something.” He glanced up at the computer monitors. “Etts, pull down all the info we have on Mercy ships and the current personnel file of the...” He frowned. “What’s the ship?”

The computer let out a series of tweets.

“Okay, the
Bonnie Belle
. We’ve got a bit of time before we arrive. Let’s see how much ground we can cover.”

The AI hummed and beeped, sending a wave of information scrolling across the screen in front of him. Daniel nodded as the computer spoke to him, the implant in his skull translating the chirps into words.

Images flashed across the small monitor, cycling through during Etts’s briefing.

The
Bonnie Belle
was a typical Guild ship, not built for speed. It resembled a rather ugly insect, the fat torso taking up most of the mass with a small landing bay set at the back and the cockpit at the front, both narrower than the body of the ship. The engines on each side were set close to the torso, solar panels hanging free to suck up as much power as they could to help save money.

The Guild was all about the money. Saving it, taking it and spending it.

Standard self-defense systems. Knock-out gas, tear gas for putting down problems inside the ship. No external weapons, in keeping with the Guild’s official statement of neutrality, allowing their ships to travel anywhere without getting into local politics.

Daniel turned his attention next to the crew. The
Belle
was running with four women and two men, the usual complement of courtesans. Only one of them, Kendra Champagne, had been around for longer than a year. She was actually on her third contract extension, a novelty within the Guild. Usually the women did their five-year tour, cashed out their contracts and settled somewhere on the Rim in communities that welcomed and embraced former courtesans.

Daniel studied the dark chocolate face. Her wide brown eyes gave her a look of sensitivity mixed with sensuality. She was a lifer, for lack of a better term. Played up the mother hen angle, gave the old-timers someone their own age to talk to, to whine to, to have gentle sex with. It didn’t remove her from the suspect list. Anyone could kill, given the right circumstances.

Bianca Montgomery was new to the
Belle
, having transferred in from another ship just three months ago, trading spots with another courtesan. Brunette and in her early twenties, she was on her second year of her first contract. A performer of the Japanese tea ceremony—not an uncommon skill, but her ability to perform it in low gravity made her unique. Handling hot water and tea leaves took more than good wishes.

April Osano. Aside from being qualified as a BDSM mistress, she held a couple of black belts and was licensed to teach and train up to level-five security personnel. She’d be able to get a good job on any colony doing security when her contract was up. Would definitely have the ability to kill.

And give a hell of a good sex session. One of her portfolio pics included her wearing a black leather jumpsuit and carrying a whip, looking over her shoulder at him.

Daniel shifted in his chair and brought up the next two files.

Dane Morris. The youngster held a few low-level boxing titles and a handful of wrestling wins under his belt. Bisexual. First contract, no problems noted on his processing evaluation. Excellent physical condition and well able to take down someone if he had to.

Sean Morrison. Medical officer and courtesan, making solid money on both fronts. Second contract and third ship, reassignments more from trying to find the right billet for his talents than any personality problems. Most ships didn’t keep live medics on hand; they relied on the ship’s AI to keep them healthy and alive until they reached port. Morrison had access to medical supplies, possibly including scalpels and medication.

Jenny Bonaventure traveled with the
Bonnie Belle
as chief mechanic and had done so for the past seven years, outlasting a dozen courtesans and two captains. Daniel studied the blonde woman’s smiling image on the screen. She looked like she loved her job.

He scanned her certifications. The woman came from a family of mechanics. Qualifying to care for the
Belle
hadn’t been hard.

Keeping it running had been.

She had the skills to keep the
Belle
going where spare parts weren’t easy to come by. Mercy ships traveled for days, sometimes weeks at a time without any easy access to a supply base or even another ship. Sometimes the best route between two mining bases went far into the deep, off the beaten path for civilian and military ships. If you broke down out there you had to make do with what you had or you didn’t survive.

Daniel nudged the screen again.

The smiling redhead winked at him, her lips slightly parted. Her head was cocked to the side, just enough to increase the power of her come-hither look.

The victim.

Halley Comet.

Daniel checked the file, not believing that was her given name. It wasn’t unusual for people to change their names when they began working for the Guild.

It was actually the same on her birth certificate, given by parents who apparently had an awful sense of humor. Second trip out, and she had renewed her contract just last month. He sighed, knowing the next part of the cycle for the dead woman. It was the same whether you were a miner or a courtesan, captain or crewman on the freighters.

The body would be shipped back to Earth courtesy of the Guild, who would pick up all costs. Since her parents were still alive and living in New York City, notification would be through the local police with a Guild rep standing by to make sure all the forms were signed and the paperwork processed. The life insurance would be paid out and her family would wait to see if there’d be any justice for their dead daughter.

That was his part of the equation and he was determined to see it done.

Etts began tweeting, confirming the necessary messages had been sent and received. The base was awaiting their arrival as was the
Belle
. Both had initiated the mandatory lockdown procedures. No one was entering or leaving Branson Prime.

That’d cost the mining company a pretty penny. Not to mention the Guild, for not fulfilling their appointments and leaving their customers high and dry, so to speak.

Daniel shook his head. At least he didn’t have to do the dirty work and inform the family about Comet. He’d done it enough times in the past, delivered bad news to a small colony where a man’s death could put his family so far behind the eight ball that they might not survive. It was hard, soul-busting work that had cored out lesser men in the Service on their first tour. You had to be able to put up walls when dealing with the raw emotions the sight of a UNS uniform could bring up, even for those who wanted to see a marshal.

He turned his attention back to the dead courtesan.

Comet’s expertise was in financial and paralegal matters. A rare commodity out here in space, where usually the only thing you needed to worry about was if you had enough creds to buy your way out of jail. Here was a woman who helped write up wills, made suggestions about investments on the stock market and dealt with child support and divorces. Her first skill might be finances but there wasn’t a courtesan working for the Guild who wasn’t also an expert in the bedroom.

Now Halley Comet was dead. Possibly murdered in her quarters, within striking distance of the other courtesans, the mechanic, the captain and God knows how many clients either in the other rooms or waiting their turn.