The iFactor (11 page)
Authors: R.W. Van Sant
Chapter 21
The excitement and horror of the murder investigation, augmented by the feeling he was being followed, the disturbing note he found at his door, and the medications wearing off all conspired to wreck another night’s sleep. Matt tossed turned as nightmares struck like ringing hammers.
They started with long, seemingly endless corridors with continual side branches each leading back to the place where the woman's body hung from the ceiling blood pouring from her soaked clothing and dripping in a steady procession from her toes. Around him people walked, oblivious to the death hanging before them. The thongs moved in around him crushing and smothering him until he screamed. The crowd dissipated leaving Matt in a plain police interview room.
“What? You mean you hit her.” Mr. Kossman behind an interview table rose to his feet.
“She left me no choice,” Matt heard himself saying. “The cosmetic surgeons say they can repair most of the damage.”
“You bastard, I'll kill you.” Kossman lunged at him and was gone.
“It's really too bad the dome blocks the stars.” Jill walked beside him under the artificial lights of the dome. He noticed that some of the brightest stars were visible through the protective glass.
“The cameras on the dome provide a pretty clear feed if you are interested.”
“I show them to my students all the time, it’s not the same,” she said.
On the path before them, Matt saw two men in technician uniforms passing each other. They nodded in a cordial greeting as they passed. One man stumbled a bit toward the other growing opaque as he did so. As the men became translucent, Matt could see that one held roll of paper that he handed off to the other. Inside the small roll, he could see several vials of the drug Fantasia.
Hatred swelled within him and he charged at the men. The world turned into a corridor leading to his door and the sign. “They know where you are.”
A soft droning, childlike chanting greeted his ears as he stared at his door.
The excitement and horror of the murder investigation, augmented by the feeling he was being followed, the disturbing note he found at his door, and the medications wearing off all conspired to wreck another night’s sleep. Matt tossed turned as nightmares struck like ringing hammers.
They started with long, seemingly endless corridors with continual side branches each leading back to the place where the woman's body hung from the ceiling blood pouring from her soaked clothing and dripping in a steady procession from her toes. Around him people walked, oblivious to the death hanging before them. The thongs moved in around him crushing and smothering him until he screamed. The crowd dissipated leaving Matt in a plain police interview room.
“What? You mean you hit her.” Mr. Kossman behind an interview table rose to his feet.
“She left me no choice,” Matt heard himself saying. “The cosmetic surgeons say they can repair most of the damage.”
“You bastard, I'll kill you.” Kossman lunged at him and was gone.
“It's really too bad the dome blocks the stars.” Jill walked beside him under the artificial lights of the dome. He noticed that some of the brightest stars were visible through the protective glass.
“The cameras on the dome provide a pretty clear feed if you are interested.”
“I show them to my students all the time, it’s not the same,” she said.
On the path before them, Matt saw two men in technician uniforms passing each other. They nodded in a cordial greeting as they passed. One man stumbled a bit toward the other growing opaque as he did so. As the men became translucent, Matt could see that one held roll of paper that he handed off to the other. Inside the small roll, he could see several vials of the drug Fantasia.
Hatred swelled within him and he charged at the men. The world turned into a corridor leading to his door and the sign. “They know where you are.”
A soft droning, childlike chanting greeted his ears as he stared at his door.
Go to sleep and go instant
Past and future all the same
Past and future all the same
He rushed into his apartment found himself in a long dark room lined with rows of chanting people, strapped into medical chairs. Each one staring forward, unseeing. Catatonic, but for the movement of their lips. To his right a light grew brightly around one of the patients and he approached the nearly familiar face of a young woman, an older version of the girl he'd seen at Kossman's apartment. Becky.
“Dales.” She said.
The detective was awake sitting up in his bed, his heart beating painfully in his chest, fighting to comprehend his surroundings. He stumbled around the room, double-checking every lock and crevasse. Once sure that all was secure, he ventured out and into his shower.
Cold water flowed over his head, clearing his mind. After the residue of the dreams flowed down the drain, an idea came to Matt and he rushed out of the shower dripping.
“Activate message system, voice only. Detective Rishards. Urgent.” While he retrieved a towel from his closet and started to dry off, Matt listened to the tell tail being of the connection.
“Dales?” A sleepy feminine voice responded.
“I had an idea.”
“No.” Her voice grew irate. “It’s the middle of my sleep shift. Call me in a few hours.”
“I'm going to interview Kossman again.” Matt explained. “This time I want him clear. No one is to tell him anything, not even that he's a burnout.”
“Why?”
“I want to see his reaction to specific stimuli.” Matt felt sure he was on to something. His dreams were telling him something and he would find out if they were right: they usually were.
“Whatever, Dales. I'll see you in the morning.”
“Okay, I'll call the night shift supervisor and give him instructions.”
“Yeah, okay.” the disconnection sounded irate. She said she wanted to see how a real detective operated. That you never let a hunch or a lead grows cold. It was still late however, and Matt would need a clear head for the morning. He downed a few sleeping pills before he went back to bed. They did their job well and he was quickly in a dreamless sleep.
“Dales.” She said.
The detective was awake sitting up in his bed, his heart beating painfully in his chest, fighting to comprehend his surroundings. He stumbled around the room, double-checking every lock and crevasse. Once sure that all was secure, he ventured out and into his shower.
Cold water flowed over his head, clearing his mind. After the residue of the dreams flowed down the drain, an idea came to Matt and he rushed out of the shower dripping.
“Activate message system, voice only. Detective Rishards. Urgent.” While he retrieved a towel from his closet and started to dry off, Matt listened to the tell tail being of the connection.
“Dales?” A sleepy feminine voice responded.
“I had an idea.”
“No.” Her voice grew irate. “It’s the middle of my sleep shift. Call me in a few hours.”
“I'm going to interview Kossman again.” Matt explained. “This time I want him clear. No one is to tell him anything, not even that he's a burnout.”
“Why?”
“I want to see his reaction to specific stimuli.” Matt felt sure he was on to something. His dreams were telling him something and he would find out if they were right: they usually were.
“Whatever, Dales. I'll see you in the morning.”
“Okay, I'll call the night shift supervisor and give him instructions.”
“Yeah, okay.” the disconnection sounded irate. She said she wanted to see how a real detective operated. That you never let a hunch or a lead grows cold. It was still late however, and Matt would need a clear head for the morning. He downed a few sleeping pills before he went back to bed. They did their job well and he was quickly in a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 22
Matt arrived at the station the next morning a little groggy from the sedatives. The coffee in his hand was strong and bitter, but was slowly clearing his mind. Good, he'd need to keep his mind sharp for this morning’s session.
Rishards was waiting outside the interview room. “He's in there and confused. Keeps asking about his daughter and demanding to speak to the captain.”
“Good.”
“What are you planning?”
“I want to see if I can push his buttons. Push him over the edge.” Matt took a deep drink. “Follow my lead no matter how strange it gets. I'm about to lie to this man. If I'm right we'll find out how the killer got him to assist in the murder.”
“So now you think he was involved?” she said uneasily.
Matt nodded. “As you said, it would take two people to get the body up there, and the man in there is large enough.”
He took another sip and entered the room. Rishards entered behind him. They each sat without a word in the chairs opposite Kossman.
“Good morning Mr. Kossman.” Matt said after a few uncomfortable moments.
“You the captain? I want to know why I'm being g held. When do we land?” Kossman's face showed the pressure of trying to keep his voice calm.
“No, I'm not the captain,” Matt adopted his most stern facial aspect. “I am Detective Matt Dales of the Sirius colonial security force.”
“I don't understand.” Kossman looked about, concern spread across his face.
“When did we leave the ship?”
“Many years ago.” Matt kept his voice officially harsh. “I'm afraid that you and your daughter had problems with your medications during the trip through super light space. In both of your cases, your minds were exposed to the sensory overload phenomena without proper medication. In order to save you, your memories of the event have be removed. The process, however, has some side effects. You have, from that time, been unable to make new memories. I know it's hard, but if you just accept this for the moment we can get on with the charges against you.”
“What charges? “ Kossman stood. “I've done nothing.”
“Indeed.” Matt stared at him hard. “Murder is hardly nothing.”
“Who did I kill,” The man's voice rose angrily. “I never hurt a soul in my life.”
“God I hate working with burnouts!” Matt shifted his weight. “Just because you cannot remember it, doesn't mean you didn't do it. Didn't we just go over the fact that you cannot make memories?”
“Who did I kill you tell me then.”
“His name was Tom Quigmire, he was the son of a SiCorp exec. The fact that he brutally raped your daughter will not mitigate the fact that you killed him.” Matt swerved the truth to a path he though would most outrage the man.
“He did what?” Kossman roared. “I’ll k... Is she alright?”
“She will be when the doctors repair her broken jaw.”
“The bastard broke her jaw?”
“No, I'm afraid her injuries were sustained when she attacked an officer of the law.” Matt felt himself slipping into deja vous.
“She's a good girl, she wouldn't hit a policeman.”
Matt arrived at the station the next morning a little groggy from the sedatives. The coffee in his hand was strong and bitter, but was slowly clearing his mind. Good, he'd need to keep his mind sharp for this morning’s session.
Rishards was waiting outside the interview room. “He's in there and confused. Keeps asking about his daughter and demanding to speak to the captain.”
“Good.”
“What are you planning?”
“I want to see if I can push his buttons. Push him over the edge.” Matt took a deep drink. “Follow my lead no matter how strange it gets. I'm about to lie to this man. If I'm right we'll find out how the killer got him to assist in the murder.”
“So now you think he was involved?” she said uneasily.
Matt nodded. “As you said, it would take two people to get the body up there, and the man in there is large enough.”
He took another sip and entered the room. Rishards entered behind him. They each sat without a word in the chairs opposite Kossman.
“Good morning Mr. Kossman.” Matt said after a few uncomfortable moments.
“You the captain? I want to know why I'm being g held. When do we land?” Kossman's face showed the pressure of trying to keep his voice calm.
“No, I'm not the captain,” Matt adopted his most stern facial aspect. “I am Detective Matt Dales of the Sirius colonial security force.”
“I don't understand.” Kossman looked about, concern spread across his face.
“When did we leave the ship?”
“Many years ago.” Matt kept his voice officially harsh. “I'm afraid that you and your daughter had problems with your medications during the trip through super light space. In both of your cases, your minds were exposed to the sensory overload phenomena without proper medication. In order to save you, your memories of the event have be removed. The process, however, has some side effects. You have, from that time, been unable to make new memories. I know it's hard, but if you just accept this for the moment we can get on with the charges against you.”
“What charges? “ Kossman stood. “I've done nothing.”
“Indeed.” Matt stared at him hard. “Murder is hardly nothing.”
“Who did I kill,” The man's voice rose angrily. “I never hurt a soul in my life.”
“God I hate working with burnouts!” Matt shifted his weight. “Just because you cannot remember it, doesn't mean you didn't do it. Didn't we just go over the fact that you cannot make memories?”
“Who did I kill you tell me then.”
“His name was Tom Quigmire, he was the son of a SiCorp exec. The fact that he brutally raped your daughter will not mitigate the fact that you killed him.” Matt swerved the truth to a path he though would most outrage the man.
“He did what?” Kossman roared. “I’ll k... Is she alright?”
“She will be when the doctors repair her broken jaw.”
“The bastard broke her jaw?”
“No, I'm afraid her injuries were sustained when she attacked an officer of the law.” Matt felt himself slipping into deja vous.
“She's a good girl, she wouldn't hit a policeman.”
“I'm afraid when I informed her that the rape case fell apart because she was the only witness, and of course she had no memory of the event, and therefore couldn’t testify, well she got angry. I advised her to take it easy. I told her that she wouldn't even remember the incident when her wounds healed. She became irrational and attacked me, I had no choice.”
“What? You mean you hit her.” Mr. Kossman rose to his feet.
“She left me no choice,” Matt said. “The cosmetic surgeons say they can repair most of the damage after she serves her sentence.”
“You bastard, I'll kill you.” Kossman lunged at him. Rishards hurdled in to restrain the man.
“Thank you Mr. Kossman.” Matt’s tone changes as he stood to leave. “For what it’s worth, I'm really sorry.”
He exited the chamber feeling lower than he had since he was told about Dallas. Rishards was behind him.
“What do you think that proved?” She asked. “That was reprehensible.”
“He won't remember it tomorrow.” Matt mimicked her. “No harm, no foul.”
“Even so that was low, convincing him his daughter...” Rishards continued.
“Showed us that he could be driven to violence and what it would take.” Matt said. “We now know what strings someone had to pull to operate Pinocchio. We just need to find Gepetto.”
“So now you think he killed the woman?” Rishards studied him, but he wasn’t ready to let her in to his thoughts entirely.
“Now I believe that it is a definite possibility. It would have to be someone who knew him, and knew which buttons to push. Can we get a level three contact web on him? I want to know everyone he encountered in contact with, as far back as we can get it.
“We already did one. We found nothing.” Rishards said.
“Let’s go over it again, maybe we might find a casual acquaintance or someone he commiserated with in a bar.
She shrugged. “Let’s get back to the office, it’s all there.”
“Not yet, I want to check out the second murder site.” Matt said.
“You're a morbid son of a bitch, you know that.” She responded.
“Been told,” He headed off, “Are you coming?”
“I've got it, you’re a technophobe. They have treatment you know.” She followed.
“What? You mean you hit her.” Mr. Kossman rose to his feet.
“She left me no choice,” Matt said. “The cosmetic surgeons say they can repair most of the damage after she serves her sentence.”
“You bastard, I'll kill you.” Kossman lunged at him. Rishards hurdled in to restrain the man.
“Thank you Mr. Kossman.” Matt’s tone changes as he stood to leave. “For what it’s worth, I'm really sorry.”
He exited the chamber feeling lower than he had since he was told about Dallas. Rishards was behind him.
“What do you think that proved?” She asked. “That was reprehensible.”
“He won't remember it tomorrow.” Matt mimicked her. “No harm, no foul.”
“Even so that was low, convincing him his daughter...” Rishards continued.
“Showed us that he could be driven to violence and what it would take.” Matt said. “We now know what strings someone had to pull to operate Pinocchio. We just need to find Gepetto.”
“So now you think he killed the woman?” Rishards studied him, but he wasn’t ready to let her in to his thoughts entirely.
“Now I believe that it is a definite possibility. It would have to be someone who knew him, and knew which buttons to push. Can we get a level three contact web on him? I want to know everyone he encountered in contact with, as far back as we can get it.
“We already did one. We found nothing.” Rishards said.
“Let’s go over it again, maybe we might find a casual acquaintance or someone he commiserated with in a bar.
She shrugged. “Let’s get back to the office, it’s all there.”
“Not yet, I want to check out the second murder site.” Matt said.
“You're a morbid son of a bitch, you know that.” She responded.
“Been told,” He headed off, “Are you coming?”
“I've got it, you’re a technophobe. They have treatment you know.” She followed.
Chapter 23
Rishards called ahead and the section supervisor was waiting for them.
“I've already given all the testimony I had.” The man told Rishards as she entered his office.
“Yes, we know. This case is now being handled a bit differently.” She said.
“Oh,” his eyebrows rose.
“This is Detective Dales,” he motioned. “He received his training on Earth. The chief wants his input on this.”
“Yes,” Matt said. “I'll need access to the crime scene and if you could please make yourself available for questions after I’ve looked it over, I would appreciate it.”
“An Earth detective?” He looked Matt over, and then offered him his hand. “A no shit real detective, not one of these glorified computer nerds.”
“Trained in the good old United States.” He took the hand and shook it.
“I can't tell you how much better I feel.” The supervisor said. “No offense, Missy. I know you folk do well enough when you got the right programs. But hell, a detective. Murder ain’t rational and no computer anywhere ain’t ever been able to think outside of rationality.”
“Then he's your man,” Rishards said under her breath.
“I hope that means I can count on your assistance.” Matt smiled.
“Absolutely, Carmen!” he called back over his shoulder. “You're in charge for a while. I gotta show these folks around.”
“Yeah,” A gaunt looking redhead stepped out of her office and looked the group over. “Don't be too long. It’s not my job to cover yours so you can go running off with your friends. If you’re going for beer, I’d better have a bottle waiting for me.”
“This is official colony business.” Matt informed her. “We thank you for any inconvenience this causes you.”
“Well if that's the case.” She smiled. “Just don't be gone too long.”
“Thank you very much ma'am.” He smiled pleasantly. “We are ready any time you are.”
The supervisor took the lead with a spring in his step as if this was most exciting thing he'd been asked to do in years. It may have been.
“Dales?” Rishards asked softly.
“Yes?”
“You know we have the authority to compel cooperation don't you?” she continued.
“Yes, of course.”
“Then why beg these people for their help. They have the responsibility to give it anyway.”
“Are you serious?” Matt was stunned. “People aren’t computers. Have you ever received personal interaction training?”
“Not detective, that's patrol officer training.” Her tone was indignant.
“It wouldn't hurt you to sit in on a training session.” Matt retorted. “Computers always answer every question correctly, criminals will most likely lie. Witnesses and civilians will give aid in proportion to how well they like and trust you. If you build a good rapport with them they will even sometimes volunteer information that you never thought of asking.”
“So why go out of your way to appease the woman?” Rishards asked. “How can she be of help?”
“I don't know maybe she can’t, or maybe she saw something she didn't think was out of the ordinary. We're putting together a gig-saw puzzle, every piece, especially corner ones can help the image come together. I’d rather be polite and gain some good will than to treat people like a computer and loose it. Call my personal detective style.”
“And the fact that she was pretty had nothing to do with it?” She continued.
“Perk.” he said. No wonder the man was glad to have a real detective here. You work with computers long enough and you start to act like one.
“Just be aware the sexual harassment laws are stricter here than in Texas,” she walked out.
“I read them when I got here.” For a detective, Matt thought Rishards was thin skinned.
“This is the maintenance suite.” The supervisor said as the sealed door slid opened. Every inch of the room was corroded by protracted exposure to the atmosphere. The tools on the walls and work areas all spoiled. The few that could be salvaged were piled on a table on the left side for refurbishing. Along the far wall were two doors, a light security door with an unreadable brass plaque. Matt knew from Rishards’ files that this was the pressure suit locker. The other one had a glass view port imbedded into it, etched opaque now. The panel next to it broken and shorted so that it would remain open when the lethal atmosphere came pouring. “This is where Mark worked.”
There were only two exits. The one he was standing in and the one that led to the airlock. Just past the newly repaired hatches was where the victim had been found nailed to the ground without protection in the deadly acidic air. Matt would never have walked out willingly without a suit. He suspected the victim hadn’t either. Rishards brushed past him to get into the room and look around. “How often did anyone other than the victim come back here?”
“It’s an external workshop, unless there were some repairs to do outside, we all just used the main shop.”
“Did he often come down by himself?”
“Not unless he was inspecting some gear. External jaunts are always done in teams of at least two in case there is a mishap.” The man pointed to the door. “The body was found out there.”
“The airlock takes an access code I assume,” Matt regarded into the room intensely.
“Yes, records indicated that the access code in the victims palm chip opened the hatch, and closed it afterward.” Rishards said.
“How can that... Oh dear god!” the supervisors hand went up to his mouth. “You don't mean they cut his hand off.”
“Please keep this between us. If certain aspects of this case were to be made public, then all the freaks come out of the woodwork and we spend our time sorting them out rather than finding the killer. Even one small fact in the hands of an attention grabber can muck things up.” Matt looked hard into the man’s eyes. “Do you understand?”
“Yes detective.” The man responded. “Don’t worry about me. I can keep my yap shut.”
“So, do we suit up and look for clues outside?” Rishards indicated to the pressure suit locker.
“No, that's a secondary site. The attack happened in here.” Matt said.
“Wouldn't it be easier to find clues from inside the room?” Rishards asked.
“I can see the whole room from here.” Matt said.
“Was there any situation in which the victim would have let someone inside this room?”
“That would be against policy.”
“Even so, there is no sign of struggle outside. I think he let someone in and they attacked him, knocked him unconscious and after putting on his pressure suit drug him outside.” Matt said thoughtfully. “You can't hurt his reputation any longer, he's dead. Was he selling contraband of some kind?”
“No, he wasn't like that.” The man said. “Look, he had a wife and family, but he liked women. I mean really liked them.”
“Do you think he would have brought one here for a sexual encounter?” Rishards asked.
“It’s cheaper than a hotel room.” Matt commented. “So we might be looking for a woman.”
“She'd have to be a really strong one; he nearly caved his forehead in.” Rishards said.
“All those tools were inspected?”
“Yeah,” the supervisor said. “We just got them back. Not that they'll be good for much after being left to corrode like that.”
“Good way to cover your tracks.” Matt mused again. “No prints, no DNA. I don't see any digging equipment in here.”
“No, there wouldn't be. The shop is for electronic and plumbing repairs.”
“No shovels?”
“No, why?”
“The coroner thought the victim may have been struck with a shovel. Something large and flat.”
“Maybe they took it with them?” the supervisor suggested.”
“Why go through all this trouble to destroy all evidence and take the most incriminating piece with you. How about outside?”
“No. A search team came up with nothing.” Rishards stared at him. “What are you doing?”
“Thinking. Detective? How did the coroner say the victim received the head wound?”
“Blunt force trauma to the front of his head with a heavy flat object.” She replied.
“Like a shovel?” Matt moved his hands around as if trying to work out a puzzle in the air. “Can you come out here for a second both of you. I want to do an experiment. Sir you will be our victim and Rishards you’re the killer and have a shovel.”
“Okay.” she moved into position in front of him.
“Now swing at him.” she pretended to swing and the man's arms went up to defend himself. “There he instinctively blocked. There were no defensive wounds on the victim.”
“What do you think he got hit with?” the supervisor broke in.
“Well the attack was either from behind, or so unexpected that he had no chance to defend himself.” Matt mused.
“Which meant that he trusted his attacker.” Rishards added.
“Oh, Mark. Bad choice.” The supervisor said half under his breath.
“What if the weapon wasn't a shovel?” Matt asked himself as he felt the medication take the edge off his apprehension. Walking into the room no longer felt like a trap. He stepped in and looked around.
“What then, nothing else is flat and heavy.” Rishards said.
“That wall looks pretty solid.” Matt turned to the supervisor. “Why expose an entire compartment to the atmosphere unless the compartment itself was the weapon.” He turned and looked more closely at the walls. “Too many bangs from years of careless tool handling to notice one more dent. An acid wash to remove DNA or tissue evidence. Suppose the killer was behind the victim and then suddenly, pushed his head into the wall. Could that account for the wounds?”
“We'll have to check with the coroner, but maybe.” Rishards said.
“Thank you,” Matt said to the supervisor. “I think were done here.”
“Well if you need any more help just ask.” he responded.
“I will, have a good day.” He turned and walked out, Detective Rishards on his heel.
“Next site.”
“I've already given all the testimony I had.” The man told Rishards as she entered his office.
“Yes, we know. This case is now being handled a bit differently.” She said.
“Oh,” his eyebrows rose.
“This is Detective Dales,” he motioned. “He received his training on Earth. The chief wants his input on this.”
“Yes,” Matt said. “I'll need access to the crime scene and if you could please make yourself available for questions after I’ve looked it over, I would appreciate it.”
“An Earth detective?” He looked Matt over, and then offered him his hand. “A no shit real detective, not one of these glorified computer nerds.”
“Trained in the good old United States.” He took the hand and shook it.
“I can't tell you how much better I feel.” The supervisor said. “No offense, Missy. I know you folk do well enough when you got the right programs. But hell, a detective. Murder ain’t rational and no computer anywhere ain’t ever been able to think outside of rationality.”
“Then he's your man,” Rishards said under her breath.
“I hope that means I can count on your assistance.” Matt smiled.
“Absolutely, Carmen!” he called back over his shoulder. “You're in charge for a while. I gotta show these folks around.”
“Yeah,” A gaunt looking redhead stepped out of her office and looked the group over. “Don't be too long. It’s not my job to cover yours so you can go running off with your friends. If you’re going for beer, I’d better have a bottle waiting for me.”
“This is official colony business.” Matt informed her. “We thank you for any inconvenience this causes you.”
“Well if that's the case.” She smiled. “Just don't be gone too long.”
“Thank you very much ma'am.” He smiled pleasantly. “We are ready any time you are.”
The supervisor took the lead with a spring in his step as if this was most exciting thing he'd been asked to do in years. It may have been.
“Dales?” Rishards asked softly.
“Yes?”
“You know we have the authority to compel cooperation don't you?” she continued.
“Yes, of course.”
“Then why beg these people for their help. They have the responsibility to give it anyway.”
“Are you serious?” Matt was stunned. “People aren’t computers. Have you ever received personal interaction training?”
“Not detective, that's patrol officer training.” Her tone was indignant.
“It wouldn't hurt you to sit in on a training session.” Matt retorted. “Computers always answer every question correctly, criminals will most likely lie. Witnesses and civilians will give aid in proportion to how well they like and trust you. If you build a good rapport with them they will even sometimes volunteer information that you never thought of asking.”
“So why go out of your way to appease the woman?” Rishards asked. “How can she be of help?”
“I don't know maybe she can’t, or maybe she saw something she didn't think was out of the ordinary. We're putting together a gig-saw puzzle, every piece, especially corner ones can help the image come together. I’d rather be polite and gain some good will than to treat people like a computer and loose it. Call my personal detective style.”
“And the fact that she was pretty had nothing to do with it?” She continued.
“Perk.” he said. No wonder the man was glad to have a real detective here. You work with computers long enough and you start to act like one.
“Just be aware the sexual harassment laws are stricter here than in Texas,” she walked out.
“I read them when I got here.” For a detective, Matt thought Rishards was thin skinned.
“This is the maintenance suite.” The supervisor said as the sealed door slid opened. Every inch of the room was corroded by protracted exposure to the atmosphere. The tools on the walls and work areas all spoiled. The few that could be salvaged were piled on a table on the left side for refurbishing. Along the far wall were two doors, a light security door with an unreadable brass plaque. Matt knew from Rishards’ files that this was the pressure suit locker. The other one had a glass view port imbedded into it, etched opaque now. The panel next to it broken and shorted so that it would remain open when the lethal atmosphere came pouring. “This is where Mark worked.”
There were only two exits. The one he was standing in and the one that led to the airlock. Just past the newly repaired hatches was where the victim had been found nailed to the ground without protection in the deadly acidic air. Matt would never have walked out willingly without a suit. He suspected the victim hadn’t either. Rishards brushed past him to get into the room and look around. “How often did anyone other than the victim come back here?”
“It’s an external workshop, unless there were some repairs to do outside, we all just used the main shop.”
“Did he often come down by himself?”
“Not unless he was inspecting some gear. External jaunts are always done in teams of at least two in case there is a mishap.” The man pointed to the door. “The body was found out there.”
“The airlock takes an access code I assume,” Matt regarded into the room intensely.
“Yes, records indicated that the access code in the victims palm chip opened the hatch, and closed it afterward.” Rishards said.
“How can that... Oh dear god!” the supervisors hand went up to his mouth. “You don't mean they cut his hand off.”
“Please keep this between us. If certain aspects of this case were to be made public, then all the freaks come out of the woodwork and we spend our time sorting them out rather than finding the killer. Even one small fact in the hands of an attention grabber can muck things up.” Matt looked hard into the man’s eyes. “Do you understand?”
“Yes detective.” The man responded. “Don’t worry about me. I can keep my yap shut.”
“So, do we suit up and look for clues outside?” Rishards indicated to the pressure suit locker.
“No, that's a secondary site. The attack happened in here.” Matt said.
“Wouldn't it be easier to find clues from inside the room?” Rishards asked.
“I can see the whole room from here.” Matt said.
“Was there any situation in which the victim would have let someone inside this room?”
“That would be against policy.”
“Even so, there is no sign of struggle outside. I think he let someone in and they attacked him, knocked him unconscious and after putting on his pressure suit drug him outside.” Matt said thoughtfully. “You can't hurt his reputation any longer, he's dead. Was he selling contraband of some kind?”
“No, he wasn't like that.” The man said. “Look, he had a wife and family, but he liked women. I mean really liked them.”
“Do you think he would have brought one here for a sexual encounter?” Rishards asked.
“It’s cheaper than a hotel room.” Matt commented. “So we might be looking for a woman.”
“She'd have to be a really strong one; he nearly caved his forehead in.” Rishards said.
“All those tools were inspected?”
“Yeah,” the supervisor said. “We just got them back. Not that they'll be good for much after being left to corrode like that.”
“Good way to cover your tracks.” Matt mused again. “No prints, no DNA. I don't see any digging equipment in here.”
“No, there wouldn't be. The shop is for electronic and plumbing repairs.”
“No shovels?”
“No, why?”
“The coroner thought the victim may have been struck with a shovel. Something large and flat.”
“Maybe they took it with them?” the supervisor suggested.”
“Why go through all this trouble to destroy all evidence and take the most incriminating piece with you. How about outside?”
“No. A search team came up with nothing.” Rishards stared at him. “What are you doing?”
“Thinking. Detective? How did the coroner say the victim received the head wound?”
“Blunt force trauma to the front of his head with a heavy flat object.” She replied.
“Like a shovel?” Matt moved his hands around as if trying to work out a puzzle in the air. “Can you come out here for a second both of you. I want to do an experiment. Sir you will be our victim and Rishards you’re the killer and have a shovel.”
“Okay.” she moved into position in front of him.
“Now swing at him.” she pretended to swing and the man's arms went up to defend himself. “There he instinctively blocked. There were no defensive wounds on the victim.”
“What do you think he got hit with?” the supervisor broke in.
“Well the attack was either from behind, or so unexpected that he had no chance to defend himself.” Matt mused.
“Which meant that he trusted his attacker.” Rishards added.
“Oh, Mark. Bad choice.” The supervisor said half under his breath.
“What if the weapon wasn't a shovel?” Matt asked himself as he felt the medication take the edge off his apprehension. Walking into the room no longer felt like a trap. He stepped in and looked around.
“What then, nothing else is flat and heavy.” Rishards said.
“That wall looks pretty solid.” Matt turned to the supervisor. “Why expose an entire compartment to the atmosphere unless the compartment itself was the weapon.” He turned and looked more closely at the walls. “Too many bangs from years of careless tool handling to notice one more dent. An acid wash to remove DNA or tissue evidence. Suppose the killer was behind the victim and then suddenly, pushed his head into the wall. Could that account for the wounds?”
“We'll have to check with the coroner, but maybe.” Rishards said.
“Thank you,” Matt said to the supervisor. “I think were done here.”
“Well if you need any more help just ask.” he responded.
“I will, have a good day.” He turned and walked out, Detective Rishards on his heel.
“Next site.”
Other books
Darling by Claudia D. Christian
Russian Roulette by Anthony Horowitz
Murder With Peacocks by Donna Andrews
The Capture of Highland Desire (The Mac Coinnach Brothers) by Kella McKinnon
The Ghost and The Graveyard (The Monk's Hill Witch) by Jack, Genevieve
War Classics by Flora Johnston
The Rock Star in Seat by Jill Kargman
Pretty Polly by M.C. Beaton
Midnight Games by R.L. Stine
Perfect You by Elizabeth Scott