Fade to Black (The Mallet Book 1) Read online

  6

  The Maintenance section was crowded. Sofie’s shoulders itched with some undercurrent of emotion she couldn’t identify. Not the fact that people kept brushing by her as they passed. No one added any force to the contact, it happened because of the number of people in the narrow walkways. Shift change was almost complete. Soon half of the bodies would be at work, and the other half home, or in a bar.

  Nothing out of the ordinary here. Probably just the Ruiz Pratham’s comments poking at her mind. “You feel anything weird?” she asked Rick, just to be sure she wasn’t rationalizing away her fear.

  He looked around and shrugged. “Busy but quiet. No one is yelling or preaching.”

  Maybe that was it. The quiet.

  “Let’s get to the scene. Did you contact the supervisor?” She shouldered through a knot of bodies into a less crowded space. Without the human scents, the stench of Maintenance hit her. Burned grease, solvent, and sweat. It hung in the air as if trapped by the humidity and heat. Sofie breathed through her mouth to minimize the impact until her nose could ignore the reek.

  “Yeah, name of Mitch. He’ll be there in thirty.” Rick nodded toward a side corridor. “We turn here. The crime scene’s pretty deep in the residential section.”

  In a service recess. The pictures mostly showed the aftermath of the crime. “What the fuck was he doing down here?” she asked.

  She followed Rick closely, her hand on her weapon. The people loitering in this part of the ship were desperate. Vagrants fired for making mistakes, or just pissing off the wrong person, or because they were old or sick. They depended on the scant charity their neighbors could afford if they were lucky. If luck wasn’t with them, most headed for the dark streets, where the desperate sold their bodies or facilitated depraved services. A few chose the recyclers as a way to end their misery.

  A couple of men lounged in the shadows. They broke eye contact fast and slipped down another passage. She watched until she lost them in the gloom. There was plenty of power to keep the section well-lit, but residents broke the globes, and the Elite didn’t care about the danger darkness represented.

  “A coin?” The voice was shaky.

  Sofie glanced at Rick’s back. “Hold up.”

  She bent to look at the man slumped in the doorway of a store. Nothing about him was remarkable: dirty-blond hair, brown eyes, skinny in a way that hinted he’d never been heavy. Trembling hands, sheen of sweat, voice cracking. No reek of alcohol to explain his state. He was recovering from an attack of the Fades. “Why aren’t you being treated?” she asked.

  He reached for her hand, but Sofie shuffled back. He probably carried some other disease or parasite along with the Fades that she didn’t want to pick up.

  “Why are you so sick?” she asked. Maybe dropping a few of her meds in his palm would help.

  “The bosses got no use for me like this,” he said. “No meds for them who can’t work.”

  Fucking assholes. A cheap treatment, or a course of the meds and he’d be back to the job in a couple of days. “What’s your name?” She slid her hand into her pocket and worked a few meds free from the bag. She’d just have to go see Bindes sooner than planned. Maybe tell him about this guy.

  “Deacon.” His eyes were on her movements.

  Sofie checked Rick’s position. He stood guard, casual but alert. His attention was on their surroundings, not her. “You see anything to do with the murder?”

  Deacon stared at her pocket. “Don’t see much of anything these days.”

  She removed the meds and showed them to him. “This should help you for a few days, maybe enough to get you back to work,” she said. “You sure you didn’t see anything?”

  “Elite, right?”

  Sofie nodded.

  “Probably deserved it,” Deacon said. “Saw the techs.”

  Sofie closed her hand on the meds.

  He reached out again, his eyes moving from her hand to her face.

  “You gonna leave me to die?”

  By the look of him, it wouldn’t be long before starvation took him.

  “If I give you these, will you go to a shelter?” No one wanted to live in the shelters run by the Accept priests. You received the bare minimum to survive in exchange for constant preaching about accepting what their god placed on you as a burden.

  “Rather die here,” Deacon said.

  “So what will you do?” Sofie opened her hand again. “You get a couple of days of functioning. Then this starts again.”

  “Who knows what will happen in those couple of days,” he said. The smile he tried to force through the trembles was painful to watch.

  “If you remember anything, you call me, right?” She dug out a contact card. “This only calls me, don’t lose it.”

  She put the card in his outstretched hand. All he needed to do was press the image in the corner and her pad would signal the contact.

  He nodded — or it might have been another bout of tremors.

  “Put it away,” she said. When he managed to slip it into a pocket, she dropped the meds in his palm.

  She rose from the crouch and started to move toward Rick. Time to see what the techs left at the scene.

  “Hey,” Deacon called weakly.

  Sofie turned. He beckoned her back. She stood out of reach and waited for him to continue.

  “Didn’t see the murder, but you be careful who you trust. Not just that dead Elite involved.”

  She looked at him. Was there a message she wasn’t hearing? The words were useless to her. Of course there were more people involved.

  “You take care of yourself,” she said.

  Rick straightened up when she reached him. “Anything?”

  She stepped ahead of him to take the lead. Following Rick meant he blocked her view of what was ahead of them. “Nothing.”

  “Too far gone?”

  “Probably,” she said. The image of her own body in the same state as Deacon’s chilled her. One day she would have an attack she couldn’t stop. One day her body would keep trembling and that would be the end. She might get the treatment, but even cured, the job would be gone, and she had no other skills.

  “What did you give him?” Rick asked.

  He didn’t look at her, but the question slid an icy blade in her gut. No way Rick knew. If he suspected she was up to something, he wouldn’t let it go. She couldn’t let him find the truth. She couldn’t be beholden to him to keep her secret.

  “Some vitamins. Nothing to make him talk, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He glanced down at her. “No. You wouldn’t do that. You think vitamins will help him?”

  “Probably not, but a kind gesture can make him more likely to trust us.” She looked at her pad. “We turn right at the next junction. The scene is the second right after that.”

  Her original question came back. What was Oswald Sato doing this far from his pristine and elegant home? What would draw him down to his death in this section of the Mallet?

  The answer might explain why he died, and who did it.

  7

  The recess where the body was found was poorly lit even for the neighborhood. Sofie plugged her pad into a port and turned on the light. Harsh, but maybe it would help.

  “Not enough blood,” Rick said. “He was dumped here.”

  Sofie looked around. Some blood, but yeah, not enough for the injuries they’d seen on the image in the captain’s office.

  “Let’s look around first,” Rick said. “I’ll pop the holo down after.”

  The techs would be working on the evidence they’d pulled. A murdered Elite meant their case would be the top priority for the techs. The holo, evidence list, and preliminary conclusions would be updated in the system by the time she and Rick completed their own examination.

  “It’s been a long time since a mech came in and used this space. Someone must have altered the programing. Amanda can research it,” she said.

  A few spots showed tracks in the mud
of blood, dust, and detritus. It had been so long that the mech tracks were covered with a layer of gunk and were only visible where the scene team had removed the top layer. The designers of the station had formed the metal floors to look like cobbled streets. Apparently, they thought the appearance of being on a planet might be good for the mental well-being of the inhabitants. Here, the cobbles were scraped down in places and some flat plates were bolted on. Perhaps that was why the recess was abandoned. Mechs would have difficulty traveling along such an irregular surface. If this represented the kind of service the Maintenance section received, no wonder people were restless.

  “We can get the logs, maybe find out why it’s disused. I think we’re dealing with a local,” Rick said.

  Nothing special in that observation. Sofie kept scanning the floor and walls, hoping for anything the team might have marked. Not anything they’d missed; the team didn’t miss anything. They didn’t make guesses either.

  “What did they find on him?” she asked. “I’m pretty sure this didn’t happen because someone wanted to kill an Elite for a thrill.”

  Rick tapped his pad to check the draft report. “Nothing. No ID, no credits, no jewelry. Yeah, robbery might be a motive. Hard to fence that kind of stuff. Everyone would know who it came from.”

  “The Temporaries,” Sofie said. “It’s probably off-station by now.”

  Rick grunted like he agreed with her.

  A green tag caught her eye up on the back wall. “The crime scene team are still recording.” Maybe the killer came back or would come back. A faint hope, but if it happened they needed to capture it.

  “Ten minutes for the holo update,” Rick said after checking his pad. “Report agrees this isn’t our primary scene.”

  “Could mean we have more than one crime.” Sofie stepped out of the recess and checked the passageway. Still quiet. How much activity could go on before someone got curious? It would take strength to carry Sato to the recess, or some kind of help. “Or two killers.”

  Rick was still scanning the reports, giving Sofie time to follow her own instincts. This neighborhood was empty after the shift change. Either everyone healthy enough to work was at work, or they were inside recovering for their next stint. No kids playing in the halls. No adults chatting or taking a walk. All the killer had to do was wait for the right time and no one would see them move the body. The kill scene couldn’t be far though. The residential street might be easy to slip into without notice, but carrying a body any distance meant going through busier areas with witnesses.

  “The holo is ready.”

  She turned away from scanning the area outside for clues to see a body sprawled on the floor of the recess. The Sato Pratham looked like any other murder victim, all power vanished with his life. That similarity ended with the body; the aftermath of a Pratham’s murder could affect the entire station.

  “He wasn’t just tossed in,” she said. “Someone placed his body. That took more time.”

  “Did you see anything outside?” Rick asked. He placed his pad on a ledge beside Sofie’s and sprayed his shoes to protect any evidence still remaining. “Should I tell the techs to come back?”

  Sofie treated her shoes and handed the dispenser back to Rick. “Ask if they’ve already done the passage. If not, it might be too late. There’s been a shift change.”

  Rick sent the message and returned his pad to the shelf.

  It was the same positioning of the body they saw in Llewelyn’s office: Sato on his stomach, head turned to the side.

  The holo showed Sato’s head turned to the right, his arms placed like he was trying to crawl away, but he was facing the back of the recess. His legs were broken and turned at unnatural angles.

  “Turn off the holo for a minute,” Sofie said. “Let’s see what was under him.”

  The body flicked out and Sofie moved to stand over the spot where Sato’s head had rested.

  Rick stepped across to the other side, as though the body was still lying there. “No scratches on the exposed skin visible in the holo, so he wasn’t just dragged and dumped. The body might have been posed.”

  “We might get a hint about the actual murder site from the autopsy.” She bent low to see the indents left by Sato’s belt and buttons in the dirt coating the floor. “He was here long enough to make a mark.”

  “The report estimates a day.” Rick moved to where Sato’s feet had rested. “No drag marks. So he was carried.”

  “Either by more than one person, or a piece of equipment,” Sofie said. “No, more than one person moved him for sure.”

  “Because of the posing?” Rick moved back to turn the holo on again.

  “There’s a dent in the muck here.” Sofie pointed. “Like the toe of his boot hit here before they arranged it.”

  “Another mark here,” Rick said, pointing to what looked like a slice in the coating. “He went in facedown. They turned his head.”

  None of what they’d found would help find the killer or the original crime scene. Maybe there was trace on the body or the clothes to help, but it would be hours before the techs were done with their work.

  “Is the holo complete?” Sofie asked.

  “Not quite. You want me to turn it on?”

  “Might as well. If there’s nothing, we can talk to the residents.”

  “And the supervisor should be here any minute.”

  Rick touched his pad again. The body flickered and then settled with the underside showing. There were gaps in this view. The techs must still be putting data points in, to finalize their findings.

  Sofie stared at the image. Very different from the first view. Now they could see his face was torn, like someone had raked a sharp fork across it. Not fingernails, too deep and regular. His hands had been sliced across the palms. His jacket and shirt were open. The same instrument had been used to lacerate his chest.

  “Personal,” Sofie said. “Someone hates him for who he is, not for his status.”

  “Fuck the stars.” The voice came from the walkway behind them.

  Sofie stepped out to the walkway, hands on her weapon. A man. In the dark-gray overalls of a supervisor.

  “Mitch?” Rick asked.

  “Yeah, do I need to see that?” Mitch pointed to the holo.

  Rick turned it off and joined them in the walkway, the crime scene barrier snapping into place as soon as he stepped from the recess.

  8

  “We’ll be talking to everyone who lives around here,” Sofie said. “Where were you over the last day?” It was a pretty broad time span, but if they needed this Mitch to give a full statement, it wouldn’t be in the back alley of his neighborhood.

  “My job.” He puffed up a little as he spoke. It didn’t do much to enhance his appearance. The man was chubby, something few residents of Maintenance could hope to achieve. His weight might be from flabby muscles rather than fat; he looked like a young, retired ring fighter. Maybe he’d been injured badly enough to end that career. His hair was thin and stringy where it wasn’t completely gone, his eyes a blue so pale it almost didn’t register as a color. “Checking on people who claim to be ill. Making sure no one is loitering. Keeping the peace.”

  “You work twenty-four-hour shifts?” Rick asked.

  It wasn’t unknown for some jobs to run long shifts. The people worked on stims for up to two days without more than a half-hour break. Then they took downers to sleep. Those jobs burned people out, but they were all critical tasks. No one expected a supervisor to work more than a few hours in a row.

  “No. But I’m either sleeping or out of my section if I’m not on the job. Don’t like to drink with the residents.”

  More likely the residents didn’t want to drink with him. He wasn’t doing a great job of maintaining his part of the neighborhood. If he was, Deacon would have been in a medical clinic, not the doorway of a store. And there was no way the body would have been in the recess so long if he made his rounds. It was possible that Mitch took money to look a
way from certain activities. Since Deacon couldn’t pay a bribe, he got ignored. It was also possible the man was just lazy.

  “Did you call in the body?” Rick asked.

  Mitch shook his head.

  “So, an important man gets killed in your section, and you don’t know anything about it?” Sofie asked. Rick could play it neutral, but she figured Mitch would react to her aggressive questions, and that would make him slip on something they could use.

  The lie flicked across Mitch’s face before he reconsidered. Even he had to know lying to the police would bring trouble, no matter if he was innocent of the crime in front of them. “Yeah. That’s exactly what happened. You think I can be everywhere? Most of the time this section is empty. People work, eat, sleep. All kinds of shit could be going on outside their homes. No one snitches.”

  Rick took over. “Other supervisors have people helping to keep their homes safe.”

  “Yeah, and other supervisors don’t have to deal with the same people I do. No one talks and everyone turns a blind eye.”

  “Anyone claim to be ill yesterday?” Sofie was tired of his whining. “Someone you didn’t check on?”

  “A few are sick. No one malingering,” Mitch said. “No one can afford to lose a shift’s pay down here, so they work unless they can’t stand up at a machine.”

  “We need their names and unit numbers,” Rick said. “We need the same for anyone sick on the previous shift too. We can get the rest of the names from the system.”

  Mitch pulled his pad out and sent the names to Rick. “Here’s who’s supposed to be living in each unit too.”

  “What do you mean, supposed to be living?” Sofie asked. “Residents don’t move around without notice. There’s nowhere to go.”

  People were assigned living units by their work shift. No one decided to move along —there were no unregistered units.

  “I might be behind in updating the system. Had a few deaths last couple of weeks.”