Con Job (13 page)

“Hey, Jacob.”

He looked up to see Jessica and vibrant-haired Amber leaning over the pass-through. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

“I brought Amber to answer your questions.”

“What questions?”

“About arsenate pesticides.” Amber tucked pink and purple hair behind her ear and adjusted the ear cuff. “I’m an advocate with Consumer Actions.”

“Really? I never knew that’s what you did.” Jacob checked his phone to verify the substance name. “So, lead hydrogen arsenate. Sound familiar?”

“Lead and arsenic were really common as pesticides,” said Amber. “In the early 1900s people were actually getting sick from fruit treated with lead arsenate pesticides, and some boards of health were actually rejecting or destroying crops because they considered them dangerous. And this is like only fifteen or twenty years after
The Jungle
, you know? It’s still a big deal that they’re even acting on this.”

“So they banned it?”

“Oh, no way. They were using that stuff on fruit tree bugs and crabgrass and mosquitoes. Kills everything, you know, so we weren’t going to give it up just because it could kill us too. Lead arsenate wasn’t banned until the eighties, and there’s still some arsenic herbicides out there now. Heck, we can feed it to our livestock.”

“What?”

“Yep, there’s three or four arsenic compounds that are used to bulk up chickens and pigs for market. There’s a lot of talk about it in the industry, because the arsenic shows up in the chicken meat, and some of it has been pulled by the manufacturers at least temporarily. But the FDA hasn’t withdrawn its approval yet, so it’s all still legal and stuff.”

“Ew,” said Sam. “Are you serious?”

Amber twisted her mouth. “Why do you think I eat organic?”

“Makes sense, if it’s arsenic-free.”

“Well, no arsenic can be used in organic production, so it’s a lot safer, but it’s not foolproof. A lot of lead arsenate is left in the soil, and so it still shows up in crops. Rice is a big one for that. I’ve read estimates of two hundred pounds of arsenic were applied per acre, over the years. Think about that.” She shuddered. “About ten or fifteen years ago, the EPA pulled a bunch of topsoil out of people’s yards in a subdivision built in a former orchard. The lead and arsenic were causing birth defects in their kids.”

Sam swore. “That’s crazy. And why isn’t anyone talking about this? Seems like arsenic in the chicken would be big news.”

Amber shook her head. “There’s a few warnings about things like mushroom collecting and stuff — morels pick up a lot of lead and arsenic from treated soil and can be dangerous — but what’s the point of scaring people when there’s nothing they can do about it? So your backyard dirt might be causing birth defects or learning disorders, or your
arroz con pollo
might be carcinogenic, but what are they going to do?” She shrugged. “We’re pushing for changes in current production, which is hard enough, but things like arsenic in the soil, that’s hard to deal with.”

“So, you can still buy this stuff?”

“Sort of. Like I said, some of the animal feed stuff has been voluntarily suspended, but it could come back, and in the meantime it’s not illegal to buy or sell or use whatever’s already out there. Same with the herbicides, and you can buy some of those right in your local home improvement store. Plus, you could mix up your own lead arsenate at home, or at least a lot of the old farmers used to do that.”

“Ah,” said Jacob flatly. “So you don’t have to get it from China.”

“Oh, no,” Amber said easily. “No, there’s a fair bit of talk about arsenic in Chinese produce — and it’s not really without cause, because for all that they’re not supposed to be using it, lots of import crops test positive for it. But it’s certainly not limited to China.”

“Well,” said Jacob, with a guilty ripple of relief, “there goes that theory.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d thought — I’d wondered, if lead arsenate was being used in China but not here, that maybe the person who was using it had gotten it from China. But that’s not going to be very compelling, if I could just go down to Lowe’s and buy this stuff.”

“What you buy at Lowe’s or Home Depot is a little different,” Amber clarified, “but yeah, it certainly didn’t have to come from China.”

“You’re saying it could have come from just about anywhere.”

“Anyone with access to old farm supplies could have it, or access to a garden store, or a basic competency with Google, yeah.”

“Thanks.” Jacob sighed. “That doesn’t exactly narrow our field.”

“Hey, guy.”

This time it was Ryan Brazil leaning over the pass-through. “I’m Jacob. Can I help you?”

“Yeah. Hey, the green room got stripped and the con suite is full of police and suspects or something. What am I supposed to be doing about coffee?”

It took Jacob a minute to understand the problem. “You want…. There’s probably a coffee maker in your room, if it’s like mine. And it should be safe, because all the coffee stuff is prepackaged and the water should be fine.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “I’m not drinking generic hotel coffee. Who knows where that’s been, when it was ground, whatever? I need some Starbucks. Can you call me a volunteer, send them for something before my next panel?”

Jacob blinked at him. “We’re running at least four tables of snacks and microwave meals for thousands of attendees. We’re all having a little make-do. I don’t think there’s going to be a volunteer available.”

Ryan swore. “It’s like you don’t even
want
guests here.” He blew out his breath in noisy exasperation. “Can you at least get me some bottled water or something?”

Getting Ryan what he wanted would get him out of everyone’s hair for a while. Yes, it would further his spoiled attitude, but maybe his next entitlement tantrum wouldn’t be Jacob’s problem. “Sure. But I’ll have to go get something from one of the stations. Tell you what, you wait in the conservatory, and I’ll bring it out.”

He left Con Ops and went to the former staff suite. He slid up the side of the long line and went around the back of the table. “Hi,” he said, showing his Con Aid badge. “I need a bottle of water for a guest.”

“Is it Ryan Brazil?” asked the girl, pulling more macaroni and cheese from the cardboard case.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Of course it is.” She passed Jacob a bottle of water. “Last one for being a guest. Next one he has to pay for. We’ve got a lot of people to take care of here.”

“Right. I’ll tell him.”

Jacob took the bottle out to the conservatory. Several fandom groups were still photographing their gatherings, and he could see a group of several Battletech Houses and mercenary companies, a collection of Buffy characters, three Sherlocks in iconic hat and scarf, and an assortment of Alices from various Wonderland incarnations. He’d missed the costume contest, and he wondered how his friends had fared.

Ryan Brazil was on a couch, staring at his tablet. He was facing away, and as Jacob drew near he could see that Ryan was flipping through a photo album, dwelling on some and skipping over others. “Here’s your water.”

“Oh!” Ryan pulled the tablet to his chest and reached for the bottle. “Thanks. I’d wondered what happened to you.”

“Had to go pick it up,” Jacob answered. “They say that’s your last free one, sorry. They’ve got a lot of demand and they need to save some for the attendees.”

“Are you kidding me? The attendees don’t make a living off their voices, you know.”

“I’m just the messenger.” Jacob glanced down at the tablet Ryan held near him, hovering as if he were undecided whether to conceal it or leave it on his lap where Jacob might be able to see it.

Nothing is so intriguing as what someone wishes to hide. “Catching up on Facebook?” Jacob asked.

“Yeah.”

“Who’s that?”

Ryan hesitated only a second or so. “You think she’s cute? She is, but don’t get any ideas. She’s my niece.” He lowered the tablet and displayed a photo of a girl in her mid-teens, smiling at the camera with one hand on her popped hip. Jacob thought she was dressed as a Pokemon character.

“Cute,” Jacob agreed, “but a bit young for me.”

“Yep,” Ryan said. “Don’t want any pervs or creepers.” He brushed the screen as he reached for the power button, flipping to the next photo as the tablet screen went dark.

“Wait,” said Jacob. “Who was that?”

“Oh, that’s her sister,” Ryan said. “She’s older, but still, no ideas.”

“Can I at least see her?”

Ryan hesitated. “That’s kind of not cool.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t even know your niece.”

Ryan shook his head. “Nope, sorry.”

Jacob swallowed. “Okay. You’ve got a panel coming up, right? Hope it goes well.”

He headed back to Con Ops, his mind racing. It had gone by too quickly to be sure — but he thought that second photo had been Sam.

But Sam wasn’t Ryan Brazil’s niece, so it couldn’t have been her. But he was pretty sure he’d seen that photo before. It had been a cosplay photo, a white gown before a stand of trees, and not too many people had done the School Days arc of
Season of the Dove
. While it was plausible that Ryan Brazil’s nieces were fans, it seemed less likely that one would do the identical costume in the identical setting as Sam.

Jacob went directly to the computer at Con Ops and opened Facebook. Sam usually had a couple of albums documenting her latest costumes. He opened the first and stopped.

That was the photo — the exact photo. He was certain of it. Sam had been on Ryan Brazil’s tablet, and her profile was closed to non-friends.

Which wouldn’t be that weird, because Sam was pursuing voice acting and might be networking, except that Ryan had called her his niece and had tried to conceal the tablet.

He texted Sam.
You busy?

Helping someone with zombie makeup for tonight, nearly done. What’s up?

It was an awkward question to ask via text. He decided not to.
Can you come by Ops when you’re done?

Jacob couldn’t see what was being submitted to the Flickr account, as it was administrated by the police. But photos shared via the Twitter hashtag were open to all, and he scrolled slowly down them. What was it the thief had wanted to hide? Was it related to either of the murders?

“Freaking idiots.”

Jacob turned as Daniel came in. The Imperial uniform was starting to look rumpled. “What happened?”

“The whole dance just got Rick-rolled, only instead of Rick Astley it was that
Cougars and Cold Ones
show again. What the heck? What is this thing?”

Ice settled into Jacob’s stomach. This was no coincidence.

“Where is it coming from, and why here? People are starting to make jokes about it, which is fine except—”

“Daniel.”

Daniel stopped and looked at him. “What is it?”

Jacob took a breath. “It’s….”

“What? You’re not doing this. Putting these videos—”

“No! No, I’m not doing it. I would never. But….”

Daniel sat down and leaned back, deliberately casual. “I’m listening.”

Jacob exhaled and shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Fine. I sometimes forget what I’m going to say, too.” Daniel gave him a sidelong look.

Jacob was saved by Detective Martin’s entrance. She was clutching a tall paper cup of coffee. “This stuff is getting rare. The barristas say they’ve been hammered this afternoon.”

Sam leaned over the pass-through. “Hey, Jacob, what’d you need?”

“Come on in here.” He turned and looked at the police officers. “And I’m glad you guys are here, too. ‘Cuz this is kind of weird.”

Sam came in and gave him an odd look. “What’s up?”

“Do you know Ryan Brazil?”

“Of course. Voice actor. Judged the voice contest today, and actually complimented me afterward.”

“He did?”

“You don’t have to sound surprised,” she told him. “He said he wanted to pick me to win but was outvoted, but he thought he could talk me up to some casting people and directors and maybe get my name in. Which I thought was pretty cool of him.” She stopped. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did you give him your contact info?”

“Of course. How else could we do business-type talk?”

“So you had a business card or something?”

“No, we friended each other.”

“On Facebook.”

“That’s how some people do business. Less formal, more friendly.”

Jacob bit at his lip. “Okay, here’s where it gets weird.” He paused, trying to put his unease into words, and the silence stretched.

Detective Martin cleared her throat. “If it helps,” she said, “I spent two years going after human traffickers before I got into Homicide, so whatever you’re going to say isn’t going to sound stupid to me.”

That lent a more sinister tone to what Jacob had to ask. “Ryan was looking at photos when I took him a bottle of water,” he said, “and he kind of tried to hide the pictures from me. They were just photos, nothing porno, but he was kind of, I dunno, weird about them. I asked, and he told me they were of his nieces.”

Sam’s eyes had changed, but she spoke as if she didn’t understand. “Maybe they were.”

Jacob tapped the touchpad and the screen flickered to life, showing her in the white gown before the trees. “This photo. He called you his niece and said I couldn’t look at your picture.”

Sam started to speak and then stopped.

Detective Martin looked at Sam. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Not illegal, then, just creepy.”

“Not the other girl I saw,” Jacob said. “She was maybe fifteen, I’d guess. He even said she was younger, said I shouldn’t get any ideas about her.”

“And that’s both creepy and a potential legal issue,” Detective Martin returned. “Not a lot to work on, but that’s a definite blip on my admittedly-sensitized radar.”

“Can I unfriend him right now or will that blow any potential investigation?” Sam asked, taking out her phone. “Because I’ve got beach pictures on there, too. And, ew.”

“I hear you, but first let’s find out what we’re dealing with,” Detective Martin said. “Who else was at this contest he judged today?”

“Oh, a lot of people. There’s a potential voice role at the end of it, so lots of hopefuls like me were there. Ryan judged, so did Mickey Groene and Sandra Shark.”

“Oh, I remember Mickey Groene. Let’s ask him how it went today. Any other females about your age?”

“Definitely, but I couldn’t tell you who.”

Jacob checked the schedule. “Mickey’s free right now. Should I try to get him here?”

“No hurry, but sure.”

Daniel hadn’t spoken yet, but his posture had shifted slightly. Jacob had the impression that didn’t bode well for Ryan Brazil.

Jacob turned on the radio. “If anyone sees Mickey Groene, please send him to Con Ops. Alternately, if Guest Relations could give me a way to contact him, we’d appreciate it.”

Sam dropped into a chair. “So basically, he lied to me about my voice acting so he could ogle my photos. I don’t even know which one I’m more upset about right now.”

“Why choose?” Detective Martin asked.

The radio came to life. “I’ve got Mickey Groene over here at Main. He says he’s happy to come by, heading that way now.”

Mickey had clearly expected something else. “About the voice acting contest?” he repeated, perplexed.

“Yes. Did anything stand out to you?”

“Well, a few things.” He pointed at Sam. “Her, for one thing. She did a great job.”

Sam smiled. “Thanks.”

Detective Martin frowned. “You and Ryan Brazil, both?”

“Hm? Well, I guess so. He said she was good, too, but he liked the guy with the goat impression more. It was really down to three people, and — plug your ears and hum, Sam, you’re not supposed to hear this — and Sandra and I were pulling for the first guy up and Sam here, but Ryan pushed really hard for the goat-guy and swung the other two.”

“Ryan voted against her?” Detective Martin repeated.

Sam’s eyes were wide, her expression growing in slow outrage.

“Yeah. Don’t take it personally. It’s a tough call, and that’s why there are multiple judges.”

“Oh, it’s personal,” Sam said, “but not because he didn’t like my lines.”

Mickey looked from her to the police officers. “I feel like I’m missing something here.”

“Mr. Groene, you’ve been very helpful,” Detective Martin said. “Thank you very much for your time. Can we count on you to keep this conversation private for the time being?”

“Certainly. I don’t even know what we talked about.”

When he had gone, Detective Martin and Daniel exchanged glances. “How do you want to play this?” she asked.

Daniel frowned for a long moment. Finally he interlaced his fingers and stretched, so that a couple of knuckles popped. “None of that was illegal,” he said, with obvious reluctance. “Just sleazy.”

“Would it be more than sleazy if he’s friending minors?” asked Sam.

“Depends on what he’s doing once he’s friended them.” Detective Martin frowned. “And that’s where the computer guys have to get involved, see if he’s just looking at pics or soliciting pics or what.”

“Sam, don’t hold your breath waiting for a call from a director based on Brazil’s recommendation,” Daniel said. “I’m sorry. But you can maybe take some comfort in the fact that we’re going to make his life really uncomfortable if he so much as sticks a toe across the legal line.”

“He deliberately sunk me so he could get photos,” Sam said. “Holy — I just — there aren’t even words.” She shook her head. “I’m so un-friending him.”

A chorus of shrieks and shrieking laughter drew their attention, and Detective Martin rose and started toward the door. Before she could reach it, however, Zach appeared at the pass-through. “Hey, guys!” He beckoned them with a wave of his arm. “Have you seen this? The zombie crawl is starting, and it’s awesome.”