Dead Man on the Moon (35 page)

"Until the investigation is completed," Linus replied calmly. "It shouldn't be more than a few weeks."

"But I don't get as much field credit behind a desk," Gary objected hotly. "You can't—"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do in my own department," Linus snapped. "You'd better get to your desk now. Tell Marks she'll be picking up your field time until further notice."

Gary shot Noah a look of pure hatred before storming out of the room. Noah couldn't help smiling.

"Thanks," he said to Linus.

"It's departmental procedure," Linus replied in a neutral voice.

"I wouldn't walk down any dark alleys if I were you, Noah," Karen said. "He looked madder than a shark with a toothache."

"I didn't ask for him to be an enemy," Noah said. "Maybe he'll calm down after a couple weeks." Though even as he said it, he doubted it would happen. He sighed. "Anyway, I should probably start writing the report on Viktor Riza's murder."

"Actually, I think you should hold off a bit," Linus said.

Noah blinked at him. "I should? Why? Am I being suspended or something?"

"Nothing like that." Linus gestured at the evidence table. "It's just that your conclusion about Viktor's death doesn't match the evidence."

"I don't understand."

Linus sighed. "You've missed a few important facts, Kid. First, the water smears at the tank were almost certainly caused by the paramedics, not by a fight between Bredda and Viktor. All you can say for certain from these footprints is that Bredda walked away from Viktor."

"Maybe," Noah said doubtfully, "but it still could have—"

"There's more," Linus interrupted. "Blue is administered orally. It comes in ampoules, but the users squirt it into their mouths and swallow or mix it in a drink. It's unlikely in the extreme that Bredda could have forced Viktor to take enough of it to get his blood levels that high. He must have taken it on his own. Also, according to Dr. Rose, the only material under Viktor's fingernails was fish scales and algae. In your scenario, Viktor struggled with Bredda up close and personal, and that would have left her skin flakes under Viktor's nails, maybe even blood. I'm sorry, Kid, but there's only one solution to this case."

Noah started to object, then halted the words before they could escape. It was hard to admit it, but Linus was right. There were holes in Noah's case, big, obvious ones. He had just not wanted to see them. Now that Linus had pointed him the right direction, Noah saw the correct solution. He forced himself to look Linus in the face.

"Viktor's death was an accident," Noah said slowly. "Bredda persuaded Viktor to take more Blue, and, as an inexperienced user, he took so much that he wasn't any . . . fun to Bredda, and he was too high to buy any more Blue. So Bredda left and rejoined Indigo. Viktor tried to get up and follow them, but stumbled against the tank and fell face-first into it. The worker noticed him in time to call the paramedics, who smeared the water around."

"That's how I read it," Linus said.

Karen patted his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault that Viktor died, Noah."

Noah stared at her. "What? How did—?"

"It's not hard to see, love," Karen said gently. "The way you saw it, if you hadn't thrown Viktor out of your apartment, he'd still be alive and undamaged. You were thinking that if you could find his killer, it would balance the scales—there'd be someone else to blame."

"Yeah," Noah said. "That's kind of ... yeah."

"It wasn't your fault," Karen continued. "Viktor decided to overstay his welcome at your apartment. Viktor decided to go off with Bredda and Indigo, and Viktor decided to take the Blue. I wouldn't wish his current position on anyone, but he doesn't have anyone to blame except himself. No one can blame you."

"Maybe," Noah said. "I'll have to think about it for a while." But he felt rather better.

"And you cracked a major case all on your own," Karen finished.

This startled Noah. "I did?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," Linus said, clapping him heartily on the back. "Weren't you paying attention? Indigo clearly has a
line on Luna's illegal drug trade, and I'm sure he'll have a lot to say once we get him talking. You blew the lid off the whole thing single-handedly. Pretty good for your first time out."

"Hey, yeah," Noah said. "And my show got some pretty good reviews, too." And he'd gotten to try sex in low gravity.

"Go home, Kid," Linus said. "Get some rest before classes start. Then you'll learn the
real
meaning of the word
pressure."

"I'm going to have to come up with a nickname for you," Noah muttered. "Old man, old fart, ancient one. If you're going to call me
kid,
anyway"

"I've never called you
kid,"
Linus protested.

Noah sighed and left.

"I didn't call him
kid,
did I?" Linus asked Karen as they entered his office.

Karen gave a light laugh and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, then thought the better of it, then decided
What the hell
and bussed him soundly. He smelled good, even if his face was bruised.

"I'm sure you'll get over it love," she said.

Their eyes met for a long moment. Karen remembered the heat she had felt in the medical center and the affect she'd had on Linus. He'd had the same effect on her, and the intensity of it had surprised her. She had held him close, telling him he could cry, to cover her surprise and confusion. Now, with his gray eyes meeting hers, she wondered how she could ever be confused about anything.

A chime sounded, and Linus broke eye contact. "That's probably the Mayor-President calling," he said, reaching for his desk. "I'll have some good news for her."

Karen hovered behind him as Linus's display popped up. His face went impassive.

"Actually it's Robin," he said. "My wife."

The moment ended. Karen headed for the exit. "I'll just give you some privacy, then." She shut the door and leaned
against it, wishing she could hear the murmurs from within but also feeling glad she couldn't. Love wasn't supposed to be a dichotomy, but it was. Dr. Karen Fang stood in the hallway for a long moment, then nodded once to herself and walked firmly away.

Noah arrived at his apartment, wishing he could take a bath but willing to settle for a hot shower. Jake lay stretched out on the living room, reading textbooks on his obie. A bowl of fluffy white popcorn sat next to him, and Noah smelled the butter. Fake butter, probably, but who cared?

"Oh man," Jake groaned when Noah came in. "I don't know how I'm going to survive this semester."

"Harsh reading?"

" 'Harsh' doesn't even start to describe it. This book makes hydrochloric acid look like a milkshake." He saw the tired expression on Noah's face and sat up. "Hard day?"

"Yeah. Wade here?"

Jake shook his head and stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. One kernel got away from him and drifted to the floor like a malformed snowflake. "Got the official notice a couple hours ago. Wade's moved out."

"So it's just you and me, hey?"

"I doubt it. We'll probably get someone even worse."

Noah tried to plop down on the sofa, but the low gravity turned it into more of a gentle plunk. "Let's be optimistic," he said. "It might be someone better."

"Define 'better.' "

"Someone who won't hold all-night orgies without inviting his roommates," Noah said, and Jake laughed.

The door opened. "Hello? Anyone home?"

"In here," Jake called out. He shot Noah an apprehensive look, but Noah just smiled back at him. They'd gotten the Roommate from Hell out of the way. Whoever it was would only be an improvement.

The young man who entered reminded Noah of an Asian grasshopper—all knees and elbows and nervous energy beneath thick black hair. He carried an old-fashioned suitcase. One thumb tapped an odd rhythm against the handle.

"Dudeguys," he said, holding out a long-fingered hand. "Stan Ping."

"Hi," Jake said, reaching up to shake Stan's hand. "I'm Jake Jaymes. This is Noah Skyler. Computer said you're the new roommate."

"That's me. Nice to meet you both, dudeguys." Stan parked his suitcase next to the sofa and glanced around the tiny space. "Um ... do you both live here?"

"Yeah." Noah felt a sudden and overwhelming sense of déjà vu. "It's a two-person apartment with three people assigned to it. Happens all the time up here."

"That's cool." Stan dropped to the floor next to the coffee table crate. His hands moved restlessly, drumming on his knees, his shins, his body. He nodded his head in time to some internal song—or maybe his obie was playing music for him. "How do we sleep?"

"First two to hit the hay get the beds," Noah explained as Stan continued to drum on himself. "Last one gets the sofa."

Stan's hands wandered from thumping his thorax to tapping on the table. He didn't even seem aware he was doing it. The constant rhythm set Noah's teeth on edge.

"Sounds fair," Stan said. "I'm a late-night sort of dudeguy, so I'll probably get the couch a lot."
Tappity tappity tap tap tap.
Noah heard a beeping sound that indicated he was getting a call.

"Right," Jake said. He couldn't seem to stop staring at Stan's constantly drumming hands. "So are you a music student? I didn't even know Luna U had that kind of program." Noah ignored the beeping. It was probably Linus. Or Richard. Or maybe his advisor.

"Nah. Psycho-genetics."
Tappity tappity tap tap tap.
"I'm looking at the impact of gene therapy on unconscious repetitive behaviors. Cool stuff, dudeguys. It's amazing the shit people do without even realizing it." Whoever it was, Noah wasn't going to take the call. He had enough to deal with
talking to this Stan joker. Unless ... "I hope you dudeguys are spiffy-cool, you know?" Stan said. "My last roommate— shit. He defined the term
roommate from hell,
know what I mean?"

"Can you hold that thought?" Noah asked. "I've gotta get this." He took the call. It was Ilene.