Eros at Zenith: Book 2 of Tales of the Velvet Comet (12 page)

“But now I know
who
the murder was meant to scare,” replied Crane. “And I think I know what the murderer was trying to scare him into doing. I didn't put it into a Priority File to keep it from you; I put it there because if either the killer or the man he was trying to frighten found out what I knew, we'd never get to the bottom of this thing.”

“And now you can?” asked the Black Pearl.

He nodded confidently. “I can deliver the killer to you by tomorrow morning.”

“Why tomorrow?” demanded the Black Pearl. “Why don't you make an arrest right now?”

“I intend to,” he said.

“Then that's that,” said the madam. “What the hell was the big secret?”

“I think I know,” interjected the Dragon Lady softly.

“Well?” insisted the Black Pearl.

The Dragon Lady smiled at Crane. “The man you're going to arrest isn't the killer, is he?”

Crane returned her smile. “You're a pretty sharp old lady,” he said.

“I'll forgive you the ‘old lady', and thank you for the rest.”

“Will someone tell me what's going on here?” said the Black Pearl.

“I don't know who the killer is,” said Crane. “He's covered his tracks pretty well.”

The Black Pearl frowned. “I thought you knew all about how and why he killed Infante.”

“Not
those
tracks. What he did aboard the
Comet
is very easy to recreate,” replied Crane. “It's his tracks from New Sumatra
to
the
Comet
that are the problem.”

“New Sumatra?” repeated the madam. “What's
that
got to do with anything?”

“More than you suppose,” said Crane. “The man the killer was trying to scare was on New Sumatra during the Bello Affair.”

“The Bello Affair? I remember reading about it. Wasn't Bello the one they called the Bloody Butcher?”

Crane nodded. “Yes.”

“And Infante was there at the same time?”

“No. He showed up a couple of years later.”

“Then what's the tie-in?”

“They were both on Deluros VIII at the same time.”

The Black Pearl smiled condescendingly. “There are nine billion people on Deluros. Are you trying to tell me that Edward Infante was the only one who'd ever been to New Sumatra?”

“No,” said Crane. “But he's the only one who had been to New Sumatra and wound up getting killed aboard the
Comet
. He made trips from Deluros to the
Comet
on a regular basis.”

“So do thousands of other men and women,” she pointed out.

“True,” agreed Crane. “But he didn't start coming up here until after you'd hired the man the killer was trying to scare. He must have been a contact—some kind of go-between.”

“Between who and who?”

“Between the man I'm going to arrest, and whatever New Sumatran organization has set up shop on Deluros VIII.”

“You're absolutely sure of this?” asked the Black Pearl.

“I am.”

“What does Cupid say?”

“I see you're calling him by my name,” he noted smugly.

“What does he say?”

“He doesn't say I'm wrong.”

“Does he say you're right?”

“It's not that simple,” said Crane. “Cupid is capable of analyzing trillions upon trillions of bits of information, which means he can not only see the likeliest possibility, but
every
possibility, no matter how remote. He won't say I'm right until he, has so much information—by which I mean proof—that only one possibility remains.”

She frowned. “Then we have to rely upon your expertise.”

“I told you once before: I'm the best there is.”

“And I believe I commented upon your modesty once before,” she replied. She stared at him for a moment. “All right, Mr. Crane: you have studiously avoided mentioning the name of the man you intend to arrest. Why?”

“I don't know what either of your relationships are to him. I have to have your word that you won't try to hinder me once I tell you who it is.”

“You have my promise,” said the Dragon Lady.

“How much danger will you be putting him in?” asked the Black Pearl.

“I don't know,” replied Crane honestly.

“All right,” she said, after a moment's consideration.

“It's Esteban Morales,” said Crane.

“Esteban?” said the Black Pearl, surprised. “I just made a holo for him last week.”

“A holo?” repeated Crane, suddenly aware of her costume once again.

“A holographic entertainment,” she explained.

“You mean a pornographic entertainment.”

“If you wish,” she said, aware of his gaze and his ill-concealed discomfort. “I made it with Sugar Daddy and Totem Pole.” She paused. “It was a rather good one, if I say so myself.”

“I'm sure you'd be the best judge of that,” he replied.

“You can see it if you'd like,” she said with a catlike grin. “Tell Cupid to shift to video mode and turn to Channel 37Q.”

“I'll keep it in mind.”

“Who knows?” she added with a shrug. “You might learn something.”

“Excuse me,” interrupted the Dragon Lady. “But what exactly do you propose to accomplish by arresting Morales?”

Crane turned to the Security Chief. “One of two things,” he replied. “I know that the killer was trying to frighten Morales, but I don't know if he was trying to scare him into
doing
something or
not
doing it. Now, if he wanted Morales to do something badly enough to kill Infante, then he's going to have to try to make contact with Morales before we ship him off to Deluros for his mythical trial.”

“But if he was trying to get Morales to stop, won't this do his job for him?” asked the Dragon Lady.

“Yes—but, again, if it was important enough to precipitate a murder, then I can probably make a trade with Morales: his freedom to keep doing whatever it was, in exchange for the killer's identity.”

“What if neither happens?” asked the Black Pearl. “What if the killer doesn't try to make contact and Morales won't deal?”

“One or the other has got to happen,” said Crane with certainty.

“You could wind up looking pretty silly if you're wrong,” said the Black Pearl.

“Sillier than you think,” replied Crane. “I want the media up here.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded the Black Pearl.

“I want this arrest to be big and noisy,” he answered. “I don't want to take a chance on the killer missing it.” He paused. “We'll let them stick around and hand them the real killer tomorrow morning. I figure it'll take them about six hours to get up here, so I'll make the arrest about midnight and —”

“Not a chance!” said the Black Pearl firmly. “We're not having the media up here, and that's absolutely non-negotiable.”

“It'll work much better with them,” said Crane.

“Mr. Crane, it's bad enough that we've had a murder on the
Comet
. I cannot and will not allow you to make public the fact that the richest and most influential men and women in the Republic have shared an enclosed environment for almost five days with a killer whose identity is still unknown to you.”

“Do you want him captured or not?”

She stared straight into his eyes. “If you can't catch him without making a public spectacle out of it, then I don't want him captured.” She paused. “Earlier we were just jockeying for position, but this is in earnest. The
Velvet Comet
is like any other resort: it lives or dies with its reputation. And I will not allow it to have the reputation of being a haven for killers”—she paused—“or for publicity-seeking detectives, either.”

“I resent that!” he snapped.

“Resent it all you like,” she replied. “But don't waste your breath denying it.”

The Dragon Lady seemed about to say something, then thought better of it and remained silent.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” said Crane.

“I think we
both
know,” replied the Black Pearl. “I've seen your dossier, I know how rapidly you've advanced and how ambitious you are. Understanding people is my business, Mr. Crane, contrary to what you may think. We don't need the media up here. The ship has a public address system, and Cupid can send messages to any member of the crew and any room in the ship. If you want the media up here, it's so they can disseminate holographs and stories about how the fearless young detective single-handedly captured yet another vicious killer. Except that the end result of your actions will be to cost the
Comet
millions of credits and untold confidence. I can't allow it.”

“You're wrong,” he said without much sincerity. “But what the hell—let it be. No publicity.”

“When and where will you make the arrest?” asked the Dragon Lady.

“Probably as soon as I leave here,” replied Crane. “We'll have Cupid flash it on every screen in the place at ten-minute intervals.”

“You haven't been listening to a word I've said,” interjected the Black Pearl. “I don't want the patrons to know there was a murder aboard the
Comet
.”

“Just how long do you think you can keep this thing quiet?” said Crane. “Sooner or later the killer is going to stand trial in a public court of law.”

“I'll worry about that when the time comes,” she replied. “Right now I'll just settle for later rather than sooner.”

“They'll be just as mad at you when they find out you've been hiding a murder from them,” he said.

“I have a suggestion that may solve that problem,” said the Dragon Lady, walking over to stand next to the detective's couch.

“Go ahead,” said Crane.

“What if we were to announce that two crew members got into a fight this morning and one of them killed the other? If we say it happened in the Home, that would hardly be a cause for concern among the patrons.”

“Good,” said Crane, nodding his head. “I think it will work.”

“How do we let the killer know what's going on?” asked the Black Pearl.

“We announce that the name of the dead crew member is Edward Infante,” replied Crane. “The killer will be smart enough to figure out that we're lying so that the patrons won't be frightened. He'll know it's the same Infante.”

“And if one of the patrons knew Infante?”

“I don't think it's very likely,” said Crane. “But if anyone knew him, the chances are that they knew why he was killed. I think they'll keep their mouths shut.”

“All right,” said the Black Pearl. “I can agree to that.”

“Then it's settled?” asked the Dragon Lady.

“Almost,” said Crane. “According to Cupid, Infante slept with seven different prostitutes during his various trips here. Is it possible to confine them to their rooms and keep them incommunicado for the next 24 hours?”

“Because they knew Infante was a patron instead of a crew member, you mean?” asked the Black Pearl.

“Right.”

She shook her head. “Where would you stop? Every receptionist knows his name; he had a line of credit at the casino, which means the pit boss and some of the accountants knew him; he couldn't have eaten in the restaurants without reservations, which means most of the waiters know his name: he —”

“I get the picture,” interrupted Crane. He lowered his head in thought for a minute, then looked up. “All right. What we'll do is this: Cupid will announce that there is an important general message waiting on the computer for every employee of the
Comet
. When they check it out, he'll tell them that for the security of the ship—and more to the point, for the security of their jobs—they must not contradict any information concerning Infante during the next 24 hours. Each of them will have to acknowledge the message by signing their personal code, and by 1800 hours we'll disseminate it to the stragglers.” He paused. “Can they be trusted to do what they're told? The patrons are probably going to ask about it when we announce that Morales was arrested for killing Infante.”

“If we word it so that they know, in no uncertain terms, that they'll be terminated for contradicting the announcement, I think they'll keep quiet,” said the Black Pearl.

“And if one of them
does
contradict it,” added the Dragon Lady, “at least we'll have a likely suspect.”

“Well,” said Crane, “I guess that's everything. Cupid?”

YES?

“Close the Priority File again.”

CLOSED.

“Did anyone try to monitor us while the file was open?”

NO ... URGENT MESSAGE COMING IN.

A woman's face, the same one that had appeared earlier, materialized.

“I hate to bother you again,” she said, “but Mrs. Weiboldt's just about to throw a tantrum. She only has the room for another 75 minutes.”

“Give her a one-hour extension,” said the Black Pearl.

“It's booked again 20 minutes after she's through with it,” replied the woman.

“Shit!” muttered the Black Pearl. “All right. Tell her I'm on my way.” She broke the connection and walked to the door. “I've got to leave,” she said to them. “I have no objection to the plan you've outlined, but I insist on being informed if you decide to change it in any way.”

“Fair enough,” agreed Crane. Then he added, with just a touch of sardonicism, “Have fun.”

“I intend to,” she replied, walking out into the corridor.

“What was that all about?” asked Crane, as the door slid shut behind her.

“Mrs. Weiboldt is a 73-year-old lady who's worth about seven billion credits,” said the Dragon Lady.

“I think her family made their money in mining, out in the Altair region. At any rate, she is what one might call a voyeur with delusions of literacy.”

“What does
that
mean?”

“It means that she comes up here once every two or three months, rents a fantasy room, hires a cast of 15 or 20 of us, and turns the script to her latest epic over to the Black Pearl, who does the casting. Today the Black Pearl is playing Cleopatra to Totem Pole's Mark Antony.” She paused. “It cost us almost two million credits to adapt the Roman Room for this.”

“Adapt it?” queried Crane.

“You haven't seen our fantasy rooms yet, have you?” she replied. “We have 36 of them, each rather large—and with a few carefully-selected props and a batch of holographic projectors and scents and sound effects, we turn them into tropical paradises, mountaintop ski lodges, domed underwater bedrooms, and the like. Not always realistic, mind you—after all, most medieval throne rooms were cold and dirty and generally unappetizing—but totally believable to the senses, and the imagination takes care of the rest. Most of the rooms are what you might call set pieces; we can change them, like we're doing for Mrs. Weiboldt, but it costs a lot of money. Fortunately, she has a lot of money to spend. I think the barge alone will run her half a million credits.”