Eros at Zenith: Book 2 of Tales of the Velvet Comet (24 page)

“Have you any idea how you plan to go about it?”

“If I do, my mother didn't raise any children stupid enough to tell you about it while Cupid is capturing this whole conversation for posterity.”

“How will we know that the situation has been alleviated?”

Crane walked to the door.

“You'll know,” he promised.

“Cupid?”

YES?

“Patch me in to the ship's intercom system.”

WORKING ... DONE.

“All right. I want to send a message to every section of the ship, except those rooms where people are actively copulating at this moment. How do I go about it?”

TELL ME WHEN YOU'RE READY TO BEGIN AND I WILL ACTIVATE THE INTERCOM SPEAKERS.

“Now.”

READY.

Crane cleared his throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “The
Velvet Comet
invites you to come, as our guests, to Pagliacci's final nightclub performance at 0030 hours this morning That's half an hour after midnight. Let's give our favorite comedian a rousing sendoff!”

IS THAT ALL?

“Yes.”

DEACTIVATING INTERCOM ... DONE.

“Thanks,” said Crane. “Now open my door.”

The door to his suite slid into the wall, and, when he made no effort to walk out into the corridor, slid shut again.

“No. Leave it open.”

The door slid open.

“Okay. You might as well show me the sports headlines while I'm waiting.”

Crane sat down in his contour chair, hands clasped behind his head, and spent the next half hour catching up on the latest scores, as an occasional prostitute or patron stopped to look into his suite while walking down the corridor.

Finally one figure stopped in the doorway and didn't move on.

“Hi, Andy. What's all this bullshit about a final performance?”

“Come on in,” said Crane, turning to face him.

As the comedian entered the living room, Crane ordered the door to close.

“So what's up?” asked Pagliacci.

“I didn't know how else to reach you,” replied Crane. “I had to get a message to you that you don't have to go to war at midnight; this seemed to be the easiest way.”

“What kind of deal have you cut?”

“They'll turn Bello over to us tomorrow morning at 0800 hours.”

“That was awfully easy,” said Pagliacci warily. “What did you have to promise them?”

“That's
my
business,” said Crane. “The only thing that should concern you is that we've got him.”

“I hope so,” said Pagliacci. “Because if I find out you're lying to me, I could become very upset with you.” He paused. “You wouldn't like me when I'm upset.”

“I've seen you when you're telling jokes,” remarked Crane dryly. “How much worse can you get?”

Pagliacci threw back his head and laughed. “I
knew
we were going to get along the first time I met you, Andy!” His laughter ended as quickly as it had begun. “Where do we pick him up?”

“The airlock.”

“I don't like it,” said the comedian. “Too easy for him to make a break for it. Fix it for us to get him at the Black Pearl's office.”

“I'll do what I can,” said Crane.

“When and where should you and I meet?”

“How about 0630 hours in the reception foyer?” suggested the detective.

“Sounds good to me,” agreed Pagliacci. He walked to the door. “Well, I gotta run. You seem to have obligated me to a final performance.”

“You could always skip it,” said Crane with feigned nonchalance.

Pagliacci shook his head. “No sense doing anything that might attract attention. Why don't you come by and catch the show? Maybe I'll finally find a way to make you laugh.”

“Maybe I will,” said Crane, as Pagliacci walked out into the corridor.

Crane gave Pagliacci half an hour to get firmly ensconced in his dressing room, then made his way to the nightclub. He went immediately to the backstage area, scrounged through the prop room until he found what he was after, and shortly thereafter locked himself inside an empty dressing room. Once there, he pulled his pistol out of his pocket, placed it on a table next to the prop, removed a silencer from another pocket, and went to work.

When he was finished, he walked over to the vanity and began carefully applying white greasepaint to his face. It took about fifteen minutes, after which he used some bright red lipstick on his lips and black grease pencil around his eyes. Finally he scrutinized his face in the mirror for a moment and then, satisfied, he leaned back on his chair and relaxed.

The show started half an hour later, and once the house lights dimmed, Crane walked back out into the audience. He checked the room, saw the Black Pearl and the Dragon Lady seated at a table toward the back, and quickly walked over to join them.

“Mr. Crane?” asked the Dragon Lady, after staring at him for a minute.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said. “I trust you told the stage manager that Pagliacci will be making an appearance.”

“You told me to, didn't you?” said the Black Pearl.

“By the way, what's with the make-up? Surely you're not going to impersonate him.”

“I'm not that untalented,” he replied with a smile.

“All of this
does
have something to do with our little arrangement, doesn't it?” demanded the madam.

“Something,” he agreed. “I hope you're going to be a good audience and laugh on cue.”

“I don't understand.”

“You will,” he said. “Just remember to laugh.”

He turned and faced the stage as Pagliacci stepped out from behind the curtains. The comedian launched into a discourse about his misadventures in the stock market, segued into his private detective routine, and was soon hard at work building a series of sexual puns that drew groans and laughter in equal proportions.

Finally he wound up talking about his visit to a psychiatrist.

“So,” he said, “my shrink looks at my charts, and says, ‘Based on my examination, I have come to the conclusion that you're crazy.’ Well, this kind of pisses me off, so I tell him that I want a second opinion.

'Okay,’ he says; ‘you're ugly, too.'”

“That's terrible!” shouted Crane above the audience noise.

Pagliacci peered into the darkened room, but was unable to spot the source of the heckling.

He told another joke, and Crane got to his feet.

“Come on, Pagliacci!” he yelled. “The last time I saw a face like yours it had a fish hook in its mouth.”

A couple of nearby patrons tried to shush him, then noticed his make-up and assumed that he must be a part of the act.

Pagliacci finally pinpointed the area the heckling was coming from.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, pointing in Crane's direction, “let me present a mathematical paradox: three heels in one pair of shoes.”

Suddenly Crane raced to the stage and clambered up onto it.

“Who the hell are you?” demanded the comedian.

Crane ignored him and pulled out his pistol.

“I can't stand it anymore!” he screamed, mugging at the audience. “If I hear one more bad joke, I'll go crazy!”

He touched a button on the weapon's handle, and a small banner with the word
BANG
emblazoned on it flew down from the barrel.

Suddenly the Black Pearl and the Dragon Lady shrieked with laughter, and a moment later the whole audience followed suit. As the laughter built to a crescendo, Crane pulled the trigger on his weapon.

Pagliacci's hands flew up over his head and he spun around, a look of total astonishment on his face.

He tried to say something, but couldn't seem to get the words out. Crane leaped across the stage, caught him just before he fell into the audience, and slung him over one shoulder. The crowd applauded with delight.

“Pagliacci thanks you for your response, and invites you to see his all-new act, starting next month on Lodin XI,” he announced, bowing as low as he could without dropping the body, then parting the curtains and walking backstage before the blood from the tiny hole in the comedian's chest had spread enough to become visible.

He carried the corpse to his dressing room, activated his Priority File, laid the body on a table, and began washing off his make-up. The door opened a moment later, and he could hear the voice of the headlining singer for an instant as the Black Pearl and the Dragon Lady stepped through.

“Is he dead?” asked the Black Pearl.

“Of course he's dead,” replied Crane.

“Nice and neat.”

“Not so neat,” he said irritably, displaying his blood-spattered tunic. “The son of a bitch ruined my outfit.”

“I'm sure you can afford a new one,” remarked the Black Pearl dryly.

“In the meantime,” said the Dragon Lady, “the audience is still talking about what a unique exit Pagliacci made.” She shook her head in amazement. “You'd think
somebody
out there would know that they had just witnessed a murder!”

“Why?” said Crane. “The nightclub's just like the rest of the
Comet
.”

“I don't think I follow you.”

“They come here to watch people in masks act out a bunch of fantasies. Why should shooting Pagliacci be any more real than anything else that happens up here?”

“That's why you chose to eliminate him in the nightclub?” asked the Black Pearl.

He nodded. “Any place with a crowd would have done as well. The more people who saw it, the less chance there was that anyone would believe it. It just happened to be easier to lure him to the club than anywhere else.” He paused. “I could have shot him in my suite, I suppose, but it would be a hell of a lot harder to explain. I'd have had to hide it in the Priority File, and sooner or later someone would open it up and you'd have a whole new can of worms to deal with. This way we've got 300 witnesses who will swear he was smiling and waving to them the last time they saw him, and I'll swear to Vainmill that I arrested him and had to shoot him when he attempted to escape.”

“I still can't believe we got through it that easily,” said the Black Pearl. She sighed. “All we have to do now is get Bello off the ship and we're done.”

“What will you do with the body?” asked the Dragon Lady.

“I'll be taking it back to Deluros with me,” he replied. “After all, I was sent up here to solve a murder.

He's
my solution.”

“I can have some of my Security people move him to your ship,” she offered.

“Thanks. And make sure he isn't recognized.”

“We're not in the habit of carrying corpses through the Resort. He'll be placed in some kind of container.”

Crane turned to the Black Pearl.

“When are you letting Bello go?”

“As soon as I get back to my office.”

“Before you do, get me the registration number on his ship. I've got to give it to Cupid so he can keep tabs on it.”

“All right. Will you be here for another half hour?”

“I don't know. How long before we can move the body?”

“I can stay here with it until my people come,” said the Dragon Lady.

“Can they be trusted?” asked Crane.

“Probably,” she replied. “But just to be on the safe side, I'll remove his make-up before they get here.” She smiled. “They'll never know who they're moving.”

“Good,” said Crane. “In that case, I'm going to go back to my suite and relax. It's been a long day.”

“Do you want the information on the ship sent there, then?” asked the Black Pearl.

“Right,” he said. “And while you're at it, send along a companion. I think I owe myself a little celebration.”

“Did you have anyone in mind?”

He stared at her for a long moment, then sighed.

“Bo Peep,” he said at last. “Without her sheep, if possible,” he added wryly.

“You're sure you wouldn't prefer someone else?” she asked meaningfully.

“I'm sure.” He smiled. “Why spoil a beautiful enmity just for a roll in the hay?”

She shrugged and left the room as he went back to removing his make-up.

Crane waited until the Black Pearl's door slid open, then stepped into her office, where the madam and the Dragon Lady were waiting for him.

“Good morning, Mr. Crane,” said the Black Pear “I trust you—ah—slept well?”

“After a fashion,” he replied. “I just thought I'd stop by to go over some final details before I head back to Deluros.”

“Have a seat,” said the Black Pearl. “Can I get you some coffee?”

Crane nodded. “I could do with a cup.”

He walked over to a sofa, sat down on it, and turned to the Dragon Lady.

“Is my cargo loaded?”

“Both of them,” she replied.

“Both?”

“Pagliacci and Infante.”

“I'd forgotten all about Infante,” he admitted. “I suppose he's State's Exhibit Number One.”

“I was wondering what you want to do about Morales?” asked the Security Chief.

“Wait until I'm off the ship and turn him loose,” answered Crane.

She frowned. “Just like that?”

“What can he do—go to the authorities and say we tricked him into betraying Quintus Bello? He's got a lot more to hide than we do.” He paused. “While you're at it, you might tell him we nailed Infante's killer.”

The Black Pearl returned with a cup of black coffee which she handed to him.

“Thank you,” said Crane. “By the way, what time did Bello take off?”

“About five hours ago,” replied the Black Pearl.

“How soon will you be going after him?”

Crane shrugged noncommittally. “I've got a lot of other things to do first. Besides, Cupid can tell me where to find him if I want him.”

“
If
you want him?” repeated the Black Pearl. “I thought that was what this whole situation was about.”

“I've got to sound out Vainmill first,” explained Crane. He turned back to the Dragon Lady. “I have a feeling you might be right: bringing in Bello could be bad for business all the way around.”

“Speaking of Vainmill,” interjected the Black Pearl, “will they give you any trouble about coming back with
two
corpses?”

“As long as nobody figures out what was going on up here, I should be all right,” he said.

“And if somebody
does
figure it out?” she persisted.