Kop (18 page)

“Did you turn off the cameras?” I asked.

“You bet.” Eddie flipped a couple switches to make it look good. You couldn’t really turn them off. What Eddie really did was flick the holding tank lights on and off. We had no more control over our cameras than we did our phone system. Like most of the tech on Lagarto, it was provided by the Orbital. Paul told me that the fat cats on the Orbital got a bigger cut of the KOP budget than police payroll did. Damn offworlders would never just sell us the tech. Instead, they’d rent it and then have the gall to tack on maintenance fees. They’d say we didn’t have the expertise to maintain it ourselves.

I seized Pedro by his shirt and led him in as the door opened upon detecting my DNA.

The holding tank consisted of three cages on the left. The night’s catch looked bored until they saw us. A chorus of teeth sucking started Pedro to shivering. I paraded him up and down the hall, close enough to the bars that the prisoners could just about touch him. I surveyed the detainees: drunks bloodied from bar fights, tweaked-out dealers, freaked-out johns caught wagging their wangs. Not the toughest group I’d ever seen, but there might’ve been one or two actual rapists or murderers in there. More than enough testosterone-laden malice to get the kid blabbing his life story.

They barraged the kid with catcalls. “Sooo weee! Piggy boy.” “Look at that big juicy butt.” “The bigger the cushion, the better the pushin’.”

I egged them on, telling them his name was Pedro the Homo.

His lip quivered. “Why did you turn off the cameras?”

I got up in his face. “I’m not a fucking perv like you. I don’t want to watch.” The kid looked pale. “Time to pick a door, Pervo. One, two or three…”

Prisoners whooped.

Pedro avoided my eyes. He was on the edge….
Push him.

I whispered in his ear. “You hear them? They can’t wait to pop your cherry. You talk now, or I leave you here.”

“I’ll talk.”

I popped a couple more pain pills while Maggie filled out a witness report with the kid.

Vice was now in full swing. The veterans were gathered around the coffee machine, passing a flask and putting on an early buzz. They were swapping stories and laughing up a storm like always. They quieted down when I passed. News of my ass-kicking by Josephs must have been the hot topic.

The younger cops sat at desks, talking to the air, their words caught by the dozen voice pickups around the office, sending their dictation up to the Orbital to be digitized and fed into the system as arrest reports, nightly activity logs, citation journals, and evidence entry forms. The vets made the younger cops do all the paperwork. It was called paying your dues. I had had to do the same tedious bullshit work until I latched onto Paul’s coattails.

I rang up the kid’s mother. I could barely hear her over the bar’s din. “What’s the little fucker done now?” Her hologram smiled sweetly.

“Nothing, ma’am. He’s a witness to a crime. We just need to question him.”

“You keep him for the night. Teach the brat a lesson.”

“He hasn’t done anything, ma’am. Would you like us to call you when we’re done questioning him so you can take him home?”

“No. I need my sleep. He knows the way.”

“I’m sure he does, ma’am, but he’s seen some things no boy his age should see.”

“Don’t think I won’t punish him for it, officer. He may be bigger than me, but I can still beat his ass.”

I got off the phone and entered interrogation room two. Maggie and I sat on one side of the mildewed table, the kid on the other.

Maggie said, “Tell us what you saw…from the beginning.”

Pedro wiped away a tear. “I was on the roof, you know…”

“Peeping.”

“Yeah…peeping. And I heard something in the alley. So I looked over the wall. I saw two guys, one holding the other from behind. The guy was struggling—kicking and grabbing at the other guy to get loose, but the first guy held him tight, and he couldn’t get away.”

“How did he hold him?”

“He had him in a headlock, from behind. Like this…” Pedro held his fleshy arm across his throat.

“Then what happened?”

“The guy stopped struggling, and the man dragged him farther into the alley.”

“Dragged how, by his feet? Hands?”

“No, he kept him in the headlock and just walked backward.”

“Then what?”

“The man let him go, and he fell down. It was sick the way he fell.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He landed wrong. He hit his head on the ground, and his arm was all bent up under his body. I thought he had to be dead, but I guess he wasn’t, ’cause then the man got on top of him. You know, he got on his knees over top of him.”

“He straddled him.”

“Yeah, he straddled him. Then I saw the knife in his hands, and he started stabbing him.”

“How?”

“Like this…” He held his hands together over his head, brought them down to the table with a quick stroke. “He stabbed him a whole bunch of times…I didn’t count. Then he took the knife and started cutting on the guy’s face.” Maggie shuddered.

“Then what?”

“He undressed. He wrapped the knife in his clothes and stuffed them in a plastic bag. You know, the kind you get from a store.”

That bag was guaranteed bottom of the river. “Then what did he do?”

“Then he pulled clean clothes out of another bag and got dressed.”

“Did he leave then?”

“Yeah, but first he stopped to take the piece with him.”

“Piece?”

“Yeah. The part of the guy’s face. The part he cut off. He wrapped it up in a cloth.”

Maggie asked, “Why did you go back there tonight? Weren’t you scared?”

Pedro looked down, guilt written all over his face. I’d seen his type before. The kid was a born voyeur. I’d seen the twinkle in his eye as he described the murder scene. He was into it. Two nights ago, he had been so terrified that he wet himself. He had never felt anything so intense before. Now he wanted that feeling back. His little bondage books looked like kid’s play now. He returned to the alley hoping to catch a double feature, sex through the windows and violence in the alley.

Maggie looked puzzled. She didn’t get it. “Could you see the killer’s face?”

“It was kinda dark, but I saw him.”

Maggie and I walked back to my desk. I connected to the Orbital and surfed the KOP system for mugs. Our own computer
system had fried in ’41. A lot of cops still had the old terminals on their desks as if they still worked. That way we didn’t appear to the public as helpless as we were. I voice-navigated to an old mug of Jhuko Kapasi and then had the system bring up five shots of males with matching skin, hair, and eye colors. I put them in an array and had them holo-beamed to the interrogation room.

Maggie and I went back in. Pedro looked spent. He was slumped in his chair.

“If you recognize anybody, point him out.”

He studied each of the images, one by one. “Nope. He’s not here.”

“What do you mean he’s not there?” Maggie asked.

Pedro looked at the holograms again—Jhuko Kapasi in spot four. “What do you think I mean? He’s not there.”

“You’re sure you got a good look at him?”

“Yes. I’m sure. The guy in the alley had a messed-up face. None of these guys has a messed-up face.”

“Messed up how?”

“I don’t know…like he was in an accident or something.”

“We’ll be right back, Pedro. Just sit tight, okay?”

“Okay. Can I have something to drink?”

“Sure, no problem. You like soda?”

“Yeah.”

Maggie and I stepped out. We downloaded mug shots of the other cons in Vlotsky’s unit—no messed-up faces. We downloaded phone holos of the remaining members of Unit 29. Normal faces all around.

“Dammit to hell!” Maggie said. “We’ve wasted two days on Kapasi, all for nothing.”

My stomach sank. Lieutenant Vlotsky’s entire unit was cleared by witness testimony. Two days and no closer to the mayor.

Maggie wasn’t ready to give up. “You think the kid is lying?”

“No. I scared him pretty good. He’s telling the truth.”

“It was dark. Maybe Pedro didn’t get a good enough look. Hey! Maybe Kapasi wore a mask.”

I shook my head no.

We remained in silence for a moment. I looked out over the vice room, which was hopping with action. Pimps crowded around the violations window waiting for their numbers to be called so they could pay off their tickets and free their hookers. If they got through quickly, they could still notch a sale or two before the night was over. Jose, the night janitor, sat on his upturned mop bucket, selling the low numbers while the toilets stayed dirty.

Maggie asked, “Would you have gone through with it?”

“Gone through with what?”

“Put the kid in one of those cells. Let him get raped.”

“No, but I would have put him in a cell and let him sweat it out a while.”

Maggie nodded approval. “What do we do now?”

“Get the kid a soda and start him going through mugs. We have to hope he recognizes somebody. It’s going to be a long night. We can take turns.”

Maggie volunteered for the first shift with Pedro.

I crashed on the padded floor of the psych room, falling straight into a pain pill–induced sleep.

J
UNE 30, 2787

“J
UNO
…Juno, you awake?” I did my best to ignore the words that were invading my dreams until a hand began shaking my shoulder. “You awake?” I knew that voice, Niki’s voice.

“Yeah, I’m awake,” I croaked with my eyes closed.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“Why didn’t you come home?”

“What time is it?”

“About six.”

“Really?” I couldn’t believe it was morning already. I was still so tired, and I still felt doped on painkillers. I didn’t know how Niki could function taking these pills all the time.

“I tried calling you, but you wouldn’t answer,” she said.

“I was sleeping. I guess I didn’t hear it.”

“I was worried sick all night.”

My eyes were open now, and as I was looking at the expression on Niki’s face, I was beginning to realize how badly I’d screwed up. “How’d you find me?”

“I called Paul, and he put me in touch with Maggie who told me you were here.”

“You talked to Maggie?” My heart skipped, like I was caught with my hand in the candy jar. I told myself I was being stupid reacting like this. I hadn’t done anything with Maggie.

Niki gave me a long look before answering. “She was surprised you hadn’t called to tell me you were working all night.”

“Sorry. I should have called.” I struggled upright then had to limp for the first few steps as we exited the psych room. The vice room was empty as was usual in the early mornings. The door to the interrogation room was shut, a sure sign that Maggie was still inside, going through mugs with Pedro the Peeper. She hadn’t come to wake me up for my turn. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, careful to avoid touching my jaw. I stopped for a cup of water and rinsed my mouth out as I drank. Then, Niki and I settled at my desk with a couple cups of coffee.

Niki said, “You going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I told you. Paul’s in trouble. He needs my help.”

“Paul’s always in trouble.”

“I know, but this time it’s serious.” The words sounded hollow, but it was the truth.

Niki shook her head in disappointment. Then she took hold of my hand. “You’re scaring me, Juno.”

I didn’t have an answer for that.

Niki let go of my hand and took a sip of coffee. She looked at the floor as she talked. “I’m afraid that if you keep this up, you’ll end up going back to your old ways.”

I didn’t tell her how far down that path I’d already gone.
Did I really slap that kid last night?
“It’ll be okay,” I said, “I’ve got it all under control.”

She looked doubtful. “But—”

I interrupted her, “I have to do this, Niki. I have to see this one through.”

Niki looked into my eyes. “Why?”

“Paul needs me.”

“Forget what Paul needs for a minute and think about what
you
need.”

“What I need is your support.”

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Maggie
poked her head out. “We got him. Pedro picked him out.” Her head disappeared back behind the door.

Niki was still looking at the floor. Her expression was unreadable.

“I have to go,” I said.

“I know.”

We both stood. I leaned over to kiss my wife, and when I did, she moved in for a hug that I felt I didn’t deserve. I returned the hug halfheartedly. I was eager to get back into the interrogation room. When Niki didn’t let go, I felt myself succumbing to the full force of the hug. I held Niki’s head to my chest. We stayed like that for while, long enough that I stopped thinking about the case and started thinking about Niki and me, and how comfortable it felt to hold her, and how that had to mean that we still had something. Then Niki suddenly let go and walked out without another word.

I entered the interrogation room. Pedro and Maggie were seated at the table. Four soda bottles were lined up, mold already forming on their insides.