A Prince Among Men Part 2

Not really. Just ignorant of the finer things of life. Books, even secondhand ones, weren't cheap anymore. And the castle-they just didn't make those anymore. At least it hadn't been part of the Robin Hood set; that was truly irreplaceable. Still, friend or not, the incident couldn't pa.s.s unremarked.

"Watch the merchandise," John said with a growl. "Men have died for less than that."

Yael started as though John had made a real threat. "Hey, easy, freund. Nothing happened."

No thanks to him.

John chuckled. No, not to him.

"That tower is built from a prerecall, first pressing of the 1995 Earl's Keep set. My mom got it for me two years ago. It took her months of scouring the antique shops."

"Hey, like I'm sorry. Okay?" Yael's apology sounded only half sincere. "Look, I, uh, gotta go. Thanks for the a.s.signment. See ya in cla.s.s."

"Yeah. See ya."

John heard his mother saying good-bye as Yael let himself out. He should have been polite and seen Yael to the door, but he didn't feel very polite. Yael was difficult to get along with, and this latest interruption had almost cost John one of his favorite pieces. The guy could have phoned. John fished The Two Towers out from under the desk. Yael had no respect for anything important. Abandoning the homework a.s.signment in his reader, John settled back on his bed and opened the book.

The Orcs were closing in on Frodo.

CHAPTER 2.

Charley Gordon sat on the railing and watched the crime scene crew do their work. The body hadn't been in very good shape when Charley found it. No surprise there; the death had been violent, and the victim had lost a lot of blood. Up here in the mountains there still were wild animals to be drawn to the smell of blood. Scavengers, he told himself. He shivered a little and blamed it on the morning chill. What the wild animals had done was no worse than what rats did, he supposed. But you expected things like that in the city. Out here things were supposed to be cleaner, nicer.

Manuel Salazar was a good partner; he brought an extra cup of coffee when he came to sit next to Charley. Manny's badge wallet was tucked into his parka's chest pocket. The parka was civilian but the badge vouched for Manny's right to be here, even if you didn't notice the uniform under the coat. Charley didn't have either badge or uniform, since he wasn't here officially, at least not in the usual way. He was here as a witness, the finder of the corpse. He was supposed to be on vacation; he was supposed to have left all of this kind of s.h.i.t in the Sprawl.

He took a pull from the steaming cup. The coffee wasn't as hot as it looked; most of the steam was air-temp differential. It'd be too cold to drink soon. Which might not be so bad; this swill was near as bad as Sergeant Kowalski's squad-room acid.

"Ranger says no bears this time of year," Manny said.

"Wasn't a bear."

"Forensics say so?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?"

Poor Manny. Nothing was real till some authority confirmed it for him. "Ranger's right about the time of year. Besides, that's not a bear kill."

"Come on, Charley. The poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d's been knocked to s.h.i.t, slit up, and b.l.o.o.d.y half eaten."

True as far as it went. "Bears don't ride motorcycles away from crime scenes."

Manny was unimpressed. "Any tramp could have done that. He comes along, sees the thing. A free bike. n.o.body around here to complain. Or see him. Especially the corpse. Tramp just takes it and rides."

"Body was still oozing when the bike left."

"How you know that? You been talking to Forensics without telling me?"

Charley took a sip of the cooling, coffee-colored swill. "I looked."

Manny grumbled into his cup. As usual when he wanted to vent, in Spanish. As usual, Charley pretended he didn't understand the language. Charley waited until Manny ran down.

"Glad you came up."

"Hey, we're partners. Couldn't leave you to the mercy of the locals. These country boys ain't got no respect for real cops."

"They're doing okay." Once Lieutenant Cullen, the local in charge of the investigation, had gone through the "you're off duty and we're not and it's not your jurisdiction anyway" speech, they'd been pretty decent. He even believed Cullen when the guy had said that making Charley wait around wasn't his idea, even though the lieutenant wouldn't spill on who Charley was supposed to be waiting around for. Charley understood that kind of jam; he'd had to do the same thing to a witness in the Gossamer case last year. "Lucky this wasn't on corp turf."

Manny nodded knowingly. Dealing with private cops and all their bulls.h.i.t about company confidentiality made any investigation a pain. Murders like Gossamer's were the worst. The local boys were lucky they weren't going to have to deal with that kind of s.h.i.t.

Sipping his coffee, Manny helped Charley watch the forensics team. Slowly his face screwed up into the grimace that meant he was thinking hard about something. Charley waited. Manny would talk when he was ready.

"So what's so important about this Churdy guy?"

"Don't know."

"You ain't figured an angle on it yet?"

"No."

"Maybe it was a bear, then."

Manny was persistent; you had to give him that. Captain Milton called it boneheaded, but then Captain Milton didn't think much of Manny. Charley didn't think much of Captain Milton. "Like I said, no bear."

"Maybe it's a hit by the Barrington creepo? That b.a.s.t.a.r.d tears 'em up pretty good."

"That slasher's got a pattern. Timing's not right."

Manny grunted. He didn't like that answer either. "Copycat?"

"Out here? Get real."

"Yeah." He looked disappointed. "Still. It's gotta be something, if they want you to hang out here and talk to whoever it is they want you to talk to."

"So they won't tell you either?"

"Lieutenant Cullen says I gotta wait if I wanna see. 'Jurisdiction,' he says. Jurisdiction, my a.s.s. b.u.g.g.e.r likes being one up."

Charley nodded. He had a.s.sumed the lack of info was just due to his being a witness. "Never tell the civs anything" was usually the safest rule, and in this case Charley counted as a civ. But if the locals weren't telling Manny either, they might be under some kind of gag order. Or maybe that lieutenant just didn't like outsiders breathing down his neck.

Aircraft noise made the lieutenant look up. Charley gave a glance, but only a glance; Manny gawked. Even the lab boys looked up from their work. One of them cursed and scrambled to unfold a tarp to cover the body.

"This them?" Manny asked.

"Good guess."

A Boeing Swingjet appeared from behind the mountain and banked toward them. The engines perched on the ends of the stubby wings looked ominous, almost like rocket pods on a ground-attack helo. Charley knew better, but he couldn't help flashing on the image. He felt better when the Swing-jet's nose turned away from him, lining up with the highway for a landing. The plane had no markings, but its sleekness said money or connections, or both. Maybe this killing did have corporate connections, after all. Charley's stomach felt tight. The engines kicked up clouds of debris and gusted hot, oily air over him as the Swingjet settled.

Before the engines cut out, the door swung down into a ramp. As the stairs popped up, a quartet of tough-looking guys in suits pounded down them. Fancy boys in tailored suits. They didn't show any weapons, but Charley had no doubt they were carrying. The first one made a beeline for Cullen, while the rest spread out around the Swingjet.

A couple of tech types-in G.o.dd.a.m.n white coats, for Christ sakes-struggled down the ramp. Their satchels made the narrow pa.s.sageway difficult for them to negotiate. The last guy out of the Swingjet had a little trouble squeezing through the narrow hatchway even though he didn't have to bend over to keep his head from b.u.mping the coaming as the others had. The guy wasn't very tall, but he sure was wide, nearly as wide as he was tall, making Charley think of a drill sergeant he'd once had; this guy looked a lot like old Jonesy if you took a couple feet out of Jonesy's middle and lightened his skin tone a dozen shades.

The shrimp was clearly in charge. Charley heard one of the techs call him Mr. Sorli. Very deferentially. Sorli pointed at the tarp-covered body and the techs scurried off. The locals pulled off the tarp, then stayed out of the whitecoats' way. The new boys opened up their bags and started to do the same things the crime scene crew had been doing.

Redundancy, sweet redundancy. These guys had to be feds.

"Lotta muscle for hunting bear," Manny commented.

Manny just wasn't going to give up on the bear theory.

"They're feds. Haven't met the fed yet who's going to worry about a bear."

"Feds?" Manny's face darkened, then lightened a bit. "So much for no pattern. This must be some kind of psycho killing. Interstate stuff. Bet the perp's been cutting people up in half a dozen states. More of that luck of yours, Charley. Bet this is the closest they've come yet. You're gonna get yourself famous like Billy Kent down in Philly, Charley-boy."

Charley felt a sudden nostalgia for the bear theory.

The whitecoats went diligently about their task while the first suit talked to Lieutenant Cullen. Sorli stood by the Swingjet, arms folded, surveying his team at work. Two of his pet suits towered behind him like a pro linebacker's Masai bodyguards.

Finally Cullen pointed toward Manny and Charley, and the suit headed in their direction. When he arrived, he addressed Manny.

"Officer Gordon?"

"That's me," Charley said. The twitch of annoyance in the suit's face as he turned gladdened Charley's heart.

"Come with me, please," the suit said stiffly.

Why the h.e.l.l not? A few questions and he could be headed someplace warm. Charley went along. The suit led him toward the shrimp. When they arrived in the shadow of the Swingjet's wing, the suit stepped aside, leaving Charley face to face with-well, facing anyway-the shrimp.

Sorli's hands were in his pockets, and he didn't pull one out to offer a handshake. "Gordon?"

"That's me."

"You are the one who found the body?" asked the suit on the left.

"Yup."

The guy held out a reader. "Would you please read your statement?" Charley did so. "Is there anything you would like to add?" Charley shook his head as he handed the reader back. "Anything you would like to alter?"

"Nope."

"This is a serious investigation, Officer Gordon. Your superiors have promised complete cooperation. I do not believe that you understand the gravity of the situation."

"d.a.m.n straight."

"Your levity is not appreciated, Officer Gordon."

Too bad. You don't own the country. You don't own me. "I don't much appreciate being told to hang around here in the cold."

"We would appreciate your cooperation."

"I've been cooperating by hanging around out here, and you're acting like I'm the one putting you out."

"This is a serious investigation, Officer. We have no interest in wasting our time, or any citizen's time for that matter. I am sure that we all will be quite happy to get on to other things."

The sooner the better. "Look. If you got specific questions, ask them."

The suit looked as though he'd bitten into a lemon. A real one, good and sour. When he asked it, his question sounded more like a statement. "You saw no one near the body, nothing out of the ordinary."

"A b.l.o.o.d.y corpse on a mountain road is not ordinary. Leastwise when it's not a deer."

"Quite. I meant to ask if you saw anything unusual that might be related to the killing." "Nop e."

"The report you gave was very clear, but totally lacking in supposition. You are a police officer and surely you have some observations concerning the crime. Some thoughts."

More all the time. "I found the body, but I'm off duty."

"You are a police officer, are you not?"

"I'm on leave, and even if I wasn't, this isn't my jurisdiction. I reported the find like a good citizen, and like a good citizen, I'm content to leave the investigation to the local law officers. I have plenty to do back home."

"Ah, yes. You are involved in the Barrington slasher-killer investigation, are you not?"

"Peripherally."

"You found one of the bodies in that case as well."

"Yup."

"Do you see any connection between the two?"

Other than dead bodies? "Different killer."

"You are sure of this?"

He'd thought so. Now? Maybe not. "Got no evidence. You're the boys been collecting that."

"Quite. Do you have any supposition concerning-"

Sorli interrupted him. "Are you related to the victim?"

Just before Charley turned his eyes to the shrimp, he caught a flash of annoyance on the suit's face. Discord in the ranks? Sorli either didn't notice or didn't care; he stared at Charley with a hard expression. His dark eyes glinted coldly above his bearded cheeks.