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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Smallwood Guest Home," the man said with a voice so honestly charming, I
couldn't help but mistrust it. "How may we help you?"
"I'm with the Vigil," I said, "and I'd like to leave an urgent message for
Maya Cuttack. I understand she's staying with you?"
"We'd be happy to take your message," the Oolom woman replied, "but if it's
urgent, we can't guarantee when Dr. Cuttack will receive it."
"Why?"
"Our guests come and go," the man said. "We never know when they might pick
up their messages."
"Are you saying Dr. Cuttack isn't in residence right now?"
"We can't give out such information on our guests," the woman answered, her
face brimming with regret that she couldn't satisfy my every whim.
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Behind the display box, out of sight from the screen, Tic mouthed,Just leave
a note. I did, asking Maya "to call Faye Smallwood as soon as possible for an
urgent message." Something gave me the waries about leaving my personal
number; so I rhymed off the code for the Vigil instead. Our phone system was
smart enough to forward the call to me if I wasn't in the office.
When I'd cut the connection, Tic said, "Let's hope she doesn't get the
message for at least an hour."
"Why?"
"Because the world-soul tells me that's the flying time to Sallysweet River.
Gird yourself, Smallwood, we're going in."
No. We didn't hop a waiting skimmer and spunk off to face the enemy. Tic and
I weren't witless... nor were we police club-thumpers, equipped with badges,
body armor, and all mod cons for buttonholing possible murder suspects. I gave
a silent inward cheer when Tic asked, "Who do you know with the local
gendarmes, Smallwood? Someone with a dash of authority to rally the troops on
our behalf. Someone who'll listen to you talk about Maya without dismissing
you as a total loon."
"There's a Captain Cheticamp," I answered. "We got along cozily enough last
night."
Tic motioned toward the phone again. "Call this cozy fellow and bend him to
your will."
Basil Cheticamp, bless him, was actually on duty; he even knew background
details on Chappalar's murder, though he wasn't part of the inquiry team. Just
as well he hadn't been directly involved when he heard how the investigators
had overlooked Maya as a lead, Cheticamp swore they'd all be drummed down to
dogcatchers. He promised to dispatch a squad to Sallysweet River on the
double: two detectives to ask Dr. Cuttack polite questions, and a pack of
armored ScrambleTac officers just in case homicidal androids came marching
across the tundra. He was already paging his troops, when I asked, "Where will
we meet your people?"
The captain stopped mid-sentence and gave me the steely-eyed glare. "Meet?"
"The Vigil intends to scrutinize your handling of this case. A master proctor
and I will accompany your squad to Sallysweet River."
"Ms. Smallwood..."
"ProctorSmallwood," I corrected. His glare got two ore-grades steelier.
"Proctor Smallwood, it is precious inappropriate for civilians "
"We aren't civilians," I interrupted. "We're members of the Vigil. We have a
legal right to scrutinize police activity however we see fit."
"You'll get a complete report on everything that happens."
"Not good enough. Master Tic and I want to be present on the scene."
Cheticamp's face went lemonish. "Tic? Tic's in Bonaventure? Smallwood, every
police officer on the planet knows Tic is..."
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"A total loon?" I suggested.
"Worse: a Jonah. There isn't a single rattlesnake on Demoth, but if Tic went
walking in the woods, he'd find one. Not that it would bite him it'd go for
the next poor bugger to come down the trail. If Tic is in Bonaventure..."
Cheticamp shook his head. Not a happy man.
Part of me wanted to let him off the hook; after all, whyshould Tic and I
plop ourselves into the line of fire? We could stay home, read the police
reports, evaluate what we read...
But that was a piss-poor way to run a scrutiny.Dissect the paperwork, but
never trust it advice as old as the Vigil itself.Get out of the office. Go
through the closed doors.
"Captain," I said in my most humble Mom-Faye voice, "we don't want to do your
job... we only want to do ours. You know we aren't trying to push you around,
or rake your people over the coals; we're just observing your procedures, the
way the Vigil always does. Sure and all, this is an extra complication for
you, but your department and the Vigil have always worked it out in the past.
Right?"
I hoped that was true. Police generally had a sulky tolerance for the
Vigil not that they liked us breathing over their shoulders, but they'd lived
with our presence long enough that we came with the landscape: like paperwork
and foot patrol. On the other hand, if Cheticamp had ever got his knuckles
rapped because of a Vigil report...
The captain sighed. "All right,Proctor Smallwood. You and Tic can go
in-country with the squad. I'll go too, as your personal escort. Pick you up
in five minutes."
The screen went blank before I could say thank you.
STRAWBERRY SMOKE
I had goaded/charmed/blustered my family into leaving Sallysweet River when I
was twenty-one. By then, I was bored with the boonies and stabilized enough
after my years of wildness to get cringey over the way people looked at me on
the street. Anyway, a bare-rock mining town had bugger-all opportunities
compared to the big city of Bonaventure... where Winston got his scholarship
to law school, Angie found she was a VR savant, Egerton bought his first
cargo-hauler, and so on. The family thanked me eventually, each by each, for
nagging and ragging till we moved.
Despite that, my spouses hadn't totally cut their ties with the old hometown.
They'd all returned time and again over the years, visiting parents and
siblings, showing off their children and other successes.
Me, I'd never gone back. Dads was dead. Mother had left town the day I got
married either washing her hands of me, or just taking the opportunity to
attend to her own sanity now that my spouses were in charge of mine. Whatever
the reason, Ma had scarpered south to the jungles of Argentia and was now
breeding Demothian orchids for their natural antivirals, living in a grass
shack with a gentleman Oolom pharmer. So I had no family to visit in
Sallysweet River. And nary a success to show off... not unless you counted
mere survival. On top of which, how could you feel nostalgic for a slag heap
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of a town, filled with bad memories and folks who thought I was dirt?
Even so... even so. I found myself going dewy-eyed as the police skimmer
soared over forest and tundra toward my birthplace. The darkness got to me; no
lights below but the glint of stars reflecting off snow. I remembered nights [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
