Stratus Fear

Chapter 4

As soon as I entered Bender's cubicle he turned on his vid-display and had me sit down to watch the detail video the responding officers made of the crime scene.The murder victim had been identified as Gavin McAllister, who lived at the Elysian Terrace Towers, one of those swanky marble, steel and granite fortresses that housed the rich and successful, and sometimes famous.Someone had used a metal, hooked instrument to bash McAllister on the head and shatter his skull.Next up, a pretty woman with large, soulful eyes gave her testimony as she answered questions put forth by the investigating cops.She identified herself as Arianna Ravel, a resident of Elysian Towers.

Well, you had to be rich and successful to live on the second tier anyway, what they called Terre Celeste.Only people with money worked, played and f****d there.And unless someone had an official work permit to enter that hallowed tier of luxury, we the people of Terre Cite would never set foot on Terre Celeste.In fact, I heard once that a few of the wealthiest big wigs employ guards to shoot those poor suckers who try to sneak in illegally, that's if they can foil the sensors in the invisible walls that surround the community.

Needless to say my curiosity had jumped up a few notches as I watched the video; but even more amazing, Captain Bender had actually assigned little ol' me to the case.

"Those assholes up there," Bender surmised, "are nothing but token cops.They don't know s**t from shingles about investigating a crime.Hell, why should they?They don't commit crimes on Terre Celeste.Everyone up there is civilized, so civilized in fact that they have "incidents," the kind that can be swept away with the trash.Yet if their incidents prove too big for the sweeper they ask us to do the dirty work for them."

"And you thought of me?"I found it rather strange that he even thought of me at all.

"You're available, Parrish, and you're one of the lesser evils out of the whole bunch."

Gee, his faith in his work force was touching.The boss had been sitting in his chair behind his desk as he usually did like a big square peg, but now he leaned forward, straining his gut and his temper."I hate to take these kinds of cases," he grumbled out of the side of his mouth, an old affectation from his days as a cigar smoker."You know what the f**k gripes me? No one up there believes us anyway when we make an honest attempt to find out the truth, so we just go through the motions to please the big shots."He paused to cough up some phlegm and then spit the gloppy output in the nearby waste receptacle.

"So go up there right now, Parrish, nose around, ask questions and find out more about this Gavin McAllister guy.He's supposed to be one of the important assholes associated with something called the Senesco Institute, whatever that is."

Grapping a small, white disc off the heap of crap on his desk, he tossed it my way.I intercepted it with a high five catch.Many years ago, Bender had been in the Marines, and he still bore the symptoms, the crew cut, the steely-eyed look of a born fighter, and the muscle strength, even though the rest of him had gone a little shabby and the stubble on his head had quietly turned gray.

"There's your official credential to get in.Use one of the unmarked cruisers so you don't stand out too much.I'll expect your report first thing in the morning."

"I'm on my way, captain."I rose from the rickety plastic and canvas chair used as a visitor seat, one of the many that populated the department.A few years back some interpret ex-requisition officer had bought office equipment and furniture at cheap prices, and we now suffered from the poor quality as equipment failed and furniture broke apart.At least the toilets flushed-sometimes.

Now it would take me about half an hour to check out a cruiser and then a protective vest, night goggles and a special S&W tactical rifle with a precision sight scope.I had my service gun on me, but sometimes an extra firearm came in handy.Plus it never hurt to come over-prepared.Not that I planned to do much shooting up there, since murderous executives with seven figure incomes and country club memberships remained an anomaly.Yet someone up there had murdered one of their own, the answers to who and why now my official bailiwick.How lucky can a girl get?