"That him?" The detective inspector's two heads took in the girls as they leaned in for a guarded glimpse at the face of the corpse.
"That's him," Rivqua confirmed, backing away with a grimace.
Zana pointed to the entry wound in Luffy Bing's forehead. "What kind of weapon does that?"
"Cold laser, would be my guess," The detective nodded to the robot who covered up the body again. "Quick, precise, silent. Impossible to trace since there's no actual procectile to match with a barrel." He shook one head. "What wouldn't I give to have the old days back."
"We have lasers onstage, the safe ones," Zana said as they stepped back out into the sun. "Take out a winged insect at best, but no worse than that."
"Wish all lasers were like ours," Rivqua said, fanning off a touch of nausea.
"You're tellin' me. Fancy a cup of coffee? You ladies got time?"
"Do you, Inspector?"
"Sure. I'm back to square one, what's the rush? Plus, I might get lucky and you'll confess."
"For a lousy cup of coffee? Fat chance."
Both heads stared. "Excuse me?"
"It was a joke!" Zana said and got in the cruiser.
Rivqua said, "If you need a confidence booster, Inspector, you could try and figure out why the Grand Galactica has such a difficult time paying us. And when they finally do, they still don't."
The unmarked police car hovered up to a couple feet above ground and took off down the road, heading back toward the shiny centre of Toss Vague-Ass.
Fifteen minutes later the three of them sat in the Grand Galactica bar, sipping coffee.
"What's your next move, Inspector?" Rivqua asked and leaned back in the plush couch.
"Do I have to have one?"
"I assume you're being paid to eventually find one. Although, not by this place I imagine. Which should be to your relief."
He shrugged and looked away for a casual scan of the wide lobby.
"How about you?" he said.
Rivqua gave Zana a glance. "I suppose we'll be giving Sir Morris a bell."
Zana nodded, stirring the frothy white cap of her latte with an absent-minded look. "They do one thing right in this place, and that's these creamy coffee jobs. How long that remains a perk, or the guy who makes them stays alive, I dare not guess."
The detective snorted and took a sip with one head and spoke with the other.
"Sir Morris. That was your manager, right?"
"Executive troublemaker. A former civil servant actually. Stays clear of all the action while being the chief cause of it."
The inspector sighed. "He has my unsullied admiration."
No comments:
Post a Comment