Red arrived quickly, a very young and very indignant crime scene investigator in tow. When he realized what he’d missed, he looked at me with mild suspicion. I smiled back at him.
“You assumed the shot came through the window, so you only looked to see where the killer would have stood and didn’t give the back wall as much attention as it deserved.”
“And you saw the bullet in the dark with a passing glance,” he grumbled as he removed the bullet from the wall.
I shrugged. “Cyberoptics help.” He scoffed, but I could tell the use of technology had softened the blow to his pride. He was a few years younger than me, and clearly from closer to Corporate sector, if not in Corporate sector. He had a lot to learn.
“Well, Dr. Watts,” Red said with a small grin, “You have succeeded in making this case even stranger than before. Thanks.”
I shook my finger at her, “Now, Detective, that’s not true. It is the most mundane case that is most difficult to solve. The more extraordinary the case, the easier to unravel... or something like that.”
“A little rusty in your reading?”
“Didn’t have much reason to pick up the stories again. Frankly, didn’t want to.”
Red nodded sagely. “Well, you’ve done him proud. If that bullet matches up with the one we retrieved from Rolands, then the murderer was in the room with the victim, and fired a shot out the window to make it seem like he was killed from across the street.”
“So you’re looking for a shot with a steady hand and impeccable aim with a particular dislike of Adrian Rolands, who was in the room with him that night.”
“Ms. Sabia Monahan fits, except that her gun isn’t the murder weapon.”
I grinned. “So she got it from a friend."
There was no way to prove my theory of course, but that didn’t stop me from returning to the shooting range later that evening. I timed it perfectly; Sabia was getting a few very intimate pointers on her stance from her instructor. I waited until the instructor left before casually approaching, giving her plenty of time to see me coming.
“Are you looking for me?” she asked, meeting me halfway.
“Yes. I wanted to know why you did it.”
“Did what?”
“You must have used a silencer, which means you went there intending to shoot him, so it couldn’t have been a crime of passion.”
“I don’t have to listen to this.”
I gently grabbed her arm as she turned away, “Hold on, I’m not the police.”
“But you were with the cop who talked to me.”
“I know her, I tag along, but I’m not an officer. I’m a doctor. I couldn’t arrest you even if I could prove it, and I’m honestly curious to know why.”
“I’m not saying anything else to you unless you eject that optic.”
I blinked. “Eject it?”
“You could be recording me for all I know. I don’t have any reason to trust you.”
She had a point, and I had no argument for it. I turned my cyberoptic off and ejected the eye, holding it carefully in a handkerchief. To my immense satisfaction, she recoiled a little at the sight of a metal-plated hole in my skull, but finally told me what I wanted to know.
“I wanted a divorce. He didn’t, even though he was getting no benefit from being legally married, just keeping me from marrying someone else.”
“So when he called you wanting money, you mentioned divorce, and he said something that pushed you over the edge?”
“I went knowing he would ask for money. This was an old routine by now, Doctor. I went, with the forms notifying him I had filed for divorce. He was insulting enough and I was tired enough that when he blew me off, I shot him.”
“But you went there with your boyfriend’s gun. You knew you were going to shoot him.”
“I grabbed his gun by accident.”
“And the silencer?” She didn’t say anything. “Ah. You knew he could, and would, draw the process out for as long as possible and didn’t want to wait. So you took your boyfriend’s gun and silencer, deciding to kill your husband if he refused to simply agree to the terms. You shot him in the back of the head, then in a moment of inspiration shot through the window to make it seem like he’d been shot from across the street. You’re an excellent marksman, you could line up the shot with the wound in the back of his skull.” More silence. “Does the boyfriend know?”
“He probably suspected something, but he didn’t say anything.”
“How’d you get the glass debris all over the floor?”
“Crushed one of his drinking glasses, scattered the dust, carried the remains out with me in my purse.”
“Can I put my eye back now?”
“If we’re done talking.”
I smirked as I replaced it, giving her a small bow. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Monahan.”
As I turned away, I caught a flash of color going through the door. I hurried after it, leaving the shooting range and finding Red outside talking to a brightly dressed man casually leaning against the wall.
His short coat was pastel violet, while his pants were black with a silver stripe. A gold scarf was tied around his neck, and his black hair was shaggy and wild, unlike his perfectly groomed beard. To complete this insane picture were a pair of black gloves and shoes.
“A pleasure to see you again, Detective,” he was saying, “now excuse me, but I have some pressing business.”
“Not so fast,” Red stepped in front of him, hands on her hips, “what are you doing hanging about here?”
“Here? A customer wondered what happened to Adrian Rolands. He was a rather familiar face in a certain gambling house, suddenly gone. There was some concern about him skipping out on his growing debts.”
“Uh huh. So why are you spying on him?” Red gestured with a nod towards me.
The strange man shook his head, “I was spying on the lady. Reporting her husband’s death is all well and good, but for the sake of completeness I wanted to know if she killed him. Now I know,” he inclined his head towards me, “thank you very much.”
“Who is this guy?” I asked.
“Calls himself Sebastian. He sells information on anything to anyone willing to pay, though the first time I heard of him was last Christmas when he came in to claim a bounty on an arsonist wanted in five cities.”
Sebastian shrugged. “Business was slow.”
“You gift-wrapped him.”
“’Twas the season. And he looked so pretty in a bow.”
I chuckled. “You must be insane.”
Sebastian grinned, a touch maniacally. “I’m not as mad as all that. Now, if you don’t mind, I really must be going. Ta.” And he was gone.
“Well, then,” I muttered, “that was strange.”
“Yeah. So, did you get what you needed?”
“Sabia Monahan killed Adrian Rolands because he wouldn’t give her a divorce.”
“Can you prove it?”
I pulled out a small, old fashioned tape recorder from my pocket. “Yep.”
Red laughed. “I seem to remember seeing that little gadget from somewhere.”
I smiled. “Worked for Sherlock then, figured it might work for me now.”
“Well done, Doctor,” Red shook my hand as I handed over the tape, “It was nice working with you.”
“Thanks, Red.”
I headed up to the attic as soon as I got home. I wanted to ask Ghost what she knew about brightly dressed crazy information dealers, but she was deep in cyberspace and unresponsive. I sighed and left her to it, making myself a drink before lying down on the sofa. What a strange day.
It had been great looking into a case like that, but so weird without Sherlock. I still missed him, but I thought I might be able to start moving on now. Oddly enough, helping Red had enabled me to come to terms with the loss of my friend. More to terms with it than I was before, at least. Emotionally exhausted, I drifted off to visions of skyscrapers and waterfalls.
I woke to the sound of someone knocking.
“You assumed the shot came through the window, so you only looked to see where the killer would have stood and didn’t give the back wall as much attention as it deserved.”
“And you saw the bullet in the dark with a passing glance,” he grumbled as he removed the bullet from the wall.
I shrugged. “Cyberoptics help.” He scoffed, but I could tell the use of technology had softened the blow to his pride. He was a few years younger than me, and clearly from closer to Corporate sector, if not in Corporate sector. He had a lot to learn.
“Well, Dr. Watts,” Red said with a small grin, “You have succeeded in making this case even stranger than before. Thanks.”
I shook my finger at her, “Now, Detective, that’s not true. It is the most mundane case that is most difficult to solve. The more extraordinary the case, the easier to unravel... or something like that.”
“A little rusty in your reading?”
“Didn’t have much reason to pick up the stories again. Frankly, didn’t want to.”
Red nodded sagely. “Well, you’ve done him proud. If that bullet matches up with the one we retrieved from Rolands, then the murderer was in the room with the victim, and fired a shot out the window to make it seem like he was killed from across the street.”
“So you’re looking for a shot with a steady hand and impeccable aim with a particular dislike of Adrian Rolands, who was in the room with him that night.”
“Ms. Sabia Monahan fits, except that her gun isn’t the murder weapon.”
I grinned. “So she got it from a friend."
There was no way to prove my theory of course, but that didn’t stop me from returning to the shooting range later that evening. I timed it perfectly; Sabia was getting a few very intimate pointers on her stance from her instructor. I waited until the instructor left before casually approaching, giving her plenty of time to see me coming.
“Are you looking for me?” she asked, meeting me halfway.
“Yes. I wanted to know why you did it.”
“Did what?”
“You must have used a silencer, which means you went there intending to shoot him, so it couldn’t have been a crime of passion.”
“I don’t have to listen to this.”
I gently grabbed her arm as she turned away, “Hold on, I’m not the police.”
“But you were with the cop who talked to me.”
“I know her, I tag along, but I’m not an officer. I’m a doctor. I couldn’t arrest you even if I could prove it, and I’m honestly curious to know why.”
“I’m not saying anything else to you unless you eject that optic.”
I blinked. “Eject it?”
“You could be recording me for all I know. I don’t have any reason to trust you.”
She had a point, and I had no argument for it. I turned my cyberoptic off and ejected the eye, holding it carefully in a handkerchief. To my immense satisfaction, she recoiled a little at the sight of a metal-plated hole in my skull, but finally told me what I wanted to know.
“I wanted a divorce. He didn’t, even though he was getting no benefit from being legally married, just keeping me from marrying someone else.”
“So when he called you wanting money, you mentioned divorce, and he said something that pushed you over the edge?”
“I went knowing he would ask for money. This was an old routine by now, Doctor. I went, with the forms notifying him I had filed for divorce. He was insulting enough and I was tired enough that when he blew me off, I shot him.”
“But you went there with your boyfriend’s gun. You knew you were going to shoot him.”
“I grabbed his gun by accident.”
“And the silencer?” She didn’t say anything. “Ah. You knew he could, and would, draw the process out for as long as possible and didn’t want to wait. So you took your boyfriend’s gun and silencer, deciding to kill your husband if he refused to simply agree to the terms. You shot him in the back of the head, then in a moment of inspiration shot through the window to make it seem like he’d been shot from across the street. You’re an excellent marksman, you could line up the shot with the wound in the back of his skull.” More silence. “Does the boyfriend know?”
“He probably suspected something, but he didn’t say anything.”
“How’d you get the glass debris all over the floor?”
“Crushed one of his drinking glasses, scattered the dust, carried the remains out with me in my purse.”
“Can I put my eye back now?”
“If we’re done talking.”
I smirked as I replaced it, giving her a small bow. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Monahan.”
As I turned away, I caught a flash of color going through the door. I hurried after it, leaving the shooting range and finding Red outside talking to a brightly dressed man casually leaning against the wall.
His short coat was pastel violet, while his pants were black with a silver stripe. A gold scarf was tied around his neck, and his black hair was shaggy and wild, unlike his perfectly groomed beard. To complete this insane picture were a pair of black gloves and shoes.
“A pleasure to see you again, Detective,” he was saying, “now excuse me, but I have some pressing business.”
“Not so fast,” Red stepped in front of him, hands on her hips, “what are you doing hanging about here?”
“Here? A customer wondered what happened to Adrian Rolands. He was a rather familiar face in a certain gambling house, suddenly gone. There was some concern about him skipping out on his growing debts.”
“Uh huh. So why are you spying on him?” Red gestured with a nod towards me.
The strange man shook his head, “I was spying on the lady. Reporting her husband’s death is all well and good, but for the sake of completeness I wanted to know if she killed him. Now I know,” he inclined his head towards me, “thank you very much.”
“Who is this guy?” I asked.
“Calls himself Sebastian. He sells information on anything to anyone willing to pay, though the first time I heard of him was last Christmas when he came in to claim a bounty on an arsonist wanted in five cities.”
Sebastian shrugged. “Business was slow.”
“You gift-wrapped him.”
“’Twas the season. And he looked so pretty in a bow.”
I chuckled. “You must be insane.”
Sebastian grinned, a touch maniacally. “I’m not as mad as all that. Now, if you don’t mind, I really must be going. Ta.” And he was gone.
“Well, then,” I muttered, “that was strange.”
“Yeah. So, did you get what you needed?”
“Sabia Monahan killed Adrian Rolands because he wouldn’t give her a divorce.”
“Can you prove it?”
I pulled out a small, old fashioned tape recorder from my pocket. “Yep.”
Red laughed. “I seem to remember seeing that little gadget from somewhere.”
I smiled. “Worked for Sherlock then, figured it might work for me now.”
“Well done, Doctor,” Red shook my hand as I handed over the tape, “It was nice working with you.”
“Thanks, Red.”
I headed up to the attic as soon as I got home. I wanted to ask Ghost what she knew about brightly dressed crazy information dealers, but she was deep in cyberspace and unresponsive. I sighed and left her to it, making myself a drink before lying down on the sofa. What a strange day.
It had been great looking into a case like that, but so weird without Sherlock. I still missed him, but I thought I might be able to start moving on now. Oddly enough, helping Red had enabled me to come to terms with the loss of my friend. More to terms with it than I was before, at least. Emotionally exhausted, I drifted off to visions of skyscrapers and waterfalls.
I woke to the sound of someone knocking.