Alien Eyes (26 page)

“Please,” David said, nudging him in.

FORTY-TWO

Cryor looked across the room at David. He smiled, like they all did when they were nervous.

“So what's up here, anyway?” Cryor licked his lips.

David settled into a chair and eased back, opening Cryor's file. “Murder.”

Cryor flushed bright red.

Pathetic, David thought.

“What's he for?” Cryor raised his handcuffed wrists in String's direction.

“Him?” David looked up from the file. “That's Detective String. He works homicide too.”

The door opened and Mel walked in.

“Hi!” Cryor said. Looking for friends.

Mel grinned. “How you doing?” He glanced at David. “This the guy?”

David nodded.

“They Mirandize him?”

“Did it down in bunco.”

“We'll do it again.”

“Why?” Cryor asked. He cleared his throat.

“Because when we get you to court, Mr. Cryor, we don't want any glitches. I like a clean collar.”

Cryor sat up in his chair. “
Look
, you guys. This don't make sense. What am I being charged with? Why am I up here in
homicide
?” Detective Vanelli's the one brought me in.”

“Please,” String said. “You have right—”

Cryor jerked backward, away from the Elaki. “I told you they did all this downstairs.”

“The issue up here is murder,” David said. “It changes things. You want a paralegal?”

“No, that would take all—what's this about?”

String pulled the Miranda-Pro close. “Please to put thumb here. Press hard so machine may detect print.”

David glanced through the file while String ran Cryor through the routine. Cryor was a small-time hustler. Nonviolent, until now anyway. He ducked and weaved, scraping. Prostitution without a license, several counts, sleeping in a public park, nonregistration of prostitution, illegal use of utilities. ID brokering. Illegal registration of firearms. David chewed his lip. No drug charges. No violent crimes. There was a note in the file, Vanelli's handwriting.

Kid dumped in mental institution, age fourteen, by parents who basically didn't want him. Juvie records indicate no real mental problems abnormal to age group. Runaway. Ward of court. On the streets since age 15
.

David chewed his bottom lip. He glanced at Cryor's pale skin, the weak chin, the oily, dark blond hair. How had he kept off the drugs? Cryor caught the look and stared at David, reminding him, somehow, of the calf Rose had brought home.

David's voice was soft. “Moving up to the big time, Jon?”

“What do you mean?” Cryor's voice rose in pitch.

He knows exactly what I mean, David thought.

Mel pulled a metal chair from under the table, turned it backward, and scooted no more than a few inches from Cryor's left side.

“Multiple counts of murder will put you away for the rest of your life, kid.”

“I didn't
kill
anybody.”

“Conspiracy,” Mel said. “Same thing, Jon, in the eyes of the law.”

“Who am I supposed to have killed?” Cryor's glance was drawn irresistibly to String. He looked away quickly, eyes downcast. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

David sighed. Here was one that was going to be sweet.

“It just makes it worse,” David said. “You have to know that going after Elaki is going to hit the fan. You'd do better to rob widows and orphans.”

Mel shook his head. “You ever had the FBI up your nose? Or, God forbid, the CIA? Those guys won't bring you to trial, they'll just make you stop. Permanently. I seen 'em do it. String, you remember Ramie?” Mel shook his head. “How many times they shoot that guy?”

“It was most interesting,” String said. “I was not aware the human could endure so much.”

Cryor had a sullen look, his lips a tight line. He braced himself, tucking his feet around the chair legs. Mel was on the wrong tack, David decided. Cryor was going to shut down.

“Mr. Cryor,” David said. “Homicide Task Force is going to stake jurisdiction on this. Nobody's going to hurt you. What will happen is we're going to charge you with conspiracy to multiple homicide. If you're convicted, you'll be locked up the rest of your life. But nobody will hurt you. As long as you're in my jurisdiction, I guarantee that.”

Cryor had stopped listening as soon as David said “locked up.” David thought of a fourteen-year-old boy, dumped in a state mental institution by parents who didn't want him.

Cryor grabbed the edge of the seat with his fingers. “I didn't do anything.”

David cocked his head sideways. “Tell me who did.”

Cryor wiggled his foot, stared at the floor. “Them guys.” He sounded surly. “The Elaki, they go after each other. They do it to each other.” He looked up at David. “They use us to make the contact, but
they
coach us on what to do, what buttons to push. They're mean bastards, too.”

“Name names,” Mel said.

“Give me a reason.”

“No promises,” David told him.

“You know the drill, Cryor,” Mel said. “The more you help us, the more we help you.”

“No jail time,” Cryor said. “Please, guys.”

David shook his head. “That's not going to happen. But what I can do is keep the time down. And I can influence how hard you do it. A cinder block cell—”

Cryor shuddered.

“Or a minimum security farm. That's dorms, and freedom of movement.”

Cryor hung his head. David didn't want to send him to jail.

“I can ask the DA to recommend early release for community service,” David said. “But no telling what the judge will do with it.” He had seen one judge take such a written recommendation and make paper dolls of a guy wearing handcuffs. “None of this happens, unless you make me happy.”

Cryor raised his hands. “I don't
know
all that much.”

“Maybe you don't know what you know,” Mel said.

“Mainly we were just ripping the bellybrains off.” Cryor shrugged and glanced at String. “Sorry.”

“Please. Continue.”

“They get through that documentation thing. They're kind of disoriented, you know? Overwhelmed. And we go up, see, and tell them about bargains and stuff, and kind of herd them in. Get too close, you know? They're not used to people, and when we get too close it makes them nervous, and they back up. My main thing was getting them into the shop. It helps, you know, to be kind of nice. You know, figure what they want, appeal to their greed, or needs, or whatever. Like they're all afraid of wind, and I tell them how they can get a deal on one of those harness things. Tell them we got bad weather coming.” He could not suppress the smile that spread across his face. “Elaki anchors.”

“They do not work,” String said.

Cryor shrugged.

“Go on,” David said.

Cryor rubbed one thumb across the other. “One day my boss comes to me—”

“Your boss?” David asked.

“Yeah. He owns the store.”

“Name,” String said.

“Vinder, I think. I'm just supposed to call him
sir
. You know?”

David nodded.

“So he says to me that I got to get this certain Elaki guy in our shop. See, all the shops do it. They hustle these guys. But my guy says this certain Elaki has to come to our shop, and just him, and nobody else.”

“Did he usually tell you which Elaki to hit on?” David asked.

“Nope.” Cryor shook his head. “That's part of my thing. Picking, them out. And this strikes me as funny, because I can tell as soon as I see this dude, Vinder's not making any money offen him.”

“Why not?”

Cryor shrugged. “You can just tell, man. I'd of let him pass, if it was up to me. Some of 'em, you can just tell. They'd be trouble. But I go after him, and, dude, it's all I can do to get him
in
there. He's tough, and no way I'm scaring him just by getting in his face, you know? But I kind of made him curious, like, told him there was some trouble he was needed for. That the guy who ran the place asked me to get him. I could see he was suspicious, but he wanted to know what was up, see, so he went.”

“Curiosity and a cat,” String said.

“Yeah,” Cryor brightened. “You heard about that?”

“Then what happened?” David said.

“It was weird. There was other Elaki there. And they just hustled this guy to the back of the shop and told me to beat it.”

“They didn't try to sell him anything?”

“Nah. Weird.”

“Didn't you wonder why?”

Cryor shrugged. “Long as I get paid, you know?”

“When was this?”

“I don't know. Kind of … well, it … first time was like more than a year ago. Maybe two, I don't remember.”

David frowned. “Then what?”

“So it happens again. A bunch of times. Pick out this certain Elaki and dog him on in there, no matter what. They were all alike, too.”

“In what way?”

“They were … I don't know. Not good marks. Too smart for my own good. And Vinder never made any money offen these guys.”

“You said there were other Elaki in these shops?”

“Yeah. Two or three.”

“Same ones?” Mel asked.

“Sometimes. They all—”

“Look alike. Yeah. Got any names?”

“No. No, sir.” Cryor looked at David. He wiped his palms on the thighs of his pants, and the handcuffs jangled like a charm bracelet.

“But you would recognize?” String said. “The Elaki. If you shown a reasonable facsimile.”

Cryor frowned.

“A picture,” Mel said. There was a long silence. Mel looked at David and rolled his eyes. “Anything else you can tell us?”

“That's all I got.”

David shook his head, slowly.

“It's
all
I got.”

David crooked his finger at Mel. Mel scooted his chair across the floor, leaving a black scuff. David pointed to the file, and the firearms conviction. Mel glanced at Cryor. He scratched the back of his neck.

“Is it a good living?” Mel asked. “That prostitution?”

“Too much overhead,” Cryor said.

Mel laughed. Cryor smiled faintly. He was sweating. He jammed his toes tighter against the legs of the chair and stared at the floor.

“Lessee.” Mel took the file from David's lap. “Prostitution without a license. Misdemeanor, misdemeanor. ID broker—made some money there, I bet you. Failure to … Uh-oh.” Mel frowned. “Don't like this. Illegal registration of firearms.”

“That was a mistake. A stupid paperwork mistake.”

“You know”—Mel got up and perched on the edge of the table—“this lying gets to be a habit.” He waved a hand and looked at String. “This is something you should know about people, see. They get in the habit of telling lies and just do it, like they was breathing. Now Jon here.” He pointed at Cryor. “He so stupid, he don't know I can check this? Call up the arrest records, talk to the arresting officer? Illegal registration of firearms—you probably chipped that down from illegal sale of firearms.”

“Possession.”

“Come on, Cryor.
Selling
. You sell 'em now, don't you, kid?”

“I—”

“You sell guns and you sold them to these Elaki who strong-arm in the shops. And then they use your guns, Cryor, to
snuff
those poor suckers you go out and round up. You bring them to the shop, and you provide the gun to kill them with, and that—”

“No, no, I don't!”

“Maybe you do the killing, too.”

“No, I don't, I'm no
killer
.”

“What the hey,
dude
, it's only Elaki, right? It's not like they're human.”

“I
never killed them. Never
.”

“But you provided the guns,” David said.

“
No
. That had nothing to do with this. That was just to Vinder,
one
time. One time he asked for a gun and I got it for him. He wanted it for protection. Something that the kickback wouldn't turn him into jelly, you know, 'cause Elaki, they can't take it. But that's got nothing to do with this other stuff.”

“What kind of gun was it, Jon.” David's voice was gentle.

“Six-millimeter Glock. Small caliber, less kick.”

“What kind of bullets?” David asked.

Cryor hung his head. “Ablative sheath. He asked for them.”

David felt a tingle at the base of his spine. The same kind of gun Dahmi had. The same kind of bullets. He shifted in his chair and leaned forward.

“How do you know they didn't use your gun to off these Elaki you were rounding up for slaughter?”

“I didn't know they were killing them!”

“Yeah you did. When did you find it out?”

“I …' long about the third guy.” Cryor shook his head. “I had a bad feeling about that one, you know? You get a sense for it. And he gave them hell, wouldn't go back through the shop, fought like the dickens. Jesus, you should of seen him wrestle. This dude was strong, and he fought dirty.”

“What happened to him?”

“Shot him with the gun you gave 'em,” Mel said.

“No,” Cryor said. He stared at a space just below David's shoulder. “He got out back, to the alley. They were yelling, calling me to help. But I didn't touch him, I just watched. And he makes it out to the alley.”

“And what?”

“They let … they turned the dog on him.”

“Dog?” David said. He knew Mel had glanced at him, but he kept his eyes on Cryor.

“Yeah. A dog.” A drop of sweat ran down the bridge of Cryor's nose. His face was shiny red, oily. “One of these guys, he brings the dog when he comes.”

“So what happened?”

“That motherfucker just tore him to pieces.” Cryor looked at his hands. “Elaki, they … they bleed all yellow.”