city blues 01 - dome city blues (33 page)

If I went to the cops, they were going to wire me up to the Inquisitor.  Dancer might have exaggerated the dangers of a session with the Inquisitor, but then again, maybe not.  There had been rumors floating around the streets for years.  From what I’d heard, even a relatively mild session could cause brain damage.

Which led me to Option #2: I could try to dig the bullet out of Rieger’s skull and then give the place a clean sweep, eliminating all traces of my presence.  Uh-uh.  That might work in the vids, but not in real life.

Option #3: Get rid of the body.  Either dispose of it permanently, or hide it somewhere long enough to figure out a way to prove my innocence.  Which could lead to a whole slew of additional felonies, not the least of which was tampering with a crime scene.

Option #4: Leave the murder scene alone and get the hell out.  With luck, I might be able to clear my name before the body was even discovered.

Not one of my options was any damn good.  Every one of them had the potential to get me brainlocked.

I didn’t find the prospect of having my conscious mind electronically flatlined very attractive.  I had no desire to spend the rest of my life chasing invisible fireflies and pissing in my pants.

I finally decided on option #4.

The front door opened into a large foyer shared by only one other apartment.  I whistled silently.  Half a floor.  Not a bad spread for an up-and-coming executive.

The only other doors in the foyer led to an elevator and a set of fire stairs.  The foyer was empty.  I took the stairs down eleven flights to the basement parking garage.

There were six hover jobs down there, two Porches, a Dornier, a Jaguar, a BMW, and a Lexus sport coupe.  The BMW was parked in slot 11-A.  It was Rieger’s car, a metallic silver 925-I.  The windows were tinted to a shade approaching black.

The car’s alarm system buzzed once, to let me know that it was tracking me.  I pulled the key chip out of my pocket and held it out so that the car could scan it.  The alarm beeped softly, a friendly tone this time.

I stepped up to the car and slid the chip through the door sensor.  The powered gull-wing door opened quietly, folding itself up and out of the way.

I slid behind the wheel and looked around.  The interior of the car was rich with leather in sweeping ergonomic shapes.

I searched it quickly, but thoroughly.  Nothing at all out of the ordinary, unless you counted the panties in the glove compartment.  They were mint green and, to my eye, quite a bit too small to belong to anyone over the age of twelve or thirteen.  I put them back where I’d found them.

I climbed out, and punched the button that closed the door.

Just to be thorough, I went through the trunk.  Nothing.  I didn’t know what I’d been looking for, but I hadn’t found it.  I closed the trunk.

The pile of bodies in this case was still growing, I’d been set up for murder, and I was suddenly without a suspect again.

I looked down at the BMW key chip in my hand.  There was still time to return it to Rieger’s apartment, but some instinct told me not to.

Bolted to the cement wall was a stainless steel cabinet with a glass door.  Inside was a chemical foam fire extinguisher.  I hid the key chip in the cabinet behind the extinguisher.

When I got outside of Rieger’s apartment building, I discovered that the rain had stopped.  The squall had probably passed over while I was laying unconscious on Rieger’s carpet, leaving only the sinking of the sun to darken the sky.

I walked to the Venice Boulevard Lev station and caught the six p.m. to Dome 6.

An old man sat at the rear of the Lev car with his feet tucked under him in the seat.  It was that crazy old street preacher that everyone called Nostradamus.  He scrutinized me with wild bloodshot eyes that seemed about to bulge from their sockets.  His body swayed back and forth like one of those Indian snake charmers.  “It’s nearly here,” he crooned.  “The signs is all around us.  More of ‘em comin’ ever day.  The Convergence is comin’!”

The man’s green flannel shirt was filthy.  His stained brown jeans were at least three sizes too large.  His trademark aroma of dried urine and old sweat permeated the Lev car.

“I ain’t just jabberin’ to hear myself talk,” he croaked.  “You runnin’ outta time, boy.”

I looked up at the
No Smoking
sign and lit a cigarette.  “You’re telling me,” I said.  “You’re telling me.”

CHAPTER 21

Lisa answered the door.  She was dressed in a peach colored faux-satin blouse and black skirt with a slit that ran well up her plump left thigh.  She’d made a valiant attempt at covering her bruises with makeup.  The swelling in her face was receding nicely, but yellow and purple splotches peeked out from behind the camouflage.  She opened the door wider and I stepped past her into the apartment.

When she caught sight of me, Sonja crossed the room in three quick strides, slid her arms around me, and kissed me.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” I said.

An impish grin came over Sonja’s face.  “What does that mean?  You just dropped by for a quickie?”  She pretended to unbutton the top of her blouse.  “Shall we just drop right here on the carpet?”

Lisa prodded the carpet with her big toe.  “This is my house, and nobody does the dirty deed on my carpet without my permission.  Especially not before I get a chance to vacuum.”

“Listen,” I said.  “Something has happened.  We need to talk.  All of us.”

Sonja backed up a half step and held me at arm’s length.  “What happened to your face?”

“Rieger is dead,” I said.

“What?”  Sonja’s voice nearly squeaked.

Lisa didn’t say anything.

“Somebody blew Rieger away,” I said.  “And they used my gun to do it.”

Sonja’s hand flew to her mouth.  “Oh my God.”

“He was an asshole,” Lisa said.

Sonja looked at Lisa like she was from another planet.  “He’s dead,” Sonja said incredulously.

Lisa shrugged.  “He was a bastard.  He used people.  He used me.  He used Mike.  Face it, Sonja.  He used you too.”

She looked at me.  “If you shot him, I’m sure as hell not going to cry over it.”

“I didn’t shoot him,” I said.  “I was unconscious at the time.”

I pulled my collar away from my neck and turned to show the bruising and blisters.  “Somebody zapped me in the neck with a riot stunner.  I woke up on Rieger’s floor with my gun in my hand.  I found Rieger taped to a chair with a bullet in his head.  I’m pretty sure it came from my gun.”

Lisa shrugged again.  “I don’t care if you
did
shoot him...”

“I didn’t fucking shoot him!”  I caught myself and lowered my voice.  “I didn’t shoot him, Lisa.  I swear I didn’t.”

“I believe you,” said Lisa.

Sonja looked at her left hand; there was blood on it.  “You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, from the back of my head.  I know.  My head hit the sidewalk when she stunned me.”

“When
who
stunned you?” Lisa asked.

“Ms. X,” I said.  “The mystery woman.”

Lisa tilted her head slightly.  “The killer is a woman?”

“I don’t know if she’s the killer,” I said, “but there’s a woman wrapped up in this somehow.”

I ticked the items off on my fingers.  “It was a woman who zapped me.  There was a woman with Michael when he was killed. 
And
, there was a woman in the store when Michael bought the holo-camera.”

Sonja walked over to Lisa’s computer desk and steered the chair out from behind it.  “Don’t forget the woman on the Lev.”

“Right,” I said.  “A woman tried to kill me on the Lev a couple of days ago.”

Lisa ran her fingers through her hair.  “What does this mystery woman look like?”

I shrugged, a move I immediately regretted.  The muscles in my neck still hurt from the zapper.  “Dark hair.  Slender.  Medium height.  I never really got a good look at her.”

“Not even when she zapped you?”

“She hit me from behind.  I got a really good look at her boots, but that’s about it.”

Sonja wheeled the chair across the room and positioned it directly under a light fixture.  “Sit down,” she said.  “I need to get a look at your head.”

“I don’t have time.  I just came by to check on you and Lisa, and to tell you that I’m dropping out of sight for a few days.”

Sonja pointed to the chair.  “Sit.”

“Why the disappearing act?” asked Lisa.

“I told you.  I’m pretty sure that the killer used my gun to murder Rieger.  She planted some other evidence too, a pretty tight frame.  If I can’t catch her before the police figure out that Rieger is dead, I’m screwed.”

Sonja stood with her hands on her hips.  “At least let me clean it up.  If this gets infected while you’re out there chasing bad guys, you’re going to get sick.  If you get sick, you lose the edge.  If you lose the edge, the bad guys eat your lunch.”

“Bad
girls
,” Lisa said.  “Or would the complement of
guys
be
gals
?”

Sonja pointed to the chair again.  “Sit, David.  This is only going to take a minute.”

I sat.

Her fingers probed the back of my head.  I knew she was using a gentle touch, but the contact triggered another wave of pain and nausea.

Sonja whistled softly through her teeth.  “Your hair is pretty matted with blood.  I can’t really see anything.  Lisa, can I ruin a couple of your face towels?”

“No problem.  Look in the linen closet at the end of the hall.  Try to take the ones that don’t match.”

Sonja walked out of sight down the hall.

Lisa settled her weight carefully onto the couch.  “You should eat something before you go off chasing bad gals.  If you go out there on an empty stomach, the bad gals will eat your lunch.”

“No,” I said.  “No thank you.”

The sound of running water came from the direction of the bathroom. A few seconds later, Sonja appeared at the end of the hall carrying three towels: two damp, one dry.  The damp towels were hot enough to leave vapor trails.

Sonja applied one gently to the back of my scalp.

“Jesus!  That’s hot.”

She blotted it carefully to dissolve the dried blood.  “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“I thought this wasn’t going to take long.”

“If you sit still, it won’t.”

“That towel is hot.  And it hurts.”

Lisa made a face.  “If you’re going to play with the big gals, you’ve got to be prepared to take your lumps.”

Sonja switched to the second damp towel.  “What now, David?  Do you just walk out the front door and disappear?”

“I guess so.  For a few days at least.”

“Then what?”

“By then, I’ll have either caught the killer, or the police will have caught me.”

“Will you call me?”

I thought about it.  “The police will probably tap my phone,” I said.  “But they wouldn’t have any reason to tap Lisa’s.  It should be okay as long as I use a public phone.  Yeah.  I’ll call when I can.”

Sonja exhaled slowly.  “Good.  I’m going to worry myself to death as it is.”

She switched to the dry towel.  “Actually, this doesn’t look too bad.  You could use one or two staples, but I can fake it with a butterfly bandage.  I’m going to have to shave a little patch back here, okay?”