Pet Noir (16 page)

“Elsa?”

“I'm sorry.”

Elsa stood up and looked around, then went to where Leila's lilac carry bag sat under a tree. She picked it up and tenderly stuffed Leila into it, tail first. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she faced Devin.

“Don't call me,” she said, and walked away toward her apartment.

Devin stood watching her go, a puzzled frown on his face. I came out and joined him.

“What happened?” I said quietly.

“I don't know.”

“Did she?”

“Shh.”

A couple of women jogged by on the footpath. They were wearing feed headsets, but it wasn't worth risking. Devin jerked his head toward the lifts and I followed.

~

“The way I see it, she's got to have some compelling reason for not coming forward.”

Devin popped a fried shrimp into his mouth and munched it, then tossed one to me. I snagged it, and for a minute I was too busy chewing to answer. There was too much salt in the Zip Fix batter. I hadn't noticed that before.

I swallowed. “So compelling she's willing to risk being bullied into the sack by Hoyden.”

“Yeah.” Devin frowned, his hand holding another shrimp halfway to his mouth. “It doesn't make sense.”

“There must be something we've missed.” I hopped onto Sheila's desk and fired up her com. “Com station, voco ID Leon.”

The com gave a cheery beep. “Confirmed.”

“Search general info topic Grippe, Elsa.”

“Didn't you already do that?” asked Devin. He remembered his shrimp and ate it.

“Yeah, but maybe I missed something. Com station, adjust search delete Megalink.”

A revised list of results came up. At the top of it was the announcement I'd glimpsed before, about her not marrying whats-his-name the third. I stared at it for a minute wondering why she'd called it quits on that relationship, then moved on to other stuff I hadn't perused before.

Her educational record was impressive. She'd gone to the best schools available, even attended graduate school on Old Earth. It was the bio attached to her thesis that opened my eyes.

“Holy jeez! She doesn't need a job. She's filthy rich!”

Devin came to look over my shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Her mom's a Goldfarber.”

“Wow! I should have told her I liked her legs!”

Elsa Grippe was a wealthy socialite, or had been. What was she doing on Gamma Station, working a job in which she felt trapped? Had her family disowned her or something? Had the aborted marriage messed up her life?

I wanted to find out, and I also wanted to nail Hoyden. If he was harassing Elsa, chances were good he was abusing other employees as well. Not good for morale on the station.

“Call Steakmeister,” I said to Devin. “Make yourself a reservation for seven o'clock.”

“Steakmeister? No way, dude! That place is expensive. Zip Fix is good enough for you.”

I turned my head to give him a look. “Elsa's meeting Hoyden there for dinner.”

“Oh.”

“I can go on my own if you don't want to get involved.”

He frowned. “No, I'll be there.”

“Good. Make the call, then we'd better go shopping. You need something decent to wear, and a shave wouldn't hurt.”

~

I went around early while Devin was cleaning himself up. I wanted to touch base with my friend Sue, Steakmeister's executive chef.

The entrance to the kitchen is from the maintenance corridor that runs between Steakmeister and Imperial Gardens. Very interesting places, those maintenance corridors. They're all over the rotunda, running behind and between the storefronts. You can tell a lot about a business just by the condition of its back door.

Steakmeister's back door was always impeccably clean, its trash bins tidy and perfect. Usually I came by mid-morning, when Sue had finished prepping for lunch and was gearing up for the dinner crowd. Butch and I would hang out by the back door and she'd come out with a plate of scraps for us, trimmings and choice bits of gizzards and what-not. I gotta say, I love Ling-Ling's for seafood, but Steakmeister can't be beat for prime meats.

I checked to make sure I was alone in the corridor, then jumped for the access pad by the door. Made it first try, and the door slid open.

The kitchen was huge, and with the dinner hour in full swing it was full of noise, heat, and delicious smells. I stuck close to the counters to avoid the fast-moving feet of a half-dozen frantically busy chefs. I'd never been there during prime time before. Things were a little nuts.

Sue stood by the stove, stirring something that made billows of exotic-smelling steam every time she splashed some liquid into it. I eased over that way and sat at her feet, waiting for her to notice me.

She was wearing an immaculate white chef's jacket and a frown of concentration. The smallest person in the kitchen, petite and strong with her brown hair cropped short in a no-nonsense do, she was without question its commander. Every other chef in there deferred to her.

I waited until she had dished up the pan's contents and sent them off to the dining room before risking a small mew. She squinted down at me, then her face lit with surprise.

“Tux! What're you doing here?”

“Meow,” I said.

“No cats in the kitchen, you know that!” She frowned and tried to look threatening, but I knew better. She was a marshmallow. I sat there looking cutely up at her.

“Mark, get the next one started,” she said. “I'll be back in a minute.”

She stepped away from the stove and another chef took her place. Sue strode to a counter where she did something I couldn't see, then came back with a small plate in hand.

“C'mere, Tux.”

I let her coax me out of the kitchen, hoping she didn't plan on sticking me out in the maintenance corridor. She didn't, though. She put the plate down beside the back door.

“Try this,” she said, smiling. “New recipe.”

It was an hors d'oeuvre, some kind of paté on a slice of roasted potato, decorated with a sprig of parsley. I ate the whole thing, even the garnish, and licked my chops.

“Good, huh?”

“Meowie!”

She laughed and petted me. I rubbed my nose into her hands, which smelled of all kinds of wonderful stuff.

“I swear, sometimes I think you understand every word I say!”

“Mrrrow,” I said, rubbing against her some more. It was the best I could do by way of thanking her.

“I can't play right now, Tux. You come around in the morning, OK?”

“Meow.”

She turned to open the door, and I slipped off behind a bakery rack, then headed for the restaurant proper. I heard Sue's puzzled voice as I ducked from the bustling kitchen into the warm, dark, rich quiet of Steakmeister.

Everything in there was hushed—conversations, the waiters, footfalls on the thick carpet. No background music, just good food in an atmosphere of comfort and elegance.

Sticking to the shadows, I scanned the restaurant for Elsa and Hoyden. Apparently they hadn't yet arrived, so I took up a station under a table near the kitchen that had a good view of the whole place. I sniffed around for any fallen crumbs that might have been missed, but the staff here was too good to let that happen.

When Elsa came in, even the hushed conversations fell away. Heads turned as she walked past, her lithe body sheathed in a silver dress that shimmered as she moved, her pale hair loose to her shoulders, pulled back from her face with a diamond clip on one side. She looked gorgeous, and she wasn't smiling. An ice queen. Hoyden walked in her shadow.

When they were seated I made my way closer, careful to move only when the waiters were occupied and no one was looking. I got to the table next to theirs without being spotted. I planned to move under their table when I got the chance, but I could hear their conversation pretty well from where I was.

A waiter came to take their order. Hoyden recommended the strip; Elsa chose filet mignon. Hoyden ordered a bottle of fancy wine. Elsa asked for sparkling water.

OK, so it was a standoff. Elsa was cold, hostile. Why had she come, then? I still couldn't figure it out.

With the waiter gone Hoyden leaned forward, smiling as he gazed at Elsa in a coveting way. “Glad you decided to join me. I knew you'd see it my way.”

“Actually, I don't,” Elsa said. “There is something we need to discuss, though.”

I caught sight of Devin coming in on the heels of the maître d'. He was freshly washed and shaved, and moved a little stiffly in his new evening cling. Totally unlike Devin. He didn't look half bad.

I moved out of the shadows for a moment, trying to catch his eye. He looked straight at me and I nodded my head toward Elsa's table in case he hadn't seen it.

He said something to the maître d', who was trying to seat him at a nice table in the middle of the restaurant with a crummy view of Elsa and Hoyden. The maître d' looked puzzled, but nodded and led him back to a little cozy table for two right by the door to the kitchen, which happened to have a great view of our friends and was close enough for him to maybe overhear them.

“Thanks,” I heard Devin say. “This is much better.”

The maître d' quirked an eyebrow but didn't comment. He handed Devin a menu and left.

A waiter brought out salads for Elsa and Hoyden. I took advantage of the distraction and slipped under their table, careful not to tickle their legs with my tail.

I poked my head out and gave Devin a slow blink. He nodded, then opened his menu. A second later he choked and went into a coughing fit.

Hoyden looked up at the noise. Fortunately, Elsa had her back to Devin. Devin hid behind his menu, and after a second Hoyden returned his attention to his date.

He seemed to have decided to cajole her. He started talking about Megalink in a jolly way, sounding like a quarterly stockholder's report.

Elsa seemed unimpressed. She silently ate her salad, pausing only to correct a couple of erroneous statements Hoyden made about Megalink's finances.

“Working together, you and me,” he said with a lascivious grin, “this is going to be Megalink Gamma's best year yet.”

“Actually, it's on track to be the worst,” Elsa said, setting down her fork and pushing the salad plate aside. “New sales are down throughout the sector, and existing accounts are canceling their service at the rate of a dozen or more a day.”

Hoyden's grin stayed in place, but his eyes got narrow. “That can't be right. You've mixed up some numbers, darlin'.”

There was an edge to his voice that made my hackles rise. Elsa looked at him, then tilted up her chin.

“Not any more,” she said softly. “Never again.”

Hoyden opened his mouth, but a waiter came up at that moment and fussed with the salad plates. Hoyden slouched back in his chair, frowning as his fingers drummed on the tablecloth. Elsa folded her hands in her lap and wouldn't meet his eye.

“You'd better reconsider,” Hoyden said when the waiter had gone. “You know it could be dangerous for you to report the wrong kind of information.”

“Dangerous for you if I report to Intergal and the Galactic Securities Commission.”

Elsa took a datafilm from her silver clutch and slid it across the table to Hoyden. “If you ever again harass me in any way, or threaten me, or try to make me lie, I'll give this to them.”

Hoyden frowned at the film. “What is it?”

“Proof of the Megalink's true financial condition. Three of my friends have copies of this, by the way. If anything happens to me it goes straight to the cops and the press.”

An oily smile slid onto Hoyden's face. “You haven't thought this through, sugarplum. If this comes out and Megalink crashes, you're out of a job.”

Elsa looked at him coldly. “I don't need your job.”

The waiter arrived with entrees, putting an end to the conversation for the moment. The steaks smelled fantastic. Instantly my mouth began to water.

A long, silent pause, then Hoyden spoke in a low, angry growl. “You'll regret this.”

“The only thing I regret is that I ever let you pressure me into falsifying reports,” Elsa said as she stood up. “Thank you for the lovely dinner, but I seem to have lost my appetite. Please excuse me.”

She left, her hips swaying gently as the silver dress whispered around her ankles. Her untouched filet mignon lay abandoned on its fancy china plate.

Self-control isn't something most cats have, but I do. It lasted a good fifteen seconds.

I figured, what the hell. She wasn't going to eat it, and Hoyden could hardly get madder. It would be a shame to let Sue's handiwork go to waste. I hopped up on Elsa's chair, set my forepaws on the table, and sank my teeth into the butter-tender meat.

At first Hoyden didn't notice. I guess he was watching Elsa walk away, something Devin assures me is worth a human male's complete attention. It took a while for him to register my presence.

Turns out I was wrong about him not getting madder.

“Hey!” he yelled, and bashed his fists into the table.

I jumped, then grabbed the beef and ran. Hoyden was hot on my heels. I had a glimpse of Devin, eyes wide and appalled as I ran toward him, then I was under his table.

Hoyden shouted and dove after me. Devin yelled and jumped up, nearly kicking me. A waiter came out of the kitchen to see what was going on, and I darted through the door.

Hoyden really didn't care about the filet. If he had he wouldn't have deserted his own substantially larger hunk of cow in order to chase me. No, it was being defied that he didn't like, and since Elsa had taken herself out of reach, I was a convenient secondary target.

I heard a lot of bashing and crashing and yelling from the dining room. I dodged the moving legs of several flustered chefs, belly-crawled under a dessert trolley, then continued deeper into the kitchen, looking for a place to hide. Thought about the back door, but that was risky and I didn't want to use my security access in front of half Steakmeister's staff. Sue liked me, but even she might not want to aid and abet me in stealing a filet mignon.