The Collection (56 page)
Dr. Skidder, the
Medico-in-Chief, was coming out the front door of the book-and-reel shop when
Lieutenant Caquer arrived there, breathless.
The medico jerked a thumb back
over his shoulder.
"
Better hurry if you want a look,
"
he said to Caquer.
"
They
'
re taking it out the back
way. But I've examined-"
Caquer ran on past him and
caught the white-uniformed utility men at the back door of the shop.
"Hi, boys, let me take a
look," Caquer cried as he peeled back the sheet that covered the thing on
the stretcher.
It made him feel a bit sickish,
but there was not any doubt of the identity of the corpse or the cause of
death. He had hoped against hope that it would turn out to have been an
accidental death after all. But the skull had been cleaved down to the eyebrows-a
blow struck by a strong man with a heavy sword.
"Better let us hurry,
Lieutenant. It's almost an hour since they found him."
Caquer's nose confirmed it, and
he put the sheet back quickly and let the utility men go on to their gleaming
white truck parked just outside the door.
He walked back into the shop,
thoughtfully, and looked around. Everything seemed in order. The long shelves
of celluwrapped merchandise were neat and orderly. The row of booths along the
other side, some equipped with an enlarger for book customers and the others
with projectors for those who were interested in the microfilms, were all empty
and undisturbed.
A little crowd of curious
persons was gathered outside the door, but Brager, one of the policemen, was
keeping them out of the shop.
"Hey. Brager,
"
said Caquer, and the patrolman came in and closed the door behind him.
"
Yes,
Lieutenant?
"
"Know anything about this?
Who found him, and when, and so on?"
"I did, almost an hour ago.
I was walking by on my beat when I heard the shot.
"
Caquer looked at him blankly.
"The shot?
"
he repeated.
"Yeah. I ran in and there
he was dead and nobody around. I knew nobody had come out the front way, so I
ran to the back and there wasn
'
t anybody in sight from the back
door. So I came hack and put in the call."
"To whom? Why didn
'
t
you call me direct, Brager?
"
"Sorry, Lieutenant, but I
was excited and I pushed the wrong button and got the Regent. I told him
somebody had shot Deem and he said stay on guard and he'd call the Medico and
the utility boys and you.
"
In that order? Caquer wondered.
Apparently, because Caquer had been the last one to get there.
But he brushed that aside for
the more important question-the matter of Brager having heard a shot. That did
not make sense, unless-no, that was absurd, too. If Willem Deem had been shot,
the Medico would not have split his skull as part of the autopsy.
"What do you mean by a
shot, Brager?" Caquer asked. "An old-fashioned explosive weapon?
"
"Yeah,
"
said Brager. "Didn
'
t you see the body? A hole right over the
heart. A bullet-hole, I guess. I never saw one before. I didn't know there was
a gun on Callisto. They were outlawed even before the blasters were."
Caquer nodded slowly.
"You-you didn
'
t
see evidence of any other-uh-wound?
"r
he persisted.
"Earth, no. Why would there
be any other wound? A hole through a man
'
s heart
'
s enough
to kill him, isn
'
t it?"
"Where did Dr. Skidder go
when he left here?" Caquer inquired. "Did he say?
"
'Yeah, he said you would he
wanting his report so he
'
d go back to his office and wait till you
came around or called him. What do you want me to do, Lieutenant?"
Caquer thought a moment.
"Go next door and use the
visiphone there, Brager-I
'
ll be busy on this one," Caquer at
last told the policeman.
"
Get three more men, and the four of
you canvass this block and question everyone.
"
"You mean whether they saw
anybody run out the back way, and if they heard the shot, and that sort of
thing?" asked Brager.
"Yes. Also anything they
may know about Deem, or who might have had a reason to-to shoot him.
"
Brager saluted, and left.
Caquer got Dr. Skidder on the
visiphone.
"
Hello, Doctor,
"
he said.
"Let's have it."
"Nothing but what met the
eye, Rod. Blaster, of course. Close range.
"
Lieutenant Rod Caquer steadied
himself.
"
Say that again, Medico.
"
"What
'
s the
matter," jibed Skidder. "Never see a blaster death before? Guess you
wouldn
'
t have at that, Rod, you're too young. But fifty years ago
when I was a student, we got them once in a while.
"
"
Just how did it
kill him?"
Dr. Skidder looked surprised.
"Oh, you didn't catch up with the clearance men then. I thought you
'
d
seen it. Left shoulder, burned all the skin and flesh off and charred the bone.
Actual death was from shock-the blast didn't hit a vital area. Not that the
burn wouldn't have been fatal anyway, in all probability. But the shock made it
instantaneous."
Dreams are like this, Caquer
told himself.
"In dreams things happen
without meaning anything," he thought. "But I'm not dreaming, this is
real."
"Any other wounds, or marks
on the body?" he asked, slowly.
"None. I'd suggest, Rod,
you concentrate on a search for that blaster. Search all of Sector Three, if
you have to. You know what a blaster looks like, don't you?"
"I've seen pictures,"
said Caquer. "Do they make a noise, Medico? I've never seen one
fired."
'
Dr. Skidder shook
his head.
"
There
'
s a flash and a hissing sound, but
no report."
"
It couldn't be
mistaken for a gunshot?
"
The doctor stared at him.
"You mean an explosive gun?
Of course not. Just a faint s-s-s-s. One couldn't hear it more than ten feet
away."
When Lieutenant Caquer had
clicked off the visiphone, he sat down and closed his eyes to concentrate.
Somehow he had to make sense out of three conflicting sets of observations. His
own, the patrolman
'
s, and the medico's.
Brager had been the first one to
see the body, and he said there was a hole over the heart. And that there were
no other wounds. He had heard the report of the shot.
Caquer thought, suppose Brager
is lying. It still doesn't make sense. Because according to Dr. Skidder, there
was no bullet-hole, but a blaster-wound. Skidder had seen the body after Brager
had.
Someone could, theoretically at
least, have used a blaster in the interim, on a man already dead. But...
But that did not explain the
head wound, nor the fact that the medico had not seen the bullet hole.
Someone could, theoretically at
least, have struck the skull with a sword between the time Skidder had made the
autopsy and the time he, Rod Caquer, had seen the body. But...
But that didn't explain why he
hadn't seen the charred shoulder when he'd lifted the sheet from the body on
the stretcher. He might have missed seeing a bullet-hole, but he would not, and
he could not, have missed seeing a shoulder in the condition Dr. Skidder
described it.
Around and around it went, until
at last it dawned on him that there was only one explanation possible. The
Medico-in-Chief was lying, for whatever mad reason.
Brager's story could be true, in
total. That meant, of course, that he, Rod Caquer, had overlooked the bullet
hole Brager had seen; but that was possible.
But Skidder
'
s story
could not be true. Skidder himself, at the time of the autopsy, could have
inflicted the wound in the head. And he could have lied about the
shoulder-wound. Why-unless the man was mad-he would have done either of those
things, Caquer could not imagine. But it was the only way he could reconcile
all the factors.
But by now the body had been
disposed of. It would be his word against Dr. Skidder
'
s
But wait!-the utility men, two
of them, would have seen the corpse when they put it on the stretcher.
Quickly Caquer stood up in front
of the visiphone and obtained a connection with utility headquarters.
"
The two
clearance men who took a body from Shop 9364 less than an hour ago-have they
reported back yet?" he asked.
"Just a minute, Lieutenant
... Yes, one of them was through for the day and went on home. The other one is
here."
"Put him on."
Rod Caquer recognized the man
who stepped into the screen. It was the one of the two utility men who had
asked him to hurry.
"
Yes,
Lieutenant?
"
said the man.
"You helped put the body on
the stretcher?" "Of course."
"What would you say was the
cause of death?"
The man in white looked out of
the screen incredulously.
"Are you kidding me,
Lieutenant?" he grinned. "Even a moron could see what was wrong with
that stiff." Caquer frowned.
"Nevertheless, there are
conflicting statements. I want your opinion."
"
Opinion? When a
man has his head cut off, what two opinions can there be, Lieutenant?"
Caquer forced himself to speak
calmly. "Will the man who went with you confirm that?"
"
Of course.
Earth
'
s Oceans! We had to put it on the stretcher in two pieces.
Both of us for the body, and then Walter picked up the head and put it on next
to the trunk. The killing was done with a disintegrator beam, wasn
'
t
it?
"
"You talked it over with
the other man?
"
said Caquer. "There was no difference of
opinion between you about the-uh-details?
"
"Matter of fact there was.
That was why I asked you if it was a disintegrator. After we'd cremated it, he
tried to tell me the cut was a ragged one like somebody
'
d taken
several blows with an axe or something. But it was clean.
"
"Did you notice evidence of
a blow struck at the top of the skull?
"
"No. Say, lieutenant, you
aren't looking so well. Is anything the matter with you?
"
*
* *
That was the setup that
confronted Rod Caquer, and one cannot blame him for beginning to wish it had
been a simple case of murder.
A few hours ago, it had seemed
had enough to have Callisto's no-murder record broken. But from there, it got
worse. He did not know it then, but it was going to get still worse and that
would be only the start.
It was eight in the evening, now,
and Caquer was still at his office with a copy of Form 812 in front of him or
the duraplast surface of his desk. There were questions on that form,
apparently simple questions.
Name
of Deceased: Willem Deem
Occupation:
Prop. of book-and-reel shop
Residence
Apt. 8250, Sector Three, Clsto.
Place
of Bus.: Shop 9364, S. T., Clsto.
Time
of Death: Approx. 3 P.m. Clsto. Std. Time
Cause
of Death:
Yes, the first five questions
had been a breeze. But the six? He had been staring at that question an hour
now. A Callisto hour, not so long as an Earth one, but long enough when you're
staring at a question like that.
But confound it, he would have
to put something down.
Instead, he reached for the
visiphone button, and a moment later Jane Gordon was looking at him out of the
screen. And Rod Caquer looked back, because she was something to look at.
"
Hello, Icicle,
"
he said. "Afraid I'm not going to be able to get there this evening.
Forgive me?"
"
Of course, Rod.
What's wrong? The Deem business?" He nodded gloomily.
"
Desk
work. Lot of forms and reports I got to get out for the Sector Coordinator.
"
"Oh. How was he killed,
Rod?"
"
Rule
Sixty-five,
"
he said with a smile, "forbids giving details
of any unsolved crime to a civilian."
"Bother Rule Sixty-five.
Dad knew Willem Deem well, and he
'
s been a guest here often. Mr.
Deem was practically a friend of ours."
"
Practically?
"
Caqucr asked.
"
Then I take it you didn
'
t like him,
Icicle?"
"Well-I guess I didn't. He
was interesting to listen to, but he was a sarcastic little beast, Rod. I think
he had a perverted sense of humor. How was he killed?
"
"
If I tell you,
will you promise not to ask any more questions?" Caquer said with a sigh.
Her eyes lighted eagerly.
"
Of
course.
"
"
He was shot,
"
said Caquer,
"
with an explosive-type gun and a blaster. Someone
split his skull with a sword, chopped off his head with an axe and with a
disintegrator beam. Then after he was on the utility stretcher, some-one stuck
his head back on because it wasn't off when I saw him. And plugged up the bullet-hole,
and-
"