Simone had gotten the call from Caroline minutes after Meers had left the mayor’s office the first time. She didn’t trust him, she told Simone, and since she knew Simone and trusted her, hiring her to find out if Meers was on the level seemed like a good investment. It wasn’t that Caroline doubted he was official; she’d seen the paperwork and gotten messages and calls confirming he was there for what he said he was there for. But Caroline had good instincts, and she didn’t like him.
It had been a fairly long case. Simone had gotten herself hired as part of Meers’ small staff, working as a secretary to one of his “scouts”—the three people he’d hired to find art and confirm it was pre-flood. It wasn’t as close as she would have liked, but it gave her access to the small office he’d set up. Once everyone had gone home, she’d call Caroline over, and together they’d dig through files. Caroline had insisted on being part of the investigation, which Simone hadn’t minded. She understood the bureaucracy in the papers better than Simone did. But for the first month, they found nothing incriminating. True, Meers hadn’t bought any art to send back to the mainland yet, but he hadn’t been stealing art, or embezzling, either. He just didn’t seem to be very good at his job.
“Okay,” Simone said. “So a month and a half in, he bought his first painting, something the Guggenheim had but wasn’t displaying. And he sent out a press release showing how the mainland was taking back lost treasures and what a boon it was for Boro-Baptism and everything.”
“I remember. He used the phrase ‘momentous undertaking’ six times on one page.”
“But the shipping crate that he sent back to the mainland was ten times larger than the piece itself. I filled out the manifest.”
“Well, sure, it needed to be packed.”
“Not that much. Even with all the packaging and foam and whatever, it was too big and too heavy.”
“That’s how you knew he was smuggling. I get that.”
“That and the amount of porn on his touchdesk.”
Caroline barked a laugh. “What did that have to do with anything? I mean, it was funny. What was that one site he loved… GMILFs and their Doggy Boys?”
“GrandmasNaughtyDogTraining.com,” Simone said, laughing with Caroline and remembering their mutual horror and amusement at finding the site on Meers’ touchdesk.
“It was disgusting,” Caroline said, the laughter dying down. “But what did that have to do with the smuggling?”
“It was a specific fetish. People with fetishes that specific often seek out others with similar fetishes—especially on the mainland, where all pornography is strictly illegal. If you want to find something, you have to find the person who has it. That, combined with the budget for ink that the foundation was running up…”
“He was printing out Internet porn and shipping it back home to friends on the mainland?” Caroline asked. “I thought he was smuggling other art, or maybe documents he’d compiled on the mayor.”
“No,” Simone said, “porn. Weird porn. That’s why he was so quick to confess. Remember how I phrased it when I asked him if he was smuggling?”
“You called the art ‘media,’ ” Caroline said, nodding.
“I said, ‘You’re using the art shipments to smuggle additional media to the mainland. What that media is, we won’t pry into if you confess now.’ ”
“He was embarrassed.”
“You’d be amazed how many criminals are. It’s the shameless ones you have to look out for.”
Caroline shook her head. “So, do you think he found himself a grandma to punish him?” she asked after a moment, and the two of them burst out laughing again. The laughter faded into more stories and talk until it was late. They paid the bill and left, Caroline catching a taxi and wishing Simone good luck with Sorenson the next day.
At home, Henry’s face still hadn’t shown up on the recycling web page. Simone tapped her fingers on her desk and pursed her lips. Maybe it wasn’t a murder. Maybe it wasn’t Henry’s blood. She stood, looking forward to sleep, but her earpiece buzzed. The ID said it was a call from Belleau Cosmetics. Probably Anika, though Simone couldn’t be sure. Could be her secretary. Anika probably made her secretary stay as late as she did.
“Hello,” Simone answered.
“Are you at home?” Anika asked. She had a deep voice that was smooth but unvaried. A concrete slab wrapped in velvet.
“Yeah,” Simone said.
“Put me on vid,” Anika said. Simone put her earpiece on the desk, and an image of Anika at her desk popped up. Anika always wanted to talk on vid, though Simone was never sure why. Her eyes always wandered from one document to another, and she was constantly rearranging things. She only sometimes looked up at the screen. Maybe she just wanted to advertise her company’s products, which, Simone granted, were beautifully displayed on Anika’s face.
“So,” Anika said, “I think I have something I could use you for. A few experimental samples went missing from one of the labs here in the city. I was going to just ask security to handle it, but then you called, and I think I can justify that expense.”
“What are you talking about?” Simone asked, leaning back in her chair. She put her feet up, away from the camera so it wouldn’t block Anika’s view.
Anika looked up from something she was reading off her desk and furrowed her brow at Simone.
“You called me,” she said. “For work, I assume.”
“Oh,” Simone said. “No. Thank you, but that’s not why I called.”
Anika raised an eyebrow and folded her arms over her desk. She was wearing a blouse buttoned to the top button. Her wardrobe always followed mainland decency laws, but somehow, it always looked illegal on her.
“So what did you call about?”
“You came up in the course of an investigation. I was hoping you could help me.”
Anika leaned back, studying Simone. “What do you need?”
“You met with a blonde woman at Delmonico’s recently. I was hoping you could tell me why.”
“That?” Anika shook her head. “That was total nonsense.” She unfolded her arms and started reading something off her desk again. “If your case has anything to do with that, it’s a dud.” The thing about Anika’s wandering eyes was that it made it hard for Simone to tell if she was lying.
“Humor me,” Simone said.
“I really can’t,” Anika said. She glanced up. “Have you tried our new fall line, by the way? We have this new lipstick that would look great on you.”
“The Blonde?” Simone asked, taking her feet down from the desk.
“I only took the meeting because Darren Keep asked me to,” Anika said. Darren Keep was the president of Belleau. “He wanted me to take the meeting, give him my thoughts. My thoughts were that that woman was peddling bullshit. I told him as much. That was it.”
“What exactly was she peddling?” Simone asked.
“I can’t tell you that,” Anika said, as though it were obvious.
“Why not?”
“It’s a company meeting—therefore, it’s a company secret.”
“I’ll sign a nondisclosure form, if you want,” Simone said, but she slumped her shoulders back. Anika was all business all the time. She could see where this was going.