But Kluren’s contacts weren’t for social networking or restaurant reviews. They were the obscenely expensive, Israeli-made ForenSpecs; they provided an augmented reality that could pick out fingerprints and blood splatter; they could read names off IRID signals and display those names hovering in space over the people they belonged to. They could read facial expressions and body language to determine if someone was lying. They were incredibly advanced and seldom used except by military interrogators and investigators. And they made Kluren seem a little inhuman, her dark eyes punctuated by gold, metallic circles. Simone always tried to make herself stiff around Kluren, unreadable, but she wasn’t sure if she ever succeeded.
“So you’re the one who stopped by to check out the leaking body,” she said, leaning back in her chair. She put her feet up and looked Simone up and down. “Unlucky, that body. Should have sunk right to the bottom with the hole it had in it, but it must have drifted a bit, snagged on the corner of a roof under the water, just twenty feet down. The nets brought him up. Real unlucky.”
“Maybe so,” Simone said, “but not for me. I didn’t kill your guy.”
“Your guy,” Kluren corrected. “Something to do with a case?”
“His wife thought he was cheating.”
“And paid you to shoot him?”
“Only photos.”
“Wife got a name?”
“Linnea St. Michel. The corpse is Henry.”
“Mmmm,” Kluren took her feet off the desk and put her hand to her chin, trying to figure out a way to pin it on Simone. “Your caliber bullet hole.”
“And a lot of people’s.”
“True. But I like you for this. You’ve got killer’s eyes. Your dad’s eyes.”
Simone said nothing but stared at Kluren. She knew who her dad was, and he’d never killed anyone, except in self-defense. Shot them in the leg to keep them from running, maybe put a hole in their hand when they were holding a gun. But nothing worse than that. Kluren was just trying to get a rise out of her. She realized she was curling the fingers on her right hand and stopped.
“Tell you what,” Kluren said, standing. “No need to arrest you now. I’m going to send Weiss here back to your office, and you’re going to give him everything to do with this investigation. Photos, recordings, notes, everything. Then, we’ll look it over. If we can pin it on you, we will, and you’ll be sunk for a good, long time. If not… I’ll be disappointed, but this little moment is making me happy enough I should be okay for a couple years—provided I never see you again. Which means you’re staying out of this. Got it?”
Simone continued to stare.
“Like talking to a MouthFoamer,” Kluren said. “Weiss, take her home. Get everything. If I find out later you missed something, you’ll be on hull-scrubbing duty for the next few years. Anything you want to confess to, Pierce? I’ll go easy on you if you confess now. Later, I won’t be so nice.” Kluren glared, waiting, but Simone kept her mouth shut. “She has two IRIDs on her. One of them must be fake. Confiscate it, issue her the usual fine.”
Simone stared a bit longer, wishing she’d fixed her IRID-blocking wallet. The fine wasn’t a cheap one. Hopefully someone would end up paying her. Then she took out the fake IRID and handed it to Peter, who handed it to Kluren, who by now had grown bored with them and was looking at some papers on her desk.
“I heard the murder,” Simone said. Kluren looked back up. Pleasure danced on her lips.
“You heard the murder,” she repeated, smiling again.
“I bugged Henry, followed him, he went into an empty building on the outskirts of town, waited for someone, but I couldn’t see who. I heard a shot, ran to the scene, but the body and killer were gone.”
“Run real slow, did you?”
“I had to stand far off so they couldn’t see me.” She didn’t mention her slip. Kluren would enjoy it too much.
“So you hear gunfire but don’t call the police?”
“There wasn’t a body.”
“Ah, well. Of course,” Kluren said, her words like little teeth sinking into Simone as she paused. “But what would make more sense is for me to put you in lockup for obstructing an investigation. Weiss can go by your place alone.” She looked back down at her desk and waved them off again.
“I can show you where the bloodstain is,” Simone offered. “If you don’t mind my swimming free a bit longer.”
Kluren looked at her and leaned back in her chair again.
“Sure,” she said after an achingly long moment. “Show us the crime scene, give us your notes, and stay the fuck out of my life, and you can swim free a few tides more—till we hook you for something else.” She sighed as she said the last few words, then stood, her body relaxed like dangling rope. “But just for fun, I’m going to have Weiss handcuff you as you lead us to the murder scene.”
“Suits me fine,” Simone said, placing her hands behind her back. Peter shook his head and clicked his cuffs loosely around her wrists.
“Now, let’s see this crime scene of yours,” Kluren said, motioning Simone towards the door. Simone led the way out. Other cops looked up briefly at her; some snickered, and most went back to work. Kluren chose a handful to accompany them to the crime scene.
Kluren made Simone take crowded streets. People stared at her, then quickly looked away. Simone held her head up, her chin pointed high. It wasn’t great for business, being paraded through town in cuffs, but it wasn’t as bad as actually being arrested. She briefly wondered if Kluren might accidentally nudge her over the edge of a narrow bridge in her handcuffed state, but Kluren wasn’t like that. Her dad had said that was why he couldn’t work with her: She was afraid to bend the rules. Simone knew that wasn’t entirely true, though. Kluren wore pants, ignoring all the bullshit federal laws everyone in the city ignored. She was clearly fine with bending some rules. Simone had never asked her dad which rules he’d meant.
Simone led them to the small building, and Kluren ordered her crime techs to start examining the place.
“Someone’s taken a sample of the blood,” one of the techs called. Kluren looked at Simone.
“Just blood type. It’s O positive, same as the vic.”
“I hope to see that in the files Weiss brings me.” Kluren glared, then tapped something on her wristpiece. Her eyes began glowing a bright blue—another ForenSpec feature. She looked around the crime scene. “There are a few blood drops leading out that way,” she said to the techs, pointing out the door opposite where they had come in. “Follow them.” She turned to Simone as though she’d forgotten she was there. “I’m done with you here. Weiss, take her home, please. Get the files. Keep the cuffs on her.”
A few blocks away, Peter took off the cuffs. Simone instinctively put her hands to her wrists to feel them, though they hadn’t chafed.
“Thanks,” she said.
“What the hell kinda waters you swimming in, soldier?”
“You don’t need to keep calling me that.”
“I like calling you that. And you dodged my question.”
“Why did you always let me be the soldier when we were kids?” Simone asked. “The soldier was the best action figure. You always got stuck being artillery guy, hanging back and bringing me guns when I needed them.”
“You liked being the solider.”
“Didn’t you?”
“I didn’t care either way.”
Simone smiled as they walked, but looked down so he couldn’t see. “And you dodged my question again.”