“And sometimes we must help them along. Evolution seldom happens without effort, and the birth pangs of change are often violent.”
“As time goes by, I wonder how I can even help myself along. All youth’s ideals become focused through the lens of experience, as the wise man told us.”
“But you still believe in battling injustice.”
“Never without my armor, these days. And I scope out the battlefield first.”
Dinh tilted her head to look at her college friend. “That does not sound like the Debs I knew. Something has happened to you.”
“Many things have happened to me,” Rabinowitz said softly. “Most of them named Mikhail.”
Dinh looked at her intensely for a few moments, then just as intensely looked away. Yet another long, awkward silence until Dinh finally said, “You mentioned you found a murder victim, too. What was that like?”
Relieved to be on neutral ground, Rabinowitz related the story of her encounter on Jenithar and the subsequent events. She was just finishing the narrative when Detective Hoy rang the front bell.
William Hoy looked more his normal self now, impeccably dressed in an expensive suit, his hair neatly combed, his manner unflappable. Rabinowitz escorted him into the living room and introduced him to Bian Dinh. Hoy seemed definitely on top of himself, alone with two beautiful women.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Dinh,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind my skipping the small talk, but the hour is unusual. Ms. Rabinowitz tells me you found a murder victim on a planet called K’tolu’tan. Was this someone you knew, or a stranger?”
Dinh sat at an angle to him, not looking at him directly. “His name is… was P’tar’houn-Hoc. I had met and talked with him several times before.”
“How many is several?”
“Eight or nine, I think. I never counted. Why, is it important?”
“In my business, you never know. We can count later. What was your relationship with him?”
“Business. I am a writer, he was a publisher. He was commissioning a book from me.”
Hoy glanced over at Rabinowitz. “Is Ms. Rabinowitz your broker?”
“No,” Rabinowitz said quickly. “I didn’t even know about it until she came here looking for help.”
“I see. How did you happen to find—” His tongue struggled hopelessly with the name. “This person’s body?”
“I teeped to K’tolu’tan, then hired an automatic cab to take me to his house.”
“Was he expecting you?”
“Yes, I phoned him in advance. He told me to come.”
“Was he dead when you got there?”
Dinh closed her eyes and looked away. “Yes.”
“Did he live alone?”
“No, he had a wife and children.”
“They let you into the house, then?”
Dinh hesitated. “I did not go into the main house. He told me he would be in a small private building behind the main house, where I have met him before. I went there.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“I don’t know. I made no attempt to hide myself. I had no reason to.”
“Who let you into the smaller house?”
“I let myself in. P’tar’houn-Hoc had given me a passcode to get through his security. The door opened and i stepped inside. He was lying on the floor in a pool of blood with a knife stuck in his chest. I was so horrified I could not think of what to do. I off-teeped and shook for several minutes. Then I decided to call Debs. She always has good advice.”
“ ‘Debs’?” Hoy said. He looked at Rabinowitz, the trace of a mischievous smile on his lips.
“An old school nickname,” she replied. “If you were old and schooled, you might be allowed to use it.”
“Sometimes I feel positively ancient,” Hoy said, “particularly when I’m jerked out of bed under false pretenses.”
He turned back to Bian Dinh. “You said this was going to be a business meeting. Were you recording it, by any chance?”
“I was going to, but I hadn’t yet turned the recorder on. I saw no reason to record my cab ride to his house.”
“Why did you teep there instead of just veering?” Rabinowitz asked.
“P’tar’houn-Hoc preferred meeting in person. He thought it was more secure.”
“And you say you off-teeped?” Hoy asked. “You just left your rented body standing beside the corpse? Have you gone back to see if it’s still there?”
“No, I… I’ve been afraid to.”
Hoy shrugged. “Understandable, I guess. Well, you don’t have to worry about notifying the authorities. When they find that rent-a-bod and trace it back, they’ll come looking for you soon enough.”
“Still, someone should be told,” Dinh said. “Who knows how long it may be before he is missed?”
“An honest, upright citizen,” Hoy mused. “What a refreshing change. Yes, I believe I can get in touch with the proper people on… on that planet. Why do people insist on giving things such unpronounceable names? Anyway, I’m past my bedtime and since our lovely Ms. Rabinowitz shows little indication of hospitality—”
“The proper word is ‘pity,’ ” Rabinowitz cut in.
“—I must be traveling homewards. May I give you a ride somewhere, Ms. Dinh?”
“She has to get back to her hotel in the City,” Rabinowitz said quickly.
Dinh shot her a pleading glance, but Rabinowitz shook her head. “Sorry, Bian, I have that rehearsal in the morning that I just can’t miss. There are other people counting on me, too. Tonight has been a big enough distraction. I’ll call you as soon as it’s over, I promise.”
“Ms. Rabinowitz can vouch that you’re safe with me,” Hoy said. “She knows I don’t molest any principals in an ongoing investigation.”
“Not physically,” Rabinowitz agreed.
Dinh took the last sip of her hot chocolate, then slowly stood up and put on her coat. Hoy escorted her to the door and said, “That’s my car over there. If you’ll wait a moment, I just need a few words with Ms. Rabinowitz.” Dinh nodded and walked down the front steps.
“You know, if this was my case she’d have to be right near the top of the suspect list,” Hoy said when Dinh was out of earshot.
“Then I’m sure we’re all glad it’s not your case,” Rabinowitz said.
“One thing more,” he added. “On my way over here I flagged the system for your name. Seems you were involved in an incident of an alien going loono earlier this evening.”
“Why yes, I still remember that. It was only a few hours ago. But how kind of you to remind me.”
“It might amuse you to know that the alien who rented that body also came from K’tolu’tan. Gives one something to think about, doesn’t it?” he said as he closed the door behind him.
Rabinowitz already had too much to think about. The first full run-through of any play was never less than traumatic, and the Scottish play seemed particularly cursed. She had, over the years, assembled as fine a crew as one could hope for in amateur theatricals, but all of these people had other things happening in their lives and could only devote so much attention to the play. Crises were inevitable.
She sat in the audience of the virtual theater watching it all unfold. Kwame Massala, her Mac, was the rock that anchored this production. He was superb, never a blown line or a misplaced cue. The only reason he was still working with an amateur group was that no professional company was willing to pay him more than he made as a stockbroker. Yet.
Her Lady M., Sally Rath, was a talented amateur but unlikely to make the jump to professional. She was decent in her soliloquies—but standing toe-to-toe with Mac, her deficiencies showed only too well. Rabinowitz was staging this to minimize the inequalities but, to her eyes at least, they were still there.
The rest of the cast ranged from good to unobjectionable. None of them could save a bad show, but none would cause a catastrophe, either. And behind everything was Rabinowitz’s true star, Fran Bowd, the everywhere-at-once-and-never-in-the-way stage manager, sweeping up all the minor dilemmas before they became fullblown crises. Rabinowitz never wondered what she would do without Fran, any more than she wondered what she’d do without a kidney; she knew she’d cope, but it wasn’t worth contemplating.