An Old Case

[Gregor Halconi]

You want to know about the Robrid case? I'll tell you what I can remember but I doubt there's anything in my head that's not in the files.

It started back when I was a lieutenant running an investigative unit out of the old One-Three-Three-Two. About five hundred klicks south west of the old legislative borough.

It wasn't a remarkable place. It was one of those districts that had been grand once and gone a bit to seed. I once heard our See-Oh describe the people round there as "living in genteel poverty", which was pretty accurate. Most beings there worked hard but didn't get very far. They'd never have enough credits for the best and never save enough to be entirely secure but they weren't going hungry and had standards they kept to. In public at least.

I was living in a better area, a hundred klicks or so west, and I was at home when the call came. One hundred kilometres is no great distance by airspeeder, of course, and it's even less when you can use the priority lanes. It didn't take me long to get over the crime scene.

It was a mess.

You've seen the Ess-oh-see images I'm sure. They'd be in the files after all and you could hardly miss them.

The place was a small apartment, hundred and third floor up from the block, which in that district was just about enough to get you sunlight on a good day. It had been jammed full of stuff. Boxes and crates just about everywhere except the fresher and the bed. I say "had been" rather than "was" because most of the boxes had been smashed to pieces and their contents too.

The body was in a worse state.

[Gregor Halconi]

You know how medical examiners sometimes like to try to make you vomit? They talk up all the grizzly details while you're looking at the body. Sometimes they have to work very hard at it. Not this time. The em-ee didn't need to say more than three words before, I admit, I had to step out for a few moments.

It turned out I wasn't the only one to have had this reaction.

I got out into the hallway and spotted the doors to a stairwell and ducked through them. I didn't think I'd actually vomit I just needed to be out of sight while I recovered my composure. Unfortunately, someone else had the same idea earlier only they had vomited. I ended up stepping in it so I was not best pleased. Oddly enough getting angry about my shoe made me forget my queasiness even with the smell in there.

I couldn't very well go back into the apartment like that and risk sprinkling particles around so I called the Em-ee out while I got one of the mouse droids we had scuttling around to clean up the mess I'd found and attached myself to.

[Gregor Halconi]

The Em-ee was Oprek, a ghoul of a man like so many in his line of work. He was tall, cadaverously thin, and spoke quite slowly. He was also a bully taking great delight in pushing subordinates to breaking point. Most sensible supervising officers didn't expose rookies to Oprek if they could help it.

He rarely kept a sentient assistant for long so his superiors had taken to giving him droids instead. He had one with him while we spoke.

A few years later it turned out that Internal Affairs were using those droids to keep tabs on the good doctor. He was taking money to cover up undisclosed pre-existing conditions he found out about when doing unexplained death autopsies as part of his civilian work. The families paid so insurers would pay out on policies worth far more. Defrauding insurers is one thing but abuse of position is quite another so they sacked him.

Anyway, Oprek gave me the rundown on the deceased. A female human, medium height, lower end of the scale for bodymass but not unhealthily so, undeniably and incontrovertible dead.

"She was beaten with very considerable force for an extended period of time. The cranium is completely shattered as are most of the ribs. From the look of her right arm she tried to defend herself but only got the arm broken for her trouble. The order of the blows will be difficult to establish."

I asked about the probable weapon.

"A blunt object obviously. Of which there are no end in that place as I am sure you'll find if you look around."

I ignored the thinly veiled jibe about my sudden retreat from the scene. It was the only sensible thing to do with Oprek.

[Gregor Halconi]

Had I wished, in a foolish fit, to retort I would not have had the chance because the principal investigating officer put in an appearance.

Detective Barend Jost was short and blocky but thought, talked, and moved remarkably quickly. He was also, to Oprek's visible disgust, one of those irrepressibly jolly sorts who turn up in policing from time to time and simply can't be disheartened by anything but the very worst and even then they'll rally in short order. Oprek could neither dent nor tolerate Jost so he drifted off with his droid in tow.

Jost seemed not to notice and greeted me with his usual enthusiasm.

"Hallo boss! Thanks for coming over so quick. Terrible mess isn't it?"

He led the way back into the apartment explaining as he went.

"I thought you'd be longer so I was on canvas with the patrollers. We've not had any luck so far. No answer from the immediate neighbours and no knowledge from the more distant ones. Our guys'll turn up something eventually though, I'm sure."

Jost was the reason I was on the scene instead of at my desk. He'd called me in for a consult, which detectives do when they have a difficult decision to make or something is worrying them. In this case, something was worrying Jost.

[Gregor Halconi]

The detective showed me round, stepping carefully over the debris. The body, mercifully, had been covered preparatory to bagging and removal for autopsy.

The source of Jost's worry was not revealed until we were in the bedroom. He gestured to a little yellow sign marked with the numeral '14' stuck beneath the bed.

"It's under there."

With a sigh I got down on my hands and knees. Jost passed me a glowrod and I shone it under the bed. The light reflected off something small and metalic.

"It's been logged," Jost responded to my questioning glance.

I reached out a gloved hand and picked up the object. I stood, handing back the glowrod, and examined the object. It was a a disk of metal a centimetre and half across with a design etched on to it. A design that was very familiar to me.

"I thought you ought to see this for yourself, boss."

He was right.