The Last Case

Chapter 9

We turned into the parking garage entrance to the crater condo. This one was called Penticton Place. It was nicer than mine, which was a little frustrating, but made sense. On the grand scheme of Hale jobs, people who worked at the space port, dome technicians, and other essentials tended to get better housing than simple public servants like me. Like all crater condos, the apartments were built into the outside walls of concentric circles that got narrower as they went downward. Benoit lived on the third floor down.

As we drove around the inside ring and made our way down to the third floor, I turned to look at Lucy. She was a focused on the driving. We’d barely said two words to one another on our way through. I decided to break the silence.

“How are Manish and Venkata doing?” I asked.

“They are emotional. I also believe they are in denial,” she said. “They will not accept that their son is dead despite the evidence. Venkata is not as irrational as Manish, but she is more withdrawn.”

“Did Manish send you back out here to help me? Because I’m not really on the case anymore,” I said.

“No. Manish did not direct me to do anything. He feels as though I have no further purpose now that his son is dead. That is not what he said, but that is what he means when he provides me with no direction.”

“So why did you come to see me?” I asked.

“To see if you were okay,” she said.

We drove up to Robyn Benoit’s apartment. The outside was relatively simple, and adorned with a potted bundle of flowers that hung by the doorway. There was a green wreath on the door. Was it Christmas? I hadn’t even thought of it if it was. No, it couldn’t be. It reminded me of my dad, who used to leave the fake Christmas tree up for three months after the big day. There was a car in the driveway, and plenty of room for a second, but I had Lucy park us across the road against the railing that looked over the inside of the crater. As I got out of the car, I peered over the side. A small park was at the base of the crater, a few false trees, grass, benches, and a few small toys for kids to ride on. There were five or six people down there probably reading books and relaxing. It was too far to see if they were men, women, or children.

I walked around the car and stepped into stride to walk with Lucy. She turned to look at me.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“We’re getting a phone number for Klark Wuarrino’s wife hopefully. Or an address or e-mail. Something so we can contact her to give her the news about her husband.”

“Is that important to the investigation?” she asked.

“Who knows,” I said. “Probably not. But if we can get some info from her in the process of notifying her that helps the investigation it’s that much better.”

We approached the door, and I rang the bell. There was no answer. I was starting to get nervous, half expecting to find another body and another bomb, but then the door slid aside about two inches and a short man with a shaved head peered through the crack.

“Yes? What is it?” he said. He cleared his throat. His voice was heavy and thick with snot. He was sick after all.

“My name is Inspector Felix Rook of the HCP and this is my, Lucy,” I said. I didn’t know what else to call her. My head was still a little swimmy. “I was hoping you could assist me with something. May we come in?”

“You got a badge?” he asked.

“Would you believe it got stolen?” I smiled, realizing that I looked like I’ve been punched in the face several times. I looked less like a cop and more like some street thug.