Murder is Bliss

A flock of geese rose from the North Platte River with loud honkings, rising high into the cloudless blue sky. Their wings surged as they skimmed the treetops and slid past the spire of the cathedral. Oblivious to the city buried beneath them, the geese flew high and settled into their vee formation, the summer sun beating on their wings as they flew northeast, their backs to the majestic sight of Laramie Peak and the city's cathedral below.

The cathedral jutted up out of miles of trees, the tallest building in Plains, Wyoming. It's height was misleading for it only stood forty-two feet above the forest floor. Below ground it extended deep into the city, almost three floors of it buried in its depths.

The spire wasn't alone. Here and there were the red brick schools, the tan brick of public exits, and the dark gray of the police precincts. There were even a handful of privately owned homes scattered among the trees, but they were rare leftovers from the city's beginning. No one built above ground any more.

Here and there lay ventilation shafts too with their sleek forms rising sixteen feet into the sky. To a student of a more ancient time, they would look like sleek-sided missiles standing guard over the fruit trees. Necessary structures, they brought clean air into the city and vented air that had become too stale. Together they serviced a city of four hundred thousand people.

In Southland Mall, two floors below ground level, people were shopping, eating, or sunning beneath the great domed skylight. Hundreds walked around the great track on the upper level in their skimpy sunning outfits while a few, those who could afford it, sunned on private balconies over the stores. On the lower level, beneath the transparent floor, were the luxury shops. The busiest of these was the import store and today it was of great interest to Lieutenant Jasper Stone.

Everyone hold position, he said into his com unit. Our mark should be along soon. Striding past the mirrored front of a beauty salon, he barely noticed the lean dark haired man in the mirror. Clad in the standard suit of all police detectives with his white shirt and black single-breasted jacket, he had none of the radical embellishments currently in fashion. His hair, still thick at thirty-eight, was dark brown and well trimmed. His chin, long ago defoliated, was firm and his lips thin. A police detective, people saw, but one that exuded an air of confidence. Jasper Stone knew his job and did it well.

Inside the Import Store he walked past the rows of terminals where customers were searching for their next big order. His sharp brown eyes took in how many there were and a tiny frown creased his brow. Too many. He didn't expect this situation to get ugly, but each person in the store added a complication. Their quarry wouldn't go in though if the store looked deserted.

The counter bisected the store, separating terminals from the shelves of boxes, big and small, that lined the back half of the store. The packages came in a variety of colors and shapes and each box sported a red inspection sticker to show they contained no contraband.

Seeing his partner, Jasper moved over to where Brown stood. With her coffee-colored skin and black hair swept back into a tight braid, Detective Lori Brown had the looks of a model when she chose to. Today though she was dressed in the same brown shirt and khaki pants of a store employee. Lacking only a nametag to make her disguise complete, Brown simply blended in to the store's background. That was her skill.

Anything? Jasper asked, his eyes sliding over the personnel behind the counter and the customers they waited on.

He's been notified the package is here, she said. He said he'd be here at two forty.

He glanced at his watch. Pretty precise.

Some people are like that, she said. It fits with what I found out.

Give me a report later, Jasper said, his thoughts already flying to other things he had to check. He had more than fifteen people stationed outside ready to snatch the professor and the box of drugs he was picking up--illegal drugs shipped in a box that was supposed to contain a book.

He still didn't know how the inspections system missed the drugs and they'd had no opportunity to find out. The box was sealed and stamped and his department was prohibited from re-opening it without a warrant. They had to wait for the receiver--and they wanted him.

He'd be here soon. He didn't know how Professor Andrew Nugent tied into the illegal blissex trade. The history professor was a department head at the city college and he had no priors, nothing at all.

Stepping outside, Jasper quietly eyed the mall. He could see uniformed officers at every elevator but one. Good. They wanted their mark to take that one if he got past them. It was set to take him up to a surface customs station where the regular duty officers waited.

The mall was huge, nearly a half kilometer long, with two levels of stores. Overhead sunlight poured down from the massive skylight. He could see the upper level was packed with sunbathers taking advantage of the summer sun. He wasn't concerned with them.

This level was where the luxury shops were. The import store, clothing stores, the little spice shop he favored, and the specialty shops were all here. The largest of the city's theaters was at the end of the mall, its columned portico bringing a glimpse of the world's past to the futuristic city.

Only people with money to spend came to this level. There were a few subbies, their pastel and gray clothing proclaiming their subsistence status, but even they had a few hard-earned dollars to spend. One woman, looking embarrassed to be here in her pink tunic and gray pants, strode purposely past him to the spice store.

Jasper carefully didn't look directly at her. The woman was like his mother, forced to go on to subsistence due to a job loss or ill health, but still proud. She wasn't likely to be on it long. His parents had made it out in a little over two years.

It was humiliating having to go on city charity when you'd always worked for a living and most people didn't stay on it. They found a job or created one or did something to get off the rolls. It was not enough to have clothing, housing, and food provided. They needed their pride.

He wrenched his thoughts back to the present, speaking into his com unit. He'll be here at two forty. You have his picture. Do not detain him until I say. Confirm.

The green confirmation list popped up his screen with each station registering receipt of his order. Station six was slow in responding. He glanced over that way to see the guard, a temporary he'd had to pull off cargo screening, messing with his com unit. The confirmation blinked on.

His lips tightened. Apparently they didn't use com units much. This operation was big enough that he had six such people. The neighboring sections hadn't been able to give him trained field officers because it was payday for a large percentage of the city. Their people were either on duty or getting ready to go on duty. He hadn't even been able to use trained officers from his own department who were scheduled for evening shifts and night shifts. Most of those would be double shifting tonight. Instead he'd had to pull people from the least critical assignments. At least three were cargo screeners and there would be a backup because of it.

Bird spotted. The message was audible as well as on his screen. He glanced at it, saw it was elevator two and looked that way. It took him only a few seconds to spot the professor in his tweed suit--itself an antiquarian affectation in their climate-controlled city.

As the professor came closer he could see the man's neatly trimmed beard, his spectacles, and briefly admired the image he portrayed. The man could have stepped out of a vid about mid-twentieth century New York. He looked bookish.

Briefly wondering if the spectacles were real, Jasper moved back toward the import store. Stopping at the display outside it, he looked at the goods displayed on the screen. An image of a toy antique car was replaced by a set of fine dishes as the professor walked by.

Keying his com unit's screen to show the interior view of the store, he watched him go straight to the counter. Just as promptly, a store employee greeted him by name and went to fetch the package. The pastel blue box was laid on the counter between them, but the professor made no attempt to open it. Instead he pulled out a little notebook and started conversing with the employee.

Jasper saw Detective Brown moving closer, but then a man in maintenance overalls blocked his view. Brown's attention was on the professor. It wasn't until the professor himself turned with a cry that Jasper knew something had happened.

All units stop the maintenance man!

Jasper caught Brown's audio. He stepped into the store, saw no maintenance man, and hurried out, followed by his partner.

He came out and turned left. He has the package.

You're sure?

I'm sure.

Stay here. Grey coveralls?

Yes. Brown carry-all.

Damn. Jasper pulled his trank gun off his belt and hurried down a maintenance hall right to the left of the import store. The hallway was narrow and led to the receiving rooms, cleaning closets, and..... a freight elevator!

One man was in the hall, but not in gray. He shoved his badge in his face and snapped Where?

The man gestured at the elevator. He didn't have his key. I opened it, he said before it registered what he'd done. God, I'm sorry.

Maintenance level, he snapped into his com unit after a glance at the elevator controls. Brown, get the professor. All others go to maintenance level. Looking for a man with gray coveralls, but a brown carryall. He doesn't have a maintenance key.

Looking at the inadvertent helper, he snapped. ID.

The man handed it over, still apologizing. Sorry, detective, it never occurred to me...

Jasper slapped the ID on his com unit and it registered. Handing it back, he cut the man off. We'll talk later.

The elevator was back. He moved in quickly, hitting the button for the only level it serviced below this one. Thank the designers the elevator didn't go to residential areas. If he made it into those, they'd never find him.

Jasper blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes to the dimmer maintenance level. He could see splashes of light near routinely maintained equipment and in between glow strips furnished a minimum of light for navigation. Pipes, electrical conduits, and pneumatic tubes lined the walls, broken here and there by storerooms for the stores in the mall and maintenance closets. Those should be locked. He tried the first one and it was.

The alley was wide enough for the city trucks that delivered goods to the mall, but there were no carts in the parking spots he passed. He slapped a logger and it confirmed none were supposed to be there. The operator would order one for him if he liked.

Where's the closest cart?

There are no carts available closer than section four, the female voice answered.

Has one just left any station?

Define.

In the last ten minutes.

One left station five gamma two minutes ago, detective.

Shut bulkheads to section four maintenance, he snapped.

Authorization?

Ten eighteen alpha tango, Lieutenant Jasper Stone.

Shutting bulkheads section four maintenance.

He dimly heard the warning siren as he rushed away. Section five ran half the length of the mall and section four completed it. If they could trap him at the bulkhead doors-- His stride broke when he saw a carryall tossed against the wall in the dim light. Guessing it was brown and the package wasn't in it, he kept going.

Got him! His com unit burst out with a touch of glee. He didn't recognize the voice. On a cart at the section doors. Grey coverall not armed. No carry-all.

He could see the cart's headlights at the end of the passage as he ground to a halt, gasping for breath. That's him. Get his ID and look for the package.

He's blissed out, another voice said in disgust. Lieutenant, he's barely with us.

Jasper swore as he walked quickly down the maintenance alley. Blissed out? He couldn't even be questioned until three hours after the bliss wore off. Holstering his trank, he strode on.

He was the third man there. One of the cargo inspectors was standing over the man they'd been hunting. The snatcher's hands were secured in binders, but one look at his slack-jawed expression and half-closed eyes told him the man wasn't going anywhere. He was having a good bliss high, probably far better than the legal dose would give him.

The other man, Officer Hunter, was just closing the maintenance compartments of the cart. No ID, he reported, And no package. Found one bliss wrapper and this. He held up a maintenance key.

He had one?

Had to if he wanted to use a cart, Ed said. They're locked. Too many kids joy riding.

Right. Jasper knew he should have remembered that, but it had been years since he last caught a joy rider. I saw the carry-all, I think. Let's get our people down here and start looking.

And him?

He can wait. The sandy-haired miscreant was totally relaxed against the wall. He might go to sleep, but he wouldn't be moving any time soon.

This is Lieutenant Stone, authorization ten eighteen alpha tango. Unlock section four maintenance doors.

Yes, lieutenant.

He waited till he heard the bolts grind then spoke again. Dispatch.

Dispatch here.

We need a sweep of section five maintenance. Notify my squad then have the maintenance supervisor section five call me.

Yes sir.

Almost as soon as he shut it off, his com unit buzzed again.

Brown here. I have the professor. He's really upset.

Upset? Because of us?

No sir, Lori Brown said with a touch of asperity. He wants his book.

Chapter 2

Two bloody hours and they still hadn't found the package. Jasper scowled and rubbed his smooth jaw then straightened up as the door opened and his captain came in. He glanced at Brown as they both rose to their feet. He wasn't sure why they'd been recalled to the precinct. The search was still going on and their prisoner couldn't be questioned for another five hours at least. It probably wouldn't be done till morning now.

Status? Captain Reynolds asked as he sat down and made a motion for them to do the same.

The package is still missing, but should be found any time, Jasper said. And we have the maintenance man in custody. He's not maintenance. According to records, he's a subby named Willis Frazier. He's done petty theft before, but nothing as bold as this.

He had a maintenance key, Jasper continued. We've done a check. Its owner was named Lukas. No word yet on how he lost it, but he did report it stolen.

And you? the captain asked, looking at Brown.

We have the professor here in the precinct--he insisted. He's pretty upset because it took him years to locate that book and he wants it back, Brown said.

What kind of book?

It's a children's picture book, paper--and, no, he doesn't have any kids. Brown looked a little puzzled by that. But he's insistent that's what was in the package and he's really upset it got swiped.

Book lovers. Jasper grinned in spite of himself. He never understood them. He wondered if the professor's precious book had been fed to an incinerator.

Let's hope his book turns up-and the drugs too, his captain briskly said, but there are changes. Brown, you stay on this case. Jasper, I need you to get over to Section Three, 2 Lily Street, right away. There's been a high-profile murder and I need you there.

Stunned, Jasper opened his mouth to protest then thought better of it. Victim?

Elizabeth West. She owned an entry house.

The recipe lady? Jasper abruptly remembered a gray-haired woman who had pressed old-fashioned recipes and baked goods on him and his partner back when he patrolled that section. Part of their weekly inspections had been to check the upper door logs of the West house.

What?

Old woman, maybe ninety now, with a three story mansion. The top level had an outside entry with logging lock. I used to patrol there.

Must be the same one. She's dead. I want you over there and I want you to tie up that house, his captain said. We don't need an entry house being sold right now. You got that? Even if it turns out to be suicide, I want that house tied up.

Could it be suicide? Brown asked.

Not likely. Elizabeth West took the walk two months ago and rejected it. Someone who turns down legal suicide at the last minute isn't likely to throw herself off a balcony a few weeks later.

Took the walk. Those words made Jasper inwardly flinch. They brought back the usual painful memories of Carol--of kissing her goodbye then holding her hand and waiting for her to die.

His captain hesitated. Jasper, I know this will be hard on you but, dammit, we need our best people on this. It's a high profile case and Elizabeth West was a founder of Plains. She deserves the best.

Understood, Jasper managed to say and then I agree. Mrs. West was a good woman and not the kind to choose a painful death.

What was that about recipes? Reynolds asked.

She believed in real cooking and always had a treat or two for us when we came to check the door. She'd give us the recipe too and told us to marry women who could cook.

Tasty bribes huh? The captain smiled to show he didn't disapprove. Did you meet any of the family?

There was a gawky teenage girl with something weird in her hair, Jasper said. Big blue eyes. The one time I saw her she disappeared fast.

Brown laughed.

That might be the granddaughter who found her, his captain said. Jewel West. The report came in about thirty minutes ago so you'll probably still find them at the house if you hurry.

Yes sir. Am I completely off this case? He was reluctant to lose any break they had in the illegal blissex trade.

No. Brown, schedule the interview of that suspect for tomorrow at seven thirty. Jasper can spend an hour here before going there. Find that package before then too.

Yes sir. She didn't show any reaction even though that might mean working all night.

All your other assignments are relieved, Jasper. Just the murder case and this one drug case.

Yes sir. Jasper accepted the assignment without surprise. He'd spent most of his career working in Section 5, but he'd been loaned out numerous times to other sections of the city. Since not every section had a dedicated homicide unit, it was necessary. Even he pulled double duty between homicide and vice.

Get moving.

* * *

Jasper took the elevator up to the maintenance level then walked out the precinct's doors. Since they had to maintain order on all levels of the city, the precinct buildings stretched from the sixth level all the way to ground level although the ground level access was more a watch tower and elevator than anything else. It wasn't needed often.

The maintenance level held the car park. Jasper selected one of the squad cars, inserted his ident key, and turned it on.

Computer, plot best course to Section 3, 2 Lily Street.

Yes sir. Take maintenance corridor to exit 4-C then throughway to exit 3-AB. Enter maintenance corridor at exit 3-B and park at 3-D parking lot. Elevator 3-D up one floor and turn left thirty meters. The best route lit up on the car's screen and he studied it a moment. Save this screen and highlight progress.

Confirmed.

The route was fairly simple, but he'd learned a long time ago to keep it on screen since too many numbers could get scrambled in his brain. At least he wasn't traveling to the other side of the city. Sections one through five were the oldest parts of Plains and comprised one administrative sector. The city stretched on north along the old interstate corridor for nearly twenty miles to Section 23. There it stopped, construction halted before the planned twenty-five sections when it became obvious there simply wasn't enough water to support an additional forty thousand people.

It never looked like the sections held thousands. Good city planning had provided light rail for inter-sector travel and trams for inside sectors. Bicycle riders were allowed on both the tram routes and on the pedestrian levels. Since every neighborhood had food markets and clubs and cafes, people mostly traveled to and from jobs and when they had a major shopping day.

Traffic was light right now so Jasper's squad car had no problem maintaining speed as he took to the express lane. A few trams were in the middle lane with their human cargos and bicycle riders clogged the slow lane. No freights. It would be almost five hours before the freights would start rolling through the city. To ease congestion, they didn't run until after midnight and they stopped before five the next morning.

The drive would be fairly short. He should review the West case, but wasn't willing to trust the squad car's autopilot. Instead of calling up facts on the computer, he reviewed what he remembered.

Elizabeth West he remembered well even though it was a good thirteen years since he'd patrolled Lily Street. He'd kept the recipes she gave him and a few were family favorites. Why would anyone want to kill her?

It had to be the house or her money. Entry houses were rare. Legal for the first six years of the city, there hadn't been any built since. As the existing ones came up for sale, the city had mostly bought them up and sealed the upper floor entry permanently or tore them down. Very few were still in private hands.

They weren't needed. Plains was ninety-two percent underground and the people liked it that way. The climate-controlled environment was pleasant and they never had to deal with the freezing winds of winter or the endless heat waves that made above ground living so miserable. Above ground was reserved for the orchards. The trees were essential to provide good air, fruit, and insulation from the temperature extremes.

The West house was as hard to forget as Elizabeth West. He remembered it best for its beautiful view of Laramie Peak. A private low-walled garden had lain outside the glass door he checked and beyond that were trees and that glorious mountain rising twenty miles away. He only had to check the logging entry lock on that door, but he'd always managed to spend a couple of minutes enjoying that view. Mrs. West hadn't minded. She'd encouraged him and his partner to linger over brownies, cookies, and other treats. After they'd checked that lock and the lock on the house's main door, they'd had coffee--real coffee--and her baked goods and talked about life in the city.

How many people in that family? When he'd been patrolling, her husband had recently died. She had at least one son still living. Yes, there was a Michael West high up in the city engineering staff and there was that girl. She'd been maybe thirteen or fourteen by the looks of her. Jewel? Yes, his captain had mentioned Jewel West. She'd be grown up now and have a career of her own.

He knew the West family had been one of the founders of Plains. They'd either owned some of the land or had helped finance the city. Either way, they deserved justice. He'd make sure they got it.

Reaching the 3-D parking lot, he scrutinized the vehicles already there--two other police cars, a lab vehicle, and three civilian cars. He eased his squad car into the slot furthest from the elevator. It was unlikely he'd be transporting anyone and it also gave him better access from the lot.

Thumbing on his com unit, he typed in Bio search Elizabeth West, 2 Lily Street. The com unit responded quickly, giving him her address and picture then her family members. He tapped on Michael West and opened his bio, frowning when he saw that the man was currently on sick leave following a work-related accident. No children.

Going back to Elizabeth's screen, he saw two of her sons were deceased. Very large family for Plains, but the family predated the birth control mandates. He tapped on the other son who was still living and found he lived in Denver. David West was listed as a lunatech so he wasn't lacking for money. The three hundred or so people who operated the remote controlled mining equipment on the moon were paid outrageous salaries and they got to live on Earth. The only ones paid more were the mechanics that actually lived on the moon.

David had one son living. Odd. His other son died the same year as his uncles. Curious, he hit the boy's name. Benjamin West, aged 11, died New Wave Colony collapse, August 23, 2158.

Going back to Elizabeth's screen, he tapped the other sons' names. Rory died New Wave Colony collapse. He noted his wife had also died. No children. He found what he wanted under John. There she was--Jewel West. So she was a grandchild and the sole survivor of her own family--father, mother, sister, uncle and aunt, and a cousin all dead in that disaster.

He felt quick sympathy for her and for the gracious Elizabeth. He remembered seeing the footage of the New Wave collapse when he was in college and how stunned he'd been as the lop-sided dome crumpled like an eggshell, killing more than a thousand people. One of the four survivors had been the reporter that shot that graphic footage. The disaster had almost completely stopped undersea colonization. As it was, no large colonies had been built so deep since then.

He pulled his thoughts back to the case. Two sons, two grandchildren, and two of them had wives. Those were his primary suspects unless he found signs of forced entry. Those he had to question and find out where they were today.

He was ready.

Chapter 3

Harkening back to a much older day, the exterior of the West house was ornate with a real wood door set into a brick wall. He smiled, remembering the first time he'd seen such opulence on his patrol. The brass doorknocker was still there and he would have put money on it being stolen by now. There was a curtained window to one side of the entry--another affectation of the rich since it only looked out on the city street.

He used the knocker and almost immediately a uniformed officer opened the door. Showing his badge, he walked past him and down the short hall to the central core of the house. Another man moved to intercept him there and he waved his badge.

Detective Sanders, the new man said. You're Lieutenant Stone?

Yes. Vice and Homicide, Section 5.

Vice here, the red-haired detective said. Trained in homicide though. You're lead.

Yes. Jasper didn't bother to ask more about his experience. The man knew it and knew he couldn't lead. She died in here?

Yes. Hit the floor over there, but there's a second blood spot that doesn't fit the pattern. We were just looking at it.

Show me. Any of the relatives here?

Yes, in the front room. Sanders led him over the carpeted floor to the impact site. It was by the previously spotless white furniture with scattered throw pillows in flowered pink. Last time he'd been here the furniture was black leather with red and white pillows.

The solid wooden end table had one corner soaked in blood and there was a spray pattern that suggested impact. The table was still intact, but he was sure the head of Elizabeth West wasn't.

She was lying there, Sanders told him, But there's more blood on the chair and a blood spot on the carpet beside it. Unless she bounced twice, she couldn't have hit here and there.

Bounced?

Yeah. Sanders led him to the winged chair nearest the wall-mounted vid screen. As usual in this house, the screen was set to show a fireplace fire, a look enhanced by the mantle over it and a tasteful display of figurines. The chair had traces of blood, but there was more in a wide spot on the cream carpet. The girl said she didn't move her. She was dead when she got here.

Then let's look at the top, Jasper said motioned to the open ceiling stretching up three floors. Stairs climbed up in stages to the third floor, their wooden banisters the only thing bordering them and empty space.

He kept his hand off the dark wood as they climbed and his eye on the stairs. The white newels were dusty at the base, something he was surprised to see in such a house. It wasn't until they were ready to climb to the third floor that he saw what he wanted.

Hold it, he said as Sanders started by. Mind your step. He knelt at the base of the stair and touched a light finger to a drop of blood. It was dry, but it hadn't been there long.

Standing up, he carefully examined the banister. The wood looked darker. He touched a single fingertip to the dark area and drew his hand away from the stickiness. Blood, he said to Sanders. Leaning over, he looked on the outside of the banister and saw more. He motioned to Sanders to look. Murder.

Sanders swallowed hard then looked at him like he'd just pronounced a truth. Gee, this guy was green. Jasper knew it before he even set foot on the stairs, but that bloodstain cinched it. He didn't have to create any line to keep this house tied up. Someone had killed Elizabeth West. Now he just had to prove who did.

They didn't go back down. Leaving an evidence marker by the blood spot on the carpet and another flagging the banister, Jasper continued up to the third floor. A technician was already there and at work.

This floor was mostly like he remembered it. It was remarkably open with a chandelier hanging over the stair well. The wood floor was immaculate and the wide dance floor that filled three sides of the floor was empty of all save some scattered furniture. The doors to bedroom and bath stood open, but the glass windowed door that opened to the outside was closed. He didn't touch the handle, but peered into the display on the lock.

Once this is dusted, he said to the technician, I need the log from this lock. Go back a week.

Yes sir.

It's a Yale Model 53V if they haven't changed it, Jasper said. That should save you some time.

Yes sir. The technician betrayed no surprise that he knew.

Sanders did. Looking puzzled, he waved at the door. How?

I was a beat cop in this section thirteen years ago. We checked the logs. He glanced at that glorious view of the Peak, but today it didn't hold his attention.

Then you knew her?

Yes, did you?

I saw her a few times, Sanders said. Not recently.

Good. Let's remember she was a good lady. Jasper remembered her smile and her gracious manner and knew he was going to take this case personally. Elizabeth West wasn't just a face to him.

Yes sir.

Now you said the family was in the den? How many? He headed down the stairs ahead of Sanders.

Just two. The son is pretty much out of it, but the girl is the one who found her and called it in. She's taking care of the other one.

Any sign of forced entry?

The main door wasn't locked when we got here, Sanders said. The girl said she came in through the upper door.

Upper door? Jasper paused on the stairs. Why?

She teaches at the closest school. After classes she came through the gardens to get here. Apparently she does it a lot. Sanders glanced at his com unit and the notes there. It's shorter.

Ok, I can see that. Jasper eyed the two blood spots again, one with the white taped figure of a woman. Who could be cold enough to throw a dying old woman over a railing? What we have is a murder done by someone the victim knew. Agreed?

Possible, Sanders said.