CHAPTER 012

FOX HOLE

Captain Fox paced behind his deck, chin in hand. The sharp creases of his uniform had rounded, as if he’d taken it off only to put it back on for our meeting. He looked like he’d aged years.

Michelle and I sat in the matching chairs on the opposite side. Neither of us had said a word since we’d encountered a pair of serious-faced security guards responding to reports of a disturbance in the starboard suites. After a hushed back-and-forth over their headsets, they had their instructions. One stayed to secure the scene. The other escorted us to the captain’s office, double time.

“Walk me through it one more time, Ms. Benoit. Tell me what you remember.”

Michelle sniffled. Her knuckles whitened as she crushed an unused Kleenex in a balled fist.

“I was walking from my room to the Northstar Lounge. I wanted to see the cabaret singer. I got turned around and ended up in the wrong hallway.”

“And that’s where you encountered Mr. Miller?” Fox asked.

“No, I ran into him earlier. I was alone.”

“Okay, go on.”

“I noticed one of the doors was cracked open. I thought that was odd since no one was around. I looked a little closer and that’s when I saw the…” She forced down a sob. “That’s when I saw his…” Her shoulders heaved and she buried her head in her hands, weeping silently.

That’s when she saw Matteo Russo’s fingers sticking out from under the door. By the time I’d caught up to Michelle she’d thrown the door all the way open, revealing his body sprawled out across the floor of his quarters.

I could still see him flat on his back, neck cocked at an awkward angle, staring blankly from the one unswollen eye. In the brief moment between me peeking through the door and the guards showing up, I ascertained that there were no glaring physical wounds or obvious signs of a struggle. No bullet holes, no pools of blood, nothing to directly suggest foul play at first blush. There would need to be further investigation, of course, but that would come in time.

When Captain Fox asked, I told him exactly that. Without responding he lowered himself into his chair. He propped his elbows up on the desk and tented his fingers in front of him, then stared off into the middle distance. Perhaps the answers he sought were somewhere out there. Michelle and I didn’t have them.

“And no one else saw the body?”

“Not that I know of, no.” I looked at Michelle. “Did you notice anyone else around?”

She shook her head.

“Good.” Fox breathed a sigh of relief. “Then this information doesn’t need to leave my office.”

“What do you mean?” Michelle had recovered enough to chime in. “Shouldn’t the other passengers know as a matter of safety?”

“Safety from what?” Fox’s question bore a cold, critical edge. “For all we know, Matteo Russo died of natural causes.”

“He was a young man in good health, Captain. At least by all appearances. Are you aware of some underlying condition we don’t know about?”

Fox swiveled in his chair to face me directly. “Apart from being a world-class pain in my ass?”

“Is that a terminal condition?” I countered.

The captain exhaled deeply. “I’ll choose to interpret that as an attempt at wit rather than an implication, Mr. Miller. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of times I wanted to wring that brat’s neck. But at this point in my career, job security is paramount. Not too many folks are interested in hiring some of my…extensive experience, and I’m not ready to retire. The last thing I would do is jeopardize my relationship with Mr. Denaro. I did my best to keep a healthy distance from all of the Russo siblings.”

“Including this evening, which you could easily prove with the ship’s security footage.”

A relaxed grin spread across Fox’s face.

“On the case already, I see. You are absolutely right. Our security technicians are in the process preparing the pertinent footage to be forwarded along to the Lunar Security Force as we speak.”

I wasn’t aware LunaSec needed their evidence pre-chewed. More than anything, it was their mastery of surveillance tactics that helped them enforce the rigid laws of their jurisdiction. By relying on an all-seeing eye to guide an iron fist, LunaSec earned a reputation to be feared if not respected. However, there was no need to explain any of this to Captain Fox. Anyone traveling away from Earth professionally would have at least one anecdote involving a close call with LunaSec. It was a rite of passage. I allowed his flimsy story to stand, knowing I could pick it apart later if need be. Besides, the less I antagonized Fox now, the greater chance he would allow me to investigate unimpeded later.

“Is there any reason we can’t see it now?”

Apparently, Michelle didn’t get the memo.

“Ah, Ms. Benoit. I understand why your journalistic inclinations would have you rushing to get this scoop, so to speak, but you have to remember that these are no ordinary circumstances. We are on a private vessel owned by an incredibly wealthy and influential businessman, filled with passengers much the same. To cause undue panic right now would be catastrophic to say the least. It is my job, first and foremost, to ensure the safety and the enjoyment of Mr. Denaro’s passengers on the Lunar Express. Right now, that requires your utmost discretion regarding this matter. It is in the best interests of all parties involved that news of Mr. Russo’s unfortunate demise does not leave this room. Upon landing, Lunar Security Force agents will conduct an official inquiry.”

“Discretion?” Michelle asked incredulously. “Are you telling us to keep silent? About the death of a passenger on the ship we are riding? Are you mad? There’s no way you can do that.”

“You’ll find that the captain of a spacecraft enjoys considerable latitude in enforcing the rules as he sees fit in between ports. Stepping foot on this ship with the intention to leave Earth’s atmosphere is tantamount to contractual agreement with those terms. If you don’t believe me, I’d be happy to provide you with the full text of the applicable statutes for you to read while you wait in the brig.”

Michelle was gob smacked. Freedom of the press meant little when faced with the harsh reality of interstellar law. I braced for her scalding rejoinder, and had to admit I was more than a little disappointed when she exercised the same self-restraint I had. I assumed that she had also realized she stood to lose far more than she did to gain by tangling with Dillon Fox.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I understand,” she said calmly, gathering her composure. She flashed a nervous, dull-eyed smile. “In that case, I will follow up with the Lunar Security Force when the time is appropriate.” She pushed herself to her feet with the help of her chair’s armrests. “If that is all.”

Fox nodded and gestured at the door. The journalist showed herself out.

I desperately wanted to know if Fox really thought that a reporter of her pedigree would really turn down the chance to get a head start on what was sure to be a massive story, but I didn’t ask for fear of saddling Michelle with any undue scrutiny.

“There’s not a chance in hell she leaves this thing alone,” Fox admitted. “Hopefully she’ll at least wait until we land to break the news.”

“Would you really arrest her if she didn’t?”

“I’m prepared to use whatever resources are at my disposal to ensure the success of my mission,” Fox stated plainly. “Nothing more, nothing less. That said, I understand that you are under pressure from your client to get to the bottom of a string of incidents that we almost assuredly agree includes this. I can make arrangements for you to view both the room and the body, but it will have to wait until my team has completed their protocol. Wait for my word. In the meantime, I would advise that you get in touch with said client to evaluate your next steps. Don’t worry, I have already taken it upon myself to inform them of Mr. Russo’s passing.”

“Thanks,” I mustered.

I still could not tell whether Fox thought I was working for Wilder or Denaro. Or both. It was going to take a certain amount of finesse to handle those conversations when the time came.

“Now, I understand that you and the deceased had an altercation at the lift-off event, one that called for intervention from my security staff?”

“Their assistance was limited at best. I did have words with Matteo though.” I was already uncomfortable with where this was going.

“And if that led to another altercation, perhaps one in a less public place, it will turn up in the security footage our techs are currently going through with a fine-tooth comb. So if there is anything we need to know about, you’re better off telling us sooner than later.”

Very, very uncomfortable.

“Of course, a piece of missing footage can be just as incriminating given the proper context,” he continued. “Especially for someone seen in a public spat with a man right before he turns up dead.”

The captain’s equivocation was infuriating. I couldn’t tell whether he was offering to help me cover up a crime or threatening to frame me for one I didn’t commit. “What exactly are you playing at here, Fox?”

“No games, only facts. I suggest you check in with your handler, keep your head down, and follow my lead.”

I had a long list of suggestions for him as well, but the thought of having to share a cell with CAT convinced me to bite my tongue. Fox mistook my silence for assent.

“We have an understanding then. I would appreciate it if you headed straight back to your quarters so as to not draw any further attention to the situation.”

I had managed to keep my temper in check so far but it was dangerously close to boiling over. “Am I dismissed?”

Fox regarded me neutrally. “I’m not your boss, Mr. Miller. Just someone trying to help.”

I lingered outside the captain’s door well after it gently swung itself closed. Matteo Russo was gone. I had no idea how I was going to explain that to either of the men currently paying me for my presence on the Lunar Express. His suspicious death would do no favors for Wilder’s lingering paranoia, and I imagined Denaro would be devastated over the loss of a member of his praetorian guard. I suffered for it as well, albeit to a much lesser degree. Without Matteo, I had no idea how to go about getting my go kit back from wherever it had accidentally been stowed. Not having access to my weapons was more of a liability now that there was possibly a killer on board.

I needed to get in touch with Vance Wilder. If he heard of Russo’s death from anyone but me, I was professionally finished. Feigning ignorance on my part was entirely out of the question. There was no telling how far his contacts on the Express reached. There was a good chance that Captain Fox had already told him and he was waiting for me to confirm the news and set out a new plan of action. Besides, if I wanted to maintain any credibility as an investigator, it was my job to know of these things before anyone else did.

While exchanging sensitive information via comex was a reckless practice I tried my best to avoid, I didn’t want to risk Fox’s ire by deviating from my path to pay Wilder a personal visit. I proceeded back toward my quarters at a casual stroll, leaving plenty of room between myself and the first wave of late nighters trickling back from the lounges. It was as much in deference to the unpredictability of their wobbling as it was to keep them from eavesdropping on my conversation.

“I don’t pay bonuses for overtime,” Wilder finally answered, “so I hope this is important.”

The temptation to power down my comex and toss it into the nearest refuse chute rather than deal with his bullshit barely lost out to my desire to get paid.

“Matteo Russo’s dead.” I hoped my blunt delivery would force him into a sloppy reaction.

“Is that what that commotion was?” he asked nonchalantly. I hadn’t considered that Wilder might be staying in the same block of suites as Russo, which meant he would have heard Michelle’s scream. Perhaps even her hushed pronouncement. “I can’t say it comes as much of a shock. Shame. Was anyone else hurt?”

I might as well have told him that the Express was running low on clean towels. My acquaintance with Matteo Russo had been brief and occasionally fraught, but there was no need for such disrespect. “Who said he was hurt?”

“Common sense. Live by the sword and whatnot. Besides, it wasn’t like he went of old age. Unless, of course…?”

I could see what he was fishing for. “Nothing confirmed yet.” I knew that if I was going to prove myself a valuable resource, I had to do better than that. “Authorities are with the body now, but I’ve made all the arrangements to launch my own private inquiry after they clear out.”

“Good man. Keep me up to speed. I’d ask if you think I should be worried, but if anything, I feel a bit safer with him gone. No offense of course.” His words stung more severely than I would have thought. Was there any chance he’d chosen that phrase intentionally? “I know you’re close with the Denaros. I didn’t intend any hard feelings.”

Before the insult, I was already planning on generating discomfort of my own. Now it felt justified. “Of course not. You weren’t the one doing business with them.” My counterattack served a dual purpose. Beyond playing on his insecurities surrounding him not belonging in the big leagues, it also touched on Matteo’s strange claim that he and Wilder had reached some sort of business arrangement.

“Don’t worry, I don’t judge you for it,” Wilder assured me. “Not too harshly at least. We’ve all found ourselves in bed with partners beneath our standards before.” I couldn’t tell if he was still bashing the Denaros or had moved on to disparaging me directly. If he had then the feeling was mutual. “Literally as well as figuratively!” he added hastily, attempting to recast the errant statement as a joke.

“Appreciated,” I responded flatly.

I stepped aside to make room for a profoundly wide and happy couple waddling down the hallway. Unlike the other passengers rushing from destination to destination, they took their time in admiring the superb craftsmanship that embellished every last facet of the Lunar Express. They stopped in front of a massive picture window and held hands, taking in the breathtaking view of the vast starscape outside. They were blissfully unaware of the macabre events of the evening. I was jealous.

“Seriously though, do you have any idea who was behind it?” Wilder asked, cracks beginning to appear in his veneer of unflappability. “Anyone or anything to look out for?” Whether he genuinely felt endangered or it was simply his guilty conscience at work was yet to be seen.

“Not yet. Like I said, I’m waiting for my chance to inspect the body and the scene. Your best bet is to stay in your quarters until I tell you otherwise.”

“But wasn’t he killed in his room?”

“Don’t answer the door.” It occurred to me how fishy it would be for such a prominent guest to hole up for the entirety of their trip. “If you do decide to leave, make sure you stick to crowded areas with plenty of witnesses. These cowards prefer to operate in the dark.”

“Sounds like you know plenty about our suspect,” Wilder observed.

Our? Wilder identifying so closely with Russo’s murder was worth noting. Then again, he did seem like the type who’d take credit for anything my investigation turned up because he was the one footing the bill.

“Just a general profile. Once I have anything more concrete I’ll let you know.”

“See that you do.”

The connection went dead.

I resisted the urge to bash my head against the wall. I still needed to talk to Frankie Denaro, and that would require having all my wits about me.