of traffic, most of it law-abiding. Sykes ignored the violators. He wasn't interested in maintaining the speed limit or ticketing Valley housewives whose taillights had burnt out. He wasn't even interested in pausing to verbally flay the pair of teenagers they'd caught vandalizing a vacant house. He had only one thing on his mind, though it took him awhile to get around to discussing it.
At least the alien had good command of the languagefor a Newcomer. Too many of them bordered on the non-verbal, at least in English. But then, he reminded himself, George wouldn't have made detective even with the aid of the special Federal program if he hadn't been reasonably fluent.
Sykes eyed his partner. George was more than slightly cramped by the passenger's seat. Detroit hadn't started building wheels to Newcomer dimensions. Not yet.
"Let's talk Hubley," he said without preamble.
"What do you want to know?"
"Anything and everything." Sykes nodded toward the glove compartment. "You got the file?" The Newcomer nodded. "Then read it. Talk to me, George. Skip the procedural stuff. "
Francisco opened the file and scanned the contents. "His body was discovered three days ago, in an alley off Central, near downtown."
Sykes kept his eyes on the road ahead. "With two BRI sabot slugs in the chest."
"Through the chest," Francisco gently corrected him. "Rupturing both the primary and secondary hearts."
The slugmobile skidded abruptly rightward, avoiding a Jaguar sedan that had slowed for a left-hand turn. Sykes yelled irritably out the window. "Nice signal, dickwad!"
The unexpected outburst, not to mention the peculiar commentary, threw Francisco off stride. The aberration appeared to be temporary, he decided, since his new partner was once more sitting silently behind the wheel and concentrating on his driving. Humans were prone to such inexpli-46
cable and unpredictable outbursts, but they were still startling to observe.
Very little about human behavior was predictable. At times the entire race seemed hell-bent for a collective nervous breakdown. He wondered if a response was required, assumed from Sykes's continued silence that one was not. He hefted the file and continued reading.
"He was employed at the Northwest Petroleum Refinery in Torrance and was manager of the methane facility there. " Francisco flipped the page and read on. "He was also a principal partner in a real estate venture to develop low-cost housing for Newcomers."
Sykes made a face. "Terrific. A real pillar of the community. Which tells us squat. " He rounded the next comer, ignoring the red light and chewing on his lower lip as he thought hard and fast. "Was Hubley missing anything when they found him? Had he been ripped off?"
Francisco checked a form in the back of the file. "There was no wallet.
Hubley wasn't wealthy, but he had a good job and other investments. It is reasonable to assume he would have been carrying a modest amount of cash as well as appropriate credit cards. However, when found he was still wearing a watch and two rings."
"What about them?"
"The watch was a Seiko. Nothing fancy, worth perhaps twenty bucks on the street. The rings were both gold, however, one set with'some small but good-quality diamonds. "
Sykes was smiling to himself now. "Sound familiar? Anybody who'd kill a guy for his wallet wouldn't leave stuff like that behind even if he had to slice the fingers to get at the rings. The guys at the minimart last night made a half-assed grab at the money in the till, but I don't think that's what they were there for. I think we got us a couple'a executions on our hands, George. How's that strike you?"
Francisco closed the folder quietly as he tried and failed to find a more comfortable position on the narrow bench seat. "The murder which occurred at the minimart is not our case. The Captain stated quite specifically that. . . "
An obviously pissed Sykes interrupted. "Look, you want to fit in here, right? You want to learn how to
At least the alien had good command of the languagefor a Newcomer. Too many of them bordered on the non-verbal, at least in English. But then, he reminded himself, George wouldn't have made detective even with the aid of the special Federal program if he hadn't been reasonably fluent.
Sykes eyed his partner. George was more than slightly cramped by the passenger's seat. Detroit hadn't started building wheels to Newcomer dimensions. Not yet.
"Let's talk Hubley," he said without preamble.
"What do you want to know?"
"Anything and everything." Sykes nodded toward the glove compartment. "You got the file?" The Newcomer nodded. "Then read it. Talk to me, George. Skip the procedural stuff. "
Francisco opened the file and scanned the contents. "His body was discovered three days ago, in an alley off Central, near downtown."
Sykes kept his eyes on the road ahead. "With two BRI sabot slugs in the chest."
"Through the chest," Francisco gently corrected him. "Rupturing both the primary and secondary hearts."
The slugmobile skidded abruptly rightward, avoiding a Jaguar sedan that had slowed for a left-hand turn. Sykes yelled irritably out the window. "Nice signal, dickwad!"
The unexpected outburst, not to mention the peculiar commentary, threw Francisco off stride. The aberration appeared to be temporary, he decided, since his new partner was once more sitting silently behind the wheel and concentrating on his driving. Humans were prone to such inexpli-46
cable and unpredictable outbursts, but they were still startling to observe.
Very little about human behavior was predictable. At times the entire race seemed hell-bent for a collective nervous breakdown. He wondered if a response was required, assumed from Sykes's continued silence that one was not. He hefted the file and continued reading.
"He was employed at the Northwest Petroleum Refinery in Torrance and was manager of the methane facility there. " Francisco flipped the page and read on. "He was also a principal partner in a real estate venture to develop low-cost housing for Newcomers."
Sykes made a face. "Terrific. A real pillar of the community. Which tells us squat. " He rounded the next comer, ignoring the red light and chewing on his lower lip as he thought hard and fast. "Was Hubley missing anything when they found him? Had he been ripped off?"
Francisco checked a form in the back of the file. "There was no wallet.
Hubley wasn't wealthy, but he had a good job and other investments. It is reasonable to assume he would have been carrying a modest amount of cash as well as appropriate credit cards. However, when found he was still wearing a watch and two rings."
"What about them?"
"The watch was a Seiko. Nothing fancy, worth perhaps twenty bucks on the street. The rings were both gold, however, one set with'some small but good-quality diamonds. "
Sykes was smiling to himself now. "Sound familiar? Anybody who'd kill a guy for his wallet wouldn't leave stuff like that behind even if he had to slice the fingers to get at the rings. The guys at the minimart last night made a half-assed grab at the money in the till, but I don't think that's what they were there for. I think we got us a couple'a executions on our hands, George. How's that strike you?"
Francisco closed the folder quietly as he tried and failed to find a more comfortable position on the narrow bench seat. "The murder which occurred at the minimart is not our case. The Captain stated quite specifically that. . . "
An obviously pissed Sykes interrupted. "Look, you want to fit in here, right? You want to learn how to
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