A Colonial Murder by Eric Thomson

Author:Eric Thomson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: canadian science fiction, canadian author, female investigator, science fiction murder mystery, galactic empire, colonization, internal affairs investigation, official corruption fiction
Publisher: Sanddiver Books Inc.
Published: 2020-08-26T00:00:00+00:00

— Twenty-Three —

Both Arno and Sergeant Bonta’s doors were open when I returned to the senior officers’ quarters. Since none of the adjacent suites were occupied — the three of us owned the entire corridor — it was probably the closest we could come to our regular offices back home.

“How did he take it?” Arno asked as he spied me looking in on him.

“As you’d expect. Rueful for the relationship and curious about what comes next.”

“Still think he’s on the up and up, Chief?”

“Braband was with us when the call came in. Considering the timelines, he couldn’t be responsible for Tosh. And we experienced that old gut feel about Peet heading for the slippery slope, pushed by Derzin who behaves like every predator we’ve seen.”

“Concur,” Bonta said from her suite. “Now that you’re here, I’ll put up the curtain of silence, cutting this corridor off from the rest of the floor. We can talk with no one overhearing.”

“Excellent.”

“We started the data dig, Chief. It’ll be a while in case you’re thinking about the reports.”

Arno had a knack for ensuring I took care of the least appealing parts of my job. Thankfully, the reports weren’t a big chore. I merely stitched my daily summaries together as a single narrative and appended the raw data, then wrote a covering note for each of the deputy chief constables. After encrypting and firing those off via the 24th Regiment’s subspace node, I completed the Tosh homicide report for AC Braband. By the time I hit send, I had realized it was almost eighteen-hundred hours.

A quick shower and change of clothes and we headed back to the mess for a drink and a meal. As always, we were inside our own bubble, courtesy of Constabulary members who saw us as the enemy rather than the ones who ensured everyone wearing the gray uniform lived up to their oath.

Arno settled back in his seat with a foaming mug of ale and an air of contentment. “We didn’t download today’s recordings from Peet’s office, Chief. Since there’s not much else, maybe we can entertain ourselves by listening after supper.”

“A splendid idea.” I wasn’t putting much hope in Sergeant Bonta’s little trick. Surely Peet wouldn’t discuss incriminating matters in her own office. The first rule of official misconduct was never to talk about anything compromising within earshot of the flagpole. You never knew who might overhear. “Anything from the data dig?”

“We combed through the public records and found no warning flags, though the social pages tell quite a story about Derzin’s whirlwind conquest of the colony’s senior officials and upper crust. He’s everywhere, at every event, gala, charity auction, winter ball, you name it, he’s at the center of things. I found pictures of Kristy Bujold, in mess uniform, chatting amiably with Derzin at the annual governor’s ball last year. Based on what we saw so far, none of the folks at last Saturday’s garden party seem to live above their means. We’ll be sifting through the government records tomorrow.

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