The 5th Gender: A Tinkered Stars Mystery by Gail Carriger

Author:Gail Carriger [Carriger, Gail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: lgbt, cozy mystery, romantic comedic, sexy, Interracial, alien encounter, hentai, mm sci fi, interracial romance, G.L. carriger, happy ending, Multicultural, gail carriger, LBGTQ, transformation, Funny, comedy of manners, humor, Humorous, scifi romance, crudrat, mm tentacle mate, sex, cop, police procedural, gay alien, aliens, queer, comfort read, tinkered stars, Science Fiction, space station, gender fluid, emotional support
ISBN: 1944751262
Amazon: B07PW9PHYM
Publisher: GAIL CARRIGER LLC
Published: 2019-05-17T23:00:00+00:00

THE 8th CHAPTER

Socks, chopsticks, and second dates

Drey was annoyed but that was, frankly, pretty normal on the first day of an investigation. He wasn’t surprised the galoi had been uncooperative. He just had to hope he hadn’t pushed them into leaving entirely. He wanted to catch the galoi who did it. Fucking poison. Poor mauve-colored kid.

He exited the docking bay under the eager gazes of the dignitaries collected there. He grabbed his com-pad and dictated a ton of notes, holding up a hand to keep anyone from interrupting him.

Adjudicator Jones was the only one brave enough to interrupt. “We’ll leave you to your work, detective.” She and Tris trundled off, much to Professor Frills’ annoyance.

“You ought to leave your attaché, adjudicator!”

Tristol’s boss was having none of it. “He has a job, professor, that does not include entertaining you.”

Tris obediently followed her, hair quivering. Drey suspected that meant pride or joy at being protected by the adjudicator.

Ambassador Quinn settled back, leaning against the bulkhead, while Drey finished processing everything that had just happened. His own boss was accustomed to how he worked and wasn’t even paying attention, muttering into her ear-com and pacing a little way away. He’d talk to her later, when he filed his official report.

Professor Frills twitched with ill-disguised impatience but Drey wanted to get all his thoughts and observations pertaining to the crime scene recorded as quickly as possible, while still fresh in his head. The anthropologist could wait.

When he was finished, he turned to the ambassador. “Situation unknown, sir. We’re at an impasse. The captain is denying me access to his crew, even for investigative purposes, so I’m waiting him out. Either he really wants to know what happened, or the galoi ship will leave soon.”

Frills squeaked at that.

Drey didn’t look at him, instead turning to his boss. He waggled his fingers to get her attention. She disconnected from whoever she’d been on-com with and marched over.

“I’ve something for you.”

She whipped out a specimen bag, prepared, and knowing Drey’s quirks.

Drey sat down, right there on the hallway floor, and removed his right boot. “There’s vomit on it from the victim. Full spectrum analysis, please. I want to know everything we can about this kid. Not just what killed him. What he ate, what he drank, anything we can get.”

His boss bagged the shoe and grinned at him. “I take it the galoi have their own doctor on it already?”

“Yeah, but they won’t let me talk to her.”

“The more ammunition, the better. I’ll get this in to Joel while you debrief with the professor.”

Drey inclined his head. His boss grinned at him totally without sympathy. She knew he’d much rather talk to the lab-tech himself and that the last thing he wanted was to pause his investigation to argue points of culture with an academic.

“The galoi captain said they should have their results in a while, whatever that means. I think maybe the galoi get off on the imprecision of galactic standard, it’s so different from their own language.

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