Titan Song by Dan Stout (top 10 ebook reader .txt) 📕

for The Titanshade Union Record, was dead. I remembered his partner Klare telling me they wanted in on the press pool. That had been shortly before the sinkhole, though it felt like years ago.

There was shockingly little blood, a detail that made the limp rag-doll positioning of the body all the more surreal. His legs jutted out at unnatural angles, his head turned almost all the way around, crushed ribs and deflated lungs making his torso appear far too narrow. His arms splayed outward, forming a lazy pinwheel. The open, glassy eyes stared at the sputtering candles set in the walls, and I wondered if that had been the last thing he’d seen.

Walking the perimeter of the room as discreetly as possible, I didn’t perceive any strands of next gen manna. I turned to the Mollenkampi DO with the drooping face.

“Are you gonna do your thing?” I asked.

“My thing?”

“Divination.”

“What for? There’s a confession, witnesses. There’s no mystery!” She shook her head. “I’d get my caboose chewed if I spent manna on this case.”

I grunted a note of discontent, but she was right. Everyone in City Hall was going to want this to drop off the radar as soon as possible.

Jax and I exchanged a glance, the unspoken advice, Watch for a transformation. Jax called the techs from down the hall while I edged in closer, starting my examination of the room. I was anxious to at least close the poor bastard’s eyes. I’d never liked Glouchester, but I wasn’t happy to see him end up in that state, either.

Ultimately, the entire day was devoted to the crime scene. Processing a murder can be slow, shockingly so to those who aren’t used to it. The two political flacks got angrier as the day wore on, and I let them dangle out in the common area. Eventually they raised a fuss as I strolled by for the thirtieth time. I acted surprised that they were still there, then directed them to leave statements with the patrol who’d been sitting beside them the whole time. I walked away, ignoring the cursing and complaining behind my back.

Jax didn’t look up from his notepad. “Did you do that just to aggravate them?”

“No,” I said. “Though that’s a nice bonus. We can’t let Baldy give Paulus a panicked phone call. If she pulls out of her public appearance, then Auberjois’s plan falls to pieces, and he blames us for tipping Paulus.”

While Baldy and Pencil-thin gave their statements, I peered outside and found that the press was surprisingly absent. I took it as a clear sign that the arrest of Paulus had occurred, and the media hounds had chased after the story of the disgraced politician, probably assuming that whatever was happening with Serrow couldn’t be as salacious as a disgraced politician falling from glory.

I turned and shouted across the room to the patrol officer taking the statements. “They’re free to go when you’re done!”

The two lackeys stormed out of St. Azzec’s. Pencil-thin shot me a look full of daggers on his way out the door. I smiled and waved goodbye.

But not all the press was gone. Klare prowled back and forth along the far sidewalk, brow furrowed. She spotted me and turned, standing still for a heartbeat, then striding directly through traffic, heedless of the honks and curses in her wake.

She yelled at me as she approached. “Where’s Glouchester?”

I tightened my grip on the door, and glanced into the overcast fog, and the silhouette of the Mount. “I can’t say.”

“What the Hells does that mean, you ‘can’t say’?” She closed in, and I could smell perfume and the acid hint of used flash bulbs. “Are you holding him for questioning? Is this how you deal with a free press?”

“Klare . . .” Still not looking at her, still not certain how to proceed. I took a breath and looked her in the eye. I knew what it was like to have a partner.

“I can’t speak to the details of this case until the victim’s family is notified.”

She blinked, shaking her head as she processed what I was saying. Her mandibles twitched helplessly. “The victim’s . . . Are—are you—”

“I can’t comment further,” I said, bowing my head and lowering my voice. “I’m sorry.”

I stepped back and dropped my hands, letting the guidepost doors swing shut on Klare’s sorrow.

High-profile crimes are tricky things. The brass at the Bunker always wants to show that they care about the headline-making news, without seeming like they’re trying to make political gains out of it. Having two such events in a single day made it even more complicated. I was expecting the usual influx of VIPs eager to get camera time while letting the citizenry know that the men and women in scarlet would be on the case. Instead, we were almost left entirely alone.

The tech team left as soon as they could, and Serrow sat in the back meditation room, door guarded by a pair of patrol cops. The administrative DO—I’d never quite gotten her name—had disappeared, as well. As for me and Jax, we retreated to the crime scene. Glouchester’s body hadn’t been moved yet, and we figured it was a good spot to talk without being overheard.

I took a knee, studying the layout of Glouchester’s limbs. I’d already felt around the body, but I did so again.

Jax paused the intricate tune he’d been humming. “What are the odds that they’ll leave this case with us?”

“A little south of zero. It’s not like they’d have left it with us anyway, considering the location. But with this suspect?” I swung my hands over Glouchester, from twisted neck to broken toe. “All we can do is do our best to make sure it’s started on the right foot, and steered in the direction of a righteous conviction.”

Jax began humming again. “Any of your invisible threads on him?”

“No.” I was still searching. I even patted the body down as if searching for a weapon. Not so much as a twinge of manna.

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t