Finding Clarissa Read online

  “I’m so sorry,” the man said. He had a lisp. “Please forgive me.” The man grabbed a bag and quickly pushed through the crowd.

  John knelt to Clarissa. “You okay, baby?”

  “Yup.”

  He grabbed their luggage, and headed for a hospitality bus waiting outside the spaceport. They arrived at the Hotel Asperian after a long and cramped ride.

  The sun beamed down through a cloudless sky, causing him to squint and shade his eyes. Sweat formed on his brow, and he realized he would have to change into lighter clothes soon.

  The Hotel Asperian sat next to a beautiful swimming area that resembled a lagoon, complete with palm trees and sand. Its multi-domed construction consisted of a large inner dome, with four smaller domes surrounding it, connected by covered walkways. To John, it was a strange blend of high tech and nature, but he had chosen it for its proximity to a good preschool; the after-hours sitting service they provided would be vital.

  The lobby bustled with people coming and going. A man and a woman argued, as their four children jumped on the couches.

  When his turn came, John stepped up to the check-in desk and sat his luggage down. Its top came up to his chest, forcing him to look up to speak with the clerk looking down her nose at him.

  “How may I help you?” she asked in a monotone voice.

  “John Finder, I have a reservation.”

  “Identification please.”

  He fumbled through his pockets, but couldn’t find his wallet anywhere.

  He had just used his ID to transfer from the jump ship to the transport that brought him to the surface.

  Where did I put it?

  Then he remembered the man bumping into him.

  “I seem to have lost my wallet. Where can I get a replacement I.D.?”

  New Monte Carlo Island

  Dominique Graspeau sat in a private booth at the Beach Watch Casino bar. He was waiting on an unsavory, but necessary creature who was late.

  He ordered onion soup while he waited. It was the only dish here that reminded him of France. It was bland. Not enough salt. He reached for the saltshaker and was distracted by its uniqueness. It was the grinder type. He had plenty of those in his collection already, but none shaped like a banana.

  He ground salt into his soup.

  Mother would never approve.

  A memory of his mother tearing the shaker from his tiny hand, refusing to let him salt his own food, made him grind an obscene amount into it.

  He made sure no one watched, and then stuffed the shaker into his pocket.

  Maynard Bricker slithered into the booth.

  Graspeau took a bite, then pushed the bowl away, his appetite gone. “You’re late. Did you, as you say, get the job done?”

  “There was a slight complication. He didn't have it on him.” Bricker tossed a wallet onto the table. “It must be in his bags. This was all he was carrying.”

  “I see.” Graspeau took a drink of wine to wash the taste of salt away.

  Bricker reminded him of a snake the way he always licked his lips.

  “Did you find where he is staying?” Graspeau asked.

  “I did, and I’ll have your item soon.”

  “I must have that device. If you can't get it, I’ll have to try something else.”

  Graspeau silently considered the alternatives.

  “You should give the woman to me when you're done,” Bricker said.

  “No. She’s my golden ticket. She thinks I’m a friend helping her and the illusion must be preserved. Find someone else to play with. You have a job to do, so get to it. I must go meet her shortly and play my part.”

  Four

  Next morning, New Monte Carlo Island

  “Good to finally meet you in person, Detective Finder. Make yourself at home.” Cornwall motioned to a crushed velvet recliner, moved to a minibar, and poured a splash of original Jack Daniels over ice. “Would you like a drink?”

  John declined. He wondered if this was normal for the director, or if he was under unusual stress. Maybe it was the gaudy office. It would certainly drive him to drink.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why I would bring you all the way from Earth to solve a mystery.”

  John smiled “I don’t mind. I’m eager to hear the particulars.”

  Cornwall slammed his drink back and started to pour another, but didn’t. His hand quivered as he sat the glass down. John bet he was under stress and lots of it.

  “I’ll get right to the point. I’m up against a wall. The casino is losing large sums of money. It’s been going on for a while, and I’m beginning to wonder if our house detective is in on it somehow.”

  “Let me get this straight. You think your detective is robbing you?”

  Cornwall drew a deep breath, and composed himself. “I’m sorry, Mr. Finder, I’m not making myself clear. Let me try again. A couple has been playing the card tables, winning more than they should be. It’s not unusual for someone to win big every now and then, but they beat the odds too often. So I had them watched. We didn’t find any of the usual tricks, so they have to be counting cards, or someone here is helping them. Which brings me to why you’re here.”

  “I see.”

  “We usually just ban someone if we can’t prove they are cheating, but since our detective is in question, I wanted a new pair of eyes on the case.”

  “And my fee is ten thousand?”

  Cornwall moved to his ornate cherry desk, sat down and folded his arms across his chest. “Yes, regardless of the outcome.” He paused. “And I'm prepared to give you a ten percent bonus from what I can confiscate, if they are found cheating. You may stay here at the casino until the job is concluded.”

  John rose and extended his hand. “Agreed, but I’ve already made arrangements for my daughter and I on Hishu.”

  “Very well. Send me the bill.”

  Next morning, after getting Clarissa to preschool and getting a replacement identification card, John returned to his room to retrieve his forgotten comm unit to call Ancil on Earth.

  His investigation yesterday had proved fruitless. He found no sign of cheating, or anyone helping them. He had followed them to their boat twice, where they left multiple heavy black bags, full of what had to be hard currency. Luck was one thing, this was something else.

  When he entered his room at the Asperian, it was torn to pieces. The bedding was tossed, drawers hung open, and the contents of his luggage were emptied onto the mattress.

  He wasn't surprised. In fact it was a relief that he wasn't just paranoid. He pulled the device from his pocket and rolled it in his hand. Something was important about this device, but he didn't know what.

  He didn't want security involved, so he picked up the furniture, straightened up, and left the rest for housekeeping.

  He sank into a chair to wait for the connection to Earth. His room was at the top of the dome, so the sun slanted through the window in the ceiling like a spotlight, bathing him in light. John was quickly getting used to sunny weather, and had to admit he preferred it. In fact, he wouldn't mind staying on Viata permanently.

  His comm unit chirped, drawing his attention.

  “So why are you calling all the way from Viata. You finally take a vacation?” Ancil asked.

  “I need a favor.”

  “Well that's a step in the right direction.”

  John ignored the statement. “I’m sending you a picture of a couple. Can you give me a background check? I need to know what they’ve been up to for the last six months.” John transferred the picture. “This won’t get you in trouble, will it?”

  “Let me worry about that. I got your picture. This could take a while. You don’t happen to know their names, do you?”

  “Yvonne and Franz Yasmine, but I doubt those are their real names.”

  “Understood. How’s Clarissa doing?”

  “As well as can be expected.”

  “I hear ya, man. Things will get better, just hang on. If you need t
o talk about anything, I’m here.”

  “I appreciate that. Has anything new turned up in the cloning case?”

  “It’s gone cold. No sign of the geneticist.” Ancil paused. “I better get off of here. I’ll get this to you as soon as I can.”

  The call ended, and John caught a ferry to New Monte Carlo Island.

  He spent the afternoon tailing the couple, but didn’t learn anything new, so he decided to cut the day short and stop by Hishu security to see about his investigator’s license, before picking up Clarissa.

  Graspeau tied off the boat at the Hishu dock, and waited for Bricker to arrive.

  Sweat oozed from his pores from the exertion. He knew how to handle a boat, but right now he wished someone would take care of it for him.

  Bricker suddenly appeared on deck, startling him. He hadn’t seen or heard him come aboard.

  “Are you trying to scare me to death?” Graspeau asked.

  “Just messing with you.”

  “You have good news for me I hope. Let’s get inside.”

  They stepped into the cabin to avoid being seen.

  “I couldn't find the device. It wasn't in his room,” Bricker said.

  “Then it's time for me to go about this another way.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  Graspeau opened a cabinet and pulled out a black bag. He reached inside and counted out a stack of credits. “Just relax for now. I'll have something else for you to do soon.”

  Five

  Victoria Sidewell, head of Hishu security, sat at her desk going over reports from the previous day. The weak overhead lighting made her eyes hurt. She blamed it on the lights, but the truth was that she refused to wear her glasses. Perception mattered, and she was convinced that her staff looked at her differently when she wore them.

  She laid the documents down, rubbed her eyes, and checked the chronometer on the wall. It was time to go home. A swim would be nice. She had been skipping it lately out of necessity. It had been a busy couple of weeks, and Gabham Nash showing up had only made things worse. He wasn’t your run-of-the-mill smuggler. He always chased the big money. There was always trouble when he turned up.

  An access key was found in his possession, and she would bet money it opened a secret compartment somewhere on his ship. He wasn’t talking, of course, so she had him relaxing in a cell in the meantime.

  Dan, her assistant, walked into the office. “I have a detective John Finder here to see you. Should I tell him you left already?”

  “Send him in.”

  He stepped into her office and shook hands with her; a good solid handshake. She liked that.

  Her impression of him, after reading his service record, was a positive one. He had been commended on two occasions, and everything suggested a model detective. So why had he retired early? And why did he have to be so good looking? It was distracting.

  She cleared her throat. “Detective Finder. Have a seat.”

  Those dimples!

  He slid into a metal chair across from her. “I came to check on the status of my investigator’s license.”

  “It’s still under review.”

  His smile faded. “Does it usually take this long? I expected this to be done before I reached Viata.”

  “Normally it just requires a background check, but yours has me puzzled. You seemed to have the perfect career until you retired.”

  He’s getting irritated.

  She didn’t think he would answer her questions without a little persuasion, so she picked up the stack of papers she had been going over, dropped them into a drawer, and slammed it shut.

  “Was that my application?”

  He picked up on the symbolism. Good. How much would he tell her? Her sources back on earth had told her a few things beyond the records, but there was always more. And then there was that rumor.

  He shifted in his seat. The smile was back. “Is this really necessary? My record should tell you everything you need.”

  Deflection. She expected that.

  “You’re very good at your job, that much was obvious. Which still leads me back to your early retirement? It wouldn't have anything to do with your wife being a telepath would it?”

  His face flushed, and his jaw tightened.

  “I’m afraid if you want my cooperation, you’ll have to satisfy my curiosity. And before you protest the relevance, it speaks to your character, so it’s most definitely relevant.”

  She had him in a corner now.

  “My wife isn't anyone's business.”

  “Look. This isn't Earth. Your secret is safe with me. I'm just interested in why someone with a record like yours would toss it away and come here.”

  John stared at her for a long moment. “I was invited to retire early.”

  “Invited?”

  “Let’s just say that my partner and I had a difference of opinion.”

  “Tell me more. I’ve read the reports—give me your version.”

  He sighed and leaned back. “I failed to solve my last case.”

  “The cloning case?”

  “How did…?”

  He was starting to sweat.

  “There was mention of a traffic accident?”

  He crossed his arms, closing himself off. Did he realize he was doing it? Probably not. “I heard your wife was killed.”

  “She was.”

  “I'm sorry for your loss.”

  John sat there silent, and only nodded.

  He was in distress, but trying to hide it. She rose, and poured them both a cup of coffee to give him a moment. Clearly, he was still grieving.

  “You want sugar and cream?” she asked.

  “Black, thanks.”

  He had a thoughtful look as she set the cup on the edge of the desk. He nodded his thanks and took a sip.

  When she sat back down, he was smiling again.

  “This is really good,” he said.

  “If you like that, you’ll love all the coffee on the planet, ’cause this is probably the worst. Something about the soil affects the taste. You either love it or hate it.”

  She thought she understood him now. No sense opening up the wound further.

  “I think I know the rest,” she said. “They didn't want a scandal. That about right?”

  “I see you’re pretty good at your job too.”

  His smile is so distracting.

  She hoped to get to know him better. She had a feeling they would get along great, if she could gain his trust. She smiled back.

  “Does this mean you’ll sign off on my license?”

  “Well…”

  Six

  John was still fuming when he arrived at the preschool. It shouldn’t be this hard to get a license. What could she possibly still need to check on? He hoped she would keep her word, and not tell anyone about his wife having been a telepath. He couldn't afford for that to get out.

  The colors in the lobby were jarring. The red on blue walls made his eyes twitch. The purple chairs, and rainbow carpet weren’t helping either. All of that, along with yellow tables, made it look like a paint monster had puked here.

  This was where Clarissa usually met him. He wasn’t late, but his stop had taken longer than he had hoped. He went to the office to tell them he was here for her.

  Moments later, a young woman stood in front of him.

  “What do you mean someone already picked my daughter up!” John forced his hands to remain at his sides so he wouldn’t give in to the desire to choke the girl standing in front of him. He took a deep breath to calm down. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Dara, sir,” she said.

  John’s instincts kicked in as she shuffled her feet and eyed the floor. She was nervous and wouldn’t look him in the eye. His first hunch was that she wasn’t telling him something, but she could be afraid of losing her job.

  “Dara,” he said, “let’s try this again. You say someone has already picked Clarissa up?”

  “Yes, si
r. A woman left with her ten minutes ago.”

  “Can you describe her to me?”

  “Uh, sure. She was about five eleven, long black hair, olive skin. She was wearing a short brown dress. She was in her late thirties, I guess.”

  The description sounded like his late wife, Melanie.

  He fought to hold back a wave of grief.

  “Sir, are you okay?”

  He had to focus. He would get Clarissa back, and whoever was responsible would pay dearly. So he lied. “Yes. I just remembered that I asked her nanny to pick her up. How silly of me. Thanks.”

  John stepped outside into the courtyard and sat down on a bench next to a bubbling fountain. He looked up; the sun was slanting toward the horizon.

  Clarissa was missing.

  The pain pressed on him, but he shoved it into a compartment for now.

  If I had just kidnapped someone, where would I go?

  Across the island to the south, as if in answer, the gleaming hull of a silver passenger transport lifted into the sky on its way to a ship waiting in orbit.

  Graspeau waited for the woman to arrive with the child. It would be dark soon, and he disliked driving a boat at night. The wind was mild today, so at least the ride would be smooth.

  When they finally arrived, he ushered them onto the boat and headed for the private island where they were staying.

  John reached the spaceport just before sunset. He needed transportation of his own, instead of traveling on the bus system like a tourist.

  No transports were nestled in their bays, and the terminals lay empty. The only movement was a custodian sweeping up garbage.

  He looked like he was about to bolt when John rushed toward him. The man reached for a communicator on his side. John slowed and held his arms out in a gesture of peace. “Don’t be alarmed. I need your help.”

  The man released his communicator. “I’m afraid you’re too late.” He leaned on his broom. “Won’t be another till tomorrow.”