Chapter Two

“Bremen investigate?” I echoed in utter surprise.

Why did the Bremen want to investigate? What did they know about policing on Earth? And a Tristorian was dead, not a Bremen. This time his sparse words were understandable—at least the way I interpreted them—but his reasons eluded me.

“That is not your decision. The jurisdictional issues are being looked into. In the meantime, you need to be patient. Just stay here.” I walked away taking calming breaths.

At my vehicle outside, I picked up a tote. I never knew when I would be on duty, or when I would ruin my current attire, so I always had a change of uniform available, even while on leave. I changed in the second floor women’s washroom.

We would soon be searching the washroom. Although the bowling alley had three floors, the competition practice had been confined to the middle floor where the incident had happened.

Stepping out of the women’s washroom, my thoughts were interrupted.

“Sorry, Tari, it took me a while to get here.” Brian Chen, my partner, had finally shown up.

“Where were you this morning?” My arms folded across my chest.

“At the hospital having ultrasound images taken of Suze.”

“Is she okay?” His flushed face looked relaxed.

“Everything’s great. We’re having a baby boy!”

“Fantastic! That’s going to change your life a lot.” Because we had not been partners for long, I had some concern how this situation would affect his work. On numerous occasions we’d worked for more than twenty-four hours straight.

“Oh, I know. But we want children, and we’re not getting any younger, you know.” Brian was thirty-one; eight years younger than I.

“Well, congratulations. I’ll call Suze, as soon as I can. How’s she doing?”

Brian hesitated. “Ah, ah, quite well, but everything’s so new. Anyway, tell me what’s going on.” He’d surprised me by not wanting to continue discussing their big news. However, we did need to focus on the matter at hand.

I scolded Brian. “You need to keep me better informed about your whereabouts.”

Brian brushed back his long black hair. I never understood why he wouldn’t tie it back. On the other hand, I normally gathered my long blonde hair with a clasp, otherwise it always seemed to be in the way.

“Yes, of course. My apologies. Now what’s happened?”

“One of the Tristorian bowlers is dead. My initial assessment indicates a homicide. A bowling ball apparently crushed the back of his head. I’m not thrilled, but Hayden wants me to head the investigation since I’m familiar with the possible suspects.” Uneasy with the thought of a bowler, alien or otherwise, causing this damage, I stopped talking.

“Hayden knows what he’s doing.” Brian grinned. He always delighted in the beginning of a new case—the thrill of a new chase, perhaps.

“Unfortunately, I’m now off the team.”

“That’s disappointing.” Brian pulled out his com and started making notes.

I nodded. “However, you’re correct. I probably do have a better feel for the situation than a lot of others. The diplomats may decide someone else should be the chief investigator, so we’ll wait and see. In the meantime, let me show you the crime scene.”

“Are we going to have to deal with a lot of politicians, alien and otherwise, in regard to this situation?” asked Brian.

“I would expect so. The political pressure will be in- tense.”

Earth had, it seemed to me, been reluctant to broadcast to the general populace many details on how the world governments interacted. Working with the RCMP and alien security forces on arrangements for the bowling competition had given me some understanding. However, I knew large gaps existed in my knowledge base.

Brian and I viewed the crime scene while the evidence techs continued to gather samples and take measurements. I loved to watch them manipulate the myriad of electronic gadgets we used. I knew they’d taken a bazillion pictures before they’d started, so my inbox would soon overflow.

“Does this bowling ball look familiar?” Brian asked, interrupting my ruminations.

I glanced down and my breath quickened, “I think I have seen this ball before. It looks like Chrissy’s. This may be hers.” She had tried to tell me something earlier.

Brian knew all the people on Canada’s bowling team, so no further explanations were needed. He had bowled with us a few times. Leaving the techs to their business, Brian and I caught up with Harrison, and I gave him a questioning look.

“I’ve organized the possible suspects, and I was just about to send you the interview list. So far, no one has volunteered any information. One of the Rheinon teams is insisting they have diplomatic immunity, but I emphasized they weren’t diplomats. The rest of the teams are being gracious—the officials are another matter. They were being, hmm…cantankerous, so I’ve left them for you.” Harrison’s smile was wide.

“Cantankerous? How?”

“Oh, they think they should investigate, or something. I set them straight.”

“Gee, thanks about the officials.” I shook my head while I glanced at the interview list that’d arrived on my com. “Let’s change your list up a bit. I’ll take the officials you so graciously offered, but not the teams from Earth. Those are yours. In particular, pay attention to Mike, who discovered the body, and Chrissy, who is most likely the owner of the murder weapon. Leave the bowling ball in the washroom; you can see how she responds to it. We’ll take that evidence with us later.”

I sighed. “Harrison, check out Revolutions’ security tapes. There’s pretty minimal coverage, but one camera is focused on the lanes on this floor. It will show you Chrissy and I have been on the lanes—and never left them—during the time the murder was committed—at least according to my current estimated time-of-death, which could be way off.”

Harrison smiled and turned to walk away.

I started to walk off myself, but then I called to Harrison. “Did we not have uniforms doing security here at Revolutions?”

Harrison gave me an understanding look. “Yes.”

“Find them for me.” How did this incident happen while Mounties were on watch, I wondered? While on leave, security hadn’t been my responsibility, though I had been involved during the initial arrangements for the competition. And now I was definitely in the mix. The guards may have not been able to prevent the murder but they should have found the body before anyone else did or at least come forward by now to let me know what they had, or had not, seen.

Brian and I set up our recording equipment at one of the tables in the restaurant. The eating area opened out to the lanes on the second floor, so we had a good view of the activities. Since a Tristorian had died, the Tristorian official seemed a good person with whom to start our interviews.

Before Fite Deel, today’s presiding Tristorian official, settled at our table—he didn’t actually sit—he started to rub his hands together. I wondered about a pattern in his hand movements.

“I’m sure you’ve heard that the individual who died is a Tristorian bowler named Keepe Style. Our investigation continues, so no details can be released at this time.”

I expected questions but I received no response to my statements.

Somehow, I needed to draw him out. “Okay, first question. How do you like to be addressed?”

“My correct title is Pirktr Deel.” His hands were motionless.

“I’m sorry, what does Pirktr mean? My translator’s not offering any suggestions.” I’d have to check and see if I needed any software updates. An absence of translation had never happened before during my conversations.

“Pirktr means minor official.”

So, I conjectured, is a Pirktr important or not? I wished I could ask him what status a Pirktr has in Tristorian society, but that would probably be considered rude, so I got right down to business. “Where were you this morning, before our earlier conversation, that is?” I asked.

“How dare you imply I am involved in this heinous crime? I am going to protest your handling of this case. The authorities will hear about you.” Then Fite Deel stopped talking.

Well, so much for trying to avoid being impolite. “As you wish, but I do believe the authorities already know about the situation.” I spoke as calmly as I could manage. “Now, you need to answer my questions. Tell me about your activities this morning.”

Fite Deel started rubbing his hands together again. “I have been with the other bowling officials. I have not left the building since I arrived at eight this morning.”

“Did you see anyone acting suspiciously?” In the past, the answers I had received to this particular question had of- ten revealed many real clues. Perpetrators loved to point their fingers in all the wrong directions.

“I was busy studying how the various teams bowled and looking for infractions. I did not have time to study the room.”

His response didn’t give me the answer I wanted. Best to leave it alone. I was curious about his study of bowling infractions. What had he expected to find? Perhaps there were aspects of bowling humans had yet to discover.

So I couldn’t resist asking, “What conclusions did you come to regarding the bowling styles?” I could see Brian’s eyes twinkling.

“We have the best chance of winning this competition. Because of our four legs, our style is well-suited for twelve-pin bowling.”

Their four centaur-like legs were quite nimble, it was true. Although I’d sneaked peeks during practice, I had yet to come to any conclusions why their dancing worked.

“In other words, since every other bowler has two legs, they’re not destined to win?” I asked.

Fite Deel gave a motion of assent.

I almost laughed out loud. “That shall be determined in the next few days. Back to this morning, did you see anyone you didn’t recognize?”

“Again, I did not study the entire room.”

Then it dawned on me how to get this guy to talk. “Did anything annoy you today?”

“Yes, the washroom was closed for the longest time. Very inconvenient.”

“The men’s washroom?” I hadn’t expected this comment.

“Yes. There was a sign outside saying “Closed for Cleaning.” Of course, I had to ask a human what the symbols on the board meant.” Fite Deel’s hand rubbing speeded up.

I speculated whether or not this was the Tristorian mannerism for nervousness? “The ‘Closed for Cleaning’ sign is a common occurrence,” I added.

“The washroom should have been cleaned last night. Having it closed for two hours during practice is excessive.”

As Fite Deel pointed out, it was an unusually long time. I would have to talk to Smith about the closure. It seemed unlike him to inconvenience his customers, especially for so long a time.

Brian shook his head after I gave him a glance. “We have no further questions at this time. Please join the others, but remain in the building.”

Fite Deel would bear watching. His reluctance to answer questions hindered my investigation. Brian and I watched the minor official walk away. He took his com out of a pocket in his vest and started using it. Was he making a protest call about me?

“I think he may make trouble,” said Brian.

“There’s no may about it. But he doesn’t strike me as a killer—especially of one of his own kind.” And he didn’t. Although I had expected less confrontation from a Tristorian.

I glanced at the updated list Harrison had produced after we had switched interviews around a bit. “Brian, can you grab the human official? I want to talk to him next.”

While Brian corralled the next interviewee, I entered notes into my com. The entries mostly consisted of further questions to ask.

I watched Brian escort the human official, Carl Hender, toward me. I had met him before, and not in the realm of bowling. His wife had surprised an intruder at their home and, as a result, had died from a knife wound. Today, Carl looked prematurely gray and carried some extra weight.

He sat down across from me and shook my hand. “Detective Sergeant, this situation is fragile. Canada was in- credibly fortunate to have been given the opportunity to host the Intergalactic Bowling Competition. Bad publicity makes us look, b-b-bad.”

I had forgotten about Carl’s proclivity to stutter whenever anxious—he seemed to just have trouble with Bs—so I stifled a smile. “I agree. However, the incident happened, and we need to get to the bottom of it. For the time being, Inspector Hayden has asked me to lead the investigation. By the way, you should get another spare lined up, since I’m now off Canada’s bowling team.”

From the shocked look I received, Carl hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“And you should probably look into updating the practice schedule. Revolutions will be closed for at least the rest of today.”

I gathered he took my suggestions seriously since he started to rise from his seat. I waved at him to sit down. “Now, tell me about your day. When did you get here? Did you see anything unusual? Any thoughts on the incident at all?”

Carl slowly settled back into his chair and digested my spew of questions. “Hmm. I arrived this morning around eight. That’s when the officials were to gather. Four of us got here at eight, but the B-B-Bremen official didn’t arrive until almost nine.”

I sat up straighter. “Did he say why? Who is he?” Did he make a stop in the men’s washroom?

“His name is Skitem-Carry. He told us he had a morning meeting he couldn’t miss—at least that’s what we thought he said. The B-Bremen are a little strange, but I guess that’s to b-be expected. As for the rest of the morning, the officials really had nothing to do. Our jobs actually b- begin with the playoffs. Generally, we just watch the b- bowlers and talk a little about our planets. Although it’s sometimes difficult to get a conversation going when we’re so radically different.”

“When you were standing around gossiping, did any incidents catch your attention? Any unusual activities?”

Carl bristled a little at my use of the word gossip, but eventually he said, finally calming down enough to get his Bs out, “A couple of the teams from Itla seemed to be having an animated conversation in the far corner, but their voices didn’t carry distinctly to where we were standing. So, ah, so, I don’t know what they were discussing. Nothing else comes to mind; it was a normal practice day. Of course, we heard all about the lane conditions from numerous bowlers, but that’s always a given.”

If there was one thing bowlers liked to complain about it was how their balls were reacting to the lanes.

“Tell me about the Bremen.” It was time to find out how other humans felt about aliens.

Carl thought for a moment. “As you’ve most likely observed, the Bremens are completely hairless—not that I’ve seen one naked.”

All three of us laughed. I hadn’t expected that for his first comment.

“While we were standing around chatting, Skitem-Carry happened to bring up the subject. He said he found our body hair unusual. He ignored me when I remarked that his lack of body hair was similarly unusual to us. I guess no response was preferable to what he could have uttered.”

Carl continued, “Although if he had commented, I might not have been able to understand him. Their sentence structure is strange. Ah, ah, ah, by that, I mean their speech pattern. They seem to leave out a lot of words.”

“I’m sure we seem peculiar to them. Did you see any- one that shouldn’t have been in the area? Anything catch your eye?”

“Not really. Mostly I just watched the bowling. I wanted to discover something to tell Earth’s coaches.”

I shook my head and frowned. Should an official be spying? “Carl, did you go into the men’s washroom?”

“Of course, but not today.” A vein throbbed in his fore- head.

“Okay. If you think of anything else, let me know. You’ll have to stay around here until we’ve finished the rest of our interviews.”

Brian and I watched Carl walk over to one of the human teams.

“There’s something off about that guy,” said Brian. “He seemed a little too nervous.”

“Perhaps. However, remember because of his wife being murdered, he took a dislike to the police. Somehow, we were supposed to have prevented the break-in that led to her demise.” I sighed. “I can’t see Carl being the murderer, but we’ll keep an eye on him.”

Before we had a chance to continue the interviews, Harrison presented the officers who had supposedly been patrolling Revolutions.

I spoke not a word.

Finally, the taller said, “Detective Sergeant, we’re not sure how this accident happened. We’re very conscious about our patrols. Are you sure this happened on our shift?”

“Time-of-death still needs to be confirmed, but the Tristorian doctor who examined the victim gave us an estimate that matches your shift. Now explain how you share your duties.”

Nothing they said gave any indication of wrongdoing. I thought for a moment. “At what point in your route did you check the men’s washroom on this floor?”

From the looks I saw pass between them, I knew something was wrong. “Out with it,” I said, but I knew what their answer was going to be.

“Ah, I never checked it because of the sign,” said the shorter.

The other officer shook his head.

“Pretty sloppy, guys. So we don’t have a shorter timeline for when the murder happened because of your laziness, or should I say incompetence?” I needed to be harsh.

All I saw before me were a couple of red-faced Mounties. “I’m not going to suspend you or put any mark on your records but, for the next month, I want you both to study security techniques in your off time. Expect random verbal quizzes in your near future. Now, get out of my sight.” After they left, a strong breath escaped my mouth.

A few hours passed and then our initial interviews were complete. My crew started gathering up their equipment.

Smith approached. “Tari, you look hungry. How about a meal for your crew? We have some excellent food in the restaurant, as you know. And our menu has been updated to include alien dishes. It would be Revolutions’ treat.”

I remembered many a time having dinner with Smith in his restaurant. “That’s a tempting offer, Smith. We…”

A tall, brown-haired, well-built human male spoke. “Are you Detective Sergeant Dominion?”

“Yes. And who are you?” Interruptions tested my patience.

“I’m Detective Sergeant Jack Naven. Inspector Hayden asked me to join your team to help with your investigation.”

Naven thrust his right hand towards me. I hesitated and then shook.

“Have you started your investigation yet?” he asked.

Grrr! Of course, I’ve started, you idiot! Okay, calm down, take a deep breath, I told myself.

“Yes, we just finished our preliminary interviews and investigation. We’ll be going back to the office shortly.” I turned to Brian and said, “Why don’t you run Detective Sergeant Naven through some of the interviews. I need to make a call.”

I stomped off. The inspector answered his com on the first ringtone. “Thomas, who is this guy Jack Naven?” I didn’t quite spit the words out of my mouth, but close.

“He runs the Vancouver homicide department—your counterpart. Jack called and offered to help. I decided two heads were better than one. Don’t worry; you’re still in charge.”

A member of the Vancouver detachment. Hmm, that’s why I’d heard his name before. I wasn’t mollified. “How did he know about the murder?”

“I was talking to his inspector, and I may have mentioned the situation.”

“Maybe you should take me off the investigation. Then I can go back to being on the bowling team.” This was all I needed.

“Detective Sergeant Dominion, you are the one I want handling this situation. However, Detective Sergeant Naven is also very experienced in these matters. Take advantage of his skills. Call me with an update later.”

Sounded like an ultimatum or, at the very least, a definite order.

The inspector hung up before I had a chance to respond.

On my sullen walk back to my crew, Smith approached. “Tari, the offer is still on the table.” Smith did have a way with words.

“That’s fine. Get some menus to the guys, and we’ll have a working meeting in your restaurant. We’ll need to keep the bowling alley closed for the day. And we may be back later, but you can open tomorrow morning.”

Smith didn’t look pleased at having his source of income shut down for the rest of the day. “Can’t you just close this floor, so I can have some public bowling on the bottom floor, and gambling upstairs?”

I shook my head. The middle floor of the bowling alley had been set aside for the competition and the bottom floor for public bowling. However, it was quite amazing how many bowlers had to go up to the restaurant on the second floor, to order food and drinks. The alley did have wait staff on all levels, but curiosity about the aliens often got the better of the bowlers.

Smith sighed. “Okay. I’ll talk to the kitchen about lunch, and then you can get your staff…”

A Rheinon burst out of the special locker room, yelling at the top of her lungs.

“There are melted bowling balls all over the place!”