Chocolate Chocolate Moons (13 page)

“Now that we didn’t find anything to wear in Pharaoh City, can we shop with Aunt Flo in New Chicago?”

I nod a weary yes.

17

I
GO TO
Jersey and Trenton’s home to review the scans of the Candy Universe. Trenton is an independent forensic scientist who works for Mars Yard. Police captain Lamont Blackberry hired him when Trenton solved the mystery of what came first, the chicken or the egg, by reasoning that the egg came first because we usually eat eggs for breakfast and chickens for dinner.

Jersey and Trenton met at a rehabilitation center where Jersey gets her eye implants cleaned. Trenton’s body was being rebuilt after a racing car accident. He had accelerated too fast at a ninety degree corner after heading out of a double-S turn and hit a wall faster than a speeding bullet.

When Trenton learned of an experimental procedure that would replace his veins and arteries with wires, his skin with silicone, and his heart with a new red valentine one that blinked “I Love You,” his one functioning eye zoomed to a screen over his bed that blinked “yes.” This choice was definitely a no-brainer because although he would look different and be considered the first human-android, he would be able to lead a relatively normal life. To quote Trenton, “It sure beats being a brain in a bottle.”

When Jersey took off her glasses and he looked into her irises for the first time and scanned them, his neuron-settings soared. Jersey fell hard for Trenton after their first night together, because the first thing he did in the morning after rebooting was look her in the eyes and whisper, “Welcome. You’ve got mail.” She thought that was one of the most exciting things she had ever heard, because she rarely got any mail.

Becky and Lois get hysterical when I use the words
implants
and
Jersey
in the same sentence. “Implants? Yeah, right,” they say, rubbing their chests.

“Sorry I’m late,” I call, letting myself in. “I stopped off for a litchi smoothie.” I peer into a dim room. “How can you see? It’s so dark.”

“I wasn’t aware it’s dark,” Jersey says. “I had my high beams on, the latest designs copied from bumblebees that see ultraviolet and some freshwater fish that see infrared.”

“I’ll remember that next time I order honey-roasted fish.”

“I have heat sensors,” Trenton adds. “I see better than vipers.”

We enter the lab. Strange-looking tubes filled with colorful chemicals and gelatinous materials line one wall, and rows of repair parts, exchange parts, and experimental parts line another. Trenton’s computer banks bulge with esoteric information and experiments in progress.

Trenton clears three chairs and inserts a scan into a viewer.

“Stop! There! That man,” I point. “The one near the perky-looking girl. She seems to be touching the sleeve of her dress. There is something in her hand. Her fingers are covering it. His hand is raised curled into a fist. I remember them because someone said they were on their honeymoon. Too bad the security camera pans away from them just as the warning bell sounds.”

Jersey says, “I thought the alarm was activated by low oxygen readings, which later proved to be a malfunction.”

“Maybe it wasn’t,” I say.

Trenton peers more closely. “I’m seeing a heat reflection coming off the man’s hand that’s a different color than the rest of his arm—meaning it was regrown.”

“I saw Solaria Andreas on the holo when I was shopping with the twins. She said that she and her cousin Pluto each lost a hand as children and they had to be regrown.”

“Maybe the man
is
Solaria’s cousin Pluto,” Jersey says.

“When Katie Racket interviewed Drew, she wanted to know if the chocolate could have been poisoned before it arrived at the Candy Universe.”

“What did he say?” Jersey asks.

“He said it was possible.”

Trenton says, “Congress Drugs is located in the middle of San Andreas Farms. There are public tours of the farms every day.”

“But there are no public tours inside Congress Drugs. You have to work there or be a special visitor, like CC was a few weeks ago,” I say.

“CC?”

“Colorful Copies, the daughter of Carbon Copies, who just bought Mars Media. I knew her briefly in college. She seduced Drew Barron, who was then my boyfriend.”

“Whoa!
The
Drew Barron? Heartthrob Drew Barron? Gorgeous Drew Barron?
You
dated Drew Barron? I can’t believe it!” She looks at me more closely. “What was he like?”

“He was different. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jersey and Trenton pass significant silent looks.

Trenton walks to a row of computers with alternating blinking red numbers followed by rows of blinking black letters. “Let’s see if I can get more on Solaria’s cousin Pluto.” He sits, sticks his index finger into a slot, closes his eyes, and looks blissful.

Jersey ties and unties the ends of her blue-and-white scarf three times.

“The right side is shorter,” I say. She starts to do the process again. “Only kidding.”

“No,” she brightens. “You’re right.”

Trenton opens his eyes and removes his finger from the computer. “I used a thermal scan that bounces DNA readings off the clothing of the man at the Candy Universe, and it did match the DNA of Solaria’s cousin Pluto.”

“And the woman with Pluto?” I ask.

“Name’s Breezy Point, and they are not married, related, or on their honeymoon. What’s more, police on several planets have been following their activities for years,” says Trenton. “If Breezy’s father is the scientist Decibel Point, it’s a big connection. He developed a drug causing invisibility, but you gained ten pounds for every minute you were invisible. The project was scrapped when the Martians learned of the side effect.”

I pat my hips. “I don’t think ten pounds is so much. I’ve gained and lost ten pounds lots of times. I could do a lot being invisible for one minute.”

Jersey laughs. “Yeah, like eat all the candy in the Candy Universe.” Then more seriously she says, “Why did Congress Drugs make a dangerous product?”

Trenton rises. “I bet no one knew it was dangerous. I read a report saying the testing was incomplete. Decibel probably created the anti flavonoids for an advanced Freedom Plan product. It’s possible that when the testing was slow, he or someone else tried to test it by throwing some in the chocolate vat and seeing the reaction. But that’s not likely. He’d never risk ruining his reputation. Besides, Congress Drugs must want him full time instead of as a freelancer because, like all research scientists, he has plenty of opportunities to work in off-planet labs.”

Jersey pales. “Don’t even think about it, Trenton.”

Trenton smiles and pecks her cheek. “Sandy Andreas must pay him plenty so he won’t wander off. But someone else could have used the idea.”

“Who?” Jersey and I say together.

“My computer keeps bringing up the name
Rocket Packarod
with most pharmaceutical products. His name is linked with Decibel in the Orange Blossom Spray Company, but the partnership was brief.”

Jersey pops some gum into her mouth. Like many Martians she loves gum because it’s food she doesn’t have to eat. “Want a piece?” she offers. I shake my head no.

Trenton continues. “I’ve analyzed the composition of every type of anti-flavonoid I know. Now I need to analyze a Chocolate Moon.”

“Simple,” I say, reaching into my pocket and pulling one from the old stash I saved in case I ran out. I hand it to Trenton. “Any chance you would want to eat one?”

“Why would I want to eat it?”

Trenton crushes the Moon. I wince. Then he inserts some into an analysis unit and discards the rest. “Well, nothing wrong with this one.” His hands rotate at the wrists 360 degrees. There’s a beep. He scans a screen. “The Chocolate Moons found in the bodies of all the coma victims came from boxes with the same packaging code, meaning they came from the same vat, packaged at the same time, and distributed soon after. Hmm…the analysis of the chemical composition of the poison is exactly opposite of the composition of the harmless Chocolate Moon you just gave me, Molly. Of course, I wouldn’t be affected if I ate a poisoned one. Maybe I’d find them delicious.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I say. “The people who ate them are lucky they didn’t die; you can recover from a coma. I’ve had a vague feeling about an antidote and a French connection.” I reach into my pocket and take the decorative paper from the Candy Universe that the Chocolate Moons sat on. “I scraped this off the bottom of the case. Lamont’s got a larger piece, but I wanted your opinion.”

Trenton inserts it into the analysis unit. A few seconds later more numbers and letters appear on a screen. “Well, here’s no surprise—a small spot matches that in the poison.”

“I wonder how long that candy sat in that case.”

“Candy moves quickly. Couldn’t have been there more than a day.” Jersey eyeballs me. “And in some cases only for a few minutes.”

Trenton flexes his hand. He picks up a can of WD-4,000 and sprays his hand. “Ah, I could live on that stuff.” He opens a drawer and takes out a gray metal box and lifts the cover. “What do you think about my latest generation of listening devices, Molly?”

“Looks like candy sprinkles that top ice cream.”

Jersey groans. “Only you would think that. It’s obviously electronic devices with nano-nuclear eyes and digital ears.”

“But sprinkles are a good name,” Trenton says. He closes the box. “Lamont inserted them onto the ceiling of Drew’s apartment.”

“Drew’s apartment! I didn’t know he’s a suspect.”

“Sandy Andreas insists everyone be investigated. Two days ago those ‘sprinkles’ transmitted a conversation between Drew and Rocket concerning gambling debts. We also heard Rocket switching the Giacometti that Drew bought at Park Bengay with an identical copy. Drew sounded very upset. I’m sure that he’ll make every effort to get it back and in the process hopefully lead us to Scheherazade. We suspect she is the one flooding the market with fakes.”

Drew and Kandy are having dinner at home. Kandy wears a black bare-backed jersey halter and her latest purchase, a full-length black-and-gold skirt with a dollar-sign pattern. The service-bot rolls toward them with a roasted duck that sits on a bed of macadamia nut wild rice. It stops next to Drew. He says, “Carve and serve.” As the service-bot carves, Drew raises a rare glass of syrah, sniffs, and swirls. Then Rocket calls.

Drew turns his chair away from Kandy, who slips off her gold sandals anticipating what she hopes will not be a long discussion. “I know you already asked me about getting you more from Congress Drugs, but it’s difficult!”

There is a pause followed by an “uh–huh,” followed by a longer pause. He doesn’t want to get on Rocket’s bad side and risk never getting his Giacometti back. “I am trying harder!” Pause. “Yup, of course Kandy is thrilled to go to the Nirgal Palace Hotel. She’s never been to a hotel in space before.”

18

CC
ENTERS
C
RAIG
Cashew’s private dining room. She clicks her open-toed icepick heels on the brown polished floor. Her one-shoulder peach-colored dress is circled with a gray belt. Craig thinks risqué yet conservative like jalapeño chunks in double-dark chocolate.

The room is next to his office. The table sits near a window that overlooks the Culinary’s rose garden. It is set with a periwinkle tablecloth and matching napkins. A skinny glass vase holds a sprig of magenta bougainvillea.