Chocolate Chocolate Moons (28 page)

“What’s code forty-three?” Drew asks.

“Frequent flyer miles.”

The minute Scheherazade and Drew enter the Las Venus Casino paparazzi greet them and send a live broadcast to Mars Media’s High Society Channel. Kandy, who never watches any other channel, tunes in, jumps, realizes what’s happening and packs her bags.

“This way,” Scheherazade says threading through the noisy crowd past loud rows of blinking slot machines, roulette wheels and black jack tables. She pushes Drew into a corner of a dark restaurant. A waiter approaches and hands them an oversized menu. “I know this place so let me order. I’ll make it simple.”

The waiter returns for their order.

Scheherazade looks up and smiles. “Large fresh beluga, large smoked salmon, fresh truffle risotto, a flaming pheasant, two racks of lamb and two bottles of pink champagne.”

“You call that simple?”

She grabs his hand and before he realizes what’s happening she activates his palm pay. “Simple for Las Venus,” she says dabbing her mouth with a white linen napkin.

They exit the restaurant and blink into the casino’s bright lights. Scheherazade links her arm through Drew’s arm. They pass several gaming tables and head toward a man shaking some dice. His only distinguishing feature is a big nose. Without any introduction Scheherazade thrusts her hand toward his nose. “Ali is going to let us win,” she says giving his nose a twist. “Or he knows that I’ll send 509 to collect back pay. Isn’t that right, Ali?”

Ali rubs his nose. “Good to see you too, Sondra Audrey,” he says deliberately to annoy her. Scheherazade winces. He eyes Drew. “I see life at the ABC is agreeing with you.”

Drew is taken back by this performance and thinks of sweet Kandy, whom he suddenly misses. He sighs knowing that Kandy would never do anything like this.

The next day, before Drew finishes packing for his trip home, he puts a small mark on the base of his Giacometti and goes into Scheherazade’s office. He snaps his case open, removes his Giacometti and places it on her desk next to her Giacometti as he did before. “Las Venus put me in a risky mood,” he says. “Why don’t we exchange sculptures? Who knows which one is real?”

Before Scheherazade can answer, he puts his hands on both sculptures sliding and switching them around and around playing the three card Monte trick Rocket played on him. His hands move faster and faster.

“Stop!” she shouts. “You’re mixing them up.”

Drew does one last complicated pass, grabs her Giacometti, throws it into his case. A DNA bolt slides shut. Scheherazade’s face twists. She knows that she can’t get the case to open without blowing up Drew, whom she no longer cares about and its contents, which she does.

Drew takes the case walks to the door and opens it. 507 and 509 who were waiting outside and heard everything start to stop him.

Scheherazade raises her hand. “Let him go,” she snarls. “We’ll deal with him later.”

Drew walks through the door and starts down the hall. “We’re not finished with this!” he hears echoing behind him.

37

P
LUTO AND
B
REEZY
are making love. The holo blinks “Priority: Incoming.” The service-bot stops watching them and answers. It’s a recorded message requesting that Breezy come to Mars Yard.

“Why me and not you?” she pouts.

“Divide and conquer, baby. I’m sure Mars Yard will get me next.” He deletes the service-bot’s recent-memory chip.

Breezy rises and slithers into a silky mauve robe that had fallen on the floor.

Pluto continues, “I don’t think this is about our visit to the Candy Universe. I’m sure if they had found something connecting us to the poisoning of the Chocolate Moons, we would have already heard from Mars Yard. No one saw me throw any of that stuff Rocket gave me into the vat because everyone was distracted by the alarm. My guess is that this is about Rocket’s death on the transport.” Pluto picks up a pillow and throws it on the bed. “Let’s review.”

“I don’t need a review, Pluto. I remember as much as you do.”

“If we knew that Rocket was going to die, it’s too bad you went to all that trouble on the transport, but as it is, we were lucky your father was on the outs with Rocket and receptive to our ideas. Also, we did get Craig to give us back the remote that had your biometrics. It could have linked you to the time and place of the chocolate poisoning.”

“What do you mean we were lucky about my father being on the outs with Rocket?” Breezy snaps. “There are a zillion people besides my dad who wouldn’t have minded seeing Rocket on a one-way trip to the Andromeda galaxy.”

Breezy opens her closet and removes a flashy low-cut yellow-and-black silk crepe de chine outfit that leaves nothing to the imagination.

“Don’t overdo it, baby. You don’t want to give the wrong impression.”

“And what impression is that? I didn’t do anything but have a drink with Rocket and walk him back to his room.”

“Yeah, and he stopped breathing after you and your father poisoned his ivy.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that never happened?”

“Just checking to make sure you get your story straight. The police ask the same question over and over, looking for a chink.”

“For all I know, the bartender slipped something into his Paregoric Sour,” Breezy says, snapping the clasp of her green sling-back peep-toe shoes.

Breezy is buzzed into Mars Yard. Lamont tells her to sit down; she argues that it will wrinkle her dress. When he insists, she knows he means business and she can’t pull the “guilty till proven innocent” card. She waves to her father, whom she sees sitting behind a glass wall talking to Sid Seedless.

Decibel Point admits taking a batch of antiflavonoids from Congress Drugs. He says he took it because he invented the anti-flavonoid and feared that without proper testing it might be dangerous. After the Chocolate Moons were poisoned he knew that he was right. A fresh sample was needed to create an antidote. He took the transport to Titan to be away from prying eyes and prying hands.

“So let me see if I’ve got this straight, Miss Point…” Lamont says.

“Breezy,” she purrs puckering her lips and leaning forward.

“Breezy, you’re telling me that Craig Cashew was blackmailing you and your boyfriend with the remote control you dropped at the Candy Universe. But you had no idea what the remote was or what it could do.”

“That’s right. For all I knew, it was something that could trigger a birthday surprise for that fat security guard, I think her name is Molly, that I saw eating her third box of Chocolate Moons.”

Lamont makes a note:
fat security guard.

“Who gave it to you?” he asks.

“I found it. I don’t remember where. I find a lot of things. She opens her bag and pulls out a small blue umbrella. “See this umbrella? Found it on the street.” She pulls out a red lipstick. “See this lipstick? Found it on a tram.”

“We get your point, Miss Point.” Lamont jots down
blue umbrella
and
red lipstick.
“How did Craig Cashew know you had the remote control?”

“How would I know? Ask him. We only knew that because I handled it, my biometrics were on it, and Pluto and I were at the Candy Universe around the time the Chocolate Moons were poisoned.” She dabs her eyes with a handkerchief feigning a tear. “If I knew innocent fun-loving people like us, scrimping and saving for the only holiday we have had in five years, could be implicated I never would have gone there.”

“Hmm.” Lamont jots down
fun-loving.

Breezy continues, “After the story about the poisoned Chocolate Moons broke, we realized that anything anyone touched there could be used as evidence, and we wanted to distance ourselves from the event. Craig’s price for giving the remote back to us was to help him convince Rocket to bury an embarrassing incident that happened to him long ago. We knew that Rocket frequently took the transport to Titan. My father wanted to go there so he could develop an antidote to the anti-flavonoid. Craig was on the transport because he’s going to open a Culinary satellite on Titan.”

“So each of you had a reason to be on the transport and each of you had a reason to see Rocket. That’s very convenient.”

“Well before we could talk to Rocket, he keeled over in his room in front of us. None of us touched him.” She raises her arm. “Hand to God’s ear or two or three.”

“God’s ear or two or three?”

“Well he’s God. Who knows how many ears? Some Hindu Gods have lots of arms. Just playing it safe; I don’t want to offend anyone. I’m not that type of girl.”

Lamont jots:
God, hand, ears.
He reviews the notes he’s taken. Then writes:
A fun-loving fat security guard who walked down a street and sat on a tram finds a blue umbrella and a red lipstick close to one of God’s ears but far away from some Hindu’s arm.
He turns back to Breezy. “Now the death of Rocket Packarod.”

“Didn’t Rocket die from an overdose of health foods?”

“That’s what the coroner’s report shows.”

“So there you go: died of natural-food causes.”

Breezy takes out the tube of lipstick again and freshens her mouth. She blots it with a tissue and stuffs the tissue into her cleavage so Lamont can see the red smudge. “By the way, how did you know it was us on the transport?”

Then, as though on cue, Trenton opens a door, walks in, and waves to Breezy. “Oh no!” Breezy says. “I remember you. The junk man from the Purple Tree Lounge. You almost made me spill my drink.”

Decibel, who finished giving a statement to Sid Seedless, comes in and stands at Breezy’s side. “Do you realize who that is?” he says, looking at Trenton. “He was on the cover of
Live and Let Live.
He’s the latest android model. Almost human.”

“I
am
human,” says Trenton. “Of course, more human future than human past.”

Breezy frowns. “If that’s the future, I’d rather look like Wilma Flintstone!”

“You don’t want to look like the Flintstones if everyone else looks like me.” He leans close to Breezy, who immediately turns away. She reaches into her bag for sunglasses that cover half her face.

Lamont says to Breezy, “We’re going to hold you a bit longer. We have more questions for you and your boyfriend, Pluto Pastrami.” He turns to Decibel. “You can go, but don’t leave the planet.”

Hearing this, Breezy immediately calls Pluto and tells him that Lamont wants to question him.

Pluto arrives with Jack McPloy; a lawyer the Pastramis keep on retainer. Lamont shows them holos of Pluto and Breezy at the Candy Universe with Pluto’s hand raised near the chocolate vat.

“Proves nothing,” Jack says. “Looks like Pluto was waving his hand. And as far as Breezy, Decibel, and Craig’s dealings with Rocket go, nothing happened on the transport except that they saw him collapse.”

Lamont releases Decibel, Pluto and Breezy until trial dates can be set.

Drew enters his apartment. The first thing he sees is a flashing message from Kandy. He taps the lock to his carrying case, removes the Giacometti and places it on the marble table. He pours himself a stiff Saturian whiskey and brings it into the bathroom. None of Kandy’s things are there. He gulps the drink; adjusts the shower selecting Niagara force; steps inside; air dries, goes back into the bedroom and lies naked on the bed. “Play messages,” he says.

Kandy’s voice: “I saw you and Scheherazade on the high society channel. No need to say more. I’m staying with Solaria Andreas till I get my own place. You have the number. I left the blue-ice sapphire necklace on top of your desk. I can’t bear to wear it.”

Drew tries to sleep, but after turning his pillow over every minute with the hope of finding a cool spot, he gets up and eats four packages of Chocolate Moons. Then he sleeps and dreams that he has regained all his former weight, and a descendent of Fernando Botero, an artist best known for painting everyone fat, does a six-foot portrait of him that everyone laughs at and no one wants to bid on at Park Bengay. He jerks awake pounding a pillow on his stomach.

The next day he takes the Giacometti to an appraiser. His stomach twists when the appraiser shakes his head no. Not wanting to burn all his bridges with Scheherazade, he calls her and tells her the results.