Paris Knox and the Order of Things

Chapter 3

After a short and frankly, degrading, chat with the secretary, me and Welsh took an ancient elevator up to the third floor. I stepped out of the elevator as quickly as possible when we reached the right floor. Welsh wandered out, admiring the bright silver ceiling molding.

"Paris! There you are," a voice called.

Straun was standing there smiling in that self-assured way of hers, like there was no way you couldn't like her and she knew it. She was wearing her militia uniform, all navy with silver lines.

"Straun," I greeted. "What are we working with here?"

"What, no 'how've you been'?" Straun said, actually sounding affronted.

"Someone got murdered, Straun," I deadpanned. "We've got more important things to be concerned about."

She sighed. "Fine. Come on." She led me and Welsh down the hallway as she continued. "Man's name was Ezia Rook. Security officer here, low ranking. Coworkers report he was staying late last night, said he had to reset the cameras or something," Straun briefed. "Found dead this morning, by the janitor, in the security office. No weapon found, so we ruled out suicide, but besides that we haven't found much out. And here we are," Straun said as we came to a stop besides an open door.

I brushed aside the bit of police tape blocking it off and entered the room.

"Wow," Welsh said from the doorway, half nauseated, half enthusiastic. "You ever get used to that dead body smell, Paris?"

"Not really," I answered casually as I moved closer to the body.

A man, maybe mid-thirties. He had fallen on his back, baring his jaggedly slit neck, pool of red laid beneath him like the frill of some desert lizard.

Mars, that was gross. Good simile, though.

The wound was clearly not made by a modern weapon- a plasma knife or lazer would have made a clean cut. The only knives around that would make a cut like the one I was looking at were the ones with metal blades.

So the murderer was not a professional. Perhaps it was personal. An accident? Ah, probably not. You don't accidentally aim for the jugular. But, maybe, not planned. Maybe they even improvised a weapon.

I studied the room. Against the left wall was an array of monitors, all showing black screens. There were a few desks, mostly empty of personal effects. There were, however, drawers. Maybe worth a look.

My eyes wandered. Against the back wall-

"Hey, Straun," I called back to her where she was waiting in the hallway. "Did you open that window?"

Straun gave me a half-hearted glare. "I may not have been in advanced investigation courses, but I know not to tamper with a crime scene, Knox. I didn't touch anything."

Open third floor window. The same one I saw in the alley, and presumably the one the ring in my pocket was dropped out of.

I crouched near the man's body and inspected his left hand. Sure enough, there was the faintest trace of a green band around the ring finger.

So the ring was his. Did he drop it out the window? Why? He placed some sort of value in it given how much he wore it. Did his murderer? Why would they? It didn't make a lot of sense.

Well, when you have questions, you go and get answers.

"I think I'm done here," I said, standing up abruptly. Two pairs of eyes looked up.

"Did you solve it?" Welsh asked.

I glared at them and left it at that.

"I need to talk to the secretary again, unfortunately," I told Straun. "She should have seen anyone come in or out of the building, correct?"

"Sure," Straun said, shrugging. "She's supposed to stay until everyone else leaves."

"Maybe that's why she's so grumpy," Welsh suggested helpfully.

"Yes, okay," I said, instead of throwing them out a third story window. "Let's go, then."

I brushed past Welsh and had just started back down the hallway when someone called out to me.

"Detective!"

I turned, because, hey, didn't see any other detectives here.

A man was jogging down the hallway. He came to a stop near me and took a moment to catch his breath.

"Detective, may I... speak with you a minute?" he said nervously.

The man had a whole air of nervous tension about him. He kept pushing his glasses up his nose, even when they hadn't fallen down, and he looked around every few seconds as if he thought someone was sneaking up on him.

"What for?" I said suspiciously. I was kind of in the middle of a murder investigation. At this point pretty much everyone but Welsh and myself was a suspect.

"I- well- I might need your help," the man admitted quietly. "I have reason to believe I'm in danger."

"What reason?" I asked sharply.

"I-" He paused, and looked around. "I can show you, in my office."

"One moment," I said.

I sent a questioning look at Straun. Should I? This is shady, right?

Leah gave a small shrug and her eyes flicked down to the gun at my belt. You can take care of yourself.

"I actually have to go take care of some paperwork, but I'm sure you can handle things on your own for a bit," Leah said aloud. "Contact the militia before you do anything stupid or dangerous, Paris. We'll meet back up later."

"Right," I said.

"Guess it's just you, me, and our new possibly-friend," Welsh said happily as the elevator doors closed behind Straun.

"Right," I said, sour at the reminder that Welsh was here, turning back to the nervous man. "Lead the way."

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Chapters 3 and 4 are actually one Big Chapter, so I'm not going to put an author's note on this one. Read chapter 4 right now, go! go! You gotta experience them as one!