Alex and I travelled back to the station under a cloud of confusion. As soon as we'd reached our chilled office, I produced my tabphone. "Alex, look at the Xplora pages for the Castle-Ackermans. See if any of them are friends with that girl. I'll take the rest of the national profiles."
Jason Castle-Ackerman was their youngest child, so I started with him as I sat down. Eighteen. A student at Socrico University and a part-time employee at Ackerman Electronics.
Then there was Lynn Castle-Ackerman. Twenty. An employee at Castle Robotics.
I looked again. Yes, that was everything in the status category.
Putting my tabphone down, I glanced across the office at Alex. "Didn't Lynn tell us she's a student at Socrico University?"
"Yeah. She isn't?"
"Not as far as I can see. But Jason is."
"Maybe such a famous family likes to pretend Lynn was clever enough, too. I've identified that girl: Bryony Gold. I'll send you the Xplora link."
His message appeared on my screen a second later, and I followed the link he'd provided. The Xplora page definitely belonged to the girl who'd barged into the Castle-Ackerman residence. Bryony Gold glowered at the camera in her profile picture, her rosy curls tumbling around her face. I glanced over the basic information she'd provided. Eighteen. Worked at Ryker's Repairs.
"She's Jason Castle-Ackerman's girlfriend," Alex said as I read it.
"That explains why she has automatic access to the flat, then."
But little else. If she worked at Ryker's Repairs, had she been there last night?
We spent hours looking through every detail on the national profiles and Xplora pages. Next door, tabphones buzzed, officers murmured, and PRBs squawked. A growing need for caffeine kicked in, but I couldn't bring myself to stop urgently scouring reams of information for something useful. Something to clarify what had happened to Zoe Ackerman last night.
As the afternoon slipped away, another message arrived on my tabphone. It was from Cassia, containing the preliminary post-mortem report. She'd obviously put everything else on hold for me, but even so, she'd worked fast.
It was long, and I skim-read, voicing just a handful of parts so that Alex was aware of them. "Cassia's still standing by the cause of death and rough timing she gave us earlier."
"Dixon told me she's your older sister," he said.
"Yes -- we look nothing alike, do we?" I carried on reading. "Her stomach contents match up with having a meal at the Castle-Ackerman flat not long before she died... Oh, she'd had a recent caesarean section."
"When she had Harley."
"Yes." I looked up, the cogs in my mind spinning. "That could have had an impact on her relationship with Maxx, because you're not supposed to have sex for at least six weeks afterwards. Plus, during the third trimester, it would have been difficult. So their lives might have been lacking in that department for quite a while."
Alex didn't ask how I was so well-informed on the matter -- not with a doctor (of sorts) for a sister. He only raised his eyebrows. "That might have raised tensions. Or even been a topic for their argument?"
I put my tabphone down. "It could well have been. I'd like to have a proper talk with Ryker and see if he changes his mind about not seeing Zoe. She might have gone to him for support, at least, if times were tough with Maxx."
"I'll track him."
All members of the police force had tabphone-tracking software on their devices, and we were within our rights to use it on whoever we liked. It didn't take long for Alex to discover Ryker's location.
"Victory Casino," he said. "That's where he was arrested for ABH in 2180. But it's only half three -- he's closed his shop early."
"He's attracted to that place. Now I'm starting to see how this plays out. What sort of man spends so much time at a casino, Sergeant?"
"A gambling addict."
"Yes." I pursed my lips. "I wonder if he really just went home yesterday?"
We wouldn't be able to find out now.
***
The rest of the day was filled with gathering witness statements from people who thought they'd seen Zoe on the streets, on a tram, in a window, in a nightclub, in a fight...all over the city. Most of it was rubbish, and what did seem to be the truth only matched up with what we already had without providing any new explanations.
At five o'clock, Alex left. I hung around for an extra half hour, trying to do some more electronic paperwork for the other cases I had on my plate, but I threw the towel in when I saw Dixon nearby. I didn't want to talk about Clyde with him again. That conversation only ever went in circles.
The road up to the high street was empty and shadowed, and I walked along it with big strides, scanning the darkness. Ever since Christmas, I'd always felt nervous down here at night, and my hand strayed towards my SIG Sauer P229S. Only specialised British police officers had carried guns in the past, but since the war, it had become routine for all officers to be armed.
The shadows moved.
I stopped, raising the pistol. A crisp packet emerged from the darkness and skittered across the concrete.
Unwanted adrenaline smashed through my veins, and I rolled my shoulders with a deep sigh. Fucking hell.
Shoving my pistol back in its holster, I stalked on. When I reached the high street, I merged into the crowd and balled my shaking hands into fists. Heavy music boomed from tabphones as teens walked home. I tried to let my mind settle into the sound, but it wasn't enough to soothe me.
There was only one thing that would.
I detoured to my local general store, Ace's. It took its name from the owner, so I was surprised when I went inside and saw a robot standing behind the counter instead.
"Can I help you?" it asked.
The last time I'd come in had been on Christmas Eve, and the shop had been filled with aisles of goods for customers to pick up and take to the counter. Now everything was sealed behind touchglass cabinets.
"Yes," I snapped. "How the hell am I supposed to get my shopping when everything's locked away?"
"Use the touch screens and your items will be handed to you. Each cabinet has instructions."
"Yeah, that's helpful. Technological shelves. They're not going to do what I want. This is never going to work."
A faint laugh drifted down the aisles, then was quickly covered up with a cough.
So that whoever else was in the shop wouldn't think I was a complete fool, I added, "Where's Ace? He was running this the other day."
"This shop belongs to Blade Corporations," the robot said.
I'd just have to assume Ace had been offered a tidy sum of money for his little shop.
It looked like the whole store had been rearranged, but by some small miracle, the chocolate was in the first aisle I tried: a whole cabinet full of everything the big companies had to offer. I found the bar I wanted and stared at it for a long moment, imagining how it would taste.
The bars were hovering in rows with numbers next to them like a twenty-first century vending machine. Near the bottom of the cabinet, the touchglass was displaying a number keypad. I typed in the number I wanted.
Nothing happened.
I balled my hand into a fist and pressed it against the glass, staring mournfully at my chocolate. "What the -- "
A tall shadow fell over the cabinet. "Did you read the instructions?"
"Alex." I sighed. Sod's Law again. "What are you doing here?"
"Getting dinner. What do you want?"
I stepped aside with reluctance so that he could access the keypad. As he moved into my line of sight, I studied him properly for the first time since that morning. He was still the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, although good looks were usually something I registered blankly among my colleagues. That was not the case when he sent me an expectant glance, his green eyes more than a little gravitational.
A larger dose of therapy was needed. "A jumbo pack of Hacker milk chocolate."
That was ten bars, not one, but it would get me through the rest of the week.
Alex raised an eyebrow as he operated the keypad. "It's just you at home, isn't it?"
"Yes, thank you, Mr Judgemental. It is just me who's going to eat those."
He typed something else, then looked over with a slow smile. "I've never worked with a chocoholic before. Do you always buy this much, or am I that bad?"
Yes, this is your fault. And now I wish I'd asked for two jumbo packs instead of one.
My mouth behaved and said, "I'm stocking up for the rest of the week. Murder investigations require lots of chocolate."
Alex's face suddenly appeared in the glass, and a hidden eye-scanner took the payment from him. The cabinet spat a jumbo pack of chocolate out of the bottom.
"You should have let it scan me," I said, although how I would have moved faster than the scanner, I didn't know.
"It's not much off my back." He handed the chocolate over. "You type in the number next to what you want, and then you type in the number of the row it's on. Then you pay. It's to prevent shoplifting. Isn't it like this in all the big stores in Socrico?"
I scowled. "I do most of my shopping online."
"Well, now you know how to do it in real life." Alex stepped back and raised his pizza in farewell. "See you tomorrow."
Then, just like that, my technological saviour was gone.
I waited for a minute, not wanting to run into him again, before trailing onto the street. As soon as I was on my original route, my tabphone buzzed.
I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen. It was a message from Clyde.
Where are you now?
My tabphone buzzed again.
I'd love to add some details to my article on Zoe Ackerman. I hope you've seen it. Meet me and we can talk. Some of it would be off the record, of course...like we used to.
Volcanic heat simmered beneath my skin, and I ripped open my chocolate bar. It was gone in sixty seconds.
At home, I fed my only household companion, Mitzy the cat, and had a shower. When I emerged, I swapped my contact lenses for glasses, then entered the living room and curled up on the sofa.
It was the biggest room in the house, and I'd found the space to make it work partly like an office. A rickety wooden desk and a filing cabinet with every drawer kicked in (not by me, surprisingly) stood against the window, perfect for late-night brooding. Two dark sofas quietly divided the rest of the space into something more relaxing, facing a small glass TV on the wall, a coffee table scattered with old mugs and cat hair, and a cheap, fluffy rug that matched the grey throw I'd tugged over myself.
I put the TV on as background noise and found the messages on my tabphone. Fuck you, I wrote in reply to Clyde, for all the good that did me. Then I began another sweep of everyone's Xplora profiles in case it would inspire a theory.
Had Maxx followed Zoe and struck out in rage after their argument? Had Ryker James found her and exacted revenge for her betrayal?
"Good evening, welcome to Socrico News," a voice on the TV said. "I'm Felicia Tamsyn, and these are the headlines."
I looked up. A female news anchor was standing in front of the screen with a plastic smile.
"Britain is reeling over the murder of Zoe Ackerman, who was found dead in Socrico this morning. Police believe she was murdered last night after dinner with the Castle-Ackerman family. She leaves behind her five-week-old daughter, and her husband and former step-brother, Maxx Ackerman, who she married last year amongst much outcry."
"Tell me something I don't know," I muttered.
"More breaking news today is the conclusion of the most recent Jacqueline Trial in New London. Accountant Robbia Wells and her boss, Stellan Atkinson, undertook Trial testing to bypass the law that prevents them from conducting a legal relationship. Unfortunately, they're deemed to have failed, and under the Corporate Affairs Act 2130 will now be charged for the crime of conducting a sexual relationship with their subordinate or superior. A court date is yet to be announced, but it's expected that they will be found guilty, which will almost certainly lead to a life sentence.
"Meanwhile in Rosek, the mayor has -- "
I used my tabphone to change the channel. Nina was in Rosek, and I didn't want to think about that too much. She was my best friend, not just my old sergeant.
What I got on the next channel was Maxx Ackerman's face plastered across the TV screen, tiny microphones shoved under his chin. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyes were empty. He was standing outside his glass block of flats.
"Mr Ackerman," a disembodied voice was saying, "how will the loss of your wife affect the running of Ackerman Electronics and Castle Robotics over the next few days?"
"Our businesses will be running as usual," Maxx replied quietly, "but the CEOs will not have contact with the public for the foreseeable future. This tragedy has shaken us all."
Not Elena Ackerman, I mused.
The interviewer seemed to agree. "It's been rumoured that tensions were high between Zoe and some other members of the family since your marriage. Did they disapprove of you? Did they blame you for the companies' drop in value on the stock market?"
Maxx's jaw tightened. "No matter what anyone thought of us, we were in love. Our family has come to understand that. Relationships should not be ridiculed or controlled, and I will never regret the short time we had together. Zoe was the best wife anyone could have asked for."
But he clearly hadn't thought that last night. Whatever they'd argued about, it hadn't been an ordinary lover's tiff. Something had been different -- different enough to send Zoe running back towards her past.
And directly or not, that had killed her.