We caught a tram to the Sharpes' once we were finished at the crime scene. The only seats available were at the front, near some skiving teenagers talking about illegal grinder implants. I pretended that I wasn't a police officer, instead focusing on curling and uncurling my toes as they slowly turned numb.
Alex found the national profile of William Sharpe on his tabphone, and I read it over his shoulder as we travelled. He was fifty. An accountant. Married to an ex-model of a similar age, Brittany Sharpe. He looked grumpy in his profile picture, and he wasn't even frowning -- there was just something about his cold, grey eyes.
He lived on the opposite side of the city, where the skyscrapers looked like they were made of diamonds, not dirty stone. Two huge cuboids of glass twisted around a strong steel core, offering floor-to-ceiling views. They would be privacy windows, of course: we could not see in, but everyone could see out. If they wanted to, at least. Most people in neighbourhoods like this were able to reprogram what they saw to something artificial: rolling gardens, New London skyscrapers, sandy beaches from the surface. Whatever they wanted, they could have.
It was not my world, but it was a world I had often walked in during my time as a detective. Entering the lobby, we nonchalantly bypassed several robots who wanted to know exactly what business we had there and rode a lift up to the twentieth floor.
I rang the Sharpes' doorbell. "May we come in?"
A round screen complete with a camera lens appeared in the door. It took a second to check that we weren't blocked from requesting access, and then the doorbell spoke. "Let me ask William and Brittany."
But a scraping bark of a voice was already talking. "Who is it?"
"Inspector Rames and Sergeant Sullivan, sir." I held up my warrant card. "Socrico Police."
"Make it quick. I don't have long."
The door swung open on a dark hallway decorated with abstract paintings in neon hues. William Sharpe emerged in an archway at the far end, wearing a charcoal suit that matched his expression. His gaze passed over us reprovingly. "In here."
I led us down the hall. William backed away as we approached and kept well clear when we entered the room. It was a study with a monster-sized desk standing as the centrepiece. Carved from a stunning mixture of steel and thick mahogany, it reminded me of Iberia's shoes: the leather and the exposed metal heel, the intertwined gentleness and brutality.
Steel wound around the wood of the table legs, glinting harshly in the bright lights. More rose up through the surface with jagged edges like knives, turning the whole table into something sinister. A tablet was propped up against one sharp sheet; a glass of brandy nestled beside another. William sat down and reached across for it carelessly, the blades a whisker away from the sleeve of his jacket.
Only an idiot could so boldly challenge his furniture to cut him.
The rest of the room, at least, looked less like a torture chamber. The other end of the study was occupied by two dark leather sofas, standing sedately on a fluffy rug. A woman was lounging across one with her bare ankles hooked over each other, but she looked up as we entered and stood to receive us. At forty-nine, Brittany Sharpe had plenty of laughter lines, but with full lips, high cheekbones, and rich, dark skin, she was still every inch the model.
She gave us a practised smile, flashing unnaturally white teeth. "Inspector, Sergeant, welcome. Please do have a seat. Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?"
"We have robots for that, Brittany," William said. One slunk into the room behind him, tall and silver.
"You know I like to host." She waved a hand, her smile falling. "Send it away."
The robot pivoted and left as smoothly as it had come, controlled by hidden electrodes on William or a brain implant. Brittany followed it.
We sat down on the sofa opposite the one she'd vacated. William refilled his glass from a decanter, which he then returned to its place enclosed by jagged scraps of metal. As he took his first sip, he eyed us over the rim of his glass with disinterest.
I waited until he'd put it down again. "We have some bad news for you, sir. Your son's fiancée has been murdered."
Nothing showed in his eyes. "Iberia?"
"Yes. One of her bridesmaids, Ruby Beaumont, was also stabbed to death this morning."
He frowned. "The wedding's off, then. Why the devil hasn't Ethan called to let us know?"
I was so flabbergasted by his attitude that I just stared at him.
"It's come to our attention that you disliked Iberia," Alex said smoothly. "Why was that?"
"It's very simple. She's working class." William smiled faintly and lifted the glass back to his lips. "Call me old-fashioned, but I would prefer Ethan to marry one of his own."
"You're not sorry about her death," I observed.
"Why would I be? I've admitted that I never liked her."
"Your son will be grieving."
"More fool him."
"You threatened to disown him for marrying Iberia."
"As he hasn't married her, that won't be necessary."
"Mr Sharpe, I don't think you understand how serious this crime is," I said coldly. "We are discussing the murders of two young women. Would telling you that Iberia was brutally beaten to death with her own shoe help you to find some respect?"
Not a muscle in his body tensed, but his eyes darkened. "You need to find your own respect. I have every right to throw you out on your ear."
"If you do, I'll just continue this at the station. You're a person of interest in this investigation, whether you're interested or not. Where were you between nine and ten this morning?"
"Right here. Brittany will tell you. Brittany!"
She entered with a tray bearing coffee, which she started to put down on the little table in front of us.
"Iberia's dead, Brittany," William said. "Tell them where I was between nine and ten this morning."
The tray slid from her hands and crashed to the floor. Mugs shattered, ceramic flying across the rug in millions of tiny pieces. She looked up at me, the colour draining from her cheeks. "Iberia's...?"
William sighed and averted his eyes. "Oh, for goodness' sake. Don't be so dramatic. Tell them where I was."
Brittany swayed. Alex rose and took her by the shoulders. "Sit down, Mrs Sharpe."
He pushed her onto the opposite sofa, and she buried her head in her hands. "Oh, God. She's really dead?"
"Yes," I said. "I'm sorry. She was murdered this morning. So was one of her bridesmaids, Ruby Beaumont."
"Two murders?" Brittany looked up. "Are my children okay?"
"Yes, but they're very upset. As you can imagine." I turned back to her husband. "Mr Sharpe, what did you think of Ruby Beaumont?"
William shrugged. "She was one of their friends. I've seen her a few times, but we've never spoken."
"We hardly interacted with the bridesmaids." Brittany slowly sat up. "Or...Iberia. She and Ethan organised most of the wedding themselves. We just footed some bills."
"How did Ethan and Iberia meet?" Alex asked.
William shrugged and looked away, picking up his glass again.
"At school," Brittany said. "They went to the same secondary school and dated there, then carried on at college. When they went to university, they broke up, but they found their way back together again afterwards."
"So they were childhood sweethearts," I said.
"Yes." Her voice cracked. "They were deeply in love."
"Iberia was a gold-digger!" William crowed.
"No, she was not!" Brittany turned on him, her face twisting. "Don't you think our boy would've had the sense to see that if she was?"
"Ethan lacks sense. And we both know Danielle is no better." He shook his head and muttered, "They obviously take after their mother."
I exchanged a very awkward look with Alex and cleared my throat. "Do you know how Iberia met Ruby Beaumont?"
"Through her younger sister, Jade," Brittany said. "She was in the same year as Iberia at school, and they became friends."
"Right. I don't suppose you can think of any enemies Iberia or Ruby might have had?"
She glanced at William coldly. "Aside from my husband, none at all. But he's right. He was here with me."
***
"Even Brittany doesn't seem certain of her husband's innocence." I fastened my leather jacket as we left the glass skyscraper. The winter wind was a shock to my system, and rain was spitting from the weather simulator.
"She has alibied him, though," Alex said. "The only people without alibis are Jade Beaumont and Levi Ford."
"Whatever. I still think William could kill without blinking." I quickened my pace as I began to fall behind my sergeant. "Anyway, we have no motives for Jade or Levi. On the other hand, we do have a motive for William: to stop Iberia from marrying Ethan."
"What about Ruby?"
"We'll find that out. The first thing I want you to do when we get back is access the guest list and trawl through it. I want to know who everyone was and why they'd been invited. In particular, I want to know what connections they have with Iberia Mills and Ruby Beaumont."
"Iberia will have a connection with almost everyone -- it was her wedding."
We reached the tram stop, and I flashed him a smile. "You'd better get your skates on, then, or it'll take you all day."
A silver tram turned onto the road, and we took it to the high street. The centre of the city was less glass and more dense brownstone buildings, rising into the concrete sky like shadows. Only the neon signs differentiated them from each other, and one of the biggest signs on the street had just appeared overnight. It was for EarthC, a virtual reality experience that had spent the autumn sweeping across Britain, promising lifelike trips to locations on Earth as they had been during the twenty-first century.
Down here in the real world, it was still raining, and the street reeked of burning rubber, damp, and coffee as we got off the tram. Pushing through crowds of commuters in light-up raincoats, we turned onto the road that housed the police station. Dwarfed by skyscrapers, the boxy building was guarded by black PRBs with rifles slung across their chests.
Two facial recognition scanners as thin as glass were mounted to the steel door. They analysed us and flashed green, and the door rose upwards. When it was halfway up, I ducked under. Alex was too tall to follow me, so I crossed the entrance hall alone. By the time he'd caught up, I'd already been scanned again and unlocked the second door in the middle of the touchglass partition.
We passed into the main part of the station and headed for our shared office, a small cube within the maze. My tabphone started ringing as we stepped inside.
I pulled it out of my pocket and actually paused to check who was calling this time. But after the disaster with the peonies, even seeing that it was the seamstress in charge of my wedding dress didn't stop me from answering.
Cyra Winter appeared on my screen, an elderly woman with candyfloss pink hair. "Good morning, Amber. Just a quick reminder that you're due to pick your dress up today at five."
Cyra owned Winter Brides, a wedding dress shop that she ran with the help of one robot and no one else. It was the only place where Nina had approved of any of the dresses I'd tried on.
I released my tabphone so that it was hovering in the air at eye level. "Thanks. I'd completely forgotten."
"I want you to try it on one more time," Cyra said, "so make sure you bring the right shoes with you."
I promised that I would and ended the call, glancing at my sergeant. He was sitting behind his desk, immersed in his own tabphone. I wasn't entirely convinced that he'd heard any of the conversation.
I tested the waters. "I'll have to leave early to get there on time."
"Okay," he mumbled.
I sighed. Long ago in June, deciding not to have a wedding planner had seemed like a good way to save money. But I'd soon realised that Alex wasn't going to be quite as helpful as I'd hoped, and as the months had gone on, I'd found myself organising more and more on my own. Men and wedding planning...it didn't seem to mix.
Still damp from the rain, I turned on my heel and walked back across our office. "I'll get us coffee to warm up. And some lunch." Including chocolate.
"Thanks, Amber." His voice was clearer this time.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw that he'd finally looked up, the promise of caffeine lighting a spark in his eyes. That was the way to catch his attention.
I pulled open the door. "Did you hear me when I --"
His gaze rose just above my shoulder. "Watch out."
I turned around and realised that I'd been about to walk smack-bang into Detective Chief Superintendent Ky Dixon.
"Morning. May I come in?" He raised his eyebrows.
I was still standing in the doorway. "Oh. Yes, sir."
He followed me back into the office and across to Alex's desk. "Tell me about these murders. Ruby Beaumont and Iberia Mills -- are they linked?"
"Yes, sir," I said, perching on the edge of my sergeant's workspace. My wet jeans squashed themselves against my thighs, slowly freezing me. "Ruby Beaumont was going to be a bridesmaid for Iberia. The wedding ceremony was supposed to take place today."
"Who was she marrying?"
"Ethan Sharpe. We've spoken to him already, as well as the best man and the rest of the bridesmaids. We know that Ethan's father, William Sharpe, hated Iberia enough to threaten to disown Ethan for marrying her."
"And Ruby?"
"He doesn't appear to have any connection to her apart from by association with the wedding." I glanced at Alex, who was keeping half an eye on his tabphone and half an eye on Dixon. "But we'll keep digging."
"Good. What about Ethan? I've been told there was no sign of a break-in at Iberia's flat. She let her killer in."
"We don't have anything against him yet, sir. Friends of the two say that they were the perfect couple. But we'll look through their conversations on Iberia's tabphone."
"I'll get someone to bring both tabphones in for you." Dixon backed away. "Dig deep. You know it's usually the partners."
"Yes, sir."
Dixon left, and I escaped to the staff cafeteria once the coast was clear. The coffee tasted awful, but I was desperate enough for caffeine to drink it. I filled two paper cups, then bought two sandwiches and a chocolate bar before carrying it all back down to our office.
When I entered, two tabphones had been put on my desk. I set my goods beside them, then took what remained to Alex. "Have you got the guest list?"
He kept his gaze on his tabphone. "Yes, Ethan sent it to me. Ruby has no connection to any of the guests aside from the bridal party. I'm working on Iberia now."
While he did that, I put the victim's tabphones to one side and video-called Ruby's parents. Our progress with Iberia may have been slow, but we were making none at all with Jade Beaumont's sister. Perhaps her other family members would be able to provide a useful insight.
But when they told me they only saw her twice a year, it quickly became clear that they couldn't.
***
"I hate journalists," I said a while later as I finally reached the end of another Xplora conversation between Iberia and a source. "Two years' worth of messages. Nothing but nosiness."
Alex smiled faintly. "I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I can look through Ruby's tabphone now if you'd like."
"Yes, please." I reached for my coffee cup and groaned when I realised it was empty. "This is going to take forever. Do you think we could make copies of the conversations and send them to multiple devices so that someone else can help us?"
"It would take too long to do that securely."
"Even for you?"
"Yes." He crossed to my desk and picked up Ruby's tabphone. "You haven't heard my bad news yet."
"I was avoiding the subject." I sighed and sat back, closing my eyes. "Go on."
"Iberia wasn't just an orphan -- it seems that she was estranged from her whole family. Only Ethan's relatives were invited."
"Damn. Dead ends everywhere. The sooner you get looking through that tabphone, the better."
Alex took Ruby's tabphone to his desk, and I carried on scrolling through the messages on Iberia's. She'd arranged her Xplora contacts alphabetically, and Ethan was next. Given that they'd known each other since they were teenagers, I thought I might have to scroll all day.
I clicked on the conversation -- and hit a surprise.
Can't believe you did her, was Ethan's last message at 7:45 p.m. the previous evening. You disgust me.
Iberia had sent numerous replies from 8:00 p.m. until 10:24 p.m.
I keep telling you why!!!
Pick up the phone
Answer my calls
Fuck you
"Alex, look at this. They had a big bust-up last night."
"About Ruby?"
"Ruby?" I stared at him. "What do you mean?"
"She was exchanging suggestive messages with Ethan." He looked back down at Ruby's tabphone. "Well, when I say suggestive..."
I crossed to his desk and looked over his shoulder. "Sexting."
"Times, dates, and meeting places, too." He spun his chair around to look at me. "He was cheating on Iberia. But that's not what they were arguing about?"
"No. 'Can't believe you did her,' was Ethan's last message." I scrolled up on Iberia's tabphone. "There's no mention of any names, and before that, they were fine. Whatever happened to spark this argument happened in person."
"So they were both cheating. Maybe both of them were cheating with the bridesmaids?"
"We'll have to ask them." I perched on the edge of his desk. "It gives Ethan a motive now. He was angry with Iberia."
"But why would he kill Ruby, too?"
I thought for a moment. "Maybe they were both cheating on each other with Ruby?"
Alex didn't look convinced. "Maybe. But there's another thing. The murders may be linked, but both were drastically different."
"Iberia's was private and drawn-out," I said. "Meanwhile, Ruby was stabbed in broad daylight in the middle of the street. It was quick, and it was public."
"Maybe Ruby was supposed to meet the same brutal fate as Iberia, but the murderer saw her leaving the flat."
"No," I said immediately. "Maybe she was supposed to be murdered at home, but carrying that engraved cake knife -- another weapon linked to the wedding -- is too much of a coincidence."
"And you hate coincidences."
"I hate things that look like coincidences. When the murderer decided to take that knife with them, the method of death had already been decided. There was only going to be one shoe beating."
"So maybe we're dealing with two murderers. Ethan kills Iberia, and someone else kills Ruby."
"On the same day, at almost the same time?" I dragged a hand through my hair, letting my nails rake across my scalp. "No. That would be an even bigger coincidence."
Dixon opened the door to our office. "Any luck?"
"Not exactly, sir." I smoothed my hair down and stood up. "The messages have raised more questions than answers."
"Here's another question for you. Who's Lavender Jones?"
I looked at Alex. He raised an eyebrow. I shook my head in reply.
"Well, you're about to find out," Dixon said. "She's just arrived, and she's asking to speak to you, Amber. I've put her in Interview Room 2."