Inside Man | ONC2023

7. At the Patrol Station

(Author's Note: this chapter is dedicated to Kaiddance and her compelling cursed Viking romance for the ONC2023, Hockey Pucks and Pixie Dust! )

Rik trod up the steps of the Syden Patrol station, still puzzling over the bag of money.

He simply couldn't figure out where it had come from. Their family business, Maddon Enterprises, used credit transfers only, so it was highly unlikely to be related to a business transaction. As for himself, when was the last time he had personally handled actual cash?

As children, he and Georg had received notes as pocket money, part of his father's strategy to teach them that credit didn't grow out of thin air, but that was a long time ago. These days they used credits like everyone else.

And why had Lieutenant Kohl thought the bag belonged to him, Rik?

Well, no doubt he would find out soon enough. The door slid open and Rik entered, looking around with interest. This was the first time he'd been inside a Patrol station.

He'd attended the local police station often enough. On Belus, police handled such things as licenses, permits and petty crime. Anything more serious however, particularly crimes extending off world, were generally passed to the Patrol.

Which was interesting. Why was this bag of money a Patrol issue?

This interior, however, was disappointingly similar to the last police station Rik had attended. Eight low-walled cubicles lined the walls, occupied by desks with console units. Most were empty, but a few had officers seated inside, busily working. A plasglas barrier at the far end, barred the way to the back of the station and closed doors.

A tall middle-aged man with short grey hair and a Lieutenant's uniform came toward him with an outstretched hand. "Rik Maddon? I'm Kohl. Thank you for coming so promptly."

Rik shook the hand with an unexpected feeling of relief. He hadn't realized he was so tense. Surely the handshake meant he wasn't suspected of being involved in anything serious?

Kohl led the way to one of the cubicles and gestured Rik to take a seat. The Lieutenant seated himself on the other side of the desk and looked at Rik.

"I know you told me earlier that you didn't know anything about the cash, but have you been able to find out anything more since?"

Rik shook his head. "It's a mystery. We don't use cash in the business, and I don't use it personally. Well, maybe the odd note to tip a street musician, but nothing like the quantities you described to me. Can I ask, what made you think it belonged to me?"

"Apart from traces of your DNA inside, it's got your initials on it," said Kohl, reaching under his desk and lifting out the canvas duffel bag. He placed it in front of Rik. Both men stared at the R.M. branded clearly on one side.

"Do you recognise it?"

Rik's brows twisted together in astonishment. "Yes. Yes, I do. It looks like an old bag I had for camping trips. I haven't used it in ages. Where did you find it?"

"Now, that's the interesting thing," Kohl said. He looked up and paused as three men entered the station. Rik turned his head to see what had caught his attention. Two men were dressed in Patrollers' uniforms but the man in the middle was in ordinary clothes. His face was pale, contrasting with his dark hair and grey eyes. His body was lean and muscled, without an ounce of fat. Rik thought he looked hot, from a purely aesthetic point of view of course, even as he wondered what he'd done.

"Do you know that man?" Kohl asked.

Rik studied him for a moment longer, then turned back to the Lieutenant. "No, I don't think so. Who is he?"

"Paul Finn."

The name meant nothing to Rik.

"What about this one?" Kohl brought up a picture on his console unit.

Rik froze. For a split second, he hoped the man was asleep, before he conceded he was looking at a dead man. Apart from the closed eyes, there was a lack of expression, a pallor to the skin which was different from sleep. The man had been pretty enough in life, but in death he was nothing special, not after the cheeky personality behind the eyes had vanished.

Rik swallowed, and tore his gaze away from the picture. He stared at Kohl. "Oh sweet gods, Mikel's dead, isn't he? What happened?"

"You know this man?"

"Yes, it's Mikel Byron."

"Mikel Byron? We have him on record as Michael Braun, but yes, I'm afraid he's deceased. May I ask how you knew him?"

"He is—was—a friend. I've known him for a couple of months."

"A 'friend'?"

"Well, to be honest, a bit more than friends. In fact, I was supposed to meet him at his apartment last night, but... he never called. He was supposed to call me to confirm, in case he had a late shift, but... Tell me! How did he die? What happened?"

"Apparently, he died from a drug overdose. We're still waiting for the official autopsy report for confirmation, but that's what it seems like at present. Was he a regular drug user, do you know?"

Rik bit his lip. "Not that I'm aware of. I never saw him take anything, except alcohol. He worked at the Black Hole. It's a bar in town and we'd meet there sometimes for a few drinks, when he was working. But drugs?" He shrugged. "Not that I saw."

Kohl studied him. The young man seemed honest and genuine enough but you couldn't always tell. "You say you were supposed to meet him last night?"

"That's right. At his apartment... but I didn't go. He never called."

"His apartment? Where was that? Do you have the address?"

"Yes, I have it here." Rik checked his wristcom. "Apartment 312B, 68 South Terrace."

"You'd been there before?"

Rik shook his head. "No, last night would have been my first time."

"And he told you it was his apartment?"

"That's what he said. Why does it matter?"

"Because that's the address where he was found last night, but it doesn't belong to Mikel Byron or Michael Braun."

"It doesn't? Perhaps he was renting?" Rik was feeling increasingly bewildered by all these contradictions. First, Mikel wasn't Mikel. He was actually Michael, though that was understandable enough. Mikel sounded much more cool rez. And now they were telling him he'd died in someone else's apartment.

Kohl was still speaking and Rik made an effort to concentrate.

"Michael Braun wasn't the only occupant. When our Patrollers arrived on the scene, Paul Finn was also present. The owner of the apartment. And this bag of money," he tapped it lightly, "was on the floor, next to the bed."

Rik stared.

"Can I ask, just for our records, where you were last night?"