Zy's Novel Post 26

Novel total = 23,154 words
Post total = 887 words

Trying to get 6000 words written by December 18th. That means 858 words a day. Exceeded the goal for today, woot!


“Then why is the power shut off? I don’t like it and would prefer to treat it like a hostile location. If that’s okay with you?” He stepped back and Mealte stepped forward. “And I don’t want to hear I can’t go in from you.”

“I cannot presume to tell you what you can and cannot do, Mistress. But I would prefer to go first.” Mealte tucked his hands into his grey sleeves.

“The gun goes in first.” Zy went up the rest of the steps to the door. A trickle of sweat ran down her hairline and grazed her ear. No wonder the locals had cooling units. Ecan beat mercilessly on its second planet. She pressed the door control and it slid open. She gagged.

“What is that smell?” Xeryl stepped up a step.

Mealte inhaled deeply. “Rotting flesh.”

“Do you have to sound so positive about it?” Zy holstered her gun and pulled her breather out of the belt pouch. The smell only lingered in her memory, so she swallowed down her nausea. She stepped into the dark and stifling house. The front door opened directly into a living room of stools and tables. Sunlight filtered through the blinds and dark curtains. The end table nearest the door had a light coating of dust. But it was empty of anyone or anything that could make the smell. Ditto on the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, and the staircase was in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room.

Mealte moved as close to her as he could without touching. “The smell is stronger up there.” He pointed up the stairs.

“Zy, Zy, wait!” Xeryl tried to keep his voice from carrying as he entered the hall. He held a handkerchief over his mouth and nose. “What if someone is waiting up there?”

“Judging by your expression, he couldn’t have a sense of smell. Otherwise, how could he stand it?”

“How about a breather?”

“The filters eventually need replacing.”

“I meant for me.”

“Sorry, they’re custom-built for my nose.” Zy hoped her expression was sympathetic. She remembered how bad Cobaine’s throne room smelt. “Go back out. Mealte and I can handle this.”

He moved the handkerchief slightly, so she could see the wry smile. “And lose face to D’pa? I’ll never be able to import anything to this planet.”

“Where is D’pa?” Zy looked down the hall toward the living room.

“Waiting outside. He refuses to invade a subordinate he trusts’s home.”

“How noble.” Zy started up the stairs.

“How come you don’t have a problem in here?” Xeryl asked Mealte.

“I have choice over what odors to taste.”

“Handy talent.”

The top of the stairs opened into one large room filling the entire second floor. The bed set against the far left wall had a lumpy mass covered with a blood-stained sheet. “Damn. Xeryl, you better go get the forensic gear from D’pa.”

---

The Ecanian coroner sat on a wooden stool and clicked his beak. Zy hadn’t had a chance to speak with him since he arrived while D’pa ranted.

“For the last time,” Xeryl sounded weary, “there is no conspiracy. There is a dead body up there that must be dealt with.”

“It is not Goumbi.” D’pa stood in front of the staircase with his arms folded.

“The body hasn’t been identified yet.” Zy gripped the recording-bot. Maybe she should record this bit and keep replaying it to D’pa. “But it’s a virgin crime scene and it needs to be documented before we all go tramping through it.” She resisted the urge to kick him out of the way. “Someone has been murdered; don’t you give a damn?”

The coroner chuckled. “Stop denying the child, D’pa. I’ll do the grunt work if you can’t stand for her to do it.” He twirled his leg tentacles off the four legs of the stool and moved to the group.

“Thank you, sir, but I am a legal adult.” Zy handed the recording-bot to the coroner.

“That may be, Agent, but you’re still young. Only the young get so passionate.” Another arm tentacle picked up the case of forensic gear. D’pa stepped out of his way while keeping a glare fastened on Zy. She sat down on the stool the coroner had left.

Xeryl joined her. “Cheer up, it’s not the end of the universe to be considered young.”

“Oh I’m used to that. I was thinking about footprints.”

“Footprints? What footprints?”

“Exactly. The murderer must have been at the top of the stairs and avoided the blood splatter. Otherwise footprints would be on the stairs.” Zy rubbed her eyes. “Which probably means the weapon has some range.”

“And the killer still got to watch. Do you want to wait outside?”

“I’d rather not be target practice for decapitation by knife-weilding locals that hate outsiders.”

Xeryl found another stool and moved it closer. “Good point.” He pulled his braid over her shoulder and twisted it around his fingers. “Does this still fit your serial killer profile?”

“Depends on who that body is. If it’s Goumbi….”

“It is not Goumbi,” D’pa interjected.

Zy ignored him. “If it’s Goumbi, we may have figured out how he’s getting inside the organizations.”

“So I should go home and find my now missing or dead employee?”

“Yeah, and compare Cobain’s records with yours. The murderer may not switch identities until he must. Too bad you didn’t lock up Goumbi and Strual two nights ago/last night.” She looked at D’pa.