Judgment at Proteus

TWENTY

An hour later, as snug and safe as we could reasonably hope to be under the circumstances, we headed out.

It was a potentially stressful situation, given the fact that we were all essentially strangers to one another. But ChoDar was a senior ambassador, and within minutes of our train passing through the station’s atmosphere barrier it was clear that his rank and title hadn’t just been someone’s idea of a last-minute New Year’s gift. He started by personally giving us a tour of his car, chattering away genially the whole time. He introduced us to his two guard-assistants, the servitor who handled most of the day-to-day servant work, and his chef. He even allowed us a tantalizing sample of the sauce the latter was working on for our dinner, a Halkan courtesy that was usually reserved for close friends. By the time he showed us to our sleeping compartments even Terese’s tension had eased noticeably.

Dinner, two hours later, more than lived up to what the samples had promised. Again, ChoDar was the perfect host, keeping the conversation going and filling in any potentially awkward gaps with highly entertaining stories of his experiences traveling around the galaxy on behalf of the Halkavisti Empire.

After dinner came drinks in the lounge and more stories. Terese seemed to be fading rapidly—not surprisingly, given the stress of her pregnancy plus the hell she’d just been through on Proteus—and I made a point of keeping an eye on her.

Sure enough, midway through my second iced tea her eyes drooped closed, and her body slumped limply in her contour chair.

“Spice-broiled pipita often has the same effect on me,” ChoDar commented cheerfully, gesturing to the sleeping girl. “Shall I have YhoTeHeu carry her to her compartment?”

“No, she should be all right here,” I assured him, going over for a closer look at her. She seemed all right.

On the other hand, we really had no idea what Aronobal and the rest of the Shonkla-raa ghouls had done to her back on Proteus. Tomorrow, I decided, I would take a few skin and blood samples from her, unpleasant though that kind of task was to me, and run them through my reader and its sophisticated sensors.

“She certainly should be comfortable enough,” ChoDar commented, fondly patting the arms of his own chair. “These chairs are every bit as restful as the sleeping-room beds.” He yawned, a Halkan facial gesture that those unfamiliar with the species invariably assumed was an angry snarl. “In fact, if you’ll forgive such unhostlike behavior, I feel a small nap of my own coming on.”

“No apology or forgiveness needed,” I assured him. “In fact, I’ve been wondering myself how these chairs sleep.”

“Do try it, by all means,” ChoDar urged sleepily. “We’re all friends here, after all. Until later.”

He closed his eyes. I waited, and within a minute his breathing settled into the long rhythmic pattern of sleep.

I took a deep breath. “Hello, Modhri,” I said quietly.

Even in sleep, ChoDar’s face betrayed the slight but distinctive sagging of Modhran control. “Hello, Compton,” he murmured back. “A greeting to you, as well, Bayta.”

“Good evening, Modhri,” Bayta said. Her voice was polite enough, but I could tell she still wasn’t happy with this whole cozy relationship.

“Before we turn to other matters,” the Modhri said, “be first assured that the Shonkla-raa did nothing of long-term hazard to your companion. My mind segment on the Ilat Dumar Covrey station included two doctors. By the time our train left they had discussed the various medicines and procedures that my Eyes on Kuzyatru Station had seen and concluded that she is in no danger.”

His mouth twitched. “No additional danger, rather,” he amended. “She still carries the same genetic disorders that she had when she first came to the Filiaelian Assembly.”

“Yes,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt. Which was ridiculous, of course. Bayta and I had saved her from deadly danger out there.

Or had we?

Because we knew now that what the Shonkla-raa wanted was her unborn son. Part of that goal would have been for the boy to grow up into a productive, influential member of Human society. And the simplest way to do that would be to make sure he had a living, healthy mother.

Did that mean that, except for our interference, they would have cured her genetic problems?

But I couldn’t afford to think about one young girl’s future. Not when the future of every person in the Twelve Empires depended on us.

“We appreciate the information,” I said to the Modhri. “If we succeed in our endeavors, we may yet be able to deal with her medical problems.”

“We may hope so,” the Modhri said. “But now to the business at hand. May I ask how you intend to proceed? Particularly now that you may no longer travel freely through the Filiaelian Assembly?”

“I can travel through it just fine,” I corrected. “I just can’t leave the Tube.”

ChoDar snorted gently. “A meaningless distinction, since the Shonkla-raa will not be in the Tube.”

“Oh, they’ll be here, all right,” I said, grimacing. “As long as we’re here, there will be Shonkla-raa haunting every station and probably every train between here and Homshil.”

“Perhaps,” the Modhri said. “That will still leave the bulk of the enemy outside your area of operation. And as you’re already aware, my own presence in the Assembly is limited to traveling non-Filiaelians.”

“True,” I said. “But I have a few allies of my own I may be able to press into hunting duty.”

ChoDar inclined his head doubtfully. “You’ll need more than a few,” he warned. “The Assembly is an incredibly huge place.”

“But Shonkla-raa throats aren’t exactly easy to hide,” I reminded him. “Speaking of which, have you spotted any aboard this train? Or are we too far back to be in contact with the rest of your mind segment?”

“No, my other Eyes are spread out sufficiently to maintain a single segment with this Eye,” the Modhri said. “I haven’t yet seen any Shonkla-raa, though there may be one or more secluded inside first-class compartments.”

“They’d do better right now to use agents like Dr. Aronobal who aren’t actual Shonkla-raa,” Bayta murmured. “We wouldn’t be able to identify them so easily.”

“Good point,” I agreed. “And with the chaos we left back on Proteus, I’m guessing that’s all they were able to get on our train in time anyway.”

“What then do we do?” the Modhri asked.

“We watch and wait,” I told him. “If their agent is clever enough to avoid identification, there’s nothing we can do.” I cocked an eyebrow. “On the other hand, if we can identify him…”

ChoDar’s head nodded slightly, as a sleeping person might. “We can make him one of my Eyes.”

Abruptly, Bayta stood up and strode out of the lounge toward the sleeping rooms.

“My apologies,” the Modhri said quietly. “That was insensitive of me.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “She’s still getting used to this.”

“And you?”

I shrugged. “I was in Intelligence work long enough to know that you sometimes have to deal with one threat at a time. Right now, the Shonkla-raa are holding down the number-one spot on that list.”

“And after they’re defeated?” the Modhri asked, a sudden edge of nervousness to his voice. “Will our war then resume?”

“Do you want it to?” I countered.

ChoDar sighed. “I am what I am, Compton. You are what you are.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Personally, I’m a big believer in the idea that people can change.”

ChoDar smiled faintly. “And that, I believe, is the great strength of your people. No matter how powerful the forces arrayed against you, you never give up.”

“It’s definitely a strength,” I agreed. “But it can also be a weakness. I’ve seen people latch so hard onto a pre-conceived notion that they don’t let go even when reality no longer supports it.”

“Let us hope that neither of us ever so blinds himself,” the Modhri said.

“Indeed,” I said. “Anyway, by the time we have all the Shonkla-raa nests identified and located, I’m hopeful that we’ll have the capability of destroying them.”

ChoDar’s breathing changed, just slightly. “You have a plan?”

“I always have a plan,” I said, allowing just a bit of smug confidence into my voice. “Nothing I’m ready to share at the moment.”

For a moment he was silent. I wondered if he was going to take offense at my going all dark and mysterious on him, especially when we were supposed to be on the same team now.

But he didn’t. Maybe he knew that pressing the issue would be a waste of time. Maybe he simply trusted me. “I’ll look forward to hearing it when the time is right,” he said instead. “Have you any plans for the present?”

“I’ll start by sending out word to my various allies from the Spider message center at the next station,” I said. “Some of them are a bit tricky to locate, so I’ll need to start the process as soon as possible. In two weeks, when we reach Venidra Carvo and transfer to the super-express, I should have pings from all of them and will know where to send their individual orders and search areas. I’ll do that, and by the time we reach Homshil we should have preliminary reports from all of them.”

The Modhri seemed to ponder that. “Then some of your allies are already here in the Assembly?” he asked. “Otherwise, they will barely have arrived in Shorshian territory by the time we reach Homshil.”

“Let me worry about the timing and locations,” I said. “For now, all you need to do is keep an eye out for Shonkla-raa agents.”

“I will,” he promised. “When we reach the next station and you leave the car to deliver your messages, will you wish me to provide escort for you?”

“I’ll let you know when we get there,” I said. “Fillies in general aren’t all that good at distinguishing one Human face from another, and I may be able to just slip through whatever search party they’re able to throw together.”

“As you wish,” the Modhri said. “I’ll await your instructions.”

“Good.” I stood up. “And now, I think I’ll turn in. It’s been a long and rich day.”

Again, a faint smile creased ChoDar’s face. “That it has,” he agreed. “Shall we let the other two sleep here?”

The other two: Terese, and ChoDar, the body he was currently inhabiting. Even now, hearing the Modhri talk about his current host in the third person could still creep me out. “Fine with me,” I said, forcing my voice to stay casual. “As you pointed out, the chairs are quite comfortable.”

“Indeed,” the Modhri said. “Sleep well, Compton.”

ChoDar took a deep breath, and the sagging of his face disappeared as the Modhri retreated again into the recesses of the Halka’s brain. “You too,” I murmured.

My compartment door was open when I arrived. Bayta was sitting on the couch, gazing moodily out the display window at the featureless Tube landscape rolling past. “You heard?” I asked as I sat down beside her.

“Most of it,” she said. “Who exactly are these allies you were talking about?”

“The Modhri himself, for starters,” I said. “Korak Fayr and his Belldic commando squad. Also Bruce McMicking, who’s always up for a good fight. One or two others. The Spiders. You.”

“Most of whom are nowhere near Filiaelian space right now.”

“Well, there’s Logra Emikai,” I reminded her. “He’s certainly become an ally. But aside from him, you’re probably right. Though you really never know where Fayr might pop up.”

She took a deep breath, let it out in a long, silent sigh. “You don’t really have a plan, do you?”

“Sure I do,” I said. “We draw the Shonkla-raa out of hiding, kill them, then destroy any records they may have left about their procedures.”

“Those are goals,” she pointed out. “Not plans.”

I shrugged. “I’ll admit there are still a few details to be worked out. Don’t worry, we’ve got time.”

“You really think you can trust the Modhri?”

“For the moment, yes,” I said firmly. I might not have a real plan yet, but that one, at least, I had no doubts about. “He helped us on the super-express and at Proteus, and enlightened self-interest should keep him firmly on our side.” At least, I didn’t add, until we got back to Yandro for my requested face-to-face with the segment-prime.

At that point, things might change. Drastically.

“And once we’ve destroyed the Shonkla-raa?” she asked. “What then?”

“I have a couple of ideas,” I said evasively. “I think we can make it work.”

“Make what work? A truce? An armistice? Peace?”

“We’ll make it work,” I said again.

“All right,” she said, her tone suggesting more dutiful acceptance than genuine agreement. “The next stop is six hours away. Do you want me to help you encode the messages you said you wanted to send?”

“No, I can do it,” I said. “They’re mostly just the preliminary heads-up notes to get Fayr and McMicking ready to move. The more detailed stuff can wait until Venidra Carvo.”

“When you will have a plan?”

I reached down and took her hand. “It’s going to work, Bayta,” I said quietly. “Trust me.”

She gave me a forced smile. “I always have, Frank,” she said, just as quietly.

“Then that’s settled,” I said, trying for a touch of levity that didn’t quite come off. “And now, it’s time we both hit the sack. Come on, I’ll walk you back to your room.”

She smiled, a real one this time. “What, the whole ten meters?”

“A gentleman never considers the distance,” I said, standing up and offering her my arm like all the best gentlemen heroes from the dit-rec classics.

A minute later we said our final good-nights, and her door closed in front of me. I waited until I heard the snick of the lock, then went back to my own compartment.

I had a plan, all right, or at least the beginnings of one. One that had a fair chance of success.

The problem was that I was also pretty sure no one on my list of allies was going to like it. Bayta, probably not. The Chahwyn, almost certainly not.

The Modhri, absolutely not.

But the clock was ticking, and we were running low on time. Even as we headed toward Human space at a light-year per minute, whatever was left of the Proteus group would be madly throwing message cylinders in all directions, messages that would travel a thousand times faster than we could. By the time we reached Venidra Carvo two weeks from now, they could very well be ready to make some kind of move against us. By the time we reached Homshil six weeks after that, their entire army could be on the move.

I had until then to finalize my plan. Or to come up with something better.

* * *

The first hurdle, at least, turned out to be easy. Six hours later, at the next station, I left the Peerage car along with a trickle of other passengers. Weaving my way through the waiting clumps of Fillies, Shorshians, and others to the Spiders’ message center, I added my handful of messages to the queue.

Neither Bayta nor the Modhri liked the idea of me going out all by myself. But I wasn’t worried about it. If there were any Shonkla-raa agents aboard our train, I knew there would have been no time at Ilat Dumar Covrey to give them any instructions more complicated or aggressive than to lie low and watch our movements.

And, of course, to report those movements. On my way out of the message center I spotted four Fillies heading toward it. One of them, I had no doubt, would be sending a quick report to Proteus and beyond. But as I expected, none of them tried to interfere with me.

Half an hour later, we were off again.

The next hurdle, unfortunately, wouldn’t be nearly so easy. As soon as the Shonkla-raa leadership learned that I wasn’t just running for home but was sending off messages along the way, they might well decide that their first priority should be to get those messages stopped.

If they found a way to steal or destroy the messages, we were going to lose valuable time. If they decided they’d rather destroy the messenger, we might lose something considerably more valuable. Me.

The days passed slowly. Most of our waking hours were idled away with conversation, meals, music, and dit-rec entertainment.

And slowly, as I gazed unseeingly at the current dit-rec or stared up at the darkened ceiling above my bed in the middle of the night, I hammered out my battle plan.

It was my one, single focus in life. Every other part of our day-to-day schedule—eating, socializing, exercising, even the occasional evening card marathon—ran almost completely on mental autopilot.

Which was probably why I didn’t notice the change that had come over Terese. Not until it was almost too late.

* * *

With a final creaking of brakes, the train pulled into Venidra Carvo Station.

“According to the schedule, we have another six hours before the super-express departs for Homshil,” ChoDar said as we watched out the lounge display windows at the drudge Spiders detaching our car from the rest of the train. “If you would like to take some exercise around the station during that time, please feel free.” He smiled. “I’m accustomed to the close quarters of this car, but others sometimes find it a bit stifling.”

“Yes, I think we will take a short stroll,” I said, taking Bayta’s arm and starting us toward the door. “I should at least go to the message center and see if there’s anything waiting for me.”

“As should all who are about to embark upon the great silence of that long journey,” ChoDar agreed. “If you’re willing to wait until YhoTeHeu has prepared the diplomatic bag, perhaps the three of you can travel together.” He smiled. “Here in the midst of Shorshian territory, it would be wise for non-Shorshians such as ourselves to stick together.”

I smiled at the small joke, a mostly untranslatable play on the Halkan term for stick. It was a traditional favorite of Halkas who were relatively new to the oddities of English. “A wise precaution, lest we get stuck,” I agreed, making the traditional counterjoke in return. “We would be honored by YhoTeHeu’s companionship.”

Ten minutes later, YhoTeHeu, Bayta, and I left the car and trooped across the platform toward the stationmaster complex and the Spider message center.

The Shorshic Congregate was the second biggest of the Twelve Empires, a huge place that was nearly the size of the Filiaelian Assembly, and Shorshian pride was right up there with that of their Filly neighbors. The Venidra Carvo station might not be as ostentatious as Proteus, but that didn’t mean the Shorshians hadn’t done a thorough job of tricking it out. Shops, restaurants, and hotels lined the platforms, tucked in between stands of vibrant flower hedges and the Quadrail tracks that lined the entire circumference of the two-kilometer-diameter station. Some of the buildings were fifteen stories tall, with elaborate facades and typical Shorshic heptagonal windows. The biggest buildings, especially the official ones, were decorated with Shorshic artistic flourishes: pointy anglecrons, undulating wave-shaped sweeplets, and others whose names I didn’t know. The overall effect was that of being in a field of underwater thornbushes.

But I didn’t have any attention to spare for cultural evaluation. The majority of the travelers milling about the station were Shorshians, but probably a quarter of them were Fillies, earnest, haughty, and well-dressed.

And every one of them who crossed our path got my complete and undivided attention for as long as it took to get a good look at his or her throat.

The good news was that none of the Fillies I saw had Shonkla-raa throats. The bad news was that way too many of them gave our little party the same kind of brief but intense scrutiny that I was giving them.

Most of that attention was innocent, of course. The vast majority of Fillies, even well-traveled ones, never made it to our end of the galaxy. Humans and Halkas were rarities, and it was only natural for them to stare.

Unfortunately, I was pretty sure not all of those eyes were friendly. Even more unfortunately, I had no idea yet which ones were which.

But we had no choice. I couldn’t risk giving my collection of messages to any of the Spiders roaming the station, not with Shonkla-raa possibly on the loose. Comms didn’t work inside the Tube, and the messages were too long and complex for me to have Bayta transmit them telepathically from one Spider to the next all the way to the message center.

On the other hand we weren’t nearly as helpless as we looked. My Beretta was still in its under-train lockbox, of course, but the kwi wrapped around the hand I had casually buried in my jacket pocket was already tingling with its activation signal. A Shonkla-raa who tried to freeze Bayta with his control tone would hopefully be too late to keep me from zapping him right off his feet.

And should anyone try the more direct approach, we had YhoTeHeu striding along beside us. Not only was he a combat-trained veteran of the Halkan military’s special forces, but he was also not carrying a Modhran colony. Here in the weaponless Tube, YhoTeHeu’s brawn and my kwi should make short work of anything the Shonkla-raa tried to throw at us.

Still, the last thing I wanted was to make a scene here, even if someone else started it. The Spiders might officially control the Tube and the station, but there were also plenty of Shorshic authorities on hand, none of whom would be happy at my use of an unknown weapon knocking their people and guests around. With our super-express leaving in a few hours, this was pretty much the Shonkla-raa’s last chance to keep Bayta and me here on their side of the galaxy.

But either they weren’t worried about our departure or else they didn’t want that scene any more than I did. We reached the message center with nothing more serious than a slightly bruised shin where I’d misjudged the path of a hard-edged footlocker rolling past me. Three minutes of waiting in line got us to the counter, where I delivered my encoded data chip to the stationmaster Spider on duty. Six lines over, I watched out of the corner of my eye as YhoTeHeu received the chip containing ChoDar’s messages and secured it inside his boss’s tamper-proof diplomatic bag. We retraced our steps past the Shorshians and Fillies still waiting in line, rendezvoused with YhoTeHeu outside the building, and with Bayta walking between us we started back toward the Peerage car.

We’d gone maybe fifty meters when I spotted two Fillies ahead and to our right, walking in military lockstep, their heads held high, their eyes alert.

And they were heading straight toward us.

Bayta spotted them the same time I did. “Frank?” she murmured.

“I see them,” I murmured back, taking her arm and angling us slightly to the left.

I hadn’t bothered to inform YhoTeHeu of my course change, and for a couple of steps he kept going in the wrong direction. But we’d only made it another couple before he was back beside us again. [Is there trouble?] he rumbled in Halkora.

“Two Filiaelians right-forward,” I told him, scanning the area for more of them. The Shonkla-raa must surely have been able to dig up more than a measly pair of agents to make trouble for us.

They had. Thirty degrees around front from the original twosome were another pair, and a quick glance behind me showed two more coming up slowly but steadily from behind. Another quick sweep showed a second layer, again in pairs, about five meters behind the inner three groups and offset from them. Twelve very obvious potential foes, who now had us neatly boxed in.

Except for the conveniently open area to our left.

[Do they pose a threat?] YhoTeHeu asked in an ominous tone, shifting the diplomatic bag from his right to his left hand.

“They might,” I told him, picking up our pace as I gave another careful look to our left. Not a single junior military cadet visible anywhere over there. Either the Shonkla-raa employed the most incompetent henchmen in the galaxy, or they were simply hoping we would think that.

YhoTeHeu was on the same page I was. [They’re trying to herd us to the left,] he said, his voice dropping half an octave into the low-pitched command/combat voice I’d sometimes heard from Shorshic military attachés during my Westali days.

“That they are,” I agreed, studying the area in that direction. There was a block of buildings over there, including a five-story hotel, two café-type restaurants, an imported-clothing store, and a music/dit-rec shop. On both sides of the building cluster were stands of exquisitely sculpted shear-layered trees and shrubs.

In other words, whether this group preferred to stage their ambushes indoors or out, they’d picked a good spot for it.

I looked back at the Filiaelians coming in from our two o’clock position. Their stride had picked up an almost jaunty air, the cockiness of a pack of wolves who’ve spotted their prey and are mentally choosing which fork would go best with elk.

Which struck me as a little odd, because of all the Fillies in the ring, that particular pair had the least cause for cockiness. One of them was big and strong and no doubt would be a match even for the specialized Filly combat techniques Emikai had taught me on the trip in to Proteus. But the other of the pair was short and thin, not very muscular at all, and in fact rather delicate and scrawny.

A commander facing weaponless combat typically chooses his biggest and strongest soldiers for the job. A less than impressive perimeter point was practically an engraved invitation to break out, especially when the hunter knew the prey would see the leftward pressure as an obvious trap. If so, it was likely that the Shonkla-raa had placed their best fighters as Scrawny’s backup, hoping I would pick Scrawny as the breakout point and thus walk directly into their arms.

Still, they may not have expected YhoTeHeu to be with us. At any rate, we really didn’t have any choice. [There are the two, then two behind,] I warned YhoTeHeu, switching to Halkora in case the Shonkla-raa had been smart enough to send henchmen who understood English after me.

[I see them,] YhoTeHeu said. [I will take the larger of the foremost. I will attempt to push him into the smaller one, entangling them together, then move against the rearmost pair while you finish off the foremost.]

[Accepted,] I said. It wasn’t the greatest plan I’d ever heard, but we didn’t have a lot of options right now. If we could dispatch our opponents quickly enough, their reinforcements shouldn’t have time to reach us before we were clear of them.

At that point, of course, they would still outnumber us. But once we were no longer surrounded, at least they’d only be coming at us from a single direction. [On three we charge,] I said.

[Accepted,] he said. [One, two—]

And even as I started to shift my balance, a slender Tra’ho wearing elaborately embroidered clothing shot past on my left, running like an Olympic sprinter carrying a barrel of gunpowder with a drip fuse burning just a shade faster than he was running. (Stand clearing!) he shouted in mangled Shishish, the ultrasonics in his voice buzzing across my head as I jumped aside to keep from getting run over by the rolling luggage careering along behind him. Directly ahead, the ambling masses of Quadrail passengers spent a precious half-second gawking, then galvanized themselves into a mad scramble to get out of his path. (Stand clearing! I am trying to miss not my train!)

(Stand clear!) another Tra’ho voice came from my right, and a second Tra’ho whipped past YhoTeHeu, moving with the same speed and determination as the first one. He tore past, scattering his own group of passengers, leaving YhoTeHeu, Bayta, and me standing in a narrow corridor of calm between two barriers of rapidly moving Tra’ho luggage.

And with the inspiration born of utter obviousness, I grabbed Bayta’s arm and took off after them.

Our Filly opponents realized instantly what we were up to. But it was already too late for them to do a damn thing about it. One of them made a single attempt to get through the obstacle course as we passed and was nearly crippled as a footlocker even bigger than the one I’d tangled with earlier clipped his leg. At that point even the two in the rear, who’d been angling to get into our safe corridor before the two Tra’ho’seej passed, seemed to think better of it and joined the rest of the station in getting out of the way.

But all the rolling luggage in the galaxy couldn’t prevent them from glaring at us as we hurried past. Scrawny was particularly good at it, and from the look on his face as we charged past I decided that the sooner we got ourselves back inside the Peerage car, the better.

I made sure we’d left the Fillies comfortably far behind before slowing us down, letting the Tra’ho’seej and their luggage continue their hurried journey by themselves. Ahead and to the left, I caught an unexpected sight: a fellow Human emerging from a beverage shop in the middle of yet another row of buildings.

On second glance, I saw that the figure wasn’t so much emerging from the building as it was staggering from it. Clearly, whoever it was had had way too much alcohol, particularly for such a relatively short, slender Human.

A short, slender Human wearing the same color sweater and jeans as Terese had been wearing when Bayta and I left for the message center.

“Oh, hell,” I breathed, grabbing Bayta’s arm and pointing.

Just as the figure gave one final stagger and collapsed onto the ground.

“Bayta?” I snapped as we broke into another run, toward the bemused spectators starting to gather around Terese’s limp body.

“Two drudges are on the way to take her to the medical center,” she panted back. “The Spiders are alerting the doctors now.”

[Why is she out here?] YhoTeHeu demanded. [She had no errand to perform.]

“Oh, she had an errand, all right,” I snarled, swearing silently over and over to myself. “She had a murder to commit.”

His bulldog snout turned sharply to me. [A murder?]

“Yes,” I said grimly. “Her own.”