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Alex's expression didn't change. "The fantasy is over, Acacia. Tony played the wrong game in the wrong place, and he's going to
have to pay for it." Damn, you just can't say anything without being Mr. Griffin, can you? Then the only words that mattered bobbed up in his mind like letters in a bowl of alphabet soup. "I'm just sorry we had to meet like this," he said.
She was silent, but the air was just a shade warmer, and he knew she had believed. And then, all that could be said having been said, he left.
Griffin felt his weight settle into his mattress, a two-hundred-pound deadweight of human being.
The temperature in his bedroom was seventy degrees and he didn't bother pulling the sheets up over his body.
He watched the sleep pattern dancing in the air in front of his eyes, soothing pastel freeforms that pulsed and bobbed at eighteen beats per minute.
Here, the distant gurgle of his living room aquarium and his low steady breathing were the only sounds. Here, away from the babble outside, he could listen to his body, feel the bruises and hurts, the places where he felt good, the clean spot in his mind that would fill in with work.
Here he was free to let his control go, and sleep.
And he couldn't sleep. Not at all.
His job was done. There was nothing he could do, should want to do, about Acacia. Tomorrow he would wrap up his report with Harmony, be de-briefed, and that would pretty well end his personal involvement.
Rest. For days he had thought of nothing that would make him happier. And now, with the sleep-pattern snaking in front of his eyes, the warm air circulating around his naked body, nothing seemed further away.
Murder in Dream Park. God, what a nightmare. Could it have been an accident, despite what Novotney said? Doctors weren't omniscient... Could Tony be a consummate liar, despite everything Griffin thought he had seen in him? The Griffin wasn't omniscient either... Or had he been set up?
Suppose, just suppose, Rice was the inside man? What a grim joke that would be. Rice was in a good position to commit the burglary. Suppose Rice handed the notes and neutral scent to Tony, then allowed Tony to tie him up... both following instructions... wrap him up like a Christmas present so that a
third accomplice, unsuspected by either, could shut Rice's mouth by pinching his nose shut.
Griffin shook his head. It was the kind of thought you could only have about a man you disliked. It irked him to admit that he had never warmed to Rice. But then, Rice had never given Griffin much chance to warm to him. Distant. Polite, but cold. Capable of that total indifference even toward the man to whom he owed his job.
Alex squinted in the darkness, following a disturbing train of thought. If Rice was the true thief, still, why should he be killed? If he knew too much... but why should he have been told any more than Tony? No, that wasn't it.
Because Rice was in the wrong place at the wrong time, then. What did he see? What did he know... ?
Griffy, you're definitely detective material.
Griffin listened to his breathing: thunder in his chest, the blood roaring in his ears; and knew that he had to call Millicent. He propped himself upright and said, "Switchboard."
The screen formed, a pale violet rectangle of light. A voice asked, "Yes, Mr. Griffin?"
Stifling a yawn, he said, "Summers, Millicent Summers. Priority call."
Twenty seconds later Millie rippled to life in front of him, her eyes puffy and half-crossed with bleariness. "Chief? What's up?"
Gotcha! he thought; but it didn't seem to matter. "I need your help, Hon. You did the research-"
Even as he spoke she was coming alert, her eyes focussing, mouth hardening. By God, he thought to himself, maybe I never will learn her secret.
Chapter Thirty-One
DEPARTURES
At ten past ten that Wednesday morning, Skip O'Brien looked like the surviving Garners had looked stumbling out of the Goose. Smiling, successful, but very tired. He blinked at Griffin and Harmony and, seeing no returning smiles, lost his own. "Am I late?"
Alex felt awake and alert after ten hours of sleep. "We haven't been here long. Coffee, Skip? You look like you need it." He was already holding the pot.
"Good. Black, thanks. I didn't get to bed till two this morning. Worth it, though." Skip slid his briefcase onto the desk and took the cup Griffin handed him. Griffin refilled Harmony's empty cup, then his own.
Harmony gulped, made a face. "Good. Well, I'm glad to be wrapping this mess up, finally. Skip? Your report, please?"
Griffin watched Skip remove three sheets from his briefcase and sort through them. Skip adjusted his glasses and skimmed down the chosen sheet.
"We recovered almost half of the neutral scent. Considering the level of impact felt by the Gaming party, I believe we can safely conclude that we've got it all. The formula has been recovered, and we have stress-analyzed testimony indicating no copies were made. Although we don't have tapes to study, the report filed by security chief Griffin would seem to indicate that the drug performed at a level beyond our most optimistic expectations." He smiled shallowly. "I think we've got a wi
Harmony tapped a thick finger on his desk pad. "Very good. Alex?"
"It's not quite so neat on my end, Mr. Harmony."
The bald man's face remained immobile. "Explain, please."
"I'm just not sure that we know the truth yet. There are some questions about Rice that need to be answered."
"Wasn't it murder?"
"The coroner says so. McWhirter says he left Rice alive and healthy, and the voice-stress test says he isn't lying. But McWhirter's no doctor... Incidentally, we picked up his accomplice at five this morning when he tried to recover the notes and the neutral scent." Alex gri
"Exactly what are you saying?" Skip's eyes were narrowed.
"It's pretty thin, but thieves have been known to fall out among themselves."
Harmony's finger tapped more quietly. "I'm still not sure I follow."
Griffin sighed. Here it came, and it wasn't going to be pretty. But he could be wrong; he could still hope he was wrong.
Alex said, "Rice claimed that nothing was missing from his apartment. We think he lied. A statue was missing. The statue was known to be hollow. Two days later, Rice is dead and the neutral scent turns up missing. Skip, when exactly was the last time that the contents of that cabinet had been checked?"
"I... see what... you mean." Skip thought a moment. "I'd have to check."
"All right. Now, think with me. Suppose the neutral scent was
already gone? Suppose Rice stole it, and the whole thing went down to divert suspicion?"
"Then..." Harmony's frown deepened. "You think that the statue held the vial and someone stole it back? Gave it back to us? That doesn't make sense."
"A lot of this doesn't make sense, Mr. Harmony. Maybe Rice got greedy and didn't sell the drug to his friends. Maybe McWhirter is a more calculating man than any of us realize. All I know is that something's wrong and I'm having Bobbick check Rice's place again. What we need may be there."