Robert Sawyer - Red Planet Blues

“Hi.”

She moved closer and looked around, making sure we were alone, I guess. “Are you working on another case?”

“My friend needed some maintenance, and I’m keeping him company.”

“Ah.”

Reiko had long black hair that went halfway down her back. Three streaks of orange went through it, one behind each ear, and the third exactly down the center. She had brown eyes, and eye shadow that matched the streaks, and was wearing a dark gray pantsuit over a silky blouse that was also the same shade of orange. “What brought you to Mars?” I asked, making conversation.

She smiled mischievously. “A spaceship.”

“Ha ha. Seriously, though?”

She looked at me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether she wanted to confide something. But then she simply said, “Something to do.”

I turned on the patented Lomax charm. “Well, I’m glad you came.” I gestured at the front window. “This planet is so dreary; we can use all the beauty we can get.”

She dipped her head a little, pleased. Then she looked up at me without straightening her neck back out. “I’m glad you dropped in,” she said.

“Thank you.” I dialed it up a notch. “I’m certainly glad I did, too.”

Her voice grew tentative. “I’d been thinking of coming to see you, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I’m… forgive me, but I just wasn’t sure you were the right man.”

I put a finger under her chin and lifted her lovely face. “Of course I am. Why don’t we go somewhere and talk?”

She looked around. “No, this will do. We’re alone.”

“We are indeed,” I said.

“You see, there’s a matter I need help in investigating.”

Oh. “And what might that be?”

She looked at me for several seconds, sizing me up. “Okay,” she said. “But you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Tell anyone what?”

It was amazing how many people would ask you to pledge silence then go on even when you hadn’t. I was feeling pleased about that insight when she started speaking, but by the time she’d finished, I’d found myself taking a step backward.

“It’s just this,” she said. “Denny O’Reilly was my grandfather.”

I’m sure my poker face cracked; that was quite a claim. “Really?” I said.

She nodded. “My mother was his daughter; his only child. And I’m his only grandchild.”

I’d seen photos of Denny O’Reilly. He’d been a white guy, and Miss Takahashi had exquisite Asian features. She’d obviously previously encountered surprised expressions like the one I must have been wearing. “My grandmother was from Kyoto,” she said. “And my mother married a man from Tokyo. Despite that, I was hoping I’d still have a little bit of the luck o’ the Irish in my genes. I thought I could retrace my grandfather’s steps and find the Alpha.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

“And now you work here?” I raised my eyebrows. “Forgive me, but, well, if you’re Denny O’Reilly’s granddaughter, shouldn’t you be, you know, rolling in it?”

“My grandmother was his mistress, not his wife.”

“He didn’t leave anything to your grandmother?”

“He didn’t leave anything to anyone. He died intestate. And in the jurisdiction he lived in, that meant it all went to his actual wife. She had no children—and, for that matter, neither did Simon Weingarten. I’m the only surviving heir of either of them—except the courts did me out of my due.”

“Ah. And when you failed to find riches here, you had to get a job.”

“Exactly.” She gestured at one of the floor models. “Have you ever thought about transferring, Mr. Lomax? A man in your line of work, it might come in handy.”

“You on commission, Reiko?”

She smiled. “Sorry.”

“So, what exactly were you hoping I could help you with?”

“Well, like I said, I wasn’t sure if I needed a detective, or what. But someone broke into my apartment last week.”

“What did they take?”

“Nothing. But the place was ransacked. I called the police, and they took my report over the phone, but that’s all.”

“Do you know what the thief was looking for?”

She said, “No,” but I could tell she was lying.

There was still no one else in the shop. It was my turn to decide if I wanted to confide in her. “You asked if I had a case. I’m actually investigating an old one: the fate of Willem Van Dyke.”

Her eyes opened wider.

“I see you know the name,” I said.

“Oh, yes. He came to Mars on the second expedition with my grandfather and Simon. Horrible man; tried to sell all the fossils out from under them.”

“That’s what your grandfather said?”

“Yes. Why do you care what happened to Van Dyke?”

“I have a client who doesn’t like loose ends.”

“Was that him? Your client? Going into the back?”

I nodded.

“He looked in bad shape.”

“He’ll be okay.”

“What’s his name?”

“Rory Pickover.”

“That was Mr. Pickover? Wow.”

“Yeah. His face needs a little work.”

“I’ll say. Why’s he interested in this?”

“You know he’s a scientist, right? He wants to find any fossils from the Alpha that might have gone into private collections, and he figures Van Dyke might be the key to that.”

“Ah,” said Reiko. “Well, maybe I can help, too. The diary mentions some names.”

“Whose diary?”

“My grandfather’s.”

“He kept a diary of the second expedition?”

“Yes, I believe so. And of the first, as well. I’ve never seen those, but…”

“But what? What diary are you referring to?”

“There was one of the third mission.”

“Really?” I said. “But wouldn’t that have been lost when their ship burned up on re-entry?”

“No. My grandfather beamed it home to my grandmother just before he and Simon left Mars. Of course, they were going to spend the months of the return voyage in hibernation, and only thaw out to handle re-entering Earth’s atmosphere. But he broadcast the diary just before he left Mars—in terms of his conscious time, that was less than a day before he died.”

“And you have copies of this diary?”

“Well, a copy, yes. A bound printout of it.”

I felt my eyebrows go up. “On paper?”

“Uh-huh. My grandmother never wanted it to get out; parts of the diary are very personal, and you know how things take on a life of their own once they get online. But she wanted me to know where I’d come from, and who my grandfather had been. So about a year ago, just before she died, she had a bound printout of it made, then erased the files. I have the one and only copy.”

“And it’s here on Mars?”

She didn’t answer.

“Is it?” I said.

Another hesitation, then a small nod.

“That’s what the thief was looking for,” I said. There was no point in raising my tone to make it a question; it was obviously true.

She nodded again meekly.

“Does the diary reveal the location of the Alpha?”

“No. If it did, I wouldn’t be working here. But, as I said, he mentions some collectors he’d done business with in the past.”

“Who else knows about—”

Just then, the front door slid open, and an elderly man shuffled in. “Excuse me,” Reiko said, and she went over to speak to him. From what I overheard, he was a prospector trying to decide between spending the money he’d made from his finds either on transferring or on passage back home.