A Borrowed Man Page 5

  Here was Colette herself, smiling, beautiful, and athletic, in a bra that would have let her fence or play softball, a university skirt, and low-heeled high-laced shoes that might have served for almost any sport. Girls actually look sexier when you cannot see the whole breast.

  Close beside her, Cob—Conrad Coldbrook, Junior—handsome, but oddly reflective of his father.

  And here all four, even Colette’s mother, her shoulder gripped by her husband’s right hand; his left was on Cob’s shoulder. For a moment I thought that none of the rest was touching another member of the family; then I saw that Colette and her brother were unobtrusively holding hands.

  “I’m glad you like the pictures,” Colette told me. “May I show you the lift tube now? It will take us to the fourth floor and Father’s lab.”

  I followed obediently.

  “Two doors, you see,” she said after opening one for us. “One on each side. If you went out that one, you’d be in the formal dining room.” She added, “Fourth floor!” and the door through which we had entered closed swiftly and silently behind us before we began to rise.

  5

  ON THE FOURTH FLOOR

  We flew up to the fourth floor in the lift tube. “This whole floor was my father’s place,” Colette told me. “If he was going to be away for any length of time, he disabled the lift tube—reprogrammed it or something. When he was gone, it wouldn’t take you higher than the third floor. Of course we could still climb the stairs, but all the doors on this floor would be locked.”

  Looking around the laboratory, I said, “This isn’t the only place up here, in that case.”

  “You must’ve seen the other doors on the landing. Cob and I were always curious about them, but—well—Father never spoke of them; and we had learned very early that it was dangerous to ask him questions.”

  I nodded to show I understood. “Three doors. There could be three suites up here, or one door might belong to a closet.”

  “I’ve always assumed there were two more suites, that’s all. Maybe there’s nothing more important than brooms and mops in them, but why would Father keep unimportant things locked up?”

  “You’re right, of course.” Just to make certain, I asked, “You’ve never been in the other suites? Not in either of them?”

  Colette shook her head.

  “Not even when you went to look at this study after your brother’s death? With both your father and your brother gone, there could be no valid reason not to.”

  “But I didn’t. I suppose that makes me guilty of something.”

  “No, not at all. I’m just a little surprised.” I smiled, hoping to take the sting out of what I was saying. “Women have a reputation for curiosity.”

  “Father didn’t want us on this floor. Not ever. I felt unwelcome here then, and I feel the same way now.” Colette got quiet, beautiful white teeth gnawing at her crimson lower lip. “I was always a good girl, Ern. Well, nearly always until I started to … You know, womanhood. Breasts and curves and all that comes with them. You men mature slowly; it rushes on us like a storm, and I wasn’t always good after it came. Can I tell you something about Cob?”

  “Your brother?” I was itching to have a long look around the laboratory and explore those unknown rooms, but I nodded.

  “This happened one time when Father was gone. He used to go away from time to time and be gone for a few days—for a week or more, sometimes. Mother may have known what he was doing on those trips, but Cob and I certainly didn’t. Anyway, we took the lift tube as far as it would go and climbed the stairs to get to this floor. All the doors on this landing were locked. Neither of us had a card for any of them. I told you about that.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “We went back down the stair, and Cob went into one of the guest rooms on that floor.” Colette paused. “That’s what we called them then, even though there were never any guests. He opened a window and stuck out his head, looking up and all around. I tried to find out what he was doing, but he wouldn’t tell me. Finally we went into another guest room, and he did the same thing. The third or fourth room was a corner room, with windows in two walls. He looked out them both, then he told me he was going to climb up. He said I didn’t have to wait for him.”

  Thinking of the gleaming walls I had seen from the flitter, I shuddered.

  “Well, I waited for him anyway, walking up and down and wondering if he’d be killed. Cob and I were very close.”

  I nodded.

  “When he finally came back he was frightened. Badly frightened, although he tried to hide it. He wouldn’t tell me what had frightened him, and eventually I decided he must have nearly fallen. I kept thinking that if he had gotten into one of the fourth-floor suites, he would have come down the stairs—that he could open the door from inside, so why not?”

  Thinking aloud I said, “Wouldn’t that depend on the lock?”

  “Yes, but there aren’t very many of that kind, and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one in this house.” Colette went back to the door by which we had come into the room. “Look at this one. If it’s locked, you have to show a card to get in; but if you’re inside, you can flip this and it will let you out, then lock behind you every time it’s shut. That’s why Cob propped it open.”

  “So if your brother could get a window open, he could have gone into the suite beyond it, had a look around, and left through the door. That would certainly have been less risky than going through the window again and climbing back down to the third floor.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Now it would appear that you no longer believe it was merely the fear of a bad—quite possibly fatal—fall that frightened your poor brother so much. That was a simple, entirely reasonable explanation. May I ask why you abandoned it?”

  “I told you he brought me up here and showed me the safe, and told me that he would engage someone to open it for us.”

  I agreed that she had.

  “Well, while I was up here I wanted to look in the other rooms. He said we couldn’t, that they were locked. And I said that since he’d found a card for this room we could probably find one for them. He said he hadn’t really found the card for this one, that it had been on Father’s body, and a woman at the mortuary had given it to him.” Colette paused. “They had given us, given Cob and me, a big envelope marked ‘Conrad Coldbrook effects.’ I asked him where that card was, and he said he’d put it away—that he’d left the safe open.” She gestured toward it. The thick metal door was wide open. “And he’d left the door of this room unlocked, too.”

  I had glanced at the empty wall safe before; now I went to it and peered into its dark interior. Above the main space were two rather small black metal drawers. Neither one had a lock. I opened them both—both were entirely empty.

  “Find anything?”

  I turned back to Colette. “No, nothing. Surely it has occurred to you that the card that opened this door might open the doors of the other suites on this floor as well. From what you say, your father welcomed no visitors up here.”

  “I suppose you’re right. All of us carried cards for the downstairs doors. I mean, the same card opened all of them, and all of us had one.”

  “The front door and the kitchen door, the one by which you and I entered the house.”

  Colette nodded.

  “Are there any other doors?”

  “Yes, the side door. That’s the shortest way in if you’ve parked in the garage.”

  Thinking out loud again, I said, “Your card opened the hangar, too.”

  “Right, and it will open the garage. I’d forgotten that. We didn’t lock it much, but when somebody did our cards would open it.”

  “If the card for this room was on your brother’s body, the people who killed him presumably have it now.”

  Colette nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. The police didn’t give me anything. They must have taken everything.”

  “You attended his funeral, didn’t you?”


  “Yes. You’re thinking of the morticians. They didn’t give me any cards, either. All right if I sit down?”

  “Of course.” I moved aside, and Colette took the chair in front of one of the screens. I said, “What about another relative? Might not the morticians have given a few of your brother’s possessions to someone else?”

  She shrugged. “I doubt it. I was paying them. It cost a lot.”

  “Who paid for your father?”

  “Cob and I.” Colette sighed. “That one cost a lot, too. Cob picked out everything, but I paid half. It was before I got my inheritance, and it took almost everything I had.”

  “Did he receive as much as you did?”

  “More, really. A lot m-more. H-He got…” She had started to cry and was rummaging in her shaping bag for a handkerchief. I gave her mine and apologized.

  “Oh, it’s all right. Talking about it just made me think of—can I tell you? I need to tell somebody and there’s nobody else.”

  “Certainly. I wish you would.”

  “We got the same amount of money, and it was a lot. A lot more than I’d expected. Not the stocks and bonds until we’re thirty, and not the real estate except that Cob got this house, too. I suppose it was because he was a son and I was just a daughter, and he was older. He was still living close by, too; but I’d moved away and so forth. I really don’t know why Father did it that way, but he did. I didn’t say anything, but Cob saw how I felt. I’m no good at hiding my feelings. I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Through tears, her lovely violet eyes stared up at mine, seeking understanding.

  I said, “Not at all.”

  “Anyway, he came to me after it was all over, the reading of the will and the transfers, and he said he didn’t think it was fair for him to get the house, too, so he was giving half to me. We’d see the lawyer again and have him arrange it. I said he was w-wonderful, which he was, and kissed him.”

  I said her brother must have been a fine man.

  “He was, only that wasn’t the end of it. We went out to dinner together, after. While we were eating he said, ‘Now that you own half the house, Colette, I’d like to buy it from you. How much do you want?’ I thought that he was teasing me at first, but he was completely serious. He was giving me half the house, but he wanted to buy it back. I—well, I said for him to make me an offer, but he wouldn’t do it. Finally I said I’d have to think about it.”

  “That was wise, I’m sure.”

  “So I paid an appraiser to look at it. He gave me a valuation of two million five hundred thousand.” Colette paused. “Don’t look so surprised.”

  I managed to tell her that I knew nothing about real estate.

  “There’s the house and the hangar and the garage with space for four ground cars in it, and the barn for horses, and the greenhouse, and so on, and almost four square kilometers of pasture. The house doesn’t have a ballroom, or even a private theater, but it’s quite large and rather nice.”

  I said I felt sure it must be worth at least as much as the appraiser had said and more.

  She nodded. “So at first I was going to ask a million two hundred and fifty thousand. Then I felt bad about that when I remembered how generous Cob had been to me. So I made it one million even. Of course he took it and sent me the million.”

  “Now you’ll have the whole house, I suppose, and your brother’s fortune as well.”

  Colette nodded again. “I suppose so. I’m the only one left. Except that really we’re all family, aren’t we? Even you. All we humans have got to be related, however distantly. Humanity can’t have evolved twice, or at least I wouldn’t think so. I’ll give some of Cob’s money to charity. Quite a lot, I believe.”

  I said it was good of her and went over to a file cabinet. “These are yours, too. Do you mind if I look?”

  “Not at all. Please let me know if you find anything interesting.”

  As I pulled out the uppermost drawer of the nearest file cabinet, I said, “I’m surprised that your father still had these, and all these papers to put in them. Isn’t everything on screens now?”

  Colette shrugged. “There are still things we’ve got to have paper for, stock certificates, for example. Deeds and affidavits and everything else that requires an actual signature.”

  I was still thinking about the stock certificates. “Couldn’t the company record your ownership?”

  “It does, of course, because they have to know where to send your dividends. But suppose their screens were hacked?”

  “There’s still hacking?” I was surprised; no doubt my face showed it.

  “Yes, quite a lot of it. I’m told—don’t ask me to do this, I don’t know how—that you can program your own screen to hack someone else’s and alert you when it’s gotten through.”

  I pulled out a file. “Perhaps that’s why your father had these.”

  “What are they?”

  “Articles from the Hanover Journal of Astrophysics. They look as though he printed them out. They aren’t whole issues, simply individual articles he must have found of particular interest.”

  Colette said, “He wasn’t a scientist by training—or at least I don’t believe he was. But he was interested in just about every science you could name. Physics was only one of them. Chemistry, too, and geology.”

  A moment later I said, “Thus far I’ve found six pieces by a K. Justin Roglich. Can you look in that screen’s address book for his name?” I spelled it.

  I was reading one of Roglich’s articles when Colette said, “Here he is, Ern. He’s a Ph.D. and so forth. A full professor, too. He’s on the faculty at Birgenheier, over in Owenbright. Are we going to voice him?”

  “No, you are.” I had found a paragraph in one of his articles that had been highlighted. “Tell him who you are, and explain that your father’s dead. Say that you believe—no, let me rephrase that. Tell him that you know your father consulted him, and that you’d like to consult him yourself. Say you’ll be happy to pay him for his time and trouble.”

  “All right, if you say so. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  I took a deep breath. “So do I.”

  “You have a nice smile. Want to explain?”

  “Not now. Voice Dr. Roglich, please, if you can get him. Leave a message if you can’t.”

  She did, and looked to me for further instructions when she had done it.

  “One more thing. No, several more. First, I want you to turn up a list of print-on-demand sites. Pick one, and place an order for a copy of Murder on Mars. Will you do that, please?”

  “By E. A. Smithe.”

  “Correct. Tell them to send it here or to your place in Spice Grove. It doesn’t matter.”

  Colette did as I had asked, watched by me. I was nervous and trying not to show it.

  There was a pause that seemed terribly long. Then a reply: No such title.

  She looked to me for further instructions. “They can’t find it.”

  I said, “Try another site, please,” and turned back to the filing cabinet and its many crowded drawers. I was not looking for anything in particular, just doing something to keep myself from staring at Colette and making her nervous. There were handwritten receipts for uncut gems, so I read a few of them.

  She said, “Same thing, Ern. Apparently they haven’t got the text.”

  “That’s not exactly the same. The first one said it didn’t exist, which we know is wrong. Try the National Library in Niagara. See if they have a copy.”

  That took a good twenty minutes. “They say they don’t.”

  I thanked her.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “So I won’t cry. I thought your father’s locking up your copy of my book meant there was something in it that was exclusive to that particular copy. Now we’ve found out that it may be in all the copies—assuming that there are others. It’s simply a rare book, in other words.”

  Slowly, Colette nodded.

  “Someone strangled your brother as he re
turned to this house. Is that correct?”

  Colette nodded. “I told you about that. I … well, I’ll never get over it. I’ll never stop missing him.”

  “Have you any reason to suspect that your father was murdered, too?”

  “No, none. If—there was a medical examination. I’m told one’s required whenever the dead person is under the age of one hundred. My father was only a little over half that.”

  “I see. What was the verdict?”

  “A blood vessel in his brain had burst. Isn’t that what they call a stroke? I don’t know the medical term.”

  “Not exactly. Let’s avoid the grim details. The point is, I think, that the people who visited us last night—the people who may be listening to this now—did not know that the secret of the book existed until after your father had died. Your father was afraid someone might find out, clearly; otherwise he would not have put it in his safe. Presumably no one did. Let’s see … your father died, and you attended his funeral and the burial. How long after that did your brother die? It doesn’t have to be exact. A quarter? A year?”

  “Not that long. The reading of the will was a week—no, six days—after the funeral. Cob was murdered about two weeks after that.”

  “Plenty of time.”

  “For what?” Colette’s eyebrows were up.

  “For him to find something in this house. Something he didn’t tell you about because he felt sure you wouldn’t believe him. That could be it.” I was as puzzled as she looked. “Or because you might want to do something he felt would be dangerous. Or even because he was afraid you’d tell someone who couldn’t be trusted.”

  “I see. Only…”

  “Only you can’t imagine what it was he found. I think perhaps I can, a little. But we need to find out a great deal more. Plenty of time, too, for your brother to tell the person who betrayed him. It could’ve been idle gossip. Did he drink?”

  Colette shook her head. Hard.