ARC: The Buried Life by Carrie Patel Page B

oddly-stained smock. “I’m afraid we don’t have it.”
    “What do you mean? The City Guard had already removed it from the domicile when we showed up.”
    Brin puffed on the lenses. “It was my understanding that they were keeping it for their own examination.”
    “And then?”
    Dr Brin shrugged. “Cremation. The courier didn’t give me details.”
    Sundar blinked. “There must be some mistake, Doctor.”
    Brin scowled as he replaced his glasses. “Young man, I may be funny-smelling, but I’m not hard of hearing. The courier said we would not receive the body.”
    Malone stepped in. “Has something like this ever happened before?”
    “No, but there’s a first time for everything, including a murder chain in the Vineyard. I’ve lived long enough to know that much.”
    “I see. Well, thank you for your help.”
    “Of course, Inspector Malone. Always a pleasure to work with you.” He gave Sundar a pointed look.
    Their first appointment thus concluded, Sundar and Malone continued to their next, where Farrah informed them that the Council had not yet signed the contract. Entering the chief’s domain, the detectives greeted Johanssen and laid out the new facts.
    “And the victim?” Johanssen asked. “What do we know about him?”
    Sundar stepped forward. “Mr Lanning Fitzhugh was Master Architect of the city, sir. He worked on planning and design in Recoletta for thirty years, and then he took charge of the Bureau of Architecture about a decade ago.”
    “What about recent projects?”
    “His specialties were sustainability and tunnel excavation. Looking through some of his certificates, it appears that he worked on a good deal of the southeastern districts in his younger days, though he seemed a little less active of late. Then again, he was sixty-two, sir,” Sundar added. He looked to Malone, who nodded and made no further comment.
    Johanssen sighed. “I’m going to venture a guess that you think these two murders are related.”
    “We do,” said Malone.
    “And the motive this time?”
    “The same, sir,” she said. “Someone is looking for information.”
    Johanssen’s hands came down heavily on the desk. “Do you have anything to support that theory? Beyond the Vineyard connection?” The tone of his voice, not quite agitated, but not far from it, told the inspectors everything they needed to know about his enthusiasm for the idea.
    “Well, there are the obvious valuables and money that the assassin passed over,” Sundar said.
    Johanssen waved an open hand over his desk. “Any sign of disturbance? Any upturned book stacks or rifled desk drawers?”
    “None, sir,” Sundar said.
    “Then while I’ll agree that this was no ordinary burglary, how do you know the killer was looking for information? If he had a key,” Johanssen said, a grimace crossing his heavy features, “he could have gotten what he wanted at any time. That these two men are dead suggests something more.”
    Malone nodded to Johanssen and pushed her open palm down next to Sundar, signaling him to wait. “That’s why we believe the killer targeted these men based on shared knowledge,” she said. “Since dead men don’t talk, they can’t tell us what it was.”
    “Shared knowledge? And how to you figure that? One was a reclusive historian and the other an aristocrat and an architect. They moved in different circles.”
    “Not entirely, sir. Lanning Fitzhugh was in Charley Hask’s office at the same time as us,” Sundar said. “At the Directorate of Preservation, where Cahill worked.” Malone inclined her head toward him, recalling their visit.
    The chief sighed. “Sundar, you’re new at this, so let me explain something. We maintain a delicate working balance with the Council and its directorates.” He held out two flat palms in demonstration. “Contracts, like everything else in the city, go through the Council because the Council’s in charge. The Council assigns them to us because we’re independent.