Rivers of Orion by Dana Kelly (best detective novels of all time txt) 📗

opened enough, he lunged into his docking spot, bobbed a moment before engaging the clamps, and he powered down his vessel. Noisily, the gate scrolled closed, and the drumming of the storm fell abruptly silent.

Made it, he thought, feeling his chest rise and fall. He closed his eyes and rubbed them. A moment passed before the boarding ramp extended, and he hurried along to the cluttered deck below.

He squeezed between boxes filled with old junk, dislodging a few things as he moved, until he faced a white-walled doorway. A strip of green light brightened above the jamb as he approached, and the door whispered quietly as it slid aside. Cautiously, he peered around the corner.

Across from him, Aurora sat alone upon their mint-colored shag couch, tapping away at her phone. She wore a red evening dress under her bathrobe and a pair of fuzzy slippers. “Psst,” Oliver whispered, but she didn’t react. “Aurora!”

Setting down her phone, she met his eyes and beamed. “Oliver,” she sang. “You’re home!” She crossed the living room and wrapped her arms around him. They kissed deeply, lovingly.

“How quickly can you pack?” he asked.

“Ten minutes, if we’re in a hurry.” She regarded him curiously. “Where are we going?”

“Vega Mar Beach?” he suggested.

Aurora slowly shook her head, stood back, and crossed her arms. “Don’t get me wrong. That’s tempting, but I can’t imagine you’d want to head back up right now, and you always take the first two days at home. It’s your ritual. What’s going on?”

“The police are after me,” he whispered.

She laughed, but soon sobered. “Really?”

“As real as Earth.”

Her arms fell to her sides, and she asked, “What did you do?”

“Nothin’ I can think of,” said Oliver. “The binary that was settin’ to boot my van said the police were comin’ to arrest me, but she took pity and cut me a break. I hightailed it out of there. I wasn’t sure if I believed her until I saw a squad of police spinners in the aft cam.”

Aurora smiled compassionately and tenderly gripped his hands. “You’re being conned.”

He did a double take. “How do you figure?”

“Let’s think it through. For one, binaries do superhuman work. They don’t boot vehicles.” She squeezed his fingers. “Your van’s been docked for three months. Anyone cruising by could see that. And what are the odds of you getting there right as it’s about to get booted?”

He raised his brows. “Not very high.”

“And what are the odds she’d let you go without actually booting it?”

“I did appeal to her good nature.”

“Ha! I bet you did.”

With a chuckle, he supposed, “So you’re tellin’ me in the next day or two, maybe someone comes knockin’ on our door with some song and dance about how the nice lady who helped me got caught?”

Aurora continued, “If only you could put up her bail money, all this can go away.”

They laughed about it awhile and embraced once more. He whispered, “What would I do without you?”

“Same thing I’d be doing without you, but with less money.”

He felt her warmth around him, against him, and he breathed her in. She wore subtly floral perfume. “You always get dressed up for me.”

“Keeps you coming back.”

He kissed her. “I love you forever, Little Lady.”

“And I love you forever, Cowboy.”

“What are we doin’ for dinner?” he asked.

“I was thinking about toad-in-the-hole and a salad,” said Aurora. “Hot apple pie for dessert.”

A smile tugged at his mustache. “That sounds so good.”

Playfully poking his chest, she added, “Great, because I need your help.”

“I’ll get the pan heated up,” he said.

“No, no, I can take care of all that. I need you to get the sausage.”

Oliver grabbed an empty canvas shopping bag from the lower half of the coatrack. “Be right back.”

She kissed him sweetly. “Don’t take too long.”

“You won’t even miss me.” He tipped his hat, tapped open the front door and stepped outside. Within the heart of the residence tower, layers upon layers of awnings and multicolored shade sails kept most of the rain at bay. Runoff coursed loudly along gutters, spilling over laden slopes of distressed metal roofing. Thunder rolled drowsily, and he adjusted his Stetson. The residence door whispered closed, and he hurried along the rusted metal walk.

He reached the corner within minutes, where an automatic door glided open. Directly above him, an aged neon sign buzzed and flickered. “Valu-Plus Mart,” it read, but most of its letters existed in a sorry state. Below it, a second sign dingily promised, “Open 24 Hours.”

Stepping inside, Oliver made his way along the aisles to an anemic meat department. Absently chewing the inside of his cheek, he checked the market’s offerings. Disappointed, he gingerly retrieved a pair of thick links stamped with the “NutriMeat” logo and studied them at arm’s length.

“Ollie, you don’t like vat meat?” asked a young cashier. She leaned over the counter with an impish smile. “It’s way more humane, you know. Howell’s thinking about phasing out live meat completely.”

Oliver grumped. “Tammy, please tell him not to do that. It’s a terrible idea.”

“I don’t think so.”

He regarded her flatly, thrusting the sausages in her direction from across the store. “You even know what’s the source animal they cloned to make these? ‘Cause it’s not on the label. And you know why?”

“No, why?” Judging by her delighted smile, he supposed she already knew.

He told her, anyway. “It’s vat scrapin’s from every kind of vat! They don’t list the source animals, ‘cause it’s all of ‘em.”

She giggled. “Did you know you turn red when you’re mad?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I know.” Shaking his head, he grabbed a six-pack of blue-label stout and a frozen loaf of garlic bread before making his way to the register.

She rang him up, and he waved his gene key over the reader. “Have a good night, Tammy. See you tomorrow, most like.” Hoisting his bag, he turned away and paused at the doors. “Tammy, the doors are stuck.” Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “Tammy?”

The doors suddenly flew open, and Oliver narrowly avoided the well-dressed