From: David Johnston Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Magnesite: Business was slow. Truth is, business was always slow in Crystal Tokyo. Luckily I didn't have any competition. I was the only private investigator in a city of millions of people. Millions of honest citizens who trusted each other so much it would make any youma, want to toss his cookies. Fortunately I don't eat anymore, at least, not food. Still, even in this tinkertoy paradise, there are some liars, some cheaters and some people who just want to let someone else handle a problem. That's where I make my living if you can call it that. For them it's like donating blood. Go home, take a nap, good as new. For me, it's survival. Once every couple of months somebody comes in, willing to fork over some lifeforce to find out if their significant other has another, or maybe just to ask me to track down poor Fluffy who's gone and got lost. Titanite once sent me a copy of an old film named "Ace Ventura". Not funny. What was even less funny, is that the old stand-bys weren't standing by any more. People were keeping better track of their pets and jewellery. We were in the middle of a serious outbreak of domestic harmony and personal responsibility. Forget about an actual criminal case, the last one I'd been able to get had been something like fifty years ago. It was enough to shake my faith in the imperfectibility of humanity. Sure, I could tell myself it was just a slow spell, but that wouldn't help me keep psychoplasm and soul together until business picked up again. Counting on Margrave to be generous enough to tide me over was a bad bet. I was already deeper in hock to her than I liked to think about and she didn't even know how to spell "generosity" at the best of times which this wasn't. Her business was steadier than mine, but a bigger market just means more potential for competition. That's where "Helen Troy" came in, until somebody took her off the playing field, permanently. _________________________________________________________ It wasn't hard for Hino Rei, Sailor Mars, to tell she was at the right place. The two young foot patrol officers outside the apartment looked distinctly ill. In fact one of them was so ill that he didn't even notice her her distinctive red and white short skirted uniform from his bent over position. The other swallowed uncomfortably and saluted. She nodded in response and asked, "Who's in charge in there?" "Lt. Zenigata, ma'am." She hadn't really needed to ask. As the most experienced officer in Public Safety, Zed supervised all the homicides and life-threatening assault investigations in Crystal Tokyo. Oh yes, they still happened even in a supposed "utopia". Utopia is a relative concept. If murder attempts become a thousand times less common, do you have a utopia yet? If improved emergency services and enhanced medical facilites make it even less likely that the attempt will succeed, are you there yet? Rei didn't think so. "Better" wasn't "perfect" and her job gave her an in depth view of every imperfection. She walked in and took a look around. Not just a murder but a really messy one. Vital fluids decorated the walls in macabre patterns like morbid abstract art. Rei clenched her teeth and concentrated on not embarassing herself. The two community patrollers were too young to have ever seen a murder scene in the line of duty, much less one like this and she was sure they would be keeping the P.S.O. therapists busy for the next few months at least. Zed nodded to her, cooly. He was a chubby balding man who disdained the cosmetic spells that so many inhabitants of Crystal Tokyo used. "Sailor Mars? What brings you to something like this?" His lack of welcome was understandable. Security took precedence over Public Safety. Mars was the only person in Crystal Tokyo able to take an investigation away from him and she could do it at a moment's notice. "Helen Troy was considered a low-grade security risk." "Really? If you don't mind me asking, why would that have been?" "Her background was a blank, she was an immigrant, and she knew magic. That's enough to put someone on my list." He laughed a little and jerked his head at the forensic magician just finishing a divination ritual. "Does that mean that Rogan is on your list? He knows magic and he's an immigrant, after all." "He was when he first arrived, but at least in his case we know who he really is and where he comes from. ." "Good thing. I'd hate to think my most valuable man was down as a security risk." It was true. One of the things that kept Crystal Tokyo such a law abiding city was the knowledge that getting away with a reported crime was almost impossible thanks to divination. A little post-cognition and the murderer or thief would be revealed. Actually investigating crimes in the old-fashioned sense was virtually unnecessary, except to provide a little corroboration once you had identified the perpetrator, and to fill in the psychological background for rehabilitative purposes. Rogan approached the two of them and bowed respectfully to Mars. "I'm honoured to meet you, Sailor Mars." His eyes on her were almost worshipful. Not surprising, really. Rei remembered reading in his file that he'd organised a local fan-club for the Senshi before coming to Crystal Tokyo. She smiled and said, "I understand that you are an exceptionally gifted forensic magician." Rogan wasn't a bad looking young man, she noted. Rather handsome in fact, with rather long brown hair and blue eyes. His manner almost reminded her of... No. Rei refused to emulate Makoto. For centuries Sailor Jupiter had been projecting the image of a boy who had really been a jerk on any man who interested her. This boy...man...was nothing like Yuuichiro. Still, He looked guilty as he confessed. "Not in this case I fear. I've tried everything I know, but have gained no useful information. The killer knows magic, and apparently after the initial frenzy carefully obscured what had been done." "You don't mind if I have a look at things, do you?" "I'd welcome your intervention, Sailor Mars," he said earnestly, "If you can't do it, nobody can." As it turned out, nobody could. The flame she summoned looked impressive as it floated in the center of the room, but the visions it revealed were fragmentary and focused entirely on the victim being clawed to death and not the killer. Her vision hadn't been so obscured for a good nine hundred years. Feeling Rogan at her side, straining himself for a look at what she was seeing hadn't helped, but probably hadn't made a difference. Still, she shot him a glare. He wilted under it, knowing perfectly well that his effort had produced nothing but a little distraction for her. Pyromancy wasn't numbered among his skills. "Sorry," he offered. "I'll...get out of your way." Zed seemed to be ignoring both of them as he talked quietly to a forensic technician. Rogan walked past them on his way out, but his departure didn't really make a difference. When the flame went out, Zenigata turned back to her. "Did you get anything?" She shook her head, "Nothing your technicians couldn't figure out on their own." "Perhaps less," Zed noted, with a hint of satisfaction. "They found this." He held up an evidence bag containing bloodstained strands of white hair, some long, some quite short. Mars had a strange look in her eyes as she peered at the discovery. There was an expectant silence, and then she said: "Margrave." Zenigata nodded.