Harriet frowned. "Is that wise?"
"A few minutes ago you thought it was a stroke of genius."
"Yeah, but a few minutes ago Dave and I were going to stand here and keep an eye on you."
"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me, I'll call in when I'm done."
The cab drove off, and Harriet glanced over her shoulder to watch Alice walking towards the row of shops. She felt some misgivings about letting her roam around on her own, but she pushed the thought away. It wasn't like Alice had a gun, and that was just as well. Alice had a hot temper and an itchy trigger finger, and the last thing Harriet wanted was a shoot-out on the streets of Chirless.
"I'm guessing Alice had a chequered past," said Timms, as the cab pulled away.
Harriet decided not to pull any punches. Timms was sharp, and there was no point sugar coating the truth. "She was a petty thief when I met her. I caught her lifting someone's wallet and dragged her into the station. Next thing you know she was helping with a case."
"Sometimes ex-cons make the best coppers." Timms studied her. "Alice said she was your sister. So what did you mean, 'when I met her?'"
Very sharp, thought Harriet. "I took her in and got someone to update the official records." At that moment the cab turned a corner, and Alice disappeared from sight. Harriet settled back in her seat, and that's when she noticed something: the double-barreled blaster was missing from her jacket pocket.
— ♦ —
As she strolled along the high street, Alice kept one hand on the blaster tucked into her pocket. She knew there'd be trouble over the gun, but how was she supposed to arrest the thugs without one? Shout at them, perhaps?
She walked into the first shop, which sold commsets. Most of the models on display were outdated, and she suspected they made most of their money repairing the devices … or performing illegal upgrades. There was good money to be made unlocking advanced features on basic handsets, and a little shop like this was just the place to get it done.
"Shop?" she called, as she reached the deserted counter.
A woman emerged from the back, middle-aged, with grey hair and dark eyes. She was wearing an apron, and there were flash burns up and down the fabric. "Can I … Oh!" The woman stopped as she saw Alice's uniform, her eyes wide. "Er, we're just closing," she said quickly.
"Relax, I'm not interested in your business," said Alice. "I'm looking for a couple of heavies. They demanded money from a store owner down the road, then beat him up."
"How terrible," said the woman. She still looked nervous, but she no longer looked like she was going to run for it.
"Have they been in? Youngish guys, one blond, one dark-haired."
"Nothing like that, no. We just repair commsets, and there's not much money in that, I promise you."
"Yeah, I know what you do." Alice pulled out her commset. "How much to upgrade this one?"
"I can trade it for a new model. Say three hundred?"
Alice didn't reply, because at that moment the front door opened. She spun round, her hand going to the weapon inside her jacket. There was a man in the doorway, good-looking, mid-twenties with a mop of red hair. He was alone, and he stopped as he saw Alice's uniform. Then he smiled at her, and walked past to wait his turn at the counter.
"Can I help this customer first?" the shop owner asked Alice. "He's just here to pick up. Won't take a second."
"Be my guest."
The shop owner left, and Alice and the customer stood in silence. After a moment or two, the customer cleared his throat. "My aunt was involved with the Peace Force."
"That's nice," said Alice.
"Yeah, it was years ago." The customer tried again. "So, are you guys back in Chirless then?"
"We are now." Alice glanced at him. He was taller than her, and he was wearing overalls that reminded her of plumbers … or gardeners. "We're over from Dismolle. Big case."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"What's it about?"
"I can't discuss an open investigation with a member of the public," said Alice loftily. She'd heard Harriet saying the same thing once, and she'd always wanted to use the phrase herself.
"Are you using the old Peace Force station?"
"What am I, a public information booth?" That was one of Bernie's, but to be fair, the robot did look like an information booth. A very large one, with legs.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. My company does maintenance work, and I figured you might need a few repairs. That old station hasn't been touched for years."
The man slipped his hand into his overalls, and Alice drew her gun. "Steady there, sunshine."
He froze, staring at her in shock. "I'm … I'm just getting a business card."
"Slowly."
He drew out a plastic rectangle and offered it to her. "I'm Mike Dantriss. I fix things."
"Leave it on the counter."
"Okay, okay." Mike obeyed, placing the card on the wooden counter before retreating two or three steps. "Are you people always this jumpy?"
"Cautious, not jumpy."
"Just … don't shoot. Okay?"
Alice picked up the card and glanced at it. The man was apparently Mike Dantriss, and, if the card was genuine, he really did run a maintenance business. "Thanks. I'll be in touch if we need anything."
The shop owner returned, carrying a sleek, modern commset, and Alice hid the gun behind her back. Mike paid up, and with a nod to Alice, left the shop. While the owner was putting away the payment, Alice slipped the gun into her uniform.
"Now," said the owner. "About that trade. Three hundred for—"
"I don't want a trade, I want to upgrade it. Add a few features … you know."
"You know I can't do that. It's illegal to unlock—"
"I can come back without the uniform," said Alice. "Would that help?"
"Ten for the next tier, thirty for complete access." The woman looked her up and down. "That's my best price,
