“Oh, now there’s an inconsistent story.”
“Isn’t it, though, sir?”
“Keep going, Ashton, this one sounds good.”
“All right. So he had plenty of time to wash his hands; there is a washroom – what is sometimes, and singularly apropos for our purposes, called a ‘powder room’ – just off the sitting room, in fact. So that would readily explain the lack of residue on his hands. But our rapid arrival did not allow him time to change clothing, and so there were powder traces on his shirt, particularly on the left cuff. And per my observations, Mr. Palomo is left-handed.
“Finally, none of the staff saw anyone else, and the really very extensive and efficient security camera setup around – but not within – the sector governor’s mansion shows no evidence whatsoever of any intruder approaching the mansion. From any direction. All individuals in the security recordings were on-duty security people, and their hands and clothing all tested negative for powder residue. As did the household staff.”
“Oh, very interesting. It sounds fairly open and shut to me, Ashton.”
“Me too, sir. Have you had any feedback on the financial transactions?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. They aren’t anywhere near finished yet, but that looks rather damning, too. Lots and lots of little payments to friends in the media. Oh, and we also have the payments to the team hired to create and uplink Palomo’s ‘coronation’ video. And possibly the contract for same.”
“Ooo.”
“Yes. I think I have plenty to report to the Throne, here.”
“I believe so, sir. If you have the chance to talk to the Emperor yourself, please tell him that ‘Detective Gorski’s protégé says hello to the Major.’”
“I doubt that, son.”
“Well, it was a thought.”
“Arrest Mr. Palomo and bring him in, please. I’ll see about passing the information upstairs and determining what needs done.”
“Will do, sir.”
Palomo did not like the idea of being arrested, but Ashton had a big enough team that his personal protests and attempts to get out of it were of no avail. All the police officers scorned the bribes he offered, and the staffers at the Governor’s Mansion had long since had enough of the couple, ignoring his attempts to order them to his aid. Palomo was thoroughly searched for hidden weapons, handcuffed, loaded into an electric cart, and trundled off to the shuttle. The team loaded up and headed back to Catalonia IPD headquarters.
Upon arriving at headquarters, Palomo was promptly led off to confinement – which, given the Imperial death warrant, wouldn’t last long – but General Walder was waiting for Ashton.
“Go get your things, Detective. It’s time to send you back.”
Unexpected Welcomes
It took a bit longer for Ashton to arrive back on Sintar than it had for him to get from Sintar to Catalonia, by about a week. When he arrived at the Imperial City spaceport, there was a welcome-home group waiting for him in the main concourse. This included Detectives Gorski, Rassmussen, and Armbrand, and investigators Jones, Weyand, Compton, and Ames.
It also included Maia Peterson and Lee Carter.
As soon as the group spotted him, Cally Ames let out a delighted squeal and ran straight for him. Ashton suddenly found he had an armful of very shapely girl, and he dropped the bags he had been carrying without another thought as soon as she planted a big wet one on him. When she finally let him come up for air, he looked her in the eyes and simultaneously they murmured, “We have to talk.”
“Later,” a grinning Peterson said, as the others walked up then. “We have some business that needs taking care of, and we need to get you out of here to do it. Let’s go.”
Once they got Ashton back to the Imperial City Police headquarters, only a few blocks outside Imperial Park, Peterson pointed at his old desk.
“There. We kept it for you. Park your stuff there, and let’s get a few things worked out.”
Ashton dropped his luggage beside the desk, then turned to Peterson in puzzlement.
“Okay, Chief. What’s up?”
“According to what we’ve been told by General Walder, the mandate for the police to swear allegiance to the Throne came down after he sent you back,” Peterson said. “So you probably haven’t done so. Am I right?”
“Uh, this is the first I’ve heard of it,” Ashton said, startled, “but you know me. I don’t have a problem with that at all.” He shrugged. “I kind of had my own private oath going anyway, I guess you could say.”
“Stand straight and salute, then, son,” Lee Carter told him, and Ashton obeyed. “Maia, go for it.”
“What’s your full name again, Nick?” she asked.
“Dominick Xavier Ashton, ma’am.”
“Good. Repeat after me,” Peterson said. “‘I, Dominick Xavier Ashton, do solemnly swear that I will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Throne of the people of Sintar.’”
“I, Dominick Xavier Ashton, do solemnly swear that I will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Throne of the people of Sintar.”
“Welcome to the police force of Emperor Trajan, Detective,” Peterson declared.
“Wait – what…?” Ashton almost stammered.
“Yes, you heard her right,” Gorski grinned. “We heard about the work you did on the governor’s assassination. It was good work.”
“It was mostly interpreting the forensic team’s work,” Ashton protested.
“Yes, and said forensic team, per Kurt Walder, has about the same imagination as a sea slug,” Carter noted with a chuckle. “He said he was spread thin, especially with some of the shit the sector governor had set up to pull, and you stepped up and functioned as a full detective with no issues whatsoever. Solving a governor’s assassination is a big deal, Nick.”
“Well…I’ve had some good teachers over the years,” Ashton
