A12 Hanging out with Sese (Patreon)

Making more progress on this rewrite of Executioner's Gambit!

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Tori sat in a market without having purchased any food or drink, just sitting and stewing about what Selta had said. Druka had been right, the crew did view The Executioner as a local hero. They were hoping he would kill more.

But would their hopes end there? Would the crew take matters into their own paws if The Execution failed to kill off someone they deemed worthy? And how would they react if the killer was caught? Would they revolt?

Worse yet, how would the company react to a revolt? Not well, that was for sure.

“Investigator Tori!” called a familiar voice.

Tori looked up to find the big security officer standing beside her table. “Officer, uh … Sese?”

“That’s me!” she said, taking a seat across from her. She cocked her head. “What’s the matter? Investigation not going well?”

“Not so great, no,” said Tori. “It’s painfully obvious that the crew doesn’t want us to catch The Executioner.”

Sese sighed. “That’s true enough, but it doesn’t really matter what the crew wants. He’s a criminal, and it’s our job to catch him.”

Tori frowned and rested her chin on her knuckles.

Then, Sese took the strand from her shoulder and flicked a file toward the rusty red geroo. “Perhaps this will help?”

When Tori peeled her strand from its holster, she found a new folder filled with research: interview notes, crime scene photos, and coroner reports. “Is this … everything?” Tori asked excitedly.

“Everything I had access to, at least,” said the big officer. “The chief didn’t say to share them with you, but then again, he didn’t say not to either.”

Tori’s heart lifted, and she flipped excitedly through the files. “Oh, thank you, Sese! This will help so much!” She paused on a photo of a broken brandy bottle, then turned the strand around so that Sese could see the screen. “Is this from the Raksa murder?”

The tan geroo nodded. “The witness said he dropped it shortly before he died. We didn’t suspect a crime at the time, so the bottle didn’t make it into evidence, but Chief Tipohee had the presence of mind to snap a photo before it got swept up.”

Tori turned the communicator back around and pinched the screen to zoom in. “There’s no label on the bottle,” she noted. “Are there any liquor manufacturers aboard the ship that don’t put labels on their bottles?”

“I think they all do,” said Sese, “but peeling labels off is real common too. When a cold beer sits out on the table, the glass collects condensation, and the label gets damp. The glue sticks poorly to wet paper, so it’s a pretty common thing to hang out with your buddies, chatting over some beers, and picking off the labels.”

“Sure, but this would have been a warm bottle, stored in a drawer,” said Tori, “not a cold bottle taken from the refrigerator. The label wouldn’t have gotten damp.”

“You can peel off a dry label too,” said Sese. “It’s just harder.”

“I suppose,” Tori conceded. “Was a label found at the crime scene?”

Sese shook her head. “Not that I recall, no. But he could have peeled it off earlier and thrown it out. We didn’t search the trash. Why?”

“Well, there’s not a lot of data on serial killers,” Tori explained, “but it’s fairly common behavior for them to keep trophies, keepsakes to remember what they’ve done.”

Sese’s ears raised high. “Really? Why?”

“I’m not sure,” admitted Tori. “To remember the experience? To reassure themselves that it actually happened?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sese. “So, you’re suggesting that the killer snuck into the office, poisoned the brandy, peeled off the label, and stole it? That’s stupid.”

Tori cocked a ruined ear. “How so?”

“Well, imagine you put a bottle with a label in a drawer, but when you take it out later, it’s got no label on it,” said Sese. “Someone’s obviously tampered with it. Would you still drink it?”

Tori chewed on the question for a long moment. “That’s fair,” she said. “But there’s multiple shifts on the agriculture deck, so that means Raksa was sharing that office—sharing that desk—with other supervisors. He probably wouldn’t have been surprised that someone had messed with his brandy.”

Tori raised a finger, adding, “And this was before The Executioner had first struck, so nobody was thinking about food or drink being poisoned.”

“I suppose.” Sese didn’t sound convinced. “But if the killer really did steal the label as a souvenir, he’s basically tipping the victim off. That’s…”

“Self-sabotaging?” asked Tori. “Yeah, that’s another common trait in serial killers—especially on their first kill. They want to succeed, but they also want to fail. They’re afraid they will actually kill their target, so they subconsciously do a poor job to give the victim a better chance at escaping. Then, if they do succeed, they can alleviate some of the guilt by blaming the victim.”

Sese’s ears perked. “Really?”

Tori nodded. In a husky voice, she grunted, “Stupid Raksa. Idiot should have realized I poisoned his brandy.”

Sese frowned and sat way back in her seat, rocking back and forth slowly. “I don’t like it,” she said, “but you’re the investigator, the one with all the instincts and knowledge.”

Tori grinned. “Don’t sell yourself short, Sese. It’s pretty obvious that you think through these things thoroughly too. You’ve challenged every last thing I’ve said. I bet you’d make a great investigator too.”

“Thank you but no!” yarped the big gal. She moved to put her paw on Tori’s arm, but stopped when Tori flinched away. “Uh, I think everyone has a real gift at something—mine’s breaking up fistfights.”

“Oh yeah?” Tori sighed a breath of relief that Sese hadn’t squeezed her arm. Even friendly contact hurt the sulfur burns. “You must throw a wicked punch.”

“I do, but it’s not about punching,” explained Sese, “it’s about reading the perps—knowing when to intervene, when to let them get it out of their system, and how much force is actually required to stop a fight. Nine times out of ten, one of the combatants doesn’t even want to be in the fight in the first place. Once you know who, it’s just a matter of peeling away the aggressor and giving him a chance to cool off.”

“Interesting!” said Tori.

“Focus. Plan. Visualize. Execute.”

Tori smiled. “I doubt it’ll ever be my thing.”

“Fair enough,” laughed Sese. “You just give me a call if the situation ever warrants it. I promise I’ll be right there for you.”

“Thanks.” Tori flipped back to the notes on the Raksa investigation. Without looking away, she asked, “I suppose if Security Chief Tipohee doesn’t want me on the case, then he must feel close to solving it himself.”

Sese didn’t reply, and Tori glanced up. Eventually, the officer sighed. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“No?” asked Tori. “But he must care about catching this guy, right? I mean, his job is protecting the crew.”

“Right. Right. Of course.” Sese crossed her arms over her chest. Though she had agreed, her body language said otherwise.

“But?”

Sese uncrossed her arms and fidgeted a bit, letting her paws rest on the table. “You remember back when we were in school? Ya take a test, and the teacher screws up grading it?”

Tori shrugged.

“If they gave you fewer points than you deserved, then you’d fight them to the end with teeth and claws until you got your points.”

Tori laughed, deciding that Sese was describing her own school experience far more than Tori’s. She’d rather have lost a few points than confront an authority figure.

“But now, what if they had screwed up in your favor?” asked Sese. “Oh, you might say something, might not, but if your teacher fought you on it, how hard are you gonna try to fix it?”

“Not very.”

“Exactly. You’d call it a lucky break and forget about it.”

Tori set her strand down on the table. “You’re saying the chief would let a killer get away with murder because he didn’t like the victims?”

“No, I’m not. I would never say that about the chief,” said Sese. “He’s a good guy, and I have complete faith in him…”

“But?”

Sese shrugged. “But you’re always going to try harder when you care about the victims. That’s just a fact of life.”

———

Reviewer's link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1RYhxHfMgwK7ikmkMcWKKKZBWEaUFG5QzahIQdwX5u0Q/edit?usp=sharing

Thoughts?