Chapter One
OCTOBER 2095
Josiah
Beauty… is one of the great facts of the world, like sunlight, or springtime, or the reflection in the dark waters of that silver shell we call the moon– Oscar Wilde
Josiah polished the car until he could see his reflection in her shining red bodywork. For an old lady approaching her hundredth birthday, she was still in perfect condition.
There was no trace of Peter’s blood, although it had once saturated the interior – he’d scrubbed it clean so ferociously seven years ago that the best forensic scientists in the world wouldn’t find a single drop if they looked now.
He paused and helped himself to a chocolate from the box on the work bench, then stood back and studied the car as a passionfruit cream melted silkily on his tongue. He didn’t much care for Pre-Rising cars, but even he had to admit that this one had a certain charm. Maybe it was the hours he spent polishing her on this day every year, or maybe it was simply because Peter had loved her so much.
He instructed the house to play some Pre-R rock even older than the car and then returned to his work, singing along with tuneless gusto to The Beatles as he lovingly rubbed in more polish.
“All this fuss over a car you don’t even bloody well like.”He could imagine how Peter would have rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, she looks pretty, but she’s a useless piece of junk.” He grinned, visualising Peter’s outrage at his baby being insulted.
“You could sell her. It’s not like you ever drive her.”
“Hah! If I sold her, then what the hell would I do with myself on this day every year?”
His holopad buzzed, and he muted the music, curtly answering the call.
His boss’s face popped up as a disembodied hologram in the garage. Esther Lomax, the director of Inquisitus Investigation Agency, was in her late fifties, with cropped white hair and shrewd dark eyes.
“Hi, Joe – how’s it going?” she asked, with that pitying expression he hated; it was another reason he always booked this day off work every year.
“Fine,” he said brusquely. “You don’t need to check up on me, you know.”
“I know better than that.” She gave a wry smile. “That’s not why I’m calling. Look, I’m sorry to intrude, but we’ve been notified of a homicide that I don’t trust to any other investigator.”
He glanced at the car, feeling oddly relieved. “What’s the case?”
“A photographer called Elliot Dacre. He was something of a celebrity, very high profile, which is why I want you on it.”
Frowning, he attacked a small smudge on the passenger door with his cloth. “Is there such a thing as a celebrity photographer?”
“This one was, apparently. He was friends with movie stars, and he went to every big party going.”
Josiah grunted. “I know the type.”
“The press will be all over this, so we need a clean investigation with no leaks to social media or the news sites. We can’t afford to lose control of this one.”
One of the other teams had slipped up on a recent case, and the headlines were still haunting Inquisitus several months later. There were other investigation agencies snapping at their heels, all eager to win the government’s homicide contract – Inquisitus couldn’t afford another cock-up.
“Will you take the case? You’re my best investigator, Joe – it has to be you.”
It wasn’t false flattery; Josiah’s reputation meant he could name his price. Other IAs had made him better offers over the years, but Esther had earned his loyalty.
“Who’s on my team?” he asked, wiping his hands on a clean cloth.
“I’ve sent them to the crime scene already: Cameron Reed leading data; Melanie Hamilton leading forensics; and our new pathologist, Sofie Baumann.”
Josiah looked up sharply. “What happened to Doctor Lane?”
“He retired. I did ask you to his retirement do, but…”
