Alien Stripped

Description

“We need to keep our circle of trust small and tight. What?” I asked when Harris raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

“Nothing.” He refused to look me in the eye.

“You have a dirty mind, Detective.”

“You’re the one who keeps making suggestive remarks.”

“Probably because I feel comfortable with you. We shared bodily fluids, remember?”

“Using a test tube!”

“I can’t help but wonder, how did you manage? I mean, the tube had a very narrow opening, and you’re probably—”

He leaped to his feet. “That’s enough, Aurora!”

“Aw, did I embarrass you, Detective?” I tried to push out my lower lip but remembered TauCeteans are lipless.

“Why are you being like this? Are you on heat or something?”

“I . . .” I ran a hand over my leathery scalp. “I have no idea. I’m sorry. Please sit down.” I studied my leathery fingers. “I’ll try to keep a lid on this.”

“It’s . . . disturbing. You shouldn’t be flirting with someone my age.”

“Is that what I was doing?”

“Either flirting, or being disrespectful.”

“I’m sorry if it sounded that way.”

“I thought long and hard about giving you that . . . sample. No!” He raised a forefinger.

I forced down my smirk. “What? I wasn’t going to say anything!”

“Not even about—”

“Long and hard?” A grin twisted my face.

“You can really go off some people.”

“I’m sorry. Let’s get back to the conversation.”

“I’ve forgotten what I was saying.”

“The security manager.”

“Mount, yeah.” Harris fished in his jacket pocket and produced a key card. “I have after-hours access to the campaign office.”

“Thanks.” I snatched the card from his hand before he could blink.

“Hey!” His reaction was woefully slow. His sloth-like arm stretched toward my hand, but I evaded it easily.

“Tut, tut. All mine. Bwahahaha!”

“And what do you plan to do with it?”

“Moser has air sampling equipment.”

“Okay. And?”

“And . . . pheromone sniffers.”

“Okay. And?”

“And maybe atmospheric vibration analyzers?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Microphones?”

“Uh-uh. Atmospheric vibration analyzers.”

“Do they record atmospheric vibrations?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay. As long as they aren’t mikes.”

“Of course not. Mikes are illegal and require a court order.”

“Good. We’re agreed then.”

“Maybe” — I spun the card with my fingertips — “you’d assist Moser in analyzing any vibrations we recorded.”

“I’d be happy to offer my expertise.”

“Good. We’re agreed then.”

“When will you go in?”

“After midnight.”

“Need any help?”

“It’s probably best you have an alibi. Plausible deniability.”

“Fine. I’ll go to the Dark Horse.”

“Can you tell Roxy and Fraser I’m okay, please?”

“Of course. Any messages for them?”

“Tell them I’m helping you with your inquiries.”

“Isn’t that a British phrase? A euphemism for being in a cell?”

“Hmm. Maybe not, then.”

“I’ll send them your love.”

“Give them both a kiss for me.” When he raised his eyebrows, I laughed. “Okay, maybe not Fraser. Or Roxy. She swings the other way.”

“I’ll say hi for you. Will that be enough?”

“Thanks, Detective.”