Over the last few hundred years, the population of outers had crashed because outer women slowly lost the ability to carry a pregnancy. Their numbers began to increase again only when they learnt to reproduce differently. Compatible eggs and sperm were brought together in an artificial womb, nurtured into outer offspring and raised by nannies. For outers, friendship and romance were nothing to do with producing the next generation.
‘Anyway,’ Lexi added, ‘what about your parents? What are their failings? What have they passed on to you?’
Uneasy, Troy glanced at her and said, ‘Let’s get back to the case.’
Lexi instructed the onboard computer, ‘Shepford Crime Central.’ Then she gazed at Troy for a few seconds before saying, ‘All right. What’s the fishing angle all about?’
‘Look. I’m Dmitri Backhouse, thinking of killing myself. You’re someone who knows about me from the internet and you want body parts. What are you going to do?’
‘Set up a meeting.’
Troy nodded. ‘Where?’
Lexi thought for a few seconds. ‘Somewhere without witnesses or cameras.’
‘Like the place where you go fishing. A reservoir with platforms at the edge, maybe.’
Lexi smiled. ‘Okay. I see where you’re going. But …’
‘That’d be the reason you know it’s a good place to bury a body. That’d be the connection I was after.’
‘So what? Even if you’re right, how does it help?’
‘I’m no expert,’ Troy replied, ‘but I think you need a licence to go fishing.’
‘So you want a list of everyone around here with a fishing licence that covers Langhorn Reservoir?’
‘Exactly.’
‘What if this internet friend’s fishing illegally — without one?’
‘I just think he’ll have one. He wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself — or herself — by getting caught for something trivial.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘If we got a list, I bet you’d want to examine all their shoes.’
‘That could be hundreds — or even thousands. Anyway …’
‘What?’
‘It’s all speculation,’ said Lexi, as the car pulled up outside Crime Central.
‘True,’ Troy agreed. ‘Maybe it’s a stick I’ve grasped the wrong end of.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s down to your fancy forensics to prove me wrong or right.’
SCENE 10
‘I’ve got a list of people with fishing licences for the Shepford area,’ Lexi reported. ‘But I’m told Langhorn Reservoir isn’t very popular. There are far better places, apparently.’
‘That fits. Our fishing fanatic, suicide chat room stalker and body part trader wouldn’t get disturbed by other people if it’s out of favour.’
‘He’s a fictional fishing fanatic, suicide chat room stalker and body part trader at the moment.’
‘I’m working on it.’ Grinning, Troy added, ‘I’m fishing as well. Casting about in a suicide forum.’
‘Caught anything?’
‘A few sympathetic posts. Nothing out of the ordinary. I’m going to try again.’ He spoke as he typed. ‘No one even notices me and what I do. I might as well not exist.’
With a wicked expression, Lexi replied, ‘Very believable. It’s a cry that could come from any major.’
Spinning his chair round towards her, Troy ignored her comment. ‘So, how many people hold fishing licences around here?’
‘Too many. Hundreds. If one of them’s our killer, we need to filter out a lot of others first. I could use foot size, but we don’t have grounds for going round checking people’s shoes and treads. We’d be doing it on a wild hunch.’
‘And I suppose we don’t know for certain that the shoeprints belong to the bad guy.’ Troy hesitated and then said, ‘Is there a Huw on the list?’
‘No.’
‘That fits as well. He’s not the sort to bother with a licence. Are any of them Dr Something? Like a transplant surgeon?’
‘I thought you’d never ask. We’ve got two doctors who go fishing. Neither’s got anything to do with transplants, though. I’ve already checked. One’s a doctor of physics and the other’s a retired baby specialist.’
Disappointed, Troy glanced at his computer screen and uttered a little cry. ‘Hey. Charon Angel’s online again. Remember? Coral said someone called Angel left her dad a message as well. Listen. “No one is worthless. Even if it seems that way. You have value.”’
Suddenly interested, Lexi said, ‘You should put, I’m probably worth more dead than alive.’
‘Let’s make a deal,’ Troy replied with a smile. ‘I won’t tell you how to analyse clues if you don’t tell me how to handle suspects.’
‘What’s wrong with what I said?’
‘It’s too obvious. If Charon’s running a scam for spare parts, he’s going to be suspicious. You’d make it sound like I’m setting a trap. We’ve got to be more …’
‘Crafty?’
‘Yes.’ As Troy typed, he said aloud, ‘Thanks, Charon. I’m tired of visitors just telling me not to do it. You put a different slant on it. But I feel like I’m dead already. All that remains is to make it official.’
‘Don’t rush into anything,’ Charon Angel replied at once.
‘If I’ve made my mind up,’ Troy typed, ‘why not?’
‘Because I might be able to help,’ came the response.
‘What do you mean? What sort of help?’
‘I might be able to help you realize your value.’
Troy looked up at Lexi. ‘Tricky, isn’t it? He might be trying to persuade me I have a worthwhile life, or he might be working out how much cash he’s going to make after he’s helped me die.’
‘It’s your crazy language again,’ Lexi complained. ‘It’s down to how you interpret “realize your value”. How are you going to find out which he means?’
Troy hesitated. ‘I don’t want to ask to meet him. I want to see if he does that.’ Turning back to the keypad, he wrote, ‘I’ll think about it.’
There was a delay of a few seconds before the reply appeared on screen. ‘Thinking before acting is wise. You can’t do it afterwards. I’ll look out for you on this site. If you come back, I’ll be here. Remember: there are always people who care — and who benefit from you.’
Turning away, Troy muttered, ‘He’s right. There’s probably a queue of transplant patients.’
‘Charon Angel must know that you — or anyone else — could just volunteer to be an organ donor,’ Lexi said. ‘Giving your bits and pieces for nothing.’
Troy nodded. ‘Not enough do, I suppose. That’s why there’s a black market. Anyway, if Charon’s in that game, he wouldn’t want me to give my heart or anything else away. Perhaps he’d persuade me the money would come in useful for family or friends — or some cause I believe in. Then, after I’m gone, he’d run off with it.’ Troy twisted round and logged out of the chat room. ‘I want to play hard to get. I want him — or her — to sweat for a bit.’
‘Everything they’ve written could be innocent,’ Lexi said. ‘They might genuinely be worried about you.’
‘They?’
‘I know,’ Lexi said. ‘It’s not my fault, though. It’s the language again. If you don’t know whether someone’s a he or a she in English, a lot of people just say “they” instead. I do it myself sometimes. “They” can mean one person! Ridiculous. On top of that, it can mean just about anybody as well. When someone says, “They’ve arrested your best friend”, it means us: the police or detectives. But you’ve got to figure it out for yourself. “They say it’s going to rain” means weather forecasters.’ Frustrated, she shook her head.