Mornings are not fun. When one woke from an alcoholic coma it did not do the head the slightest bit of good. Of course every time I swore I'd never drink again, I went back on my word. So I kept the thought to myself and cursed the ground that bookie walked on. It made a helluva lot more sense than the memory flashes from last night.
"You silly girl," Detective Cameron Gage. Halleluiah. Should I be pleased that he had graced me with his presence? With my head over the toilet bowl, it probably wasn't the most attractive prospect. I couldn't even muster enough strength to kick him. "Did you really think that confronting him would solve your problems? We were making progress and then you go and make yourself a suspect."
"She's not a suspect," Bex said promptly. There's my loyal Saint Bernard, always there to back up my alcoholic rages, whenever and wherever they took place. Just because the memorial service hadn't gone off quite as I'd expected it didn't mean that there would be anything to gain by it...
"There's evidence," Gage said tiredly. "The racers, Beckett and Heat were equipped with faulty part. We lifted serial numbers for the parts. They were traced back to your inventory, supposedly to be installed on the Beast. Someone swapped out their good one for your bad one."
My head whirled. I knew it. I knew it. Something wasn't right with this whole situation. While I didn't know the parts had been swapped out, it did make my guilt over the affair feel justified. But it also brought up another problem. At the memorial service it had become clear that I shouldn't have a debt to pay to the dead. They weren't relatives. I hadn't owed them anything in life. They hadn't given me anything, done anything for me or made sure I'd survived. But the fact that the bad part on the Beast had been installed on their craft? That meant I had to pay service to the dead. I gulped. Not good.
"That can't be right," I mumbled. "No one would be that stupid. They swap out my bad parts, knowing it is going to have some kind of impact on the vessels recovery. I wouldn't have done anything like it, Gage. I'm not stupid. Do you know how long it takes to pay off a life-debt?"
"Life-debt?" Detective Gage's brow furrowed.
"Tell me you know what a life-debt is. Or rather an afterlife debt," Bex moaned. "Because you've got to be sure what you're telling us. If that part was responsible for bringing down that craft ..."
Bile rose in my throat. Thank god the toilet wasn't far away. The words out of Gage's mouth would've been a godsend had I believed in such things.
"There is no concrete proof yet," Gage said. "We know the problem began with a faulty part. A part that was supposed to be installed on the Beast, but they were swapped by the pit-crew. They say they didn't know where the new part came from. It had been long overdue and..."
"But we bought the Beast brand new," I told him. Oh goddess, there goes the last of my breakfast. Probably some of last night's dinner, too. "The parts shouldn't have needed replacing. We'd only flown it once before in a practice run. Previously we'd flown the Saint. Now I could understand one of the parts from the Saint bringing down their craft, but not the brand new one."
I managed to say this between deep breaths and a dash to the sink to rinse. Last night's dinner does not taste great on its way back up. Nor does it taste any better on the way back down. At least most of it was out, though. Soon I would surely have nothing left to bring out.
"I'll get you something for that ...." Gage indicated the toilet. I nodded gratefully. Maybe it would make the morning pass quicker. If what Gage said was right about their hovercraft, a life saved for a life paid wasn't a deal I could get out of in this life-time. The only reliable way out of it was to figure out who had killed them and why. At least then I could start repaying what they'd given us. One look at Bex told him we were thinking the same thing: someone had set us up. Big time.
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