Murder in Orbit by Bruce Coville Read Free Book Online Page A

Cassie came up behind me and looked over my shoulder.
    â€œSo, that’s what the poor guy looked like,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to find out who he was. I doubt there were many people in the colony with a face like that.”
    That was what she said. The underlying meaning, easy enough to read from the tone in her voice, was much simpler: “Mister, you are some kind of jerk!”
    â€œI was just taking a break,” I said lamely. “Here, let me show you what I’ve really done.” I typed in a command to erase the embarrassing results of my frustration, then pulled up the real picture.
    â€œWell, at least that one looks human ,” she said with a shrug.
    I was trying to decide if I should ignore her or scramble around in my head for some withering reply when Dr. Puckett’s voice broke the uncomfortable silence developing between us. “Meeting in my office in ten minutes!” he announced from a speaker somewhere in the lab.
    (That was a bit of a relief, to tell you the truth. I was having a hard time coming up with a withering response.)
    â€œIt shall be as you wish, O Great Master Who Must Be Obeyed,” answered Helen. “Come on, Cassie. We’d better tie up what we’ve done before we go face the next wave of Elmo-isms.”
    A silence settled on the lab as we all worked to finish our assignments. I did a last brush-up on the image of the man in the tank, then ran off four copies on the color printer. All in all, I thought they were a pretty good likeness.
    I was gathering them out of the printer tray when Helen tapped me on the shoulder. “Come on,” she said. “It’s time to face the living ego.”
    Dr. Puckett was smiling as we floated into his office. “I trust you have all had a successful morning,” he said. “For my own part, I have performed brilliantly—a fact I assume will surprise no one. Helen, how did you make out?”
    â€œPretty much as I expected,” said Dr. Chang. “Between us, Cassie and I were able to verify the presence of every one of ICE-3’s 25, 112 people.”
    â€œSplendid!” cried Dr. Puckett, rubbing his hands together. “We’re 240,000 kilometers out in space, in a closed colony where everyone is accounted for, and we have a dead man who can’t exist—and in fact, no longer does. Do you realize that makes this the biggest locked-room puzzle in history? What a chance for us to be brilliant! And how did you make out, Mr. McPhee?”
    By way of answer, I passed around copies of my composite drawing.
    â€œAnyone recognize him?” asked Dr. Puckett, staring at the broad-faced, sandy-haired image I had come up with.
    Cassie and Helen shook their heads.
    â€œAnd what have you turned up, Elmo?” asked Dr. Chang.
    â€œI’m glad you asked that!” exclaimed Dr. Puckett.
    â€œI know,” said Dr. Chang. “Feeding you cue lines was the top item on my job description.”
    I was beginning to realize that insulting Dr. Puckett was like throwing spit wads at an elephant. Even if you scored a direct hit every time, it didn’t really make any difference. He rolled on as if Helen hadn’t said a word.
    â€œThrough a complex process of elimination, I have managed to assemble a list of the people who could have put that body into a bulk collection spot. This involved some sophisticated comparisons of collection schedules, delivery times, and log-on notations. But it was worth it, as I have narrowed our list of possible suspects by 99.71 percent—from 25,112 down to 73. Not bad for a morning’s work.” He glanced at his watch. “In fact, if we continue at that rate, we will pinpoint our villain in approximately 10.43 seconds. Unfortunately, like the man about to reach the ground after stepping over a hundred-foot cliff, we have now come to the hard part.”
    â€œI