Fraudulent Death, Draft 01, CH 33 (Patreon)

Marlot watched the tiger enter the store, accompanied by the male he’d begun thinking of as his handler since he had accompanied him ever since they left the wealthy house.

“Thanks for driving me, Ukely,” he told the zebra.

“Nothing much to do today, cub’s with his dad, work’s slow. This is a nice distraction.”

Marlot nodded as he stepped out of the car. At least the weather was still on the warm side. He’d had her park as far as she could while still being able to see the car parked before the store. He looked around, hoping no one had noticed them.

“You better head home,” he told her.

“I can stay and help,” she replied eagerly.

“Getting me here is help enough, you’re a programmer, Ukely, not an investigator. I’m not putting you at risk.”

“If you’re sure, call me when you need to get home, I’ll come pick you up.”

“Thanks, I’ll use transit for that.”

“It’s really no problem.”

“I know.” He smiled. “And I am grateful. But they already did something to my car when they noticed me previously. I don’t want to put you in danger. If it’s a comfort, it’ll be a few days before my car’s fixed, so I’ll probably need you to drive me around again.”

“Okay, just call me.”

Marlot stepped away from the car and she drove off. He looked at his options to keep watch. He’d dressed casually, in his hunting clothes instead of his usual suit. It should be enough to keep anyone on watch from identifying him, so long as he could keep from standing out.

The neighborhood was on the lower side of middle-rated. With stores lining the main road in various states of disrepair. He could tell where attempts at revitalizing took place, fresher paint, newer brickwork, but it hadn’t helped.

The stores were a mix of clothing, electronics, various housing supplies, a few drink places, and food preparation supplies. He ordered a glass of spiced blood from a window and kept the receipt. He’d gotten Vlein to agree to reimburse his expensed while he did this work, since it was more for the bureau than to find out how his body had died.

As he joined the handful of other predators at the tables, Grift’s handler left the store alone. The store was cleverly named ‘Karlix housing supplies’. If Karlix was the female behind the counter he could see through the large glass facade. She was an ibex. She seemed comfortable around the tiger, which spoke of his presence being a regular thing.

Quickly, his choice of Grift as who he followed proved to be a problem. The tiger didn’t stand around being seen in the facade. When he was visible, all he seemed to do was refill the shelves. The store seemed to be one doing well in the neighborhood. To be able to tell if the tiger did more, Marlot would have to go into the store, but he’d been in the tiger’s presence. Even if he didn’t recognize him by how he was dressed, he’d know his scent.

He noticed a different car parked by another store, selling vegetables, and a female exited it, reminding Marlot a lot of Grift’s handler, got in the car, and drove off. He couldn’t tell who was in that store, but if they were from the same group, it could give Marlot a sense of exactly what they were up to in there.

He used the time it took to finish his glass to weigh the advantages and disadvantages. He didn’t think they could have given anyone else more than his description, and black wolves were common enough even if he’d walked back the person in the vegetable store, they couldn’t tell. The whiff of a scent wasn’t the same as standing in his presence. With the glass empty, he crossed the street. He had nothing to lose by taking a look.

The store smelled stuffy, which surprised him. Even the warehouses where the vegetables were stored back at the commune had a fresh scent to them. This smelled like the vegetables were a week old. And by the looks of them, resting on their shelves, they might be. Who would want to buy these? He looked around at the prey, and the few predators in the store, looking the selection over, and it seemed quite a few were satisfied with the selection.

A ram refilled the shelves from stock out of the backroom. She moved mechanically, hardly any life in her eyes. If the customers looked depressed, she looked like she’d given up and was waiting for someone to eat her. He’d noticed that look from the homeless population, not someone holding a job.

He exited without buying anything.

He did think she was like Grift, which meant the tiger was also refilling shelves. Why would those walking dead do this? The better question, Marlot realized, was why would they be made to do this. He bought another drink at a different shop, this one sweetened blood. The sweetener tried to cover up the artificial taste of the blood and failed.

He spent the day watching the supply store Grift worked in, catching sight of him placing items on shelves, going into the other stores, only two more with walking dead working there, changing drink shop and searching for one drink that didn’t have the taste of artificial blood in them.

As the sun dipped over the tallest buildings and the temperature cooled, a car parked in front of the supply store, as well as the vegetable one and the two others. Marlot took discreet pictures of the vehicles and the people exiting them. A female wolf entered the supply store, which was the only one he had a good view of the counter, so he watched as the two females spoke. There was none of the casual comfort the ibex had with Grift; the tension was clear as they spoke.

The wolf took out a book, paper, and pen, and looked at something the ibex showed her that Marlot couldn’t see. The day’s tally? The wolf made notes, then the ibex handed over money, which seemed to confirm it had been the day’s sales. So, was this some form of protection racket? Only there was nothing threatening about Grift, even him being a predator, so his presence had to be more than to ensure the ibex behaved. And why do work if he was there to keep her in line? It wasn’t like he was being paid for it.

Marlot had to keep himself from reacting.

He wasn’t being paid.

The store was a two-person operation, but if one didn’t have an ID, officially it was a one-person store that somehow managed to report the productivity of two. In this area it might not be enough for the discrepancy to register on the revenue bureau level, but for the owner? It could make the difference between continuing to run or lying on your back and waiting for the end. Even if the people providing Grift took a small cut of the increased profits, there would be enough of an increase the ibex would stay open.

Did that explain why the attempt at rejuvenation failed? If the area because too prosperous, the bureau would have to pay more attention.

“But how does he pay for his apartment?” Marlot noticed the look his neighbor gave him and made sure his muzzle remained closed.

Did he pay for his apartment? The building manager’s ledger said he did, but like the transaction with the ibex, it was paid with physical money, not electronic transfer. Which meant it was impossible to demonstrate the payment had happened unless they were seen exchanging money.

Food? A similar situation? Grift looked undernourished, and he had to be. Without an ID, he couldn’t hunt unless he settled for the homeless or his neighbors. So food had to be provided by his handlers. They’d only give him the minimum needed to survive because they’d want to keep the cost low.

Marlot was watching the revenue system being defrauded.

It shouldn’t surprise him, there was always someone looking to keep a larger cut of what they earned, or stole, but it did. The system was as fair as it was possible to have. By committing fraud, they were forcing everyone else to pay more. Vlein would be happy with what Marlot had found, not that he knew what the fox would do about it.

His pad buzzed; the office.

“Hela’han, I’ll be back in a bit, I think I’ve worked out what’s going on here.”

“Can you come back now?” she asked, sounding worried.

“What’s wrong?” He stood and threw the half-filled glass in the trash.

“A Miss Jareth is here to see you. She said she is the daughter of—”

“Hardir Mixcoat.” Would transit be fast enough?

“Yes, she has a package for you, but she will only hand it to you personally.”

Fuck transit, he wasn’t taking any longer than he had to, not after what had happened to her mother after saying she had a package for him.

“Do everything you can to have her wait for me. I’m ordering a lift and I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Hopefully, Vlein would cover that expense too.