A Small Place Called Space: Seeds of Doubt (Book 1)

By A.M. Scheitlin

Ray Parallax is the best detective on Mars. Correction, Ray is the only detective on Mars. At least in the city of New Los Angeles. Between the collapsing economy, political corruption, and interstellar plague, there are plenty of problems to keep Ray busy. However, the most profitable case is onboard a mysterious space ship. A secret and vital mission is derailed when the ship's captain is brutally murdered. Ray has to solve it, but he is not going to get any help from the ship's crew. In fact, he'll be lucky to make it off the ship alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.M. Scheitlin
• Release date: Dec 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9781732862050

Book preview

A SMALL PLACE CALLED

SPACE

BOOK ONE: SEEDS OF DOUBT

A.M. Scheitlin

2019

Also by A.M. Scheitlin:

The Dallas Handshake

Four Dead in Ohio

Copyright © 2019 by A.M. Scheitlin

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the pub-lisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First Printing: 2019

ISBN: 978-1-7328620-5-0

Fair Oaks, California 95628

On Earth, pestilence and famine reigned. However, on the ship, all was peaceful. It was a quiet night and a man and woman slept as the ship rushed towards their ailing home. She slumbered deeply in suspended animation while he turned fitfully in his berth. The woman’s titles and honors were varied and numerous. Likely, she was one of the greatest minds in the solar system, she certainly was the best virologist. If anyone could save humanity from the virus that was devasting Earth it was her.

The man’s background was more modest, he grew up on a small farm before the famines struck. He had only one title: Captain. Still, on board the ship he bore the greater responsibility. If he failed to deliver the doctor safely there was no telling how many more people would perish. Earth needed her, but she needed him.

Every delay cost lives, so they moved through space at an astronomical speed. So far, they had made good progress on their journey, but they were now nearing Mars, the territory of their enemies. The captain feared that they would not be able to pass the planet unnoticed.

The worry and responsibility kept the captain from any restful sleep. He gave up and sat up in the narrow bed. Across the room, a photograph from back home sat snuggled between other bits of childhood memorabilia. He got up and took the photo in his hand. The captain smiled fondly at the young child in the photo. He certainly had come a long way from that old Nebraskan farm. With any luck, he might be able to see it again soon.

The door hissed open. It was unusual for his crew to interrupt at night. Perhaps the ship had run into the trouble. Or worse, perhaps the enemy had struck.

Yes? What is it? he asked looking up from the photo.

He received a blow in the head in reply. And then another.

There is a saying that in space no one can hear you scream. He never had a chance. Before he could open his mouth, the captain was dead.

Meanwhile, the woman slumbered on…

Chapter 1

The atmosphere inside the courtroom was oppressively thick, much thicker than the actual Martian atmosphere. No one wanted to be there, except for the corpulent District Attorney, Allan Black. Allan was up for re-election, and he was more than happy to build his reputation by prosecuting as many cases as he could, no matter how trivial and minor they seemed to others. He looked eagerly at his next victim, Ray Parallax a thin gaunt man who D.A. Black had been trying, unsuccessfully, to put out of business for the last year.

The clock struck 3:00 P.M. and moments later Judge Whitterson returned to the bench after an unsatisfying short nap. Unlike the D.A., Whitterson took no joy in ruling on trivial cases. Most of the cases brought to him were petty crimes and thefts committed by desperate men and women trying to feed their families. New L.A. was in the midst of a terrible economic depression, and many were forced to do things to survive that they would never have done in normal times. The judge constantly thought of retiring, he was certainly old enough, but he could not bear to leave the law in the hands of people like Allan Black. As long as he sat on the bench, Whitterson could at least make sure that the sentences passed on the victims of the depression were fair and lenient.

All stand, announced the bailiff, the Honorable Judge--

Come on, on with it, Whitterson muttered gesturing to everyone to take their seats.

Your Honor, Case 378053, Ray Parallax versus the City of New Los Angeles, the bailiff read. One count of fraud and one count of public indecency.

Finally, something interesting, Judge Whitterson muttered to himself. He had no desire to see either the plaintiff or defendant nude, but at least public indecency was always entertaining.

Your Honor-- the defendant said.

Objection! the D.A. shouted. The defendant has not yet been addressed by your Honor.

Who cares? Whitterson said to Black. Ray Parallax? he asked turning towards the defendant.

Detective Parallax, the defendant answered. Ray Parallax was the exact opposite of the D.A. He was tall and thin. Whereas Allan Black always took care to dress in expensive suits, Ray wore an old, out of style, black suit that he covered with a threadbare overcoat. The D.A. has got it all wrong. I’m no fraud, and my secretary is the indecent one.

Objection! Allan Black called out again. He’s not a real detective.

Sure, I am, Ray answered. I’m the best detective in the city.

Your Honor, the City has not given out a detective’s license in the last seven years, Black pointed out and handed the bailiff a stack of papers to prove the point.

That’s why I’m the best, Ray argued. I’m the only one.

Quiet down, both of you, Whitterson said and skimmed through the papers that the bailiff handed to him. He read part of the first page and then exasperatedly dropped the stack to the desk. Operating without a license? Is that all this is about?

And the public indecency, Black answered.

I told you, that was my secretary, Ray said lighting a cigarette.

What do you think you are doing? snapped the Judge.

It calms my nerves, Ray said who lacked the propriety to be embarrassed.

You can’t smoke in here, what century do you think it is? Whitterson asked. He signaled to the bailiff who took the offending lighter and cigarettes.

Your Honor, Black began again, You can see for yourself that Mr. Parallax is a troublemaker. Whenever there is a crime, he’s sure to be close by. He is involved in all sorts of shady dealings. Just last week we caught him--

I’m a detective, Ray interrupted. Trouble goes with the job. Of course, I’m going to be involved in criminal investigations, its why I am hired. Ray said.

You are not a detective! Not according to the city! Black snapped.

This is a waste of the court’s time, the Judge said cutting the two men off. More so than usual. Can’t you just give him a license and stop wasting everyone’s time? With so many real problems in the city, it was exasperating to argue about something so meaningless as a private investigator’s license. Give it Allan Black to ruin a perfectly good public indecency case.

Mr. Parallax does not qualify for a private investigator’s license, Black tried to explain. His hiring practices--

Listen, Judge, Ray said interrupting the D.A. once again, what are folks supposed to do? There’s not another detective in the city. The D.A. said so himself, they haven’t given out any licenses in years. Hell, there’s not another private eye on the planet as far as I know. Just the security hired by Ex-Terra and we all know that they are of no help to us regular stiffs.

That’s not the court’s problem, Whitterson sighed. He agreed that the city’s bureaucracy was a mess. He’d change it if he could, first by getting rid of D.A. Black, then the corrupt mayor, but that was out of his jurisdiction. As a judge, there was little he could do about it. Get a license.

My secretary was supposed to file the paperwork, but she--

Just get the license and stop blaming your secretary, Whitterson said and banged his gavel to dismiss the case.

About the public indecency? the D.A. called out, but it was too late. The next set of plaintiffs and defendants were already taking Ray’s and Black’s spots.

Ray got up, collected his cigarettes and lighter from the bailiff and headed towards the exit.

We’ll get you one of these days soon, D.A. Black whispered to him on the way out. Don’t think that I’ll forget about you.

Why thanks pal, Ray said. It’s always nice to be remembered. He slung his coat over his shoulder and went out of the crowded courthouse.

Ray stood on the courthouse steps and looked at the city nestled between the red Martian hills. He loved the wide-open sky. He even loved this city, despite his constantly running afoul of its government. But the city was suffering. Hardship was nothing new of course, life on Mars had never been easy, but the last five years had been different. There had been no contact with Earth since a terrible disease struck the home planet and Mars had enacted a quarantine to prevent its spread. The quarantine had stopped the virus from reaching Mars but had devastated the local economy. It turns out that cutting off most of humanity was a terrible blow to business.

Normally, Ray welcomed trouble. Like he told the judge, as a private investigator, solving problems was his job. But there was not much he could do with a global depression. People had lots of problems, but no cash to hire an investigator. He took on as many cases pro bono as he could afford, but they did not pay the bills. Plus, working for the underdog had put him on the wrong side of the city. It was what put him in the D.A.’s crosshairs to begin with.

It all happened last November. Ray had been sitting in his office when the young woman had come in. It was just like the ancient noir movies that he so loved. She told him her sad tale. She had a husband who got involved with the wrong crowd. One thing led to another, and now her husband was in prison for a crime he did not commit. The case was way out of Ray’s league, but he had been so enamored with the woman he took it. To his regret. It turned out she was correct; her husband was innocent. However, the true guilty parties were all high-ranking mob officials, and more importantly, friends of the mayor. Needless to say, Ray had trouble with the city ever since. Both the Mayor and the D.A. had lost his vote. However, the elections were still months away and Ray had to figure out a way to stay in business until then.

He had tried to keep his cool within the courtroom, but his nerves were shaken. Ever since childhood, he hated to be indoors and in small places. Then there was the D.A. of all Ray’s enemies, D.A. Black was his third most hated. Ray needed to unwind and relax, so he headed down the stairs and headed towards the pier to smoke and to clear his head.

During more prosperous times, the Lake District had a carnival-like atmosphere and was filled with tourists and vendors. However, thanks to the quarantine there were no tourists, and thanks to the depression, no vendors. No one except the ultra-rich could afford to spend what little money they had on frivolities. And the ultra-rich spent their time in the nightclubs and brothels, not by the lake. Ray walked out along the pier and lit a cigarette.

The lake that the pier overlooked was still a work in progress. Like its namesake on Earth, New L.A. had a scarcity of water. The original terra-formers plans had called for an ocean, but it turned out that was far beyond their means. Instead, they settled for a large, shallow lake. Even this was a challenge; the water often did not even make it to the pier. It was a bit of a mystery as to where it went. Being a detective, Ray should have been intrigued by such a mystery. But currently, he could only afford to be interested in cases that paid.

Instead of trying to fix the water levels permanently, the city just installed a line of floating mirrors. The idea was to angle them at such a slant to give the appearance that the water continued much further than it actually did. It was a good idea but poorly executed. The mirrors were not maintained so many had tilted, and at sunset would reflect the reds and oranges of the surrounding hills. On most afternoons, Ray had the view to himself. This afternoon was an exception.

Those things will kill you, a voice spoke behind Ray Parallax. He did not need to turn around, the voice was as familiar as it was unwelcome. It belonged to Stella Mooney, his second most hated enemy.

Haven’t you heard? They’ve cured cancer, Ray said taking another deep draw of his cigarette and then exhaling into the harsh Martian air.

Maybe up there, the woman said coming up to his side. Won’t help you down here.

No, I suppose not, Ray said looking up at the small, light blue star that hovered near the horizon. Earth was far away, further than ever now with the quarantine. But his physical health was the least of his problems at the moment. He was more concerned about his financial well-being.

So, are you still in business? Or did the D.A. finally put you out of your misery? Stella asked.

You heard about that?

I hear about everything.

Well, then why do you need to ask me about it? Ray took a closer look at the woman beside him. Stella was about a foot and half shorter than him but if it came to a fight, and considering their previous confrontations, a fight was well within the realm of possibility, Ray had no doubt that she’d best him. Mar’s lower gravitational force had done wonders for his height, but not for his muscle mass. Stella, like most Earthen-born, was shorter and stouter than the native Martians, but stronger. She worked hard to keep it that way. Currently, she was dressed in a dark blue, insulated, tracksuit. Ray could see bulges around her ankles and wrists from the weights she wore to get an additional workout in the low gravitational atmosphere. It was just his bad luck that she had seen him while jogging along the beach. After all, the phrase, it’s a small world was truer on Mars than it was on Earth.

Out for a run? Ray asked.

Wow, the famous detective cracks another case.

Best on the planet.

That’s not saying much.

Speaking of not saying much, let’s get to it. What do you want Stella?

What I want? What about what your receptionist wants? Have you ever considered that? Stella represented the local chapter of the United Martian Workers. She had been constantly hounding Ray about his non-union receptionist. Ray knew that Stella meant well, and he even sympathized with the union. Still, there was something about the young woman that just got on his nerves. She seemed to take undue pleasure in bothering him.

Milly is perfectly happy working for me.

Working? You have to pay her for it to be ‘work.’ Right now, she is slaving for you.

I’ve shown you my records, I can’t afford to hire union. Believe me, I’d like nothing better, but I just can’t.

We both know those weren’t your real books, Stella said. No one can stay in business with those profits.

Ray just chuckled. Listen, is there any reason why you stopped by? Other than to ruin my evening?

Why, do you have a backlog of cases?

No shortage of problems in this city.

I can see you are quite busy, Stella said gesturing to the lake.

I’m just out for a break. Getting some fresh air, Ray replied tossing his cigarette into the ocean.

It’s a nasty habit. And after all those decades of terra-forming to get the atmosphere nice and breathable.

Breathable? Bit of an overstatement isn’t it? Along with its shortage of water, New L.A. also shared an air quality problem with its namesake.

Well, at the very least, it’s an old-fashioned habit. It’s not the 1940’s anymore. Hasn’t been for nearly a thousand years.

Well, I guess I’m just an old-fashioned guy.

Yeah, I gathered from your whole get-up, she said gesturing to his worn and threadbare trench coat. I mean, the way you treat your receptionist was also a tip-off.

It’s better than where I found her.

That doesn’t mean it’s good.

Speaking of ‘good,’ how about goodbye?"

How about, ‘see you later,’ Stella said, continuing on her run. I’ll be by your office next week to talk about your receptionist.

Good riddance, Ray muttered into his coat as he watched her race across the shoreline. Stella had ruined the pier for him this afternoon. The whole encounter had left a nasty taste in his mouth. And unfortunately, he was out of cigarettes to cover the flavor. There were many popular vices in New L.A., but tobacco was not one of them. With the quarantine, they could only be obtained on the black market. And there was only one place on the planet where Ray could