Free Sucker Punch by Pauline Baird Jones Page B

and random bystanders—yes, there were even a few of those—couldn’t get through. They’d get a jolt and knocked onto their backsides. Only the truly clueless even tried, but Vi lived in hope that some new reporter would give it a go.
    The property line was enclosed in a fence that looked stone, but couldn’t be. Not even a councilman could get clearance for that level of weight, not when the residence was also stone. They followed a curved drive to where double doors stood open. Clusters of uniforms and official types in suits milled around in a very big hall with a high, arched ceiling. It had the dim interior of a country manor house and was nicely cool, even with the doors standing open and all those warm bodies. Had to be one of the fancy—and beyond expensive—air conditioners that adjusted to ambient conditions. Vi wouldn’t even know about them, but her mom had been watching one of those homes of the filthy rich shows. Interesting that a “man of the people”—his campaign words—had one.
    Following the general flow, in hopes of finding ground zero, Vi came face-to-face with Captain Uncle.
    He puffed up like a cat, even though he was tall enough to intimidate without the puffing. Before he could ask the question forming in his eyes, she said, “Whose the vic?”
    His gray, badly-in-need-of-a-plucking, brows arched almost to where his hair used to be. “The councilman. His wife found him half an hour ago.” He dropped the brows like a boom. “I don’t recall sending for you.”
    â€œYou didn’t. We were following a possible contamination trail,” Vi said. “Our vic was in contact with someone who was at the MEC who was dirt side during the storm. And we didn’t have an obvious cause of death.” That she could tell Captain Uncle about. And if he found out the rest, she’d be lucky if he only busted her back to the street.
    He looked suspicious, but unpuffed some. “Share your data with—”
    â€œUm,” Vi glanced around, then lowered her voice. “We’re going to have a little problem with that. Our data got jacked by MITSC.”
    Captain Uncle wanted to roar, but he knew one didn’t roar about the MITSC. He had to inhale several times before he could get his voice quiet enough. “Why?”
    â€œWish we knew,” Vi said. “Vic was a dirt sider.” It wasn’t easy to meet his tough gaze with her bland—she hoped—one. He knew her almost as well as her parents—though he’d been known to claim he knew her better. It wasn’t easy working for a guy who’d changed her diaper way back when. Knowing what she could unleash on him if she didn’t pull this off—well, that helped.
    â€œWould it be permissible for us to take a look at the victim, sir?” Joe’s tone was über respectful. “It is possible there are similarities.”
    Captain Uncle looked like he wanted to explode. Or break something. But he knew better than to talk about MITSC in an unsecured location. Probably not even in a secured one. Luckily, he didn’t think to ask how for more details about the dirt sider and who’d had contact. Hopefully by the time he did think of it, she’d have a good explanation.
    â€œThere’s a connection?”
    â€œOur other guy was spotted at the MEC by a witness. And that one said there’d been contact.”
    â€œReliable?”
    Vi shrugged. Was any witness really reliable after the lawyers go ahold of them? She was amazed he hadn’t asked for the other name yet. “MITSC was on our heels…” Vi wasn’t above giving him a nudge.
    His eyes narrowed and he puffed again. “Do we need to initiate containment protocols?”
    Vi gave the appearance of giving this careful thought. “No other vics at the MEC. Your call, sir.”
    Passing bucks up was SOP. Also SOP to pass them back, but