Holiday Blues

Amanda Smithson was a native of Solus. Solus, a rather small planet out near the rim, was populated with immigrants from the southern hemisphere of the planet Earth round about the same time as Terra. She was what the locals, using an old Earth term, called Hispanic. She was in her early thirties, with magnificent, long, wavy black hair and a radiant smile that showed perfect teeth. She wouldn’t be considered beautiful, but to sum her up with one word, she was striking.

“Citizen Kane? Come in please.” She led him to an exquisitely-decorated sitting room, and gestured towards the sofa. “May I offer you something?’

“Kane, remember, it’s just Kane. No, I’m good, but thank you. Ms. Smithson, let me begin by saying I am sorry for your loss.” She bit her lower lip but didn’t speak.

Never being one for small talk, Kane jumped right in. “What exactly is it that you want me to do?”

Her husky voice developed an edge. “Kane, I want you to find out who killed my son. I want them punished, or dead. I don’t really care which.”

Kane ought to have been shocked by her tone, but he really wasn’t. He would feel the same way if something happened to his daughter. On second thoughts, no, he wouldn’t want them punished; he’d definitely want them dead.

In his Enforcer days, Kane learned that having a grieving relative talk about their loss sometimes made it a little easier for them to bear. “Ms Smithson, please tell me a little about your son.”

He listened quietly for about ten minutes while she spoke about James, and a little about her ex-husband Carlton. He didn’t know if it helped, but he wanted to think it did. After a while she ran out of words. Kane stood up to take his leave.

Walking to the door, he said, “He was a great kid. I know you miss him a lot.”

She nodded, all her sadness showing through. “You know, Kane, he didn’t even need the damned money. I would have given him all he wanted. But being stubborn like me, he just had to do it himself.”

Kane could not trust himself to reply. Pausing at the door, he shook her soft hand. “Okay, Ms Smithson, I’ll do what I can to make those responsible pay. I’ll fax over my standard contract; just sign it and fax it back.”

A couple of seconds later he strolled down her walkway with a one-thousand credit retainer draft in his pocket.