Page 21 of Braden

They revolved around the edge of the floor as Renald and Tamarind took the center. The guests applauded long and loud and the music ended eventually.

Elodie practically collapsed in his arms. “Thank the Lords that’s over,” she gasped.

“You did great,” he assured her as he escorted her to their table. “Are you off duty now?”

“Essentially, yes. I don’t have to make a speech.” She reached for the feelgood he’d obtained earlier and drank a big gulp. “Do I dare to ask how the dance was?”

“You were terrific,” he assured her immediately. “Two of the others got out of step at one point.”

“As long as Tam is happy today that’s all I care about,” Elodie declared.

“Your dress designer friend said hello by the way.”

“You met Twilka?”

“They sat with me during the ceremony but she’s already left, on to her next booking I guess.”

Elodie was obviously disappointed. “I was hoping to catch a glimpse of her husband. He’s an ex-D’nvannae you know.”

“Anyone who ever met the guy would know that without a doubt,” Braden said. “Scary badasses. If I think I’m out of place at this wedding, he made me look like I could be the ringbearer.”

“You’re very handsome in uniform,” she said, pulling him closer for a champagne-flavored kiss. “Oh, here comes dinner already. Migs certainly does keep things running on schedule. I hope you don’t mind but I had to pick entrees for us both and I got Azrigone filet mignon.”

“A girl after my own heart, all about the steak.”

Chapter Nine

Elodie was on an adrenaline high all through dinner, elated the wedding and the dance were over and she’d managed both with no clumsy bobbles. Braden was amazingly attractive in his uniform, and attentive, dinner was delicious, the speeches were heartfelt and funny and charming…Chet’s best man speech was a bit cringe-y but then, so was Chet himself. How she’d ever convinced herself to be in a relationship with him, she’d never know. With a shiver she averted her gaze. With the clarity of time she understood he’d love bombed her in the beginning but still she ought to have been more self-protective.

After dinner and the speeches the party got more animated. Ties were loosened. The band playing now was a famous rock group on a comeback tour and Elodie loved their classic hits. She figured Tamarind must have paid them a fortune to play for a private gig.

A woman in a business suit with the IDA Resort Planet logo on the pocket came through the crowd and stopped beside Elodie. “Miss Farantson?”

“Yes?” She vaguely recognized the other from seeing her at the front desk a few times.

“The interstellar special delivery you were waiting for has arrived,” the hotel employee told her. “It had a note to advise you of the delivery no matter when it occurred. We sent it up to your room.”

“Thank you, that’s perfect.” Elodie looked for Braden but he’d gone to the crowded bar to get them a pair of specialty feelgoods. She rose from her chair. “Would you tell my date I went to my room and I’ll be right back?” she asked the woman seated next to her. Following the hotel employee out of the brightly lit tent, Elodie was grateful for the cool night air outside and the stars twinkling overhead.

She made her way to her old room and wished she’d left her comfortable shoes there. The spike heels she was wearing to match her dress weren’t the most comfortable, even if they were a top brand and cost more than a used groundcar. The suite was dark and she was uncomfortable being there but once the lights came on she saw a small parcel sitting on the table. Elodie went to examine it and was concerned to see a corner of the packaging was badly torn. “If this damn thing is damaged, I’ll never hear the end of it from Chet. And Lords forbid anything is missing!”

Taking a seat, she worked the package open and withdrew the small box inside. Highly polished, gleaming wood, it was undamaged. “Odd choice for storing childhood memorabilia,” she muttered. Elodie stared at it for a moment, flexing her fingers and then triggered the latch, wanting to see what was inside the box that had caused all this fuss and extra effort on her part. The lid raised slowly and she gawked at the contents—data chits, medinjects and a battered leather notebook. “What in the seven hells?”

Gingerly she picked up one of the medinjects and read the label but the name of the drug meant nothing to her. The data chits were labelled in some kind of machine generated code and she didn’t have any device with her which would read this particular type so she set them aside as well. Picking up the notebook next she flipped through a few pages. With a growing sense of alarm she recognized dates and amounts and realized Chet had been betting heavily on all kinds of sports events and on games Renald’s team had competed in, which was of course a complete no-no for one of Renald’s close associates and business partners, given he’d have inside knowledge. There were notes about being ordered by unnamed parties to take certain actions. It was partially written in a code or shorthand Chet used on occasion and had explained to her with pride one evening. Elodie decoded several before she recoiled in horror, throwing the notebook back in the box and slamming the lid. “What in the seven hells did you do, Chet?”

Based on the few entries she’d managed to read, he’d secretly administered drugs to Renald in advance of several major games to affect his play and then had placed huge bets. The spreadsheet in the back of the notebook detailed credits in, credits out, bets made—most of them lost…it was an ugly picture. Elodie remembered a quarterfinal game where Renald had been taken suddenly ill and now she speculated whether that had been because Chet had spiked his electrolytes with the drugs. Yes professional tisba players underwent random drug testing but she knew there were drugs which degraded fast enough not to be detected. And Renald was rarely picked to be tested.

Chet had to be working with the Amarotu Combine. No other criminal organization had the reach or the ability to snare a person like Chet in their schemes. He’d probably lost so many credits to them on bad bets that he’d been easy to blackmail into working with the Combine. Gambling was his illness and being a part of Renald’s life was his obsession.

“No wonder he was so on edge about getting this box back.” She picked up the small box and left the hotel room, determined to confront Chet about his behavior. She hoped there was some good explanation to counter her dark suspicions. If not she’d have to go to Renald himself and ruin the wedding reception.

When she arrived at the tents, she stood at the edge of the crowd until she found Chet seated by himself at the head table, nursing a drink. Elodie made her way over to him. “We have to talk. Now.”

Chet glanced at her and then did a doubletake. “The box came?”

“Tonight, but we need to talk about what’s inside. I need explanations.”

He rose with alacrity and took her by the elbow, steering her out the back exit of the tent before she could protest or find Braden to back her up. “We can’t talk about this in there,” Chet said. His grip on her elbow was tight and Elodie stumbled as he pulled her across the lawn toward the lookout point on the edge of the cliff. The area was deserted and real doubts about being out here with Chet alone crept over her. He’d never hurt her, would he?