Chavelle's Primrose Mystery, Ellen Tigh and Helena Cain, PG-13
Title Chavelle's Primrose Mystery
Author: lls_mutant
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (new)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, swearing, talk of past child prostitution/sexual abuse
Prompt: My wish is to ride the tempest, tame the waves, kill the sharks. I will not resign myself to the usual lot of women who bow their heads and become concubines. -- Trieu Thi Trinh (225-248), 3rd-century Vietnamese revolutionary who led a rebellion against Chinese invaders. Known as "the Vietnamese Joan of Arc."
Summary: The last cosmetics vendor in the universe has turned up dead. Ellen Tigh needs to figure out who killed her, before she's accused of the crime herself.
Author's Notes: Thanks to rebelliousrose for the brilliant comment about a murder mystery centering around the last bottle of perfume in existence.
The open air marketplace on Cloud 9 looked a lot more attractive from far away than it did close up. Ellen looked distastefully at the clothing spread out on the counter. How was it that in the twenty thousand woman that had survived, there was such a dearth of taste and style? She fingered a rough sweater, and then moved on.
There was a slight breeze. She knew it was manufactured, brought on by compressors and circulators and ventilation. There was sunlight, which was from cleverly concealed bulbs and mirrors. There was a blue sky thanks to holographics, grass because of hydroponics, and birdsong emanating from hidden speakers. But if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that this manufactured world was real.
The stalls were bright colors, a relief from the gray of Galactica. But the faces were the same, strained and worried and grieving. Ellen ignored the faces and focused on the wares.
A small, glittering display caught her eye, and she was irresistibly drawn closer, like a magpie in the vicinity of a shiny object. And even once one of the items was in her hands, she still couldn't believe it.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" the woman behind the counter said. She was very elegant, with a slim figure and her ash blond hair swept up into a twist. Her clothing was worn but expertly tailored out of a fine fabric. She looked like she was Ellen's age, but her skin had obviously been cared for and her body was toned.
"Chavelle's Primrose Mystery," Ellen identified it, swiveling the base. The lipstick, still perfectly molded, clicked into place like a weapon. She stared at it longingly. "How much?"
"Ninety cubits," the woman said.
"Nintey?!" Ellen gasped, as another woman approached the stall. Ellen glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, and then did a double take after she recognized the blue uniform. "Admiral," she said, the corner of her lips curling into a smile. "Doing a little shopping?"
Admiral Cain looked down at the items on the table. Ellen realized she'd picked up the lipstick from a small collection of cosmetics. "It's most certainly prudent to have an idea what is in the Fleet for myself," she said. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and she reached down and fingered a perfume bottle. "I never thought that I would see something like this for sale again. May I?"
"Please do, Admiral," the woman said. She glanced sidelong at Ellen, who smirked back. Admiral Cain sprayed a small amount onto her wrist and smelled it, closing her eyes.
"It's beautiful," she said softly. She opened her eyes and examined the bottle. "How much?"
"That bottle's running one hundred and twenty cubits," the woman said. "It's the last bottle of Dolce Veritas in the universe."
Cain sighed, and placed the bottle back on the table, her fingers lingering. "I'll have to think about it," she said, although her eyes stayed trained on the bottle for a long moment. She glanced down the long line of vendors. "Unfortunately, I don't have much time before my shuttle returns to the Pegasus. Ladies." She nodded curtly to the woman, flicked a glance at Ellen, and continued on.
"Bet she thought you should just give it to her because she's the Admiral," Ellen muttered.
The woman behind the stall smirked. "I thought the same thing." She studied Ellen more carefully. "I'm Estelle Veres, by the way," she said, extending her hand.
"Ellen Tigh," Ellen responded. "My husband is the XO of Galactica."
"Yes, I know," Estelle said. She winked. "Have you thought any more about the lipstick?"
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to forgo it this time," Ellen said, laying it back on the table. "The price, you know. Although…"
"I know. It can almost be forgiven, just for the chance to wear lipstick again," Estelle agreed, and the two women sighed in unison.
"Would you like to join me for a drink?" Ellen asked suddenly. "The Galactica is not exactly a social ship."
"I'd love to." Estelle swept the cosmetic items off the table and deposited them in a safe. Then she leaned over. "Kelly," she said to the woman in the stall next to her, "I'm going for a drink. Watch my stall."
"Of course, Mrs. Veres," the younger woman said. Ellen noticed that she didn't dress nearly as well as Estelle, nor were her offerings nearly so fashionable.
Estelle clicked the key in the safe lock. "Shall we adjourn to the bar?"
***
Ellen looked around the room and sighed happily. "It's so much better than Galactica," she said cheerfully.
"I've never been over there," Estelle said, unfolding her napkin and placing it in her lap. "I imagine it's very dreary."
"Completely," Ellen agreed. "Although it does have its finer points in scenery," she mused, cocking her eyebrows meaningfully.
Estelle smirked. "Pilots or Marines?"
"Or?" Ellen laughed. "Why choose?" She glanced around the bar again. "Still… this is a little more my style."
"Mmm. I take it you're not military?"
"Not at all," Ellen said, rolling her eyes. "Dreadfully dull, with the regulations and the monotony of it all, and quite frankly, I'm not sure I could handle someone telling me what to do all the time. Especially Adama," she added, biting the last three syllables out crisply.
"Or Admiral Cain?" Estelle asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Ellen shrugged. "An order is an order," she said lightly. "But I must say that the Admiral seems more… martial, shall we say?… than our esteemed Commander ever has."
Estelle made a face. "My daughter wanted to join the military," she said sourly. "Hardly a befitting profession for someone from our family, but she wouldn't be swayed."
"Was she stationed on a battlestar?" Ellen asked.
"Oh, no. She's still not old enough." Estelle sipped her drink. "Besides, I found her a far more suitable position."
"Really?" Ellen asked, wondering what the hell anyone would consider a suitable position these days.
"She helps me in sales," Estelle said. "What do you do, Ellen?"
Ellen shrugged. "What does anyone do anymore?" she asked. "I used to be a marketing specialist back on Caprica. Not much call for ad campaigns these days."
"You'd be surprised," Estelle said. "The free market is still alive and kicking. The marketplace on Cloud 9 may look serene and peaceful, but it's quite the den of wolves."
"Really?"
"There are only so many goods left in the universe," Estelle pointed out. "That lipstick you were examining? It was the last tube of Primrose Mystery left. Anywhere, as far as I know."
"How did you come across it?" Ellen asked.
Estelle smiled mysteriously. "Secrets of the trade." She glanced at her watch. "I'm afraid I should get back to my stall. I don't trust Kelly not to dip her hand into my stock, although she'd never get away with it."
"Well, it's been lovely," Ellen said, extending her hand.
"It has. Next time you're on Cloud 9, we'll go for a drink again." Estelle smiled and slid off her stool. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ellen."
Ellen watched her thread her way gracefully through the bar. Then she turned back to the bartender. "I believe I'll have another."
***
The rooms on Cloud 9 that were set aside for paying guests from other ships were among the nicest in the Fleet. They were certainly nicer than the dreary cell she shared with Saul. Ellen stretched, the worn satin of the sheets smooth against her skin, the mattress soft under her.
She eased out of bed and pulled on her clothing, surprised when she felt the heaviness of an object in her skirt pocket. Automatically, she reached in, her fingers closed around a thin, smooth cylinder. She pulled it out, her eyebrows raising in surprise.
Chavelle's Primrose Mystery. The last tube in the universe.
Ellen needed to see Estelle Veres right away.
***
As soon as she approached the market place, Ellen knew that something was wrong. There were guards keeping people back, and knots of people straining to see what was going on. Ellen stood on her tiptoes, but it was of no avail.
The lights flickered, and the holograph faded in and out, flashing from a beautiful horizon to the dull gray of the ship walls. A young woman approached, a tool box in her hand. One of the guards spotted her. "Daphne," he sighed. "It's about time. What took you so long?"
"I was held working on the ventilation system," the girl said. She cut right through the knot of people Ellen was standing with. She was a pretty girl, with overlarge dark brown eyes, a dusky complexion, and her hair caught up in an unflattering bun. Ellen moved aside, and as the girl passed by, she realized that she was extremely young indeed. But the guard was tapping his foot impatiently. "What happened?" she asked.
"How should I know?" he scowled. "That's what you're here to figure out."
"I meant what happened? The lights? The power?"
"The lights went out for about five minutes, and they've been wonky ever since," he said. "Seems to be contained to the marketplace area."
"All right." She headed out of Ellen's sight. Ellen shook her head.
"This is ridiculous," she said out loud. "We're not just standing around gawking because of some glitch in the machinery, are we?"
"I heard someone's dead," one of the other bystanders said.
"Dead? Really?" Ellen asked. She stood up on her toes again, craning her neck for a better glance at the marketplace. "Who?"
"I heard one of the vendors, another bystander put in. "Killed when the power went out."
"No," a man denied. "There wasn't a scream or anything. How would you kill someone that quietly?"
"You've got no imagination, Bob," the first said. "Lots of ways to kill a person that don't involve screaming. Besides, there was enough noise when the lights went out that even if someone screamed, no one would bother to look."
"Lovely," Ellen muttered. She was about to edge away when she caught the eye of Admiral Cain.
"Ellen," Cain said. "What's going on?"
Her demeanor allowed for no games. "I understand there was a death."
"A death?" Cain said. She half-pushed through the bystanders, but as people began to realize who she was, the crowd fell away more easily. "Who's investigating it?"
Seeing her opportunity, Ellen jumped into her wake, following the Admiral through the crowd. The lipstick tube hung heavy in her pocket, knocking against her thigh.
When she saw the crime scene, she almost stopped in her tracks. But Cain was still moving forward, and Ellen had no desire to look like a fainting flower in front of the Admiral.
Estelle was slumped on the ground, her hair still in its perfect twist. Her eyes were still open, and her hand was clenched near her throat.
"Poison," Cain declared.
"How can you be sure without an autopsy?" Ellen asked. "It may just have been a heart attack or some other ailment."
"See how her lips have that black tinge to them?" Cain said, pointing. "Certain arsenic compounds will do that. They'll do a lot more, as well, but I'll spare you the details. She was definitely poisoned."
Ellen glanced at the table. "It doesn't look like much was disturbed," she said. "A lot of her stock is still…" she trailed off, looking down at the small cosmetic display.
The lipstick wasn't the only thing missing. So were the perfume bottle, the two tubes of mascara, and the bottle of foundation. All that was left was a half-used eye shadow, a cracked tin of bronzer, and a few scented soaps. Cain glanced down perfunctorily at the display, but didn't comment. Instead, she looked around at the guards who had escorted them through the marketplace.
"Who works the stall next to hers?" Cain asked.
"Her name is Kelly," Ellen supplied immediately. "In fact, she watched the stall for Estelle earlier today."
Cain cocked an eyebrow, but only said, "Well, I think we'd better speak to Kelly. Right away."
***
"Are you saying I did it?" Kelly demanded.
"Answer the question," Cain insisted.
Kelly sighed. "I had already closed up my stall by the time the power outage happened," she said. "I think I was at the pool at that point, but I'm not sure. Most of the ship wasn't affected by the power outage. Are you really serious that Estelle is dead?" she asked incredulously.
"You don't seem all that broken up about it," Ellen observed.
"I'm in shock," Kelly said. "There are just some people… I mean, I know that the Cylons…" she shook her head. "Some people you don't ever expect to be felled by anything."
"Is there anyone who can account for your whereabouts during that time?" Cain asked, ignoring the sentiment.
Kelly made a face. "Maybe the lifeguards. I don't believe I saw anyone I knew."
"I see." Cain glanced at her watch.
"Is there anything else?" Kelly asked when the silence stretched a little too long. "Anything missing or anyone lurking around her stall today?" Ellen shivered.
"We have the inventory of her stock that she kept," Cain said primly. "That is all. We'll be in touch."
***
"She's lying," Cain told Ellen, once they'd settled in Ellen's room.
"About her alibi?" Ellen said. "Of course she is. But I'm not convinced that her lie has anything to do with Estelle's death. She looked furtive, but not scared. Trust me, that's the look of a woman cheating, not the look of a woman trying to cover up a murder."
"And you're an expert in lie detection?" Cain asked.
Ellen smirked. "No, just an expert in lying. Which, I must say, you don't do all that well. What's missing from her stock, Admiral?"
"I never said anything was." Cain didn't squirm, but she also glanced away before she answered. Just for a second, but Ellen saw it.
"No, but you never said anything wasn't." She sat back in her chair. "It strikes me as odd that the Admiral of the Fleet would get so personally involved in a murder case, especially when I'm sure there are many other things you should be attending to right now." She pulled the lipstick out of her pocket. "So what else is missing, besides this?" she asked.
Cain didn't flush- she was far too hardened for that. But she slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out the bottle of perfume. "I didn't buy this, nor did I take it. But it's in my pocket anyway. I want an explanation."
"There are three other items missing as well," Ellen revealed. "I doubt that Estelle sold them all since we were at her stall." Ellen put her feet up on a nearby table. "But it makes no sense. If I'm caught with the lipstick, someone can easily assume my motive was money. You've got the perfume, and I must say, you do have your reputation. But the absence of the two tubes of mascara and the foundation implies three more women were framed as well."
"Or that the killer kept those."
"True enough. I-"
A knock on the door interrupted Ellen. She glanced at Cain, who was sitting on the bed, and then rose as gracefully as she could. When she opened it, she saw a woman in full security uniform standing outside. "Yes?" she said, raising one eyebrow.
The woman flashed a badge. "Captain Torres, of the Cloud 9 security force," she said. "I have a few questions for you."
"For us?"
"Well, I understand that you two have taken it under your own initiative to be doing my job," Torres said.
Ellen smirked. "You do know who she is, don't you?" she asked Captain Torres, jerking a thumb at Admiral Cain.
"Of course I know. But this is a civilian matter, not a military one."
Cain stood up. "Murder is always a military matter."
Torres ignored her. Instead, she pulled out a notepad. "I understand that both of you were at the victim's stall this afternoon," she said. "Can you account for where you were during the power outage?"
"I was here, taking a nap," Ellen said.
"I was discussing the ship's capabilities with Captain Chan," Cain said.
"Mrs. Tigh, can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?"
"No, but I don't always nap in company," Ellen said. Her stomach twisted a bit, especially as Torres frowned and made a note of it. She held up the lipstick. "I'd also like an explanation of how this ended up in my skirt pocket," she said.
Torres took it, examined it, and then her eyebrows raised. "This is one of the items missing from Estelle Veres's stall."
"Yes. And I have no idea how it ended up here," Ellen said, a little too stridently.
"I see," Torres said. "Had you ever met Ms. Veres before today?"
"No," Ellen said. "I've never seen her before in my life."
"Admiral Cain?"
"Not that I can remember, no. I didn't even know her name."
"Very well. Don't go far. Especially you," she said to Ellen, fixing her with a significant gaze. "I'll be in touch." She nodded to them both and left the room.
"She thinks I did it," Ellen sighed, rolling her eyes. But she couldn't deny that she was a little nervous.
"She didn't search the room," Cain said. "Why did you show her the lipstick?"
"Why do you think? She might be wary of searching you, but she wouldn't hesitate to search me. If she found it and I didn't tell her, it makes me look guilty for sure." Ellen frowned. "Maybe someone is trying to frame me."
"It's not beyond the realm of possibility," Cain agreed. "And if they're trying to frame you, they're trying to frame me as well. I think we need to talk to someone else who knew Estelle Veres."
Ellen snapped her fingers. "Her daughter," she said. "Estelle told me that her daughter was on Cloud 9, helping her with sales. Maybe she'll be able to help."
***
They found Amelia Veres in a private room that didn't belong to her. She was a wisp of a girl with messy blond hair, big blue eyes and thin hands, huddled in a blanket and sipping a cup of hot tea. Three guards sat with her. She was younger than Ellen had expected, maybe sixteen, and she'd obviously been crying.
"I don't know," Amelia said, after Cain had introduced them and explained their purpose. "I don't know who would have killed my mother."
"She was well liked?"
Amelia wiped her eyes and shook her head. "No, she wasn't. Everybody hated my mother. I hated my mother. She was a bitch."
Admiral Cain smirked. "A lot of exemplary women have been called bitches, Amelia. But people don't try to kill them for it."
Amelia glared at her. "You never met my mother, sir," she said, and Ellen remembered what Estelle had said about her daughter wanting to be in the Colonial Fleet.
"What about her would make people want her dead?" Ellen asked. "She seemed perfectly lovely to me."
"Only because you didn't know her, and you just met her. She looks nice enough, and she's got these manners that make you think she's really high class. But then she just uses you to get what she wants. Doesn't matter what it costs."
"Give us examples," Cain ordered.
Amelia made a face. "Look, if I tell you this, will you promise not to go after her?"
"Go after who?" Ellen asked.
"My friend. I'm only telling you because I know she was working on the ventilation system when my mother was killed, so she couldn't have done it."
Cain opened her mouth, reconsidered, and then closed it again. "I can't promise anything, Amelia, but I do promise she won't be dragged in without due consideration."
Amelia looked away. Finally, she said, "I have a friend- Daphne. She's a mechanic." Ellen remembered the young woman they'd seen up in the marketplace with the toolbox. "Anyway, Daphne's Sagittaron. Mother doesn't- didn't- much like her, thought she was beneath us. And once, some of the jewelry went missing from Mother's stall. She couldn't find it anywhere. So she accused Daphne of it."
"And?"
"What more do you need? Daphne never did anything to Mother other than be friends with me. Mother wanted to punish her." Amelia took a sip of her tea. "They never proved anything, of course, because Daphne didn't do it. But no one trusts her anymore, either, and she gets stuck with all the shit jobs."
"What about you?" Ellen asked. "Your mother mentioned that you help her with sales."
"You know what else she does?" Amelia charged on, ignoring Ellen's question and looking right at Cain. "As soon as someone dies- for any reason- BAM. Mother was right there. People would let her in because she's such good class and it's such an honor," Amelia imitated them, rolling her eyes, "but the entire time Mother was in supposedly consoling the family, she was scoping out any valuables the person might have. And she'd swipe them! My mother was a frakking graverobber!"
"Sweetie, I'm sure you're exaggerating," Ellen said.
"I am not! Ask any of the other vendors! They could barely scrape together anything of value to sell because Mother always beat them to it!"
"I see. Amelia, you never answered the question, what do you do for your mother?"
"I just help her." Amelia shifted uncomfortably.
"Acquiring the goods?"
"No. Just… things." There was a set about Amelia's jaw that made Ellen realize that the girl wasn't going to say anymore. Which meant it was either illegal, or Amelia was lying about her mother's methods. But Amelia's lips were beginning to tremble, and it was clear the girl was going to break down.
"I think that's enough for right now," one of the guards spoke up. "We'll be staying with her until the killer is caught. If it's personal, it's pretty likely that whoever did this will come after Amelia, too."
"All right," Ellen relented. Cain looked like she might like to argue, but Amelia's face was crumpling even more. It was clear that she was about to become completely useless. She gestured with her head, and Cain followed her out.
"What do you think?" Ellen asked. "Daphne next?"
"Definitely Daphne."
***
Daphne was just finishing her work on the generator when Ellen and Cain found her. When she looked up at them, Ellen saw genuine fear in her eyes.
"What do you want?" she asked. "They already asked me about her."
"About who?" Admiral Cain said.
"Estelle Veres. I didn't do it."
"No one said you did."
"No one has to. Everybody thinks it anyway. Especially after they found two tubes of mascara in my room."
"Really?"
"Yeah. But they knew I was down working on the ventilation system this morning." Daphne shrugged. There was a streak of grease across her face. "They've cleared me already. Please leave me alone so I can finish my job."
"So who would have put the mascara in your room?"
Daphne shrugged, crouching down and sifting through her toolbox. "Got me."
"Could Estelle have been trying to frame you again?" Cain asked.
"Wouldn't know, unless you want to hold a séance," Daphne said. "But I can't really see Mrs. Veres sneaking down to the crew quarters. It's not her normal domain." Daphne was staring at Cain. "But if you're going to insist on bothering me… if it's not too much to ask, could you take Amelia with you when you go? She's wanted to be a part of the Colonial Fleet the entire time I've known her, and she'd be good, too."
Cain studied Daphne. "I think I'd rather take you. You look awfully young to be doing the job you're doing."
Daphne shrugged. "Amelia's just as good. That's how I met her. But if you want me, you have to take Amelia, too. She needs to get off this ship."
"I'll have to see," Cain said. "Why is she so eager to get into the Fleet? Especially now, of all times?"
"Don't ask me," Daphne said, shrugging. "I just work here." She shut her toolbox.
"One more question," Ellen said, before Daphne could leave. "Do you have any idea how the mascara could have gotten from Estelle's stall and into your room?"
"Lots of ideas," Daphne said. "I share a room with five other mechanics. Speaking of which, there's Gunther now."
Ellen turned her head and saw a tall, dark, young, incredibly good-looking young man standing against one of the stalls, talking to Kelly. Kelly was laughing, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Ellen raised her eyebrows and turned back to Daphne.
"I take it back," she said, smiling. "Just one more. Kelly and Gunther…?"
Daphne smirked. "You didn't hear it from me," she said. "Her husband would be furious."
Ellen smiled triumphantly at Cain. "I told you she was cheating," she said.
"And she was in a position to obtain the goods and place them in Daphne's room," Cain said. "Let's go."
***
"He's very attractive," Ellen told Kelly, when they pried her away from Gunther and hauled her back to Ellen's room. "Really, I can see why you would. I certainly would. You weren't at the pool when Estelle Veres was killed, were you?"
"No," Kelly sighed. "But Gunther can vouch for my whereabouts."
"Did he notice you putting the tube into Daphne's things?" Ellen asked. "Or did that escape him? I do find that when they're that pretty, they aren't always that bright."
"The mascara? I didn't… I…" Kelly realized her slip, and sighed again. She deflated, sitting down on the bed. "All right, so I did. But that wasn't what I was trying to do!"
"What were you trying to do?" Cain asked. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the bottle of perfume. Kelly didn't even flinch as she looked at it. "Because this sure as hell makes it look like you were trying to give people motives if it came to light that Estelle Veres was murdered."
"I wasn't," Kelly said. "Yes, I put the mascara there, and the perfume, and the lipstick. But I didn't kill Estelle Veres. I just… look. You don't know what it's like, working in that market. Trying to make a living, not that it really matters anymore, I suppose, trying to cling to an old way of life, and constantly having every opportunity snatched away from you because some opportunistic bitch has managed to corner the market on cosmetics."
"Surely there are other things that people are interested in besides cosmetics," Ellen said.
"It's not the cosmetics per se," Kelly admitted. "But her possession of such a rare item means that she also gets first dibs on everything else. People use her as a merchant because they know that there will be a big draw to her stall. She can command a higher price, and get it. It's all very cutthroat, the retail business. But if I could get rid of the cosmetics… then maybe I could sever her grip on the market."
"So you planted them on people?"
"On people who could afford them," Kelly agreed.
"Or who would be suspected of stealing them," Cain pointed out.
Kelly looked away. "I didn't kill her," she said.
"But you sure made it look like I did," Ellen said. "Forgive me if I don't find that overly compelling."
"What about the last tube of mascara and the foundation? They're missing as well."
"I held on to the foundation," Kelly admitted. "But I gave Amelia the other tube."
"Amelia. Her daughter? You didn't think that she'd tell her mother?"
Kelly snorted. "Hardly. And really, I can't blame her."
"Why not?" Cain asked. "According to Amelia, she helps her mother with the sales."
Kelly's face hardened. "If that's what you want to call it. Believe me, the best thing about Estelle being dead is that now that little girl might have a shot at what passes for a decent life in this hellhole. Sales."
"You don't mean-" Ellen began, horrified.
Kelly pressed her lips together. "It's only a rumor," she said. "But it might be what you need to go on."
"You won't have time to escape, you know," Cain said. "The shuttle traffic has been held for right now."
"Well, if I was trying to escape, I'd bear that in mind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do at the marketplace."
Ellen looked at Admiral Cain, a sick feeling in her gut. "She's telling the truth, isn't she? Her mother was really prostituting her out?" She'd heard of such things on the black market, but she hadn't imagined that this kind of thing would be taking place on a ship like Cloud 9.
Cain nodded tightly. "It's amazing how low people can go in a situation like this. Come on. It shouldn't be too hard to verify her story."
***
"Where'd you get the arsenic, Amelia?"
Amelia jerked up out of her blanket. "I… I didn't," she began, starting to tremble. "I didn't…"
"You did," Cain said, her arms crossed. "Don't even try to deny it."
She'd sent the guards away, Ellen realized suddenly, with an odd feeling of relief. "Daphne confessed already," Ellen put in. "She told us she gave you the arsenic."
Amelia sullenly looked away. "You would have done it, too," she muttered.
"No," Cain said, "I probably would have shot her." Amelia's head snapped up, and Cain smiled mirthlessly. "Sometimes you're pushed into a situation that no human should be forced into. And then you have to take action. And you did."
Amelia stared at her, her mouth open slightly. "It almost sounds like you're pleased I killed my mother," she ventured.
"I wouldn't say 'pleased'," Cain said, although her eyes belied her true feelings, "but I do admire people who can make the difficult decisions, people who will stand up and fight for their own lives. I understand," she continued, leaning against a dresser, "that you are quite good with machines."
"I… yes." Amelia looked at Ellen, who didn't answer.
"When you address your commanding officer, you will always address them as 'sir'," Cain dictated. Amelia's eyes widened.
"Yes, sir," she said.
Cain looked at her watch. "We have fifteen minutes before the shuttle departs for the Pegasus. Get your things together. Daphne will be meeting us there."
"Yes, sir."
"Well?" Cain demanded. "Get moving."
With one last, harried look at Ellen, Amelia cast off the blanket and left the room.
Ellen looked at Cain. "How are you going to explain this to Captain Torres and her crack squad of investigators?"
"Well, that's one of the perks about being Admiral," Cain said, with a smile. "I don't have to explain anything."
Ellen laughed. "You almost make the military sound attractive," she said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the lipstick. "And these?"
"Well, the proper owners are dead," Cain said. She pulled out the bottle of perfume and examined it, turning it so it caught the light.
"And we'll never know who they belonged to anyway," Ellen agreed. "I think… payment, don't you think? For our fine work in solving this case?"
Cain smiled. "I came over to Cloud 9 with nothing, and am leaving with two new mechanics and a bottle of perfume. I think that qualifies as a good day." She glanced at her watch. "Well, I need to get my new mechanics back to the Pegasus. I have a meeting with a Dr. Baltar in an hour. I'm sure I'll see you soon, Mrs. Tigh."
"I'm sure." Ellen watched her go. She turned back to the lipstick again, clicking the tube so the lipstick slid up, the tip perfect and pointed.
"It's definitely a good day," she agreed, smiling again.
Author: lls_mutant
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (new)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, swearing, talk of past child prostitution/sexual abuse
Prompt: My wish is to ride the tempest, tame the waves, kill the sharks. I will not resign myself to the usual lot of women who bow their heads and become concubines. -- Trieu Thi Trinh (225-248), 3rd-century Vietnamese revolutionary who led a rebellion against Chinese invaders. Known as "the Vietnamese Joan of Arc."
Summary: The last cosmetics vendor in the universe has turned up dead. Ellen Tigh needs to figure out who killed her, before she's accused of the crime herself.
Author's Notes: Thanks to rebelliousrose for the brilliant comment about a murder mystery centering around the last bottle of perfume in existence.
The open air marketplace on Cloud 9 looked a lot more attractive from far away than it did close up. Ellen looked distastefully at the clothing spread out on the counter. How was it that in the twenty thousand woman that had survived, there was such a dearth of taste and style? She fingered a rough sweater, and then moved on.
There was a slight breeze. She knew it was manufactured, brought on by compressors and circulators and ventilation. There was sunlight, which was from cleverly concealed bulbs and mirrors. There was a blue sky thanks to holographics, grass because of hydroponics, and birdsong emanating from hidden speakers. But if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that this manufactured world was real.
The stalls were bright colors, a relief from the gray of Galactica. But the faces were the same, strained and worried and grieving. Ellen ignored the faces and focused on the wares.
A small, glittering display caught her eye, and she was irresistibly drawn closer, like a magpie in the vicinity of a shiny object. And even once one of the items was in her hands, she still couldn't believe it.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" the woman behind the counter said. She was very elegant, with a slim figure and her ash blond hair swept up into a twist. Her clothing was worn but expertly tailored out of a fine fabric. She looked like she was Ellen's age, but her skin had obviously been cared for and her body was toned.
"Chavelle's Primrose Mystery," Ellen identified it, swiveling the base. The lipstick, still perfectly molded, clicked into place like a weapon. She stared at it longingly. "How much?"
"Ninety cubits," the woman said.
"Nintey?!" Ellen gasped, as another woman approached the stall. Ellen glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, and then did a double take after she recognized the blue uniform. "Admiral," she said, the corner of her lips curling into a smile. "Doing a little shopping?"
Admiral Cain looked down at the items on the table. Ellen realized she'd picked up the lipstick from a small collection of cosmetics. "It's most certainly prudent to have an idea what is in the Fleet for myself," she said. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and she reached down and fingered a perfume bottle. "I never thought that I would see something like this for sale again. May I?"
"Please do, Admiral," the woman said. She glanced sidelong at Ellen, who smirked back. Admiral Cain sprayed a small amount onto her wrist and smelled it, closing her eyes.
"It's beautiful," she said softly. She opened her eyes and examined the bottle. "How much?"
"That bottle's running one hundred and twenty cubits," the woman said. "It's the last bottle of Dolce Veritas in the universe."
Cain sighed, and placed the bottle back on the table, her fingers lingering. "I'll have to think about it," she said, although her eyes stayed trained on the bottle for a long moment. She glanced down the long line of vendors. "Unfortunately, I don't have much time before my shuttle returns to the Pegasus. Ladies." She nodded curtly to the woman, flicked a glance at Ellen, and continued on.
"Bet she thought you should just give it to her because she's the Admiral," Ellen muttered.
The woman behind the stall smirked. "I thought the same thing." She studied Ellen more carefully. "I'm Estelle Veres, by the way," she said, extending her hand.
"Ellen Tigh," Ellen responded. "My husband is the XO of Galactica."
"Yes, I know," Estelle said. She winked. "Have you thought any more about the lipstick?"
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to forgo it this time," Ellen said, laying it back on the table. "The price, you know. Although…"
"I know. It can almost be forgiven, just for the chance to wear lipstick again," Estelle agreed, and the two women sighed in unison.
"Would you like to join me for a drink?" Ellen asked suddenly. "The Galactica is not exactly a social ship."
"I'd love to." Estelle swept the cosmetic items off the table and deposited them in a safe. Then she leaned over. "Kelly," she said to the woman in the stall next to her, "I'm going for a drink. Watch my stall."
"Of course, Mrs. Veres," the younger woman said. Ellen noticed that she didn't dress nearly as well as Estelle, nor were her offerings nearly so fashionable.
Estelle clicked the key in the safe lock. "Shall we adjourn to the bar?"
***
Ellen looked around the room and sighed happily. "It's so much better than Galactica," she said cheerfully.
"I've never been over there," Estelle said, unfolding her napkin and placing it in her lap. "I imagine it's very dreary."
"Completely," Ellen agreed. "Although it does have its finer points in scenery," she mused, cocking her eyebrows meaningfully.
Estelle smirked. "Pilots or Marines?"
"Or?" Ellen laughed. "Why choose?" She glanced around the bar again. "Still… this is a little more my style."
"Mmm. I take it you're not military?"
"Not at all," Ellen said, rolling her eyes. "Dreadfully dull, with the regulations and the monotony of it all, and quite frankly, I'm not sure I could handle someone telling me what to do all the time. Especially Adama," she added, biting the last three syllables out crisply.
"Or Admiral Cain?" Estelle asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Ellen shrugged. "An order is an order," she said lightly. "But I must say that the Admiral seems more… martial, shall we say?… than our esteemed Commander ever has."
Estelle made a face. "My daughter wanted to join the military," she said sourly. "Hardly a befitting profession for someone from our family, but she wouldn't be swayed."
"Was she stationed on a battlestar?" Ellen asked.
"Oh, no. She's still not old enough." Estelle sipped her drink. "Besides, I found her a far more suitable position."
"Really?" Ellen asked, wondering what the hell anyone would consider a suitable position these days.
"She helps me in sales," Estelle said. "What do you do, Ellen?"
Ellen shrugged. "What does anyone do anymore?" she asked. "I used to be a marketing specialist back on Caprica. Not much call for ad campaigns these days."
"You'd be surprised," Estelle said. "The free market is still alive and kicking. The marketplace on Cloud 9 may look serene and peaceful, but it's quite the den of wolves."
"Really?"
"There are only so many goods left in the universe," Estelle pointed out. "That lipstick you were examining? It was the last tube of Primrose Mystery left. Anywhere, as far as I know."
"How did you come across it?" Ellen asked.
Estelle smiled mysteriously. "Secrets of the trade." She glanced at her watch. "I'm afraid I should get back to my stall. I don't trust Kelly not to dip her hand into my stock, although she'd never get away with it."
"Well, it's been lovely," Ellen said, extending her hand.
"It has. Next time you're on Cloud 9, we'll go for a drink again." Estelle smiled and slid off her stool. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ellen."
Ellen watched her thread her way gracefully through the bar. Then she turned back to the bartender. "I believe I'll have another."
***
The rooms on Cloud 9 that were set aside for paying guests from other ships were among the nicest in the Fleet. They were certainly nicer than the dreary cell she shared with Saul. Ellen stretched, the worn satin of the sheets smooth against her skin, the mattress soft under her.
She eased out of bed and pulled on her clothing, surprised when she felt the heaviness of an object in her skirt pocket. Automatically, she reached in, her fingers closed around a thin, smooth cylinder. She pulled it out, her eyebrows raising in surprise.
Chavelle's Primrose Mystery. The last tube in the universe.
Ellen needed to see Estelle Veres right away.
***
As soon as she approached the market place, Ellen knew that something was wrong. There were guards keeping people back, and knots of people straining to see what was going on. Ellen stood on her tiptoes, but it was of no avail.
The lights flickered, and the holograph faded in and out, flashing from a beautiful horizon to the dull gray of the ship walls. A young woman approached, a tool box in her hand. One of the guards spotted her. "Daphne," he sighed. "It's about time. What took you so long?"
"I was held working on the ventilation system," the girl said. She cut right through the knot of people Ellen was standing with. She was a pretty girl, with overlarge dark brown eyes, a dusky complexion, and her hair caught up in an unflattering bun. Ellen moved aside, and as the girl passed by, she realized that she was extremely young indeed. But the guard was tapping his foot impatiently. "What happened?" she asked.
"How should I know?" he scowled. "That's what you're here to figure out."
"I meant what happened? The lights? The power?"
"The lights went out for about five minutes, and they've been wonky ever since," he said. "Seems to be contained to the marketplace area."
"All right." She headed out of Ellen's sight. Ellen shook her head.
"This is ridiculous," she said out loud. "We're not just standing around gawking because of some glitch in the machinery, are we?"
"I heard someone's dead," one of the other bystanders said.
"Dead? Really?" Ellen asked. She stood up on her toes again, craning her neck for a better glance at the marketplace. "Who?"
"I heard one of the vendors, another bystander put in. "Killed when the power went out."
"No," a man denied. "There wasn't a scream or anything. How would you kill someone that quietly?"
"You've got no imagination, Bob," the first said. "Lots of ways to kill a person that don't involve screaming. Besides, there was enough noise when the lights went out that even if someone screamed, no one would bother to look."
"Lovely," Ellen muttered. She was about to edge away when she caught the eye of Admiral Cain.
"Ellen," Cain said. "What's going on?"
Her demeanor allowed for no games. "I understand there was a death."
"A death?" Cain said. She half-pushed through the bystanders, but as people began to realize who she was, the crowd fell away more easily. "Who's investigating it?"
Seeing her opportunity, Ellen jumped into her wake, following the Admiral through the crowd. The lipstick tube hung heavy in her pocket, knocking against her thigh.
When she saw the crime scene, she almost stopped in her tracks. But Cain was still moving forward, and Ellen had no desire to look like a fainting flower in front of the Admiral.
Estelle was slumped on the ground, her hair still in its perfect twist. Her eyes were still open, and her hand was clenched near her throat.
"Poison," Cain declared.
"How can you be sure without an autopsy?" Ellen asked. "It may just have been a heart attack or some other ailment."
"See how her lips have that black tinge to them?" Cain said, pointing. "Certain arsenic compounds will do that. They'll do a lot more, as well, but I'll spare you the details. She was definitely poisoned."
Ellen glanced at the table. "It doesn't look like much was disturbed," she said. "A lot of her stock is still…" she trailed off, looking down at the small cosmetic display.
The lipstick wasn't the only thing missing. So were the perfume bottle, the two tubes of mascara, and the bottle of foundation. All that was left was a half-used eye shadow, a cracked tin of bronzer, and a few scented soaps. Cain glanced down perfunctorily at the display, but didn't comment. Instead, she looked around at the guards who had escorted them through the marketplace.
"Who works the stall next to hers?" Cain asked.
"Her name is Kelly," Ellen supplied immediately. "In fact, she watched the stall for Estelle earlier today."
Cain cocked an eyebrow, but only said, "Well, I think we'd better speak to Kelly. Right away."
***
"Are you saying I did it?" Kelly demanded.
"Answer the question," Cain insisted.
Kelly sighed. "I had already closed up my stall by the time the power outage happened," she said. "I think I was at the pool at that point, but I'm not sure. Most of the ship wasn't affected by the power outage. Are you really serious that Estelle is dead?" she asked incredulously.
"You don't seem all that broken up about it," Ellen observed.
"I'm in shock," Kelly said. "There are just some people… I mean, I know that the Cylons…" she shook her head. "Some people you don't ever expect to be felled by anything."
"Is there anyone who can account for your whereabouts during that time?" Cain asked, ignoring the sentiment.
Kelly made a face. "Maybe the lifeguards. I don't believe I saw anyone I knew."
"I see." Cain glanced at her watch.
"Is there anything else?" Kelly asked when the silence stretched a little too long. "Anything missing or anyone lurking around her stall today?" Ellen shivered.
"We have the inventory of her stock that she kept," Cain said primly. "That is all. We'll be in touch."
***
"She's lying," Cain told Ellen, once they'd settled in Ellen's room.
"About her alibi?" Ellen said. "Of course she is. But I'm not convinced that her lie has anything to do with Estelle's death. She looked furtive, but not scared. Trust me, that's the look of a woman cheating, not the look of a woman trying to cover up a murder."
"And you're an expert in lie detection?" Cain asked.
Ellen smirked. "No, just an expert in lying. Which, I must say, you don't do all that well. What's missing from her stock, Admiral?"
"I never said anything was." Cain didn't squirm, but she also glanced away before she answered. Just for a second, but Ellen saw it.
"No, but you never said anything wasn't." She sat back in her chair. "It strikes me as odd that the Admiral of the Fleet would get so personally involved in a murder case, especially when I'm sure there are many other things you should be attending to right now." She pulled the lipstick out of her pocket. "So what else is missing, besides this?" she asked.
Cain didn't flush- she was far too hardened for that. But she slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out the bottle of perfume. "I didn't buy this, nor did I take it. But it's in my pocket anyway. I want an explanation."
"There are three other items missing as well," Ellen revealed. "I doubt that Estelle sold them all since we were at her stall." Ellen put her feet up on a nearby table. "But it makes no sense. If I'm caught with the lipstick, someone can easily assume my motive was money. You've got the perfume, and I must say, you do have your reputation. But the absence of the two tubes of mascara and the foundation implies three more women were framed as well."
"Or that the killer kept those."
"True enough. I-"
A knock on the door interrupted Ellen. She glanced at Cain, who was sitting on the bed, and then rose as gracefully as she could. When she opened it, she saw a woman in full security uniform standing outside. "Yes?" she said, raising one eyebrow.
The woman flashed a badge. "Captain Torres, of the Cloud 9 security force," she said. "I have a few questions for you."
"For us?"
"Well, I understand that you two have taken it under your own initiative to be doing my job," Torres said.
Ellen smirked. "You do know who she is, don't you?" she asked Captain Torres, jerking a thumb at Admiral Cain.
"Of course I know. But this is a civilian matter, not a military one."
Cain stood up. "Murder is always a military matter."
Torres ignored her. Instead, she pulled out a notepad. "I understand that both of you were at the victim's stall this afternoon," she said. "Can you account for where you were during the power outage?"
"I was here, taking a nap," Ellen said.
"I was discussing the ship's capabilities with Captain Chan," Cain said.
"Mrs. Tigh, can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?"
"No, but I don't always nap in company," Ellen said. Her stomach twisted a bit, especially as Torres frowned and made a note of it. She held up the lipstick. "I'd also like an explanation of how this ended up in my skirt pocket," she said.
Torres took it, examined it, and then her eyebrows raised. "This is one of the items missing from Estelle Veres's stall."
"Yes. And I have no idea how it ended up here," Ellen said, a little too stridently.
"I see," Torres said. "Had you ever met Ms. Veres before today?"
"No," Ellen said. "I've never seen her before in my life."
"Admiral Cain?"
"Not that I can remember, no. I didn't even know her name."
"Very well. Don't go far. Especially you," she said to Ellen, fixing her with a significant gaze. "I'll be in touch." She nodded to them both and left the room.
"She thinks I did it," Ellen sighed, rolling her eyes. But she couldn't deny that she was a little nervous.
"She didn't search the room," Cain said. "Why did you show her the lipstick?"
"Why do you think? She might be wary of searching you, but she wouldn't hesitate to search me. If she found it and I didn't tell her, it makes me look guilty for sure." Ellen frowned. "Maybe someone is trying to frame me."
"It's not beyond the realm of possibility," Cain agreed. "And if they're trying to frame you, they're trying to frame me as well. I think we need to talk to someone else who knew Estelle Veres."
Ellen snapped her fingers. "Her daughter," she said. "Estelle told me that her daughter was on Cloud 9, helping her with sales. Maybe she'll be able to help."
***
They found Amelia Veres in a private room that didn't belong to her. She was a wisp of a girl with messy blond hair, big blue eyes and thin hands, huddled in a blanket and sipping a cup of hot tea. Three guards sat with her. She was younger than Ellen had expected, maybe sixteen, and she'd obviously been crying.
"I don't know," Amelia said, after Cain had introduced them and explained their purpose. "I don't know who would have killed my mother."
"She was well liked?"
Amelia wiped her eyes and shook her head. "No, she wasn't. Everybody hated my mother. I hated my mother. She was a bitch."
Admiral Cain smirked. "A lot of exemplary women have been called bitches, Amelia. But people don't try to kill them for it."
Amelia glared at her. "You never met my mother, sir," she said, and Ellen remembered what Estelle had said about her daughter wanting to be in the Colonial Fleet.
"What about her would make people want her dead?" Ellen asked. "She seemed perfectly lovely to me."
"Only because you didn't know her, and you just met her. She looks nice enough, and she's got these manners that make you think she's really high class. But then she just uses you to get what she wants. Doesn't matter what it costs."
"Give us examples," Cain ordered.
Amelia made a face. "Look, if I tell you this, will you promise not to go after her?"
"Go after who?" Ellen asked.
"My friend. I'm only telling you because I know she was working on the ventilation system when my mother was killed, so she couldn't have done it."
Cain opened her mouth, reconsidered, and then closed it again. "I can't promise anything, Amelia, but I do promise she won't be dragged in without due consideration."
Amelia looked away. Finally, she said, "I have a friend- Daphne. She's a mechanic." Ellen remembered the young woman they'd seen up in the marketplace with the toolbox. "Anyway, Daphne's Sagittaron. Mother doesn't- didn't- much like her, thought she was beneath us. And once, some of the jewelry went missing from Mother's stall. She couldn't find it anywhere. So she accused Daphne of it."
"And?"
"What more do you need? Daphne never did anything to Mother other than be friends with me. Mother wanted to punish her." Amelia took a sip of her tea. "They never proved anything, of course, because Daphne didn't do it. But no one trusts her anymore, either, and she gets stuck with all the shit jobs."
"What about you?" Ellen asked. "Your mother mentioned that you help her with sales."
"You know what else she does?" Amelia charged on, ignoring Ellen's question and looking right at Cain. "As soon as someone dies- for any reason- BAM. Mother was right there. People would let her in because she's such good class and it's such an honor," Amelia imitated them, rolling her eyes, "but the entire time Mother was in supposedly consoling the family, she was scoping out any valuables the person might have. And she'd swipe them! My mother was a frakking graverobber!"
"Sweetie, I'm sure you're exaggerating," Ellen said.
"I am not! Ask any of the other vendors! They could barely scrape together anything of value to sell because Mother always beat them to it!"
"I see. Amelia, you never answered the question, what do you do for your mother?"
"I just help her." Amelia shifted uncomfortably.
"Acquiring the goods?"
"No. Just… things." There was a set about Amelia's jaw that made Ellen realize that the girl wasn't going to say anymore. Which meant it was either illegal, or Amelia was lying about her mother's methods. But Amelia's lips were beginning to tremble, and it was clear the girl was going to break down.
"I think that's enough for right now," one of the guards spoke up. "We'll be staying with her until the killer is caught. If it's personal, it's pretty likely that whoever did this will come after Amelia, too."
"All right," Ellen relented. Cain looked like she might like to argue, but Amelia's face was crumpling even more. It was clear that she was about to become completely useless. She gestured with her head, and Cain followed her out.
"What do you think?" Ellen asked. "Daphne next?"
"Definitely Daphne."
***
Daphne was just finishing her work on the generator when Ellen and Cain found her. When she looked up at them, Ellen saw genuine fear in her eyes.
"What do you want?" she asked. "They already asked me about her."
"About who?" Admiral Cain said.
"Estelle Veres. I didn't do it."
"No one said you did."
"No one has to. Everybody thinks it anyway. Especially after they found two tubes of mascara in my room."
"Really?"
"Yeah. But they knew I was down working on the ventilation system this morning." Daphne shrugged. There was a streak of grease across her face. "They've cleared me already. Please leave me alone so I can finish my job."
"So who would have put the mascara in your room?"
Daphne shrugged, crouching down and sifting through her toolbox. "Got me."
"Could Estelle have been trying to frame you again?" Cain asked.
"Wouldn't know, unless you want to hold a séance," Daphne said. "But I can't really see Mrs. Veres sneaking down to the crew quarters. It's not her normal domain." Daphne was staring at Cain. "But if you're going to insist on bothering me… if it's not too much to ask, could you take Amelia with you when you go? She's wanted to be a part of the Colonial Fleet the entire time I've known her, and she'd be good, too."
Cain studied Daphne. "I think I'd rather take you. You look awfully young to be doing the job you're doing."
Daphne shrugged. "Amelia's just as good. That's how I met her. But if you want me, you have to take Amelia, too. She needs to get off this ship."
"I'll have to see," Cain said. "Why is she so eager to get into the Fleet? Especially now, of all times?"
"Don't ask me," Daphne said, shrugging. "I just work here." She shut her toolbox.
"One more question," Ellen said, before Daphne could leave. "Do you have any idea how the mascara could have gotten from Estelle's stall and into your room?"
"Lots of ideas," Daphne said. "I share a room with five other mechanics. Speaking of which, there's Gunther now."
Ellen turned her head and saw a tall, dark, young, incredibly good-looking young man standing against one of the stalls, talking to Kelly. Kelly was laughing, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Ellen raised her eyebrows and turned back to Daphne.
"I take it back," she said, smiling. "Just one more. Kelly and Gunther…?"
Daphne smirked. "You didn't hear it from me," she said. "Her husband would be furious."
Ellen smiled triumphantly at Cain. "I told you she was cheating," she said.
"And she was in a position to obtain the goods and place them in Daphne's room," Cain said. "Let's go."
***
"He's very attractive," Ellen told Kelly, when they pried her away from Gunther and hauled her back to Ellen's room. "Really, I can see why you would. I certainly would. You weren't at the pool when Estelle Veres was killed, were you?"
"No," Kelly sighed. "But Gunther can vouch for my whereabouts."
"Did he notice you putting the tube into Daphne's things?" Ellen asked. "Or did that escape him? I do find that when they're that pretty, they aren't always that bright."
"The mascara? I didn't… I…" Kelly realized her slip, and sighed again. She deflated, sitting down on the bed. "All right, so I did. But that wasn't what I was trying to do!"
"What were you trying to do?" Cain asked. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the bottle of perfume. Kelly didn't even flinch as she looked at it. "Because this sure as hell makes it look like you were trying to give people motives if it came to light that Estelle Veres was murdered."
"I wasn't," Kelly said. "Yes, I put the mascara there, and the perfume, and the lipstick. But I didn't kill Estelle Veres. I just… look. You don't know what it's like, working in that market. Trying to make a living, not that it really matters anymore, I suppose, trying to cling to an old way of life, and constantly having every opportunity snatched away from you because some opportunistic bitch has managed to corner the market on cosmetics."
"Surely there are other things that people are interested in besides cosmetics," Ellen said.
"It's not the cosmetics per se," Kelly admitted. "But her possession of such a rare item means that she also gets first dibs on everything else. People use her as a merchant because they know that there will be a big draw to her stall. She can command a higher price, and get it. It's all very cutthroat, the retail business. But if I could get rid of the cosmetics… then maybe I could sever her grip on the market."
"So you planted them on people?"
"On people who could afford them," Kelly agreed.
"Or who would be suspected of stealing them," Cain pointed out.
Kelly looked away. "I didn't kill her," she said.
"But you sure made it look like I did," Ellen said. "Forgive me if I don't find that overly compelling."
"What about the last tube of mascara and the foundation? They're missing as well."
"I held on to the foundation," Kelly admitted. "But I gave Amelia the other tube."
"Amelia. Her daughter? You didn't think that she'd tell her mother?"
Kelly snorted. "Hardly. And really, I can't blame her."
"Why not?" Cain asked. "According to Amelia, she helps her mother with the sales."
Kelly's face hardened. "If that's what you want to call it. Believe me, the best thing about Estelle being dead is that now that little girl might have a shot at what passes for a decent life in this hellhole. Sales."
"You don't mean-" Ellen began, horrified.
Kelly pressed her lips together. "It's only a rumor," she said. "But it might be what you need to go on."
"You won't have time to escape, you know," Cain said. "The shuttle traffic has been held for right now."
"Well, if I was trying to escape, I'd bear that in mind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do at the marketplace."
Ellen looked at Admiral Cain, a sick feeling in her gut. "She's telling the truth, isn't she? Her mother was really prostituting her out?" She'd heard of such things on the black market, but she hadn't imagined that this kind of thing would be taking place on a ship like Cloud 9.
Cain nodded tightly. "It's amazing how low people can go in a situation like this. Come on. It shouldn't be too hard to verify her story."
***
"Where'd you get the arsenic, Amelia?"
Amelia jerked up out of her blanket. "I… I didn't," she began, starting to tremble. "I didn't…"
"You did," Cain said, her arms crossed. "Don't even try to deny it."
She'd sent the guards away, Ellen realized suddenly, with an odd feeling of relief. "Daphne confessed already," Ellen put in. "She told us she gave you the arsenic."
Amelia sullenly looked away. "You would have done it, too," she muttered.
"No," Cain said, "I probably would have shot her." Amelia's head snapped up, and Cain smiled mirthlessly. "Sometimes you're pushed into a situation that no human should be forced into. And then you have to take action. And you did."
Amelia stared at her, her mouth open slightly. "It almost sounds like you're pleased I killed my mother," she ventured.
"I wouldn't say 'pleased'," Cain said, although her eyes belied her true feelings, "but I do admire people who can make the difficult decisions, people who will stand up and fight for their own lives. I understand," she continued, leaning against a dresser, "that you are quite good with machines."
"I… yes." Amelia looked at Ellen, who didn't answer.
"When you address your commanding officer, you will always address them as 'sir'," Cain dictated. Amelia's eyes widened.
"Yes, sir," she said.
Cain looked at her watch. "We have fifteen minutes before the shuttle departs for the Pegasus. Get your things together. Daphne will be meeting us there."
"Yes, sir."
"Well?" Cain demanded. "Get moving."
With one last, harried look at Ellen, Amelia cast off the blanket and left the room.
Ellen looked at Cain. "How are you going to explain this to Captain Torres and her crack squad of investigators?"
"Well, that's one of the perks about being Admiral," Cain said, with a smile. "I don't have to explain anything."
Ellen laughed. "You almost make the military sound attractive," she said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the lipstick. "And these?"
"Well, the proper owners are dead," Cain said. She pulled out the bottle of perfume and examined it, turning it so it caught the light.
"And we'll never know who they belonged to anyway," Ellen agreed. "I think… payment, don't you think? For our fine work in solving this case?"
Cain smiled. "I came over to Cloud 9 with nothing, and am leaving with two new mechanics and a bottle of perfume. I think that qualifies as a good day." She glanced at her watch. "Well, I need to get my new mechanics back to the Pegasus. I have a meeting with a Dr. Baltar in an hour. I'm sure I'll see you soon, Mrs. Tigh."
"I'm sure." Ellen watched her go. She turned back to the lipstick again, clicking the tube so the lipstick slid up, the tip perfect and pointed.
"It's definitely a good day," she agreed, smiling again.