Murder Inc.: A Sci-fi Thriller: Book 1 Read Online Free Page A

underneath the spout, and pressed the button with a faded picture of a coffee bean on it. The appliance whirred to life, grinding beans and steaming milk. Fifty years and they still can’t find a better way to make coffee, Gutterson thought with a smirk.
    A slim figure loomed in the doorway—Detective Camilleri with her olive skin and long swirly hair as dark as midnight. She might have been pretty if her yapping mouth didn’t screw her face up so much. Gutterson knew that few liked her; even on the fringe of conversations. Nobody said it to her face though. If the machine wasn’t churning his beans, he would have cleared out. Gutterson turned his back, willing his brew faster.
    “Haven’t seen you in here for a while.” She pushed in front of Gutterson, reaching for a mug. “Stealing our coffee again? Don’t they have it up in admin?”
    Gutterson stared. Anger flickered. He had to bite the side of his mouth to suppress a response. He understood her problem with him—coasting on the success of his father, despite his own failures. It bugged him too, but he didn’t know what else to do. Others resented him for it, but at least they kept their mouths shut. With a deep resolve, he managed a grin.
    “I always wanted to ask you a question,” Camilleri continued, rolling her mug from one hand to the other. Gutterson raised his eyebrows and made a noise of inquiry. “What it was like losing your badge? After all, you’re the son of the great Ray Gutterson, the man with the most arrests in the history of the New York City police department. He’d be proud of your record.”
    The machine beeped. Finished. Suddenly he couldn’t hold it in. “Fuck off, Camilleri.” He snatched the cup from the shelf and disappeared out of the room, imagining her indignation—a lowly administration clerk calling out a detective in such a way.
    From the stairway end of the corridor, a tall man approached, mocha skin, sweeping grey hair that had once been as dark as Camilleri’s, a thick moustache, dapper blue suit—the captain, Martinez. His boss. Everyone’s boss. Martinez was trim, a health nut in his late sixties and had barged his way up to become Captain almost ten years ago. Gutterson—and most of the others—enjoyed his fair, logical style.
    “Morning, sir,” Gutterson said as they passed.
    Martinez smiled and nodded. “Morning, John.”
    Gutterson climbed the stairs, hard soles reverberating on the steps, thinking how bad it might have been without the Captain in his corner. But he had treated Gutterson with a stoic equality, conscious of the animosity amongst the other officers. And the truth was, without Martinez’ support, he wouldn’t have made it.
    It had only been eighteen months ago, but felt like a lifetime since Gutterson had been a detective. He had gotten his start on the back of his father’s name and had worked his way through the vice, robbery, and homicide divisions. While investigating the suicide of a man from an investment firm, Gutterson had stumbled onto evidence that indicated the man might not have committed suicide. Lobby groups for people’s rights had spent years fighting stricter protocols for police in gathering information about citizens. The new laws had just come into effect, which meant more obtaining authority to talk to people and longer waits for those approvals. But Gutterson was impatient and had a difficult time adjusting to the new laws. The warrants took too long, and both the police department and company he was investigating provided little support. His first breaches received warnings; then, under time pressure to file warrant requests, he breached more of the new procedures. Someone made a claim he had taken a bribe, although it was false. Gutterson had fought it, but coupled with the procedural breaches, he was suspended indefinitely. The Captain supported his efforts; in the end, however, none of the evidence he had gathered on the case was admissible—even after