The Reporter (The Galactic Football League Novellas) Page 9

  Whykor’s eye swirled with threads of light red. “Miss Davenport, while it has certainly been invigorating serving you during this trip, my loyalty remains with my shamakath until such time as he no longer requires my services.”

  Yolanda laughed. “As resourceful as you are, my friend? I’m pretty sure that will never happen.”

  • • •

  The door to Mrs. Tweedy’s apartment was open. A crew of laborers — one HeavyKi and several Workers — was carrying furniture out of the apartment. The HeavyKi had a refrigerator on his flat back. He was so big he took up most of the hallway. Yolanda tried to get out of his way, but the twelve-foot-long creature’s black eyes narrowed in anger.

  “Krissach! Khalarut!” His words were deep, gravely sounds that shot out of the vocal tubes on top of his head. His triangular, black teeth clacked inside of his hexagonal mouth.

  Whykor stepped between her and the HeavyKi and spoke a short stream of syllables. He made his voice sound gravely, like a Human trying to act tough, but he could do nothing about his naturally higher pitch.

  The HeavyKi stared at him, blinked a few times, then slid to the side of the hall, giving Whykor and Yolanda just enough room to walk by. As Whykor passed, he ran his hand along the length of the HeavyKi’s body. The Ki were all about physical contact — Whykor’s action was a way of respectfully saying thank you.

  The HeavyKi continued down the hall.

  Yolanda smiled and turned to face Whykor. “You speak Ki? That’s the most complicated language in the galaxy just to understand, let alone converse in it. Did you study that when you were younger?”

  “I watched a program on the net about Ki word structure.”

  “You learned to speak Ki from watching a documentary?”

  “Not all of it,” Whykor said.

  She shook her head, wondering what Whykor the Aware might have been had he come out of the egg sac as a Leader instead of a Worker.

  “Miss Davenport, I don’t know if it matters, but I recognized that HeavyKi. He was Lil-A-Kewitt, former right tackle for the Orbiting Death. He joined the team in 2680, became a starter in 2681 and lasted six games of the Tier Two season before a leg injury ended his career. He was then convicted of assault and served two years in a Madderch penitentiary.”

  “So he played with Ju and Miriam?”

  “He played with Ju but not Miriam,” Whykor said. “Her last season was 2678. She retired but was still involved with the team, so we can’t say if she knew Lil-A or not.”

  Yolanda nodded, wondering if that potential connection mattered.

  She and Whykor stood in the apartment’s open door. Yolanda rapped smartly on the door, not realizing it was wet with black paint. It stood out like a bruise on her blue knuckles.

  She smiled at the four Workers who were packing boxes. “Excuse me, fellas, is Carol Tweedy home?”

  A tiny, older woman peeked out from a hallway deeper in the apartment. She wore an Orbiting Death jersey with Ju Tweedy’s former number. She locked eyes on Yolanda — at least Yolanda thought she locked eyes; the woman’s face seemed frozen in a perpetual squint.

  Carol Tweedy walked forward, brushing past the Workers. Yolanda saw that the Death jersey was streaked with paint and dirt — the woman was wearing it as a work shirt, something she didn't mind getting dirty.

  Even though Yolanda had seen holos of this woman, Mrs. Tweedy’s size seemed shocking in person — how could someone this tiny have birthed two huge professional football players?

  Yolanda smiled her best reporter smile. “Mrs. Tweedy? I’m Yolanda Davenport, and I’m—”

  She saw the punch coming but not in time to do anything about it. The next thing Yolanda knew, the back of her head hit the floor.

  • • •

  “I’d apologize for hitting you, missy, but I’m honestly not very sorry.”

  Yolanda kept the ice pack pressed to her jaw as she nodded. Carol Tweedy was clearly polite, and clearly happy with the punch.

  The woman poured iced tea from a pitcher into two glasses. She set it down and sat on the couch next to Yolanda, then pulled a flask out of her pocket and poured a dollop of an amber fluid first into her glass, then into Yolanda’s.

  “There, honey,” the woman said. “That’ll put you right.”

  Yolanda touched her jaw gingerly and winced at the bruise blossoming there. Apparently, Whykor had quickly explained that they weren’t there to get more nasty dirt, as Carol Tweedy had said.

  “Drink your tea, honey,” Carol said.

  Yolanda did and winced a little at the strength of the alcohol. “Missus Tweedy, the information—”

  “Call me Ma. Everyone does.”

  “Yes, okay, well, Ma Tweedy, the information I had initially for the article was reliable, but I’ve since learned more that makes my findings … ah … perhaps questionable.”

  Ma Tweedy nodded curtly. “Of course your findings are questionable. I didn’t raise my boys to beat up women. At least, not off the football field. One of them wanna tear up a Sklorno or knock the kneecaps off a HeavyG girl on the field, well, that’s just football.”

  Yolanda nodded. “I’m currently looking for any information I can on the situation to find out who really killed Grace McDermot and, in turn, who framed your son.”

  Ma Tweedy squinted her eyes even tighter. “And this article will make Ju look like the good boy he is?”

  “If that’s what the evidence says, yes,” Yolanda said. “I’m not here to prove him innocent unless he is, understand, but clearly there are some puzzle pieces I’m missing.”

  “Clearly,” Ma Tweedy said. “Can I refresh your drink? Or your ice pack?”

  Yolanda passed over the ice pack she’d been holding to her swollen jaw. Ma Tweedy got up and went to the kitchen, dodging the laborers who continued to move the last boxes out of the apartment. The couch and the table in front of it, apparently, would be the last to go.

  Yolanda took another sip of the “tea.” She couldn’t place the liquor in the glass but guessed it had Human origins. It tasted almost, but not quite, like bourbon. With iced tea it was odd, but she wasn’t one to turn down a hostess’s gift while interviewing. The basics of etiquette stretched even to invasive interviews, and one always got further being polite than being aggressive or rude. Well, not always, but most of the time.

  She felt a pedipalp hand on her forearm.

  “Do not forget the painkillers,” Whykor said quietly. “I would suggest you do not consume any more of that beverage.”

  Yolanda nodded. She might have forgotten that and drank herself into a stupor out of politeness.

  Ma Tweedy returned with a fresh ice pack wrapped in a towel.

  “Thanks,” Yolanda said as she took it and pressed it to her jaw. “You have ice packs stockpiled or something?”

  Ma smiled. “Special freezer for ’em. Force of habit, really. When you have little boys like Julius and Jonathan, you learn to stock up on first-aid supplies.”

  “Are the boys terribly competitive?” Yolanda asked, delighted to have this opening.

  Ma sniffed. “Two boys, both big and strong, both loving football, both getting onto Tier Two teams that play against each other? Tell me, Miss Davenport, do you think they’re competitive?”

  “Obviously. But there’s competitive, and then there’s outright jealousy.”

  Ma Tweedy waved a hand in annoyance. “Oh, you know how boys are. They love each other deeply. How they show that love is up to them. Sometimes I swear, I want to hit them in the head with a pipe, but what can you do?”

  Yolanda wasn’t sure if that was a metaphor or if Ma Tweedy actually wanted to hit the boys. She sure wasn’t shy about throwing a punch.

  “Did the boys ever play pranks on each other? Maybe jokes that could turn dangerous or setups to get the other one in trouble?”

  Ma Tweedy sighed. “Missy, I hope you’re not hinting that sweet Jonathan somehow managed to set up Julius in this horrible mess or suggestin
g that I was able to teach one boy to respect women but not the other one. And I really hope that you’re not looking to clear my youngest son’s name by implicating my eldest because if that’s the case, I believe I already told you I have a stockpile of ice packs.”

  Yolanda shifted the ice pack on her face as if it might help block the next punch from Ma Tweedy’s tiny-yet-powerful fist. “I’m trying to find the truth, ma’am, not go off of implications. I need to know about your boys, and the Krakens’ owner is keeping the team close to him.”

  “As well he should,” Ma Tweedy said. “With people like you sniffing around, missy, I’m not surprised Gredok keeps his players close.”

  The mention of Gredok’s name made Yolanda’s anger flare, but Ma Tweedy had nothing to do with that.

  “Your son Ju was seen fleeing the scene of a brutal murder,” Yolanda said. “He had means, motive and opportunity to commit the crime. He fled law enforcement and signed with a team that could get him off-planet and keep him protected. If you want to help me show he’s innocent, it’s going to take more than you being upset with me for the first story.”

  Ma Tweedy sighed. “Miss Davenport, let me tell you a secret. Can this be off the record?”

  If she had a credit for every time someone asked her that question …

  “Yes,” Yolanda said. “Off the record.”

  Ma Tweedy set her half-empty glass of tea down on the table. “I love my son Jonathan more than you could ever know unless you have a child of your own. Along with his brother, Jonathan is my heart any my soul. Jonathan and Quentin risked multimillion-credit careers — not to mention their lives — to rescue an innocent man from certain death. If you call Jonathan anything in your next article, you call him what he is — a hero.”

  She took another sip, then set the glass down.

  She sighed. “That being said, my Jonathan isn’t smart enough to manage a setup like you suggest. To arrange the murder of Grace, then frame his brother, then spirit his brother off-planet? Jonathan is brave and loyal to a fault, but he’s not exactly a criminal mastermind capable of killing a woman, even if that woman did have it coming.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Ma Tweedy made a clucking sound. “That trollop, McDermot. Can you believe her dating both Villani and my boy? And a few others, from what I understand. Where I’m from, you choose your lovers — men or women — and you stick with that.”

  Yolanda blinked. “So homosexuality is not a problem, but bisexuality is?”

  “You can’t have cake, eat it and deliver it to the church social, all at the same time.” Ma Tweedy took another sip of tea. Yolanda stared at her, failing to follow the exact meaning of the euphemism but clearly understanding the sentiment.

  The HeavyKi who seemed to be in charge of the movers approached them and grunted a string of syllables at Ma Tweedy.

  “Thank you for your hard work,” Ma Tweedy said. This tiny Human woman understood Ki? First Whykor, now Ma Tweedy — Yolanda felt a little bit dumb.

  Ma Tweedy stood and touched the Ki on his shoulder. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  He grunted an affirmative noise and turned and barked a command to his crew. They headed out quickly.

  The tiny Human woman sat and smiled. “Lil-A-Kewitt is such a hard Worker. I hope he can find work after I leave here for good.”

  “You don’t mind having an ex-con work for you?”

  Ma Tweedy shook her head. “Really, missy, are you that judgmental? Lil-A is a good boy who made a bad choice. He blocked for my Julius. He and Julius were friends, still are. Twice there were bar fights — maybe my Julius caused those, maybe not — and Lil-A defended his teammate off the field as aggressively as he did on the field. When Lil-A got out and needed work, so the Death booster club and I found him work.”

  A HeavyKi with a personal debt to the Tweedy family? “But why would you do that? Why is his life your concern?”

  “Because Lil-A is family,” Ma Tweedy said. “Family isn’t genetics or species, Miss Davenport. Family is the people who would fight for you and who you’d fight for. Lil-A took care of my son, so I will take care of him as much as I can.”

  A HeavyKi could have done the damage to Grace. Yolanda would have Whykor look up Lil-A’s record.

  “Well, I’m glad you were able to help him,” Yolanda said. “Ma, can you tell me more about the relationship between Ju and Grace McDermot?”

  Ma sighed. “I don’t know much about that trollop. She was a singer, or a dancer, or some other job that you get for being born with a nice body and a lack of virtue. I knew seeing her would get Julius in trouble, but he loved her, I guess, and whatever makes my son happy I have to try and accept. So I tried to love her, too. I didn’t do a very good job at that, but I did try.”

  “I see,” Yolanda said. “You told me earlier you taught your boys to respect women. I’m just wondering who else might have taught them things. Is there a Mister Tweedy?”

  Ma laughed, loud and long. “Well, I didn’t spawn the boys all by myself, now did I?” She laughed again, and Yolanda remained silent. Ma composed herself and said, “Of course, they had a father. Tweedy is my name, though. That piece of offal left me when the boys were five and three, and we have been just fine without him since.”

  “Do you think the boys have been in touch with him?”

  Ma’s eyes got steely. “No. They would tell me if he contacted them. When they both went into football, I said to them, Now, boys, I said, you better be ready for the worms to come out of the wood. Family you never knew you had will approach you with their hands out. Gimme, gimme, gimme. You boys be smart about all that money, you hear me?”

  Yolanda nodded. “And what did they say?”

  “They said, Yes, Ma, like they always do, of course. What would you think they’d say?”

  “So no one has approached them?”

  “Oh, sure. My nephew, a cousin I never knew and apparently someone claiming to be a half-brother. But their father has had the common decency to stay the hell away.”

  “I understand,” Yolanda said. “How has Ju been acclimating to his role on the Krakens? I remember an odd exchange between he and Barnes at the end of last season?”

  Ma waved her hand. “Boys will be boys. They all gotta pee on the fire hydrant and say I did it first. Got it worked out, I suppose. They stayed in Tier One, didn’t they?”

  Yolanda granted that they did. “So the Krakens have welcomed him to the team?”

  Ma grinned. “Like I said, they stayed in Tier One, didn’t they? They wouldn’t be there without my Julius, so I think they’ve welcomed him just fine.”

  The woman paused. “Missy, it seems to me you’re fishing for way to justify that my son could have killed that woman, like he has jealousy issues, rage issues, fights with his brother, his teammates, that kind of thing.”

  Yolanda leaned back, surprised, but she nodded. “It seems to me all of the things you just said are true, are they not?”

  Ma Tweedy stood. “I’ll be right back. I have a box in the bedroom, something I want to show you.” She walked down the hall without beckoning to Yolanda, so she stayed in her seat.

  Yolanda whispered to Whykor, “You’re getting this, right?”

  “Of course, Miss Davenport.”

  Ma came trudging back up the hall. She carried a picture frame. She set the frame on the table, then sat and poured herself a fresh glass of tea — complete with a dollop from the flask.

  The frame showed a looping holo of a much younger Ju Tweedy, maybe sixteen years old, standing next to a beautiful horse. Ju was all smiles, showing off a blue ribbon.

  “I raised the boys on Thomas 3,” she said. “Outside of the cities, there’s more land than sentients know what to do with. We lived on a farm. Lot of people don’t know Julius was quite an equestrian growing up. I bought him that horse when he was fourteen years old. He called the horse Thor. He loved that colt.”

  She picked up the frame and held it in her lap. A s
ad smiled played at the corners of her mouth. “Julius was showing him at the local farm shows. He won this ribbon, and in the next event, the horse threw a shoe and broke his leg. We couldn’t afford the kind of vet who could fix it, and even if we could, people didn’t have that kind of technology out in the boonies.

  “I told Julius that we had to end Thor’s pain. He cried so much. But it was time for him to become a man. He asked if he could be the one to do it. The vet gave him a syringe that would end Thor’s life painlessly. Julius knelt next to that horse, spoke so sweetly to him. Julius actually calmed the horse down if you can believe that, although the horse was in agony. Miss Davenport, there ain’t no pain like seeing your man-child son’s heart be ripped right out of his chest. Ju tried to use that syringe, but he just couldn’t do it. He asked me to do it for him. I did.”

  She sniffed and wiped away a tear, then held the frame tight to her chest. “You tell me, missy — if a boy doesn’t have it in him to take away the pain of an animal he loves, do you really think he could beat a Human he loves to death?”

  Moved as she was by the woman’s tenderness, Yolanda didn’t point out that the horse hadn’t likely angered Ju, while McDermot very well could have. She touched the woman’s shoulder and smiled. “Thank you for your time, Ma Tweedy. You’ve given us a look at Ju that we didn’t expect to find.”

  Ma put down the photo and smiled back at her. “My pleasure, dear. You work hard on your story. Like I tell the boys, work hard, and good things will come.”

  Yolanda stood and walked toward the door, then an idea hit her — Miriam and Ju had played football together and at least Ju had played with Lil-A. Maybe Ma Tweedy would know if Ju and Miriam had been in contact.

  She called up a picture of Miriam on the messageboard and held it up for Ma Tweedy to see.

  “Ma, do you recognize this woman?”