His next stop for the day – and, with the sun beginning to set over the horizon, quite possibly his last stop of the day – was Cassia Grove’s establishment in the Floats. Located on the shores of Heliopolis, the Floats was a region mainly reserved for recreational experiences, many of them extremely expensive. Here, one could find various underwater restaurants, spas, and other establishments, along with floating hotels and resorts. It was in the Floats that Cassia Grove’s club, Nymphaeales, was located.

Almost as soon as he arrived and stepped out of his car, Laith could see how exclusive her recreational club was. He’d taken a look at its page online, and had found that it boasted a membership that was both powerful and extremely wealthy. Politicians, business leaders, and members of the founding families of Heliopolis were just a few of the kinds of people one could rub shoulders with at the stylish and elite Nymphaeales. Cassia Grove was doing quite well for herself, business-wise, which made her death all the more interesting. Could there have been a business-related motive for her murder?

The club itself was a sight to behold. From afar, it was easy to spot the main builting. Almost completely fashioned of thick photovoltaic glass in the shape of one giant radiant jewel half-buried in the ground, Nymphaeales shone and glimmered in the sun with an inviting, luxurious glint. The property was surrounded by high-reaching walls, ensuring the privacy of its members, so Laith had never seen the inside before. What he did know was that Nymphaeales spanned more than just the size of its principle building. It boasted tennis courts that used subsurface irrigation, moss-filtered natural swimming pools, fitness centers made entirely of recycled and repurposed materials, a well-known natural spa, a well-stocked library, fine dining areas, lounges, boardrooms, and even a ballroom for larger events. He’d also read that it had numerous underwater areas, though there were no images readily available of such spaces, and had to admit he was quite curious.

He hadn’t previously warned them of his visit, but they received warning nonetheless when he was stopped at the gates and had to go through the usual process of gaining official clearance to enter the premises. Once inside the property, a serious young woman in a white clean-cut suit introduced herself as Fleur Verdi, Cassia’s assistant. Unlike Lockwood’s assistant, Verdi looked sharp, alert, and very much in control of her life. “How can I help you today, Detective? Would you like to take a seat by the water garden? I’ll have someone bring you a freshly-squeezed juice.”

She was already leading the way, and Laith was too interested in the club to dissuade her. “Thank you, that’s kind. I’ve come to ask you some questions regarding Ms. Grove, if you don’t mind. As her assistant, I am hoping you can shed some light on some matters for me.” He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander about as he spoke, taking in the lush greens and bright reds, oranges, and pinks of the gardens they passed through. He noticed tree-like structures with solar plates atop their branches scattered throughout the property, just about blending into the natural background. The stepping stone pathways Ms. Verdi was leading him through ultimately took them around the side of the self-branded “Jewel of the Floats” and into a peaceful water garden. The subtle sounds of running water had an almost immediate soothing effect, and the cheerful calls of birds came in waves, as though they were calling back and forth to each other in pleasant rhyme.

“Please, take a seat, Detective,” Verdi said, gesturing towards a wicker recliner facing a serene pool of water filled with various thriving plants, each contributing its own vibrant splash of color. There was one other person there, on the other side of the garden – an older man who seemed to have nodded off on another recliner, his hat covering his face. He looked as though he might have been deep in sleep. “Can I ask what this is about?”

“Yes, but I’d rather appreciate it if you could keep it to yourself for a while, if you don’t mind,” Laith replied hesitantly. He didn’t have much choice; he had to ask Cassia’s acquaintances, friends, and colleagues for any and all information that might help him solve a murder that was quickly becoming one big three-dimensional puzzle. He inhaled deeply. “Your employer. Ms. Cassia Grove, was found murdered earlier today.”

Fleur Verdi’s eyes widened with shock, and she fumbled with her slate, almost dropping it into the water. “Did you say murdered?” she asked breathlessly. Laith nodded, and Fleur took a seat on a wicker recliner next to his, winded by his abrupt revelation. He imagined there wasn’t any good way to tell someone that someone they knew had been murdered, in any case, but nevertheless, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling a bit guilty. "But she was just here - she left a few hours ago. Are you sure?"

“I’m sorry to have to tell you so abruptly,” Laith apologized sincerely. “It must come as quite a shock, and I can see that. Would you be willing to answer some questions about Ms. Grove for me? It would help us tremendously if we could get an idea of what kind of a person she was. If she had any enemies. That sort of thing.”

“Enemies?” Fleur repeated, still slightly reeling from the information. “I don’t think she had any enemies...” She shook her head, setting her Slate down beside her on the chair. “No, she had competitors, and fierce ones at that – the Floats aren’t easy, you know – but I would have never thought she’d have any enemies among them.”

“I see,” Laith replied, making sure his Slate was recording everything. “Can you tell me what she was like? Was she a good boss?”

“She was fair, I suppose,” Ms. Verdi replied. “Very professional, very business-oriented. She doesn’t exactly make friends with her employees, but I suppose that’s quite normal, given the nature of this environment. We all try very hard to make sure Nymphaeales remains a top establishment on the Floats. Business is pretty much all we discuss here.”

“Yes, that makes sense,” he said, nodding. “Are there any employees that were recently fired – anyone who might harbor a grudge against Ms. Grove?”

“No, not that I can think of,” Fleur replied, shuddering. “No, I’m quite certain of it. Ms. Grove is – was – very thorough when it came to her workers. She took care of the hiring process herself, and she was quite tough on them. Only the ones who passed her rigorous testing could become employees. And she was very good at choosing them. I don’t think she’s had to fire anyone at all – at least, not since I’ve been here, and I’ve been here for a few years now. Besides, everyone is happy with the working conditions here, and the pay is quite good, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I suppose it’s important to make sure the staff here are only the best of the best,” Laith offered. “To keep the clientele happy, of course.”

“Yes,” Fleur agreed. “We do quite a lot to keep the members satisfied with their experience here at Nymphaeales. All things above board, of course. Cassia wouldn't have it any other way. But it’s not always easy. There are two other similar clubs on the Floats, and like I said, competition can be a bit fierce between the three of us.”

“Do you think I could take a look at her office?” he asked. “I’d like to see if there’s any evidence – anything that might help with the investigation.”

Fleur Verdi seemed to consider his request for a moment, uncertainty etched on her defined features. “You have a warrant?” she asked.

“No, not yet,” Laith admitted. “Will it really be necessary?”

“I would rather you returned with a search warrant, Detective,” Verdi said carefully. “It’s just… There’s nothing to hide, of course, but I hope you don’t mind me saying, I still have to keep the company’s best interest at heart. It wouldn’t go down very well with our executives if I allowed such a thing without it being absolutely necessary, and as none of them are currently here, I would feel more comfortable if you came back with a warrant.”

“That’s fine,” Laith said, though it wasn’t entirely ideal. “It’s completely within your rights, of course. I would ask that you try to keep the office empty and untouched – exactly how it is at present.”

“Nobody will enter the office,” Fleur agreed. “It is set up so that only Cassia’s Slate can unlock it, in any case, and a complete reset would be required in order to open the doors without it.”

Just then, a staff member balancing a small black tray with a tall glass of orange-to-red juice came to a stop beside them, and the conversation came to a halt as he placed the colorful drink on the little table beside Laith’s chair. As the man walked away, Laith took a sip of the mixed juice. “Delicious,” he said, savoring the drink. “I imagine it’s easy to get the best produce when Ms. Grove’s husband runs Greenland Farm.”

Fleur Verdi looked confused for a moment, tilting her head to one side. Then, she straightened her neck and shook her head. “Oh, no,” she said. “We don’t work with Greenland Farm. Cassia insisted upon it. She said it was a – a conflict of interest, or something, I think. All of our fresh ingredients come from Emerald Farm, with a few other elements sourced in from other farms.”

☀️ ☀️ ☀️

Back at home, Laith exhaled as he sank into the comforting folds of the wrinkled soft-mink sofa. Traveling from one side of the city to the other had been surprisingly draining, and he felt altogether exhausted and weary. But he managed to pull himself up after a few minutes and head to the bathroom to wash up for his prayers. He had missed a couple while he was moving back and forth from one location to the next, and a quick glance at the clock told him it was almost time for the next one.

When he was finished, he shuffled into the kitchen and started making himself some dinner. His wife had left him an audio earlier on in the day that explained she had an unexpected late shift at the hospital tonight, so he’d been hoping to make her dinner, and despite his late return home and his buzzing mind, he was determined to go through with his plan. As he chopped the Greenland Farm onions and processed them, however, and as he sautéd them in the pan over his biomass stove, and as he went about getting the rest of his homemade spaghetti sauce prepared, his mind kept returning to his case. His first ever homicide case.

He didn’t quite know what to make of everything he had learned today. There were perfect prints on the murder weapon, but PATET somehow couldn’t match them to anyone in its database. There were no signs of breaking and entering, which meant it had to have been someone the victim had been comfortable around in the house – in her pajamas. The most fitting match would be Aster Lockwood, but Cassia Grove’s husband was missing, and his Slate had been traced to the Ruins, of all places. And – whether it said something or not – the perceived relationship between husband and wife didn’t sit right with him, either. Something felt off about their marriage, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly it was. He would have to dig a little deeper to find out.

A soft pressure against his calf snapped him back to reality, and he looked down to see ever-lovable and mischievous Saba rubbing against him. “Hello, there,” he greeted him, crouching down to give him a quick head-scratch, to which Saba purred happily. “Did you just get back, too? How was your day?”

Saba padded over to his bowl across the room and meowed expectantly. “That bowl was full when I left the house this morning, and there’s only one cat roundabouts that could have emptied it, my friend,” Laith said, pointing at him with a fork. “You’re not getting any more until tomorrow.”

With an insistent meow, Saba sat down next to the empty bowl and stared at Laith, his big round eyes boring holes into him. “Don’t look at me like that,” Laith muttered, avoiding the long-haired orange cat’s gaze. “The vet said you’re obese. If we want you around for longer, we’ve got to get you on a diet. So, I’m doing this out of love, really, and you can’t be mad at me for that.”

Saba didn’t seem convinced, though, and Laith sighed, eyeing the refillable bag of cat food hidden away on one of the shelves. Maybe just a little bit more wouldn’t hurt...

The arrival of his wife shook him out of his moment of weakness – and just in time, too. The spaghetti was boiled just right, the sauce was ready to go, and he started setting the table as he listened to the familiar sounds of Warda putting her giant purse away, taking off her comfortable shoes, and hanging up her shawl. She hummed loudly as she padded through the hall and towards the kitchen. “Something smells great!” she called, and before long she was popping her head into the room with a big grin. “Salaam!”

“Wassalaamu 3alayki, habibati!” Laith responded in greeting. “You’re just on time for dinner.”

They sat down at their small, two-person dining table looking out over the park beside their apartment building and engaged in pleasant chit-chat for a while, until it became very obvious that Laith was still all too preoccupied with his case, at which point Warda asked him if he wanted to share his burden. He couldn’t tell her sensitive information about the murder case or the investigation, but he decided it was alright to share one intriguing little tidbit.

“I learned today that there might be people in Heliopolis who aren’t recognized by PATET,” he told her, reaching over for seconds. “It just surprised me, I guess. PATET is supposed to be air-tight. They go on and on and on about the all-seeing eye and yet...”

“PATET isn’t all-seeing,” Warda replied after a moment’s consideration. “It’s very effective, and it’s very smart, but it’s human-made, too. So it can’t possibly be all-seeing. It can only see what we tell it to see.”

“Right,” Laith agreed, mixing the tomato sauce into his second helping of spaghetti and sprinkling some toasted garlic flakes – courtesy of Spice Wise, a subsidiary of Emerald Farm which processed its natural produce, namely its herbs. “You’re right. But then, what does it mean if someone isn’t in the system? Everyone who’s ever stepped foot in Heliopolis is automatically introduced into the system. Everything is recorded. People can’t hide from PATET. They need it for – for payment and banking and education and legal issues and medical matters… How can someone live in Heliopolis – exist in Heliopolis – without PATET recording them?”

Warda shrugged as she thought this over, her brown eyes lingering on the park below as she chewed her spaghetti and mulled over his question. “Is it possible for someone to smuggle themselves into Heliopolis? People in the Ruins might have found a way in; I imagine many of them aren’t in PATET’s system.”

“Some of them are, because they used to be citizens, but many of them aren’t,” Laith replied, considering this seriously. “People who were born in the Ruins or never made it to Heliopolis in the first place. That’s certainly a possibility, and one of the more probable ones. But I can’t imagine PATET allowing someone through its borders without the correct security and identification procedures. It even registers visitors that come for a day and never return. Unless this particular person is exploiting a weakness we don’t know about yet. A weakness that even PATET hasn’t encountered in its diagnostics and scans? Or maybe one it wouldn’t know to warn us about? How strange...”

Add to that the fact that this person would have had to have some kind of reason to kill Cassia Grove, and it made the theory all the more unlikely. Unless… Unless this was somehow linked to Aster Lockwood’s Slate being in the Ruins. Perhaps his wife was right, and there was a connection there – one that they simply weren’t aware of yet.

“Maybe it’s a glitch,” she offered. “A bug or something like that. Maybe it was a one-time fluke.”

A one-time fluke that led to a murder suspect being completely impossible to trace through PATET? If that were the case, it would have to be a pretty big coincidence…

One Laith wasn’t sure he was ready to believe just yet.