“Monday before the murder?”

“Yes. That exchange probably ignited the killing. And Hassop may have Reich’s financial records with him. They can probably tell a court why Reich had a hell of a motive for murdering D’Courtney.”

“Such as, for instance?”

“The talk around Monarch is that D’Courtney had Reich with his back to the wall.”

“You got Method and Opportunity?”

“Yes and no. I opened up Jerry Church and got everything, but it’s ticklish. We can show Reich had the opportunity. It’ll stand if the other two stand. We can show the murder method. It’ll stand if the other two stand. Same goes for Reich’s Motive. They’re like three wigwam poles. Each of them needs the other two. No one can stand alone. That’s Old Man Mose’s opinion. And that’s why we need Hassop.”

“I’ll swear they ain’t left Spaceland. That efficient I still am.”

“Don’t hang your head because Reich outsmarted you. He’s outsmarted plenty. Me included.”

The sergeant shook his head gloomily.

“I’ll… I’ll start peeping Spaceland for Reich and Hassop at once,” Powell said as the launch drifted down for the passage through the air-lock, “but I want to check a hunch first. Show me the corpse.”

“What corpse?”

“From Reich’s crash.”

In the police mortuary, displayed on an air-cushion in the stasis-freeze, the corpse was a mangled figure with dead white skin and a flaming red beard.

“Uh, huh,” Powell muttered. “Keno Quizzard.”

“You know him?”

“A gimpster. Was working for Reich and turned too hot to be useful. What’ll you bet that crash was a cover-up for a killing.”

“Hell!” the cop exploded, “those two other guys are hurt bad. Reich might have been faking. Admitted. But the yacht was ruined, and those two other guys—”

“So they were hurt. And the yacht was ruined. So what? Quizzard’s mouth is shut for keeps and Reich’s that much safer. Reich took care of him. We’ll never prove it, but we won’t have to if we locate Hassop. That’ll be enough to walk friend Reich into Demolition.”

Wearing the fashionable spray-gun-tights (Spaceland sport clothes were being painted on, this year), Powell began a lightning tour of the bubbles… Victoria Hotel, Sportsman’s Hotel, Magic, Home From Home, Ye New Neu Bablesberg, The Martian (very chic), the Venusberg (very bawdy), and the other dozens… Powell struck up conversations with strangers, described his dear old friends in half a dozen languages, and peeped gently to make sure they had the precise picture of Reich and Hassop before they answered. And then the answers. Negative. Always negative.

The peepers were easy… and Spaceland was fined with them, at work and at play… but always the reply was negative.

A Revival Meeting at Solar Rheims… hundreds of chanting, genuflecting devotees participating in a kind of hopped-up Midsummer Morn festival. Reply Negative. Sailing Races in Mars From Home… Cat boats and sloops skipping over the water in long hops like scaled stones. Reply Negative. The Plastic Surgery Resort… hundreds of bandaged faces and bodies. Reply Negative. Free-Flight Polo. Reply Negative. Hot Sulphur Springs, White Sulphur Springs, Black Sulphur Springs, No Sulphur Springs… Replies Negative.