New Sheriff in Town: Day of the Lepus

“Hold on, hold on get this then the sailor said, ‘I should have never,” the officer started guffawing at his own joke.
“Officer.” Myrtle’s voice was a whip the group of police froze and melted away. She approached the jokester. Myrtle focused on the thin aquamarine horizon line that marked the cool blue white of the land against the warm yellow white of the sky. She was still getting used to this moon’s, her new home’s, monochromatic landscape.
“Ya see Chief I was just joshing with the guys, no harm—“
“The SitVid reported an unexplained explosion and multiple bodies,” Myrtle said. She watched the fields of artificial trees laden with living pink blushed white orchids.
“Not people people just a couple of rabbits…” the police officer’s voice trailed away as Myrtle turned to face him.
Myrtle knew there was a lot of disgusting nicknames for the sentient androids, griggs, grayboys, and the female droids manufactured mainly as servants, surrogates, and sex workers were called hares, bunnies, and rabbits.
“The name is Chief Two Axes. People are people. Report to Sergeant Bradford.”
Myrtle turned to the burnt shards of litho-plastic that had once been nice home. CSI technicians swarmed like flies over the smoking carcass. She inspected the entire scene especially the two figures, bits of flesh on melted metal frames, holding one another. Myrtle took off her hat and bowed her head.
“They were real nice ladies. I like how you set Lee straight. Hello, Chief Two Axes. I’m Dr. Sally Ferrara, Coroner’s Office.” The two shook hands and measured each other up.
“Aren’t you a little young to be a pathologist?”
“Well I’m old enough to know Chiefs of Police don’t usually visit crime scenes where the victims aren’t high profile,” Ferrara quipped.
Myrtle laughed under her breath. “May I call you Sally?”
Ferrara shrugged and began to light a cig.
“Sally tell me a story.”
“My report will be ready in 48 hours.”
“I didn’t ask for a report I asked for a story.”
Ferrara went quiet. Dome 629 Epsilon was designated agriculture purpose tropical. The moist air rested on their shoulders.
Ferrara exhaled billows of white smoke. “Once upon a time a pair of perfectly nice hookers fell in love, escaped their brothel, fought a war to stay free, and then travelled to the ass end of charted space. Once on Enceladus they worked their gray fingers to the bone in the fields and saved enough to buy their own farm and became successful. Very successful. But instead of buying a couple of German shepherds and walking into the sunset someone shot them in the back.”
“So the fire was a coverup and not part of the uptick in arsons?”
Ferrara shrugged. “You asked for a story not a solution.”
Myrtle put on her hat. She headed for her vehicle, stopped, plucked a lush orchid and handed the flower to Ferrara.
“Thanks, Doc.”
Myrtle climbed into her vehicle and tipped her hat to the young doctor. The engine purred to life. Myrtle said with a sigh, “And then the sailor said I should have never gone down that rabbit hole.”

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