Aztlan: The Last Sun
Investigator.”
    I turned to the security chief. “I’ll take it from here.”
    “As you wish,” he said.
    I put my arm around Yaotl’s thin shoulders and guided him toward the entrance. “I knew you would come,” he said. “This is your jurisdiction.”
    “You know,” I said, “a pyramid is private property. You could have been arrested, no matter who you used to be.”
    “I know,” Yaotl replied contritely, “and I apologize. But I heard about the murder on the Mirror, you know? I wanted to see the place for myself. And they said there was a hole in the fence.”
    “So you were going to wriggle through it? Even though you knew better?”
    He shrugged. “It’s not easy to sit at home and do nothing, Maxtla. You start wishing you were still on the job.”
    That didn’t change anything. “Come on,” I said as I pushed open the door to the lobby, “I’ll see you back to your place.”
    “An escort?” He pretended to polish his chest. “I didn’t know I was a nobleman.”
    “Just for tonight,” I told him. “You’re still on Ehecatl Street?”
    “Still,” he said.
    It was on my way home.
    Outside the pyramid, I walked slowly so Yaotl could keep up. When we got to the rail station, I took my time going up the steps as well. He used the wooden rail alongside the stair, but he didn’t let me help him. Despite everything, he was a proud man.
    Zuma Yaotl had retired from the force seven cycles earlier. He and my father had been friends for a good long while. They had earned their bracelets on the same day, worked many of the same districts, started their families at the same time. Gods of Life, they were appointed Investigators within a moon of each other.
    They had even planned on attending the same retirement ceremony. It just hadn’t worked out that way. My father had died first.
    And Yaotl had gotten beaten up in the Merchant City one hot, summer night when he was off-duty. It had left him a little soft in the head.
    When we reached the platform, I waited for him to catch his breath. I didn’t mind. It was what my father would have done if he were still alive.
    “They’re saying the cultists did it,” Yaotl said abruptly.
    I smiled at him. “Is that what they’re saying?”
    “Yes. You believe them?”
    I shook my head. “Not really.”
    He looked back over his shoulder at the pyramid, which was easily visible from the station. “I guess you know more than I do. Have you got any leads?”
    “None I can talk about. You know that.”
    Yaotl nodded. “Sure. Police business. And I’m not police anymore.”
    “Sorry,” I said.
    “Don’t be sorry, Maxtla. I would have told you the same thing if I were the Investigator and you were the tired, old has-been.”
    “We all get old, Yaotl.”
    He patted my shoulder. “If we’re lucky.”
    When the carriage came, we got in. As Aztlan passed below us, we talked about my job, and about Aunt Xoco, whom he had always liked. He mentioned how lonely it was for him during the Unlucky Days with his mate in the Lands of the Dead.
    “Why don’t you have dinner with us ?” I asked. “I’m sure Aunt Xoco won’t mind.”
    He waved away the suggestion. “Thanks, Maxtla. I appreciate it. But it’ll only make it lonelier when I go home, you know what I mean?”
    I didn’t exactly, but I nodded.
    Pretty soon, Yaotl’s stop came up. “Don’t even think about walking me in,” he said. “Thanks for the escort, Maxtla.”
    “It was my pleasure,” I told him. “Just stay away from murder scenes, will you?”
    Yaotl laughed.
    I watched him leave the carriage and walk along the platform. There were people around, more than a few of them, probably coming back from holiday dinners with their relatives. Yaotl would be all right. He wasn’t so addled that he couldn’t get down the stairs and find his way home.
    Satisfied, I sat back and waited for the carriage to get moving again.
    That night, I noticed a program on the Mirror paid for by the guy
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