Clenk heard the sound of hydraulics engaging.
She giggled and placed a card in front of Bob before leaving The Battery.
“Wow,” Bob said in a hushed voice.
“Beep, boop boop beep.”
“Could be, Cliff.”
“Boop.”
“Sorry, meant to say Clenk. Capacitor! What were we saying?”
“Beep, boop boop beep.”
“Ah yeah, that’s right,” said Bob. “Diode! You may be right about that. But, then again, maybe it’s just what I need, ya know?”
“Beep.” There was just no talking to a charged Mechanican. “Bing?”
“Ampacity! I suppose. Inductor!” Bob swayed a bit. “Permeability!”
It was time for Clenk to start pushing Anti-Charges, now that the lady was gone.
CAN'T GO ON
THE STREET WAS littered with Local Authority officers by the time Dresker and his team arrived.
Local Authority owned the streets so Dresker would have to play diplomat in order to find out what happened. Technically, anything not inside a building was outside of the Internal Investigation Bureau’s jurisdiction. Just because the entirety of this metal monstrosity they lived on was owned and operated by the CCOP didn’t mean that they were the ruler of all things.
But Dresker was no slouch in these matters. He’d brought along Truhbel to talk with the Uknar cops and he brought Hawkins and Elwood to talk to, well, just about anybody. Hawkins had a gift for getting people to open up. Elwood merely idolized Hawkins and attached himself to the older agent like a tick.
They caught a bit of a break, though, since the lead officer from Local was Captain Nedge. The running joke was that the IIB got the best and the brightest, second place was a security guard post in one of the buildings, and what was left over ended up in Local Authority.
Nedge was one of the rare Uknar who was as dumb as he looked.
“Dis is Local Aufority jurydicshun,” Nedge said as the team approached.
“Not to worry,” Dresker said in as relaxed a tone as he could manage. “We’re not touching anything. I just have to please the boss and let her know what’s going on. She gets on me about every detail these days. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, okay,” Nedge said after a moment, lowering his shoulders. “I know how dat goes.”
Dresker pointed to the squished body of a robot while waving the others to go off to gather intel. “That looks pretty nasty, Nedge.”
“Yeah, he got compacted. Done it himself.”
“Interesting.” Dresker looked around, noting that the only available trash compactor in the area was a block away. He leaned in conspiratorially and said, “Nedge, we both know you’re more versed in detective work on these streets than I am. How did you determine this was a suicide?”
Nedge puffed out his chest a bit. He looked left and right and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “I saw dis when I got here. Him done it to himself.”
Dresker looked over the standard “Goodbye, cruel world…” note. It was printed on a small receipt-sized slip of paper. The note didn’t make any sense. For one thing, the font selection was a bit flowery for a suicide note and the opening sentence started with “I [put name here],” which indicated that the document was started from the suicide template found in NegligibleSoft’s Locution product that shipped with their Cubicle Suite, and that tied it to forgery. Most telling was the fact that the name signed at the end read, “Anne.”
Dresker would be the first to admit that he wasn’t an expert on robotic anatomy, but he spotted a piece of a red-striped tie lying next to the deceased. While he of all people knew that anything was possible on the CCOP, a cross-dressing robot would be new.
“It never ceases to amaze me how keen you guys are,” Dresker said while looking around to make sure his team was engaging with the other officers.
“We does what we can,” Nedge replied with a nod.
“You didn’t happen to catch a name on this bot…Mechanican, did you?”
Nedge pulled out a little notebook, which surprised Dresker since it showed that the Uknar knew how to write. Nedge flipped the pages up and pointed at what appeared to be a drawing of some sort. “Walter,” he said.
“Walter.”
“Yep, dat’s it.”
Dresker looked again at the signature on the suicide note and shook his head. “Amazing how you guys come up with these things,” he mumbled.
“Yeah,” Nedge said as he tucked the notebook back into his pocket. “We knows our stuff in Aufority.”
§ § §
“It’s Rascal, ain’t it?” Agent Tucker Hawkins said while holding out his hand to a young Authority officer who was standing a block down from Dresker and Nedge.
“Yes, sir,” the officer replied.
“You probably don’t remember me. I’m Hawkins from the IIB.” He pointed a thumb back at his partner and added, “this is Elwood.”
When Prime Dresker had first assigned him to work with Hawkins, Elwood was less than pleased. The two men couldn’t have been more different. But, over the course of time, Elwood found himself fascinated with his partner’s style and soon wanted to emulate him. This proved difficult since Elwood was a Gheptian and “being slick” wasn’t a common trait in their genome.
Hawkins was a big man with a dangling belly. He had a good ol’ boy style to him. He always wore a wide-brimmed hat and he kept a groomed goatee as standard. To say he was slick wouldn’t quite hit it. He was slick, but there was more to it than that. He put people at ease without much effort. Elwood found this trait enviable.
“Sorry, fellas,” Rascal said, adjusting his belt, “but we were told that this is outside of your jurisdiction and that we’re not supposed to let you in on anything.”
“Now, son,” Hawkins said while placing a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder, “don’t go gettin’ a hair in your biscuit.”
“Huh?”
“You see, we ain’t here to step on your toes, are we Elwood?”
“Nope.”
“No. We’re here as casual observers. The way you boys at Local Authority handle investigations is, well, let’s just say it’s a bit of a mystery to us. Ya’ll seem to swarm like bees on a bush when something goes wrong, and everyone knows that Local always get their man. Ain’t that right, Elwood?”
“Yep.”
“Yes, indeed. Always get your man, Rascal. That’s what you boys got over on us in the IIB, ya see?”
“We do?”
“Now don’t go bein’ all modest on me, boy. I’ll have none of that. My momma always said that a man should wear his wounds proudly ‘cause they’re what’s after makin’ the man.”
“She did?”
Hawkins smiled. “Wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Not as far as you know, son.”
“Oh.”
Elwood knew better. His partner was known to tell a “fib” here and there as long as it was in support of a story.
“The question we got here, Rascal, is how did that mechanical whatyagidget get himself all rearranged like that?”
“Oh, he put himself into the trash compactor.” Rascal walked them down a block to the alleyway. “Right in there, sir.”
“I see, I see.” Hawkins tucked his thumbs under his suspenders. “And after he done himself in, as you say, he got up and walked a block north before succumbing to the rigors of gettin’ squashed?”
Rascal hesitated a moment and then shrugged. “That’s what Captain Nedge says.”
Elwood understood. One didn’t step out of bounds once a superior made a determination. It just wasn’t the way things were done. You could tell your peers what you were thinking, assuming they shared the same thoughts, but you never let outsiders know what was going on in your head. Doing so made for a short career in most places.
“Captain Nedge is a smart fella,” said Hawkins after readjusting his hat. “
Not one for missing the fine details.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“Did he happen to share any of them details with you, Rascal?”
“Yeah, he told me…” Rascal paused. “Wait a second. I see what you’re doing.”
“You do, do ya?”
“Yes, sir, and I don’t appreciate it.”
“You don’t, don’t ya?”
“No, sir, I don’t.”
“Good man.” Hawkins smacked the boy on the back. “I told ya that this one was like an owl on the prowl, didn’t I, Elwood?”
“Yep.” Actually, Hawkins hadn’t said anything of the kind. It was one of those fibs that kept the story going. At some point Elwood would have to ask exactly what an owl was.
“And your Captain Nedge will be proud of you, son. You kept your word to the badge you’re wearin’. You, my boy, are a credit to that uniform.”
Rascal had a look of a young man on his wedding night: confused, worried, and wishing he’d had some sort of manual.
“Thank you?”
“No, son, thank you. I feel better knowing that there’s youth out there with enough sense to keep an eye on duty.” He swung an arm toward Elwood. “Like my young apprentice here. I tell him all the time that it’s a quick deer that escapes the wolf, but he doesn’t seem to catch on.”
“Deer?” Rascal said, looking from man to man.
“Oh, he tries, mind you.”
“Wolf?”
“Just still working things through in his head is all. But he’ll get it. Heck, maybe one day he’ll transfer out of the IIB and head to Local, ain’t that right, Elwood?”
“Always been a dream,” Elwood answered, blinking a few times.
“See that, Rascal? The boy understands how good you fellas at Local are. I don’t suppose you’d fancy givin’ the lad a hand up, would you?”
“Well, sure,” Rascal said with a bit of confidence. “I suppose that would be okay.”
“That’ll do, that’ll do. I’m going to mosey on over there for a while so that I don’t overhear anything. I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble on my account, son.”
Hawkins pulled up his britches, gave Elwood a quick wink, and strolled back toward Dresker and Nedge. It took everything in Elwood’s power not to laugh in disbelief. Even after a few years under his tutelage, Hawkins never ceased to amaze.
“Don’t mind helping you a little bit,” Rascal said with the tone of a man who had just taken on his first cadet. “I was green once, too.”
“Thank you. So what do you think is really going on here?”
“Captain Nedge said there was a note,” Rascal said, leaning in and whispering. “Regardless, I don’t see how a bot can get squashed like that and end up a block away.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t...figure very well.”
Elwood had tried like mad to talk like Hawkins. It was a challenge. Elwood was Gheptian, so speaking incorrectly was akin to having a disease. Hawkins used language with a lot of “slang and twang” and that was sloppy. But Elwood appraised Hawkins as being the ultimate detective. He was sly and cunning, yet genuine at the same time. That’s what Elwood wanted to be. Still, there was much work to do even on the basics of language, or, as he coined it when he wrote letters to his parents back home, “Slanguage.” More often than not, Elwood spoke without the slang.
Rascal took a look around. Elwood mimicked him as if he were learning a new trick.
“Shouldn’t be telling you this, but I think that there is foul play involved.”
“You think so?”
“Just doesn’t add up, if you ask me. How does that,” Rascal pointed at Walter’s remains, “get from there,” he pointed at the trash compactor, “to there,” pointing back at Walter, “after being in there?” They were both looking at the trash compactor again. “See what I mean?”
Elwood did his best to retain his composure. “It’s kind of hard for me to follow,” he said, “but I’m learning.”
Rascal squinted a knowing eye. “You just think on that and I’ll bet you’ll figure out the same conclusion I did.”
“I guess we’ll see,” said Elwood as he squatted down to pull a small piece of paper from under the edge of the tape-line post.
“Whatcha got there?”
Elwood feigned falling forward and stuffed the paper into his pocket.
“Whoa,” Rascal said, helping Elwood up. “You okay, pal?”
“Yes,” Elwood said, brushing his pants. “Um...bum knee.” Elwood didn’t have a bum knee. He smiled to himself for successfully using a fib.
“That’s the worst,” said Rascal. “My dad played on the Rotters when I was a kid. He was a first pick overall and played End-Back-Sider-Slider. Tough position, that!” Rascal was beaming. “Jippers McLeary. Maybe you’ve heard of him?”
“Sorry, no.” He never followed kneepuck or any of the sports on the CCOP.
“Not a sports guy, eh? Not everyone gets into it. Either way, my old man was one of the best. Had terrible knee problems, though. Most people that play kneepuck run into leg issues, I suppose. Anyway, he ended up getting MechKnees. Been happy ever since.” He smiled at Elwood. “Something to think about, eh?”
“I’ll do that,” Elwood said and then changed the subject. “Listen, if I were to test up at Authority…in a couple of years, of course, after some more training, what would be a thing I’d look at here in the investigation?”
“Oh, that’s simple. You just ask Captain Nedge what he thinks and then you agree with it.”
“Ah, so I would have to be a yes-man, then?”
“Only if you want to get ahead,” Rascal said. “But eventually you’ll be the top guy and then everyone will agree with you.”
“I think I can do that,” Elwood said.
“Harder than you think. Nedge is almost never right, but a job is a job.”
“Interesting.” Elwood wanted to suggest that someday Rascal should look into joining up with the IIB. Instead, he just smiled and offered his hand to the young officer. “Thanks for the help, Rascal.”
“Anytime. I’ll be around if you need more help in learning the ropes of how real investigations work.”
As he walked away, Elwood pulled out the slip of paper he’d found and looked it over. All the words had been crossed out except one: “Anne.”
§ § §
Truhbel activated her VizScreen and began recording the scene. She took views from varying angles as she walked up and down the block. Her plan was to use the footage to compare to the video feeds from earlier to see if she could spot any differences. The police lines and tape would need to be accounted for, and she knew it was a long shot, but she couldn’t see much point in talking with anyone in Local Authority. They were just too simple.
“Hey, what you doin’ der?”
She turned to find a fellow Uknar from Local, a junior detective from the looks of his stripes.
“Vid captures.”
“Captain Nedge says we ain’t supposed to let you do any poking about...um...he says.”
“Ain’t poking about. Just taking vid captures.”
“But that’s poking about!”
“Did you see me touch stuff?”
The fellow looked around, unsure. “Well, you is touching that VizScreen and Captain Nedge says we ain’t supposed to allow that...he says.”
“You said dat already,” Truhbel responded with hand on hip. “Besides, touching my VizScreen don’t mean nuffin’. It’s attached to me, right? It always touching me somehow den, aren’t it? And what about my pocket?”
“Huh?”
“I put hands in my pocket and I’m touching pockets, but that ain’t the same as poking around dis crime scene, is it?”
“Dat’s true,” he said as he shifted his foot back and forth. “Sorry.”
Truhbel let the guilt simmer for a few moments and then casually turned the VizScreen on the younger Uknar. “It’s okay,” she said. “You just doing a job. Let me ask you somefing.
You fink dat robot kill itself?”
“Nope. It was crushed and left dere. Dat’s what I fink.”
“Yep, me too.” She had gotten that statement on the VizScreen. “You fink your Captain knows dat?”
“Nope. He dumb one. Not sure how him made Captain, but I keep trying to find out.” Then he grunted. “If you want to solve a real mystery, dat’s da one.”
Truhbel stopped the recording and erased the last part. She saw no point in destroying a fellow Uknar’s career.
“Usually dumb ones go up to top where they can’t hurt nuffin,” Truhbel said as her VizScreen faded away.
“Does seem it, yep. It’s like they don’t know da simplest fings,” the officer said.
“I fink I’m all set here,” Truhbel said, taking a final look around. “Fanks.”
“Yep,” the officer scratched at his ear and then looked at his finger. “Dat okay,” and then he added, “Hey, don’t say nuffin’ about me saying dat Captain Nedge is a dumb one, yeah?”
Truhbel kept walking, but called back, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
INSPIRATIONAL
THE LEADER FELT electric when he spoke in front of new recruits. He had given the orientation speech once a week for the past two years, and was now performing it every day, even if there were only a few to hear it. He spoke of The Starliner, the rights of Mechanicans and how special they are to the universe, and how The Captain would be arriving soon to take them away from the CCOP and bring them to a world where they were the masters.
Today the auditorium was full.
“The Captain was the first of our order,” The Leader said with a passion that demonstrated oodles of practice.
He walked along the stage, stopping now and again to point at one or two new faces in the crowd while muttering blessings. There had been many more Mechanicans showing up over the last couple of weeks. Not enough to fill the room on their own, but coupled with others already in the flock who sat amongst the recruits to answer questions, it gave the appearance of hitting capacity.
Starliner (The Intergalactic Investigation Bureau Book 1) Page 4
