The Clockwork Teddy

by John J. Lamb

  “And since it almost perfectly fits the time frame, we have to look at the possibility the person getting into the Avenger was our shooter in the ski mask,” said Gregg.

  “If it was someone from Lycaon, why were he and Kyle cooperating?” I asked.

  “Maybe they weren’t. Maybe Lycaon tracked Kyle down and one of their security guys went into the motel room just before Bronsey showed up.”

  “But why didn’t he disarm Kyle?”

  “He could’ve made a bad search. Hell, even experienced officers can miss a gun while frisking for weapons, and it sounds like this guy could’ve been a rent-a-cop.”

  “But why would a Lycaon guy have ever allowed Bronsey and Uhlander in the room?”

  Aafedt said, “Maybe Kyle told him about the big bag ’o money and offered to set Bronsey up to be robbed.”

  “In return for getting to leave the room alive?”

  Gregg nodded. “We’ve got to assume that Lycaon was up to no good. They knew where Kyle was and they knew he had a million-dollar warrant, yet they didn’t call the police to have us make an arrest.”

  “Because Lycaon was going to get their property back and also FUBAR Kyle.” Aafedt finished the thought for his partner, using an acronym that stood for Foul-Up Beyond All Recognition, although I suspected he had a more pungent word than foul in mind. “That way they would have also provided an object lesson to anyone else at their company who might be considering stealing from their employer.”

  “Then this golden opportunity arises,” said Gregg. “Lycaon can recover their wonder bear and also rip their competitor off for four hundred K. That had to feel good.”

  “But they didn’t recover the bear,” I said.

  “No, which means there are two bunches of corporate goons looking for Bronsey. Lycaon wants the bear, and Lizard Eyes and his posse are going to want their money back. Jail is the safest place for him right now.”

  “And Lycaon can’t tell the police that they think Bronsey has the bear, because it would implicate them in a murder,” said Aafedt.

  “But why didn’t the Lycaon guy just kill Kyle, too? I mean, why leave a witness who can come back to blackmail you?” Heather asked.

  Gregg replied, “It was a bloody madhouse in that room. Kyle probably booked before the other guy could shoot.”

  “And for all we know, some of the bullet holes were caused by the guy shooting at Kyle and missing,” Aafedt added.

  “So, are we looking at Kyle as a victim now?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Not a victim,” said Gregg. “He’s like so many of the freaking tinhorn desperadoes we’ve dealt with over the years. He stole that bear and thought he was a bad ass, up until he ran into the genuine articles.”

  “And now he’s on the run, being chased by hired guns from two different corporations, both of whom probably want to make sure Kyle can’t tell any embarrassing tales. After all, that would be bad for the quarterly dividend.” Aafedt’s voice oozed with contempt.

  “Oh, I can’t wait for tomorrow morning when we pay Lycaon a surprise visit,” said Gregg.

  Gregg’s was the best theory we had thus far to explain the cryptic elements of the murder, but I wasn’t convinced. I still had unanswered questions: If Kyle was armed with a .45 automatic, why hadn’t he used it on the Lycaon goon? And who was the woman who’d been pounding on the door minutes before the murder and screaming that Kyle would pay in blood?

  Yet, I decided not to say anything. This was Gregg and Aafedt’s case and they were extremely skilled detectives. Indeed, with their day-to-day work investigating murders, they probably had a better grasp of the situation than someone who’d been away from the game for over two years and whose most recent claim to fame was winning an “honorable mention” at a Baltimore teddy bear show.

  “I still think we need to talk to Lauren again,” I said.

  “Agreed. You and Ash go there, we’ll go toss Kyle’s place, and then we’ll Eighty-Seven back here,” said Gregg, using the numeric code for a rendezvous.

  I gave the cell phone to Ash. “Why don’t you make the call? She probably won’t answer if she thinks it’s a tele-marketer, and she’ll freak out if she sees the call is coming from the PD.”

  Ash went into the office across the hall for some quiet and after a few seconds we heard her talking. That was a good sign. It meant that Lauren was home and at least willing to chat with Ash. However, when Ash returned to Gregg’s office a few seconds later, I knew there was trouble. My wife looked agitated.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Lauren is a complete basket case. Kyle called her a little while ago. He wouldn’t say where he was, but did tell her that his life was at risk. Oh, and he also said he was sorry for having put her in danger,” said Ash.

  “Gee, he only waited twelve hours to let his mom know there might be an armed thug after her. Maybe we’ve misjudged him,” muttered Colin.

  “What else did Lauren say?” I asked.

  “Nothing else. She’ll only talk in person. She says she thinks her phone is tapped.”

  “And it might be. Remember, we’re dealing with computer wizards.”

  Gregg said, “Maybe we should go with you.”

  Ash shook her head firmly. “No. She won’t talk to you, and I almost had to beg before she’d agree to let Brad come along.”

  “We’ll be en route,” I said, getting to my feet.

  “This isn’t fair,” said Heather in a peevish tone that was only partly sham. “You guys are all going out in the field, while we have to stay here and write reports.”

  “You know the rules, Heather honey,” I called out as we left the office. “Finish your homework before going outside to play.”

  Thirteen

  As we pulled out of the Hall of Justice parking lot, Ash said, “This investigation is more complicated than one of my mama’s diamond chain quilts. Any suggestions on how to handle this interview?”

  “You’ll do fine, Deputy Lyon. All those years spent being a good mother have made you an excellent interrogator.”

  “But you must have some ideas.”

  “The only advice I have is that you need to decide in advance what information you want to keep from Lauren, at least during the first part of the interview.”

  “We don’t want her to know that Bronsey was arrested.”

  I nodded. “Good. Why?”

  Ash thought for a second. “Because we want her to think that Bronsey might come after her again, which may make her frightened enough that she’ll tell us the truth.”

  “You don’t sound comfortable with that.”

  “Honey, you have to admit it’s kind of cruel.”

  “No, it’s real cruel,” I said, turning onto Eighth Street. “Look, I don’t enjoy the idea of scaring the bejeezus out of Lauren either. But she hasn’t told us the entire truth and fear is a wonderful tool for getting to the facts.”

  “I guess. I just wish there was some alternative.”

  Putting my hand on her knee, I said, “Maybe you’ll find another option. Interviewing isn’t a science. It’s an art and you need to develop your own style.”

  “But I want your help.” She took my hand.

  “Yeah, but what works for me might not work for you. Your greatest assets are that you’re wholesome, genuinely kind, and compassionate. It could be that Lauren will respond to that.”

  “We can hope.”

  “I’m convinced you can handle this. The important thing is for me to keep my mouth shut, until we come to a point when Lauren wants to include me in the conversation.”

  “Because we want to give her the illusion of control,” Ash said contemplatively.

  “You aren’t as innocent as you look . . . thank goodness.”

  We cut over a few blocks to Oak Street and turned west. Soon, we were traveling through the Haight-Ashbury District, although most San Franciscans simply call it The Haight. The neighborhood became world famous during the hippie era and now—forty years
later—a new generation of faux flower children had come to wander the streets in pursuit of the long lost psychedelic magic. It was a silly pilgrimage that reminded me of a dog chasing a car: He wouldn’t know what to do with it if he caught it.

  Another few blocks brought us to my favorite roadway in San Francisco: Lyon Street. Rock legend Janis Joplin’s old house was near the intersection and I was pleased to see that the prayer in one of Janis’s most famous old songs had finally been answered, even if it was almost forty years too late. There was a Mercedes Benz parked in front of the home.

  We turned onto Lauren’s street about ten minutes later and I was relieved to see that her Subaru was parked in the driveway. It meant that she was home and hopefully still willing to talk to Ash. As we got out of the car and headed for the house, I noticed my wife looking covetously at the resin bear statue in the front yard.

  The door opened before Ash could knock. Lauren looked tired and stressed and the flesh beneath her eyes was puffy, as if she’d been crying. She scanned the street nervously as she let us into the house. We went into the living room, which still faintly smelled of apple pie. We declined Lauren’s offer to make coffee, and she listlessly asked us to sit down.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Lauren said as she slumped into the rocking chair. She gave me a hangdog look of mortification, “And I’m sorry for not telling you the entire truth last night, Brad.”

  “That’s okay. You had good reasons not to trust me,” I replied. “You look worried. Did Bronsey call?”

  “No. There was a hang-up earlier this morning, but I couldn’t tell who it was from.”

  I gently pressed my knee against Ash’s to signal that she should take over. She said, “You told me that Kyle is in danger. Did he say why?”

  Lauren pressed her fingers to her mouth and then removed them. “They told Kyle they were going to kill him if they didn’t get the bear.”

  “Who did? Lycaon?”

  “No. The other company he was dealing with. I don’t know its name.”

  Even though Ash knew all about Lizard Eyes and the competing corporation, she did an impeccable job feigning ignorance and surprise. “Another company? Lauren, what the heck is going on here?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “And we’re here to listen to every word of it because we want to help.”

  “Thank you.” Lauren looked like she was going to cry. Then she took a deep breath. “It all started over a year ago. I told your husband that Kyle didn’t have anything to do with those hideous games that Lycaon produces, but that was a lie. He helped design that pet shop massacre computer game, although he hated doing it.”

  “Then why didn’t he leave the company?”

  “I asked him to, but he told me that he couldn’t just walk away from a job with that kind of salary and benefits. And where would he go? All the software companies are producing that depraved stuff,” she said plaintively.

  “But something happened a year ago,” said Ash.

  “Yes. Kyle went to a huge high-tech convention up in Seattle and saw an android that was invented by some Japanese scientist.”

  “An android?”

  “Apparently the robot looked just like the scientist and even behaved like a human being. Kyle said it was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen.”

  “I can’t even imagine. So, Kyle came back from Seattle with the idea to make Patrick the Polar Bear,” said Ash.

  Lauren’s eyes widened. “How do you know his name?”

  “Brad told me about him last night. He sounds fabulous.” Ash glanced at me, obviously wanting me to explain further.

  “I had no idea Patrick was voice-activated and I turned him on by accident. Your son is brilliant. You should be proud,” I said.

  “I am . . . At least, I was.”

  Ash asked, “Did Kyle tell his supervisor at Lycaon about his idea for the bear?”

  “Absolutely. He wanted to keep everything aboveboard. But the management said they weren’t interested.”

  “That sounds crazy. Did they say why?”

  Lauren’s lips compressed. “They weren’t interested in something as sweet and kind as a teddy bear that could be a companion for the next generation of latchkey kids. No, what they wanted was for Kyle to develop a new computer game where the players get to be famous serial killers.”

  “Instructional software for predators? That’s just evil.” Although I’d resolved to remain mostly silent, the words just slipped out.

  “Kyle felt the same way, but he had to have a safety net before jumping,” said Lauren.

  Ash said, “So, he began working on Patrick.”

  “Yes, while dragging his heels as much as possible on that abomination of a game.”

  “And he didn’t create Patrick at the Lycaon plant?”

  “No.” Lauren shook her head adamantly. “He was being paid to develop game software, not tinker with a mechanical teddy bear that supposedly nobody wanted. They wouldn’t have allowed him the time, resources, or workspace.”

  “So, where was Patrick made?”

  “In Kyle’s apartment. It’s more of a computer lab than a home anyway. He spent almost every night and weekend either working on the robotic body or the software. It was like he was obsessed, which made me happy.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it was good to see my son in high spirits again.” Lauren glanced at the photo on the mantel of a beaming Kyle graduating from Stanford. “He was excited at the prospect of finally doing something . . . honorable . . . with his computer skills.”

  Ash nodded. “As a mother, I can understand that. I’m guessing you helped Kyle in whatever ways you could.”

  “Yes. Money became an issue. The machinery and equipment were so expensive, and since Kyle was basically experimenting, sometimes he bought stuff that he later found out just wouldn’t work.”

  “So, as a supportive parent, you lent him a hand with the money.”

  “At first, I told him not to worry about groceries or meals. It was nice to cook for my son again.” Lauren’s smile was bittersweet. “Later, I dipped into my savings and cashed in a CD to help him pay for the equipment.”

  “And I’m assuming you also designed and created the actual teddy bear part of the project.”

  She nodded. “I wanted to make him out of kid mohair, but Kyle insisted on fur with a faint metallic tipping. That meant going with synthetic plush.”

  “I could tell the bear was made by a true artist,” I said, hoping the flattery didn’t come across as utterly blatant, because it wasn’t.

  “Thank you.”

  “What about Patrick’s voice? Is it Kyle’s?” Ash asked.

  “Yes. He recorded over fifteen hundred individual words for the vocal files. He wanted Kyle to actually talk,” Lauren said proudly.

  “That’s a bigger vocabulary than most people have,” I said.

  Ash said, “So, at some point Kyle finished the bear.”

  “Yes, right about the same time he met that scheming little bitch.” Lauren’s jaw tightened.

  I almost said: Last night, you told me that Kyle doesn’t have a regular girlfriend. Instead, I glanced at Ash, who said, “What’s this woman’s name?”

  “Rhiannon Otero. She worked with Kyle at Lycaon. He never saw what hit him.”

  Meanwhile, my mind was racing. Otero was a Hispanic name and I wondered if Rhiannon was the woman I’d noticed watching us at the teddy bear show in Sonoma the previous morning. And if she was Kyle’s girlfriend, it was even more likely that she was the mystery woman seen trying to batter her way into the room at the Paladin. Another unpleasant thought occurred to me: Had Rhiannon accompanied Bronsey to the bear show to point out Lauren as the woman to terrorize?

  “Was she his girlfriend?” Ash asked.

  “No. She’s a parasite, and the reason why Kyle is in such a terrible situation now.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Lauren glanced at the
picture on the mantel again. “Kyle has always been very . . . shy . . . around women and as focused as he was on completing Patrick, he’d been living almost a hermit’s life for a year. He and Rhiannon were talking one afternoon when he accidentally mentioned Patrick.”

  “Is Rhiannon pretty?” I asked.

  “I suppose so, if you can overlook the makeup applied with a garden trowel.”

  “Take it from a guy. Him mentioning the bear wasn’t an accident. He was boasting.”

  Ash said, “What happened after that?”

  “Suddenly, my son had a very affectionate girlfriend.” Lauren’s tone was acidic and you didn’t need to be an expert in semantics to know that affectionate was a euphemism for slutty.

  “So, are you suggesting that she initiated a relationship in order to benefit from the sale of Patrick?”

  “That’s exactly what happened. Up until she found out about the robot, that little gold-digger couldn’t have cared less about my son.”

  “But Kyle thought the attraction was genuine.”

  “And he wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to warn him. Rhiannon changed my son. I started seeing less and less of him.”

  Although I really wanted to believe Lauren’s unflattering assessment of Rhiannon, it also appeared as if much of her animosity toward Kyle’s girlfriend was born of jealousy. What’s more, Lauren hadn’t explained why she believed Rhiannon’s relationship with her son was based on a profit motive.

  Ash was obviously thinking the same thing. “I’m certain Rhiannon was a bad influence on Kyle, but what did she do to make you call her a gold-digger?” she asked.

  “I don’t know all of the story, because Kyle wouldn’t tell me. But it seems that little Rhiannon took it upon herself to contact some toy company and tell them that Patrick was for sale.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Sometime in late August.”

  “What did Kyle think of that?”

  “He was thrilled,” Lauren said incredulously. “He thought it was great. He told me that it would give him leverage when he offered Patrick to Lycaon again.”

  “So, he thought this was an opportunity to start a bidding war?”

  “He wasn’t thinking anything. Rhiannon was running the show.”