The Soul Cage

II Just another murder case?-2

Campbell could feel the flush blossoming across his dark face. He quickly returned his black eyes to his recorder. He had little time or tolerance for romantic relationships. Being this close to a beautiful woman suggesting what he imagined as possible intimacy made him nervous.

“I thank you, ah, Penelope.” He checked his recorder notes. “I have your identity number, and I'm sure I'll be in contact,” he said to his handbook. “That's for further questioning, naturally.”

“I sense mutual admiration,” FACS blurted.

Campbell reached down to his duty belt faster than a gunslinger of old. He whipped out his universal remote. Without a glance, he aimed the remote at FACS and pushed the power button. FACS burped some gas, flashed some lights, and collapsed onto the floor a dead heap of ceramics, electronics, and gas emitters.

“Oh, thank you, Inspector,” Penelope said with delight. “That dreadful thing frightened me and was bothersome since I arrived.”

Campbell didn't bother to point out that it was the job of FACS to be bothersome, nor the fact that her presence at the murder scene was illegal. FACS hadn't arrested her as per code.

What am I thinking? I should be arresting her! She's a prime suspect, the closest person to the victim, but I can't see an immediate motive for Penelope to murder Yamamoto other than a possible lover's quarrel. I'm going to have to learn more about their relationship.

“I never cared for bot investigation when it comes to a human murder, ma'am, er, Penelope,” Campbell sighed. “They are nosy, intrusive, impersonal, and they like to read the code in a manner that suits their interest. Scientists have yet to instill morals into machines, as they claim.”

“Bots and computers have their purpose, Inspector. They're hardly useless.”

An odd statement, he thought. Something about this casual statement bothered him, but he was unable to determine why. That bothered him even more. He let it pass for now.

ThreeAs Campbell returned to reviewing his notes, Penelope Preston sashayed in a cautious manner across the ruined office in his direction.

He caught her act through hooded eyes. Her motions were so smooth it appeared she wore hover shoes. He remained with his nose in his recorder as if he had no interest in her approach.

It occurred to him that, like many of the intergalactic human investigators, his life was extremely hectic, dangerous, and a solitary existence. He saw little positive interaction with his s****l preference. The long work hours and planetary travels of a global investigator weren't conducive to intimate s****l relationships, or marriages.

By now Penelope had strolled to within a meter. He could definitely smell her. Familiar perfume, but he couldn't place it. Then it occurred to him that it was her personal body odor as well. She smelled of fear.

What is she afraid of? Campbell wondered.

“Ah, Penelope, ah, there you are.” It was the only thing he could think to say as he looked into her deep blue-gray eyes. They gazed upon each other for an assessing moment. Campbell was keenly aware of her womanly presence, and he lost his concentration.

Her eyes appear so sad, or maybe wanting. I wonder if they're real. They have such a hypnotic effect. There's a powerful mind behind those eyes, a mind of intelligence and magnetism.

“Yes, Inspector, I'm here, yet I desire not to be,” Penelope whispered. She slowly lowered her head as if to submit to him.

He missed Penelope's intention. He noted there wasn't any darkness in the middle parting of her hair and decided that her blondness was true. But is that cleavage for real? He peered down her dress.

“And why is that, Ms. Preston?” he asked with distraction. “I mean, why don't you wish to be here? Isn't this your party that you're hosting?”

Ms. Preston raised her head. Campbell was sorry to see wells of tears lining the lower rims of her now darkened eyes. Her light-cherry lips trembled, and he realized his mistake in words.

“Are you a complete i***t?” she verbally slapped Campbell.

He jumped to attention and quickly glanced about as if to ask if she was addressing him. Strike two.

“Huh? Who, me? No, ma'am.”

“You act like one,” Ms. Preston said with trembling fury. “First, you stepped on … on Dr. Yamamoto's remains. Then you were so bold as to inquire why the deceased's personal assistant would be sorry to be present at his murder scene. Really, Inspector, what are you thinking?”

“Apparently little,” he babbled. “I do apologize, Ms. Preston. I had no intention to cause you further anguish. To be truthful, the FACS was correct. You should not be present here, as even your walking about disturbs evidence of the crime.”

“Ack, men can be so uncaring and Yarvish,” Ms. Preston hissed venomously.

“Yarvish? Zooids!” Campbell said with real fury. “Did you call me a Yarv? That's the end, Ms. Preston! No human calls another human a Yarv. I, I ought …” Campbell was too frustrated to continue.

A moment of tenseness went by in which the party downstairs seemed extremely loud to Campbell.

“Please, Inspector, please, I apologize. Tonight has been very difficult for me. I never before insulted another human by that name. I am sorry.”

Campbell was unsure how to handle this lovely, yet frustrating woman. His inability to handle this situation in an authoritative manner and with his usual confidence made him more uncomfortable.

“Ah, before you're taken off the premises, Ms. Prescott …”

“Preston. My name is Penelope Preston,” she said evenly, as if controlling her anger again.

Strike three! You're outta here Burt.

“Huh? Yes, I apologize, Ms. Preston. Could you give me your statement of events tonight, and then explain to me the mechanical device over there?” Campbell pointed to the iron maiden structure. He thought it might be part of the teleportation device he knew Yamamoto had been working on.

“Of course, Inspector,” Penelope said a bit forcefully.

She pushed a button on her CIT so Campbell could record her data. It uncoiled from her wrist before she tentatively handed it to him while avoiding his touch.

He took Penelope's warm CIT, and noted it was a cheap older model with few modern features. He thought someone of her apparent elegance and wealth would have a CIT more technologically advanced. He wondered about her credit line, but decided that was something he could get from her CIT database later.

Campbell gazed around the blood-torn office for a clean place to make his connection. He decided the floor was just as good as any. Squatting with popping knees, he placed the CIT on the floor next to his recorder. After he pushed a tiny button on his recorder, wire connecters coiled from the recorder and plugged it into Penelope's CIT.

Within seconds the recorder took all the personal information about Penelope and her recent activities from the old CIT and disconnected itself.

Now Campbell had everything he ever wanted to know about Penelope Preston on a holographic and osmotic viewer. He decided to read Penelope's information later. She appeared to take her privacy somewhat literally, and seemed embarrassed that he should be looking at it now.

“Now tell me about that gingerbread man-like thing,” he said as he handed Penelope her CIT. Again she avoided his touch. This made him feel more uncomfortable and conscious about his dark appearance.

Penelope started laughing in a delightful manner about his gingerbread man comment. Suddenly she let out a painful, “Ya-ouch!”

Campbell gazed up with stunned amazement as the CIT over-tightened around Penelope's wrist. In the blink of an eye, he drew his 150 kilowatt directed energy beam pistol (DEP). He grabbed her arm and fired his DEP at pointblank range at the CIT wristband before it could pinch off her hand. He missed and hit the main unit. With loud popping noises, the CIT released Penelope's arm and fell to the floor. Suddenly the CIT blew apart.

“Damn!” Campbell yelled. “I didn't mean to do that. I apologize, Penelope. I wanted that CIT whole.”

Campbell gazed up at Ms. Preston. Her eyes were huge, terrified. The fingers of her left hand were shoved into her gaping mouth to hold back the scream that was crawling out. She was using her right hand to rub her abused left wrist.

“Ms. Preston?” He reached out and touched her bare arm.

“Ah!” Penelope screamed. She leaped away with inhuman quickness and agility.

“Ms. Preston? Penelope? Ma'am, please relax. Nothing harmed you.”

Nothing harmed her, he thought, but could someone be trying to hurt Ms. Preston? Hurt her dead? How did this CIT achieve livelihood and the desire to chop off her arm? If not for me, Ms. Preston would be standing there with her beautiful hand doing a crab-crawl across the floor. All her blood would be squirting out the stub of her arm.

It wasn't a pleasant image for Campbell to bear. He managed another peep at her heaving breasts.

“Would you like to touch them?” Ms. Preston whispered.

“Ah, what, touch what?” Campbell was caught off guard.

“My breasts! You have been ogling at my breasts ever since I crossed the room,” Penelope said bluntly.

“Huh, hummm. Oh, for Jonah's sake, caught in the act, huh?”

To Campbell's amazement, Penelope smiled her lovely white smile.

“Don't feel embarrassed, Inspector, You're not the first.”

“Ah, yes. I would imagine not,” he muttered, his face burning.

He noted she had a way of settling a person, of easing them into comfort. He knew that took a special type of personality, especially during these terrible circumstances and her recent fright. Most people would be self-consumed in their own plight. As if she sensed his thoughts, Penelope moved closer to him.

“Thank you for your quickness,” she said. “I was thinking of getting a new CIT, but that one has been so reliable. It's never done anything like that before.” Penelope peered at the floor where the pieces of her CIT were scattered.

Is this all an act? Campbell wondered. Who could have programmed the CIT to behave like that if it wasn't Penelope? It had to have been taken off her wrist. Wouldn't she have noticed it if someone had taken it for a time to reprogram it?

Penelope Preston was a beautiful and strange enigma to Campbell. He had his suspicions about her motives and eerie ability to turn her emotions on and off. He desperately yearned to learn more about this intriguing woman.

FourTaking a moment to allow Penelope to collect her thoughts, Campbell turned away while he made a note to check further into her background. The stifling odor of the murder scène and Penelope's proximity was making it difficult for him to concentrate.

“Are you ready for me to explain the gingerbread man?” Penelope asked, dragging Campbell out of his thoughts about her.

“Yes, I'd be very interested in hearing what Dr. Yamamoto was working on at the time of his death,” he said. “It could be the reason for his murder, since I assume it's a teleportation device.”

Campbell's report on Yamamoto had said that he'd never reported any enemies to the police before. It was possible something he was doing recently had endangered his life.

“It is a teleporter, correct?” Campbell asked to make sure.

“That's correct.”

Campbell quickly finger punched this in his recorder, but he noticed she'd dropped her eyes as if embarrassed. He didn't understand her hesitation or reluctance about the teleporter. If the invention worked, and he assumed that was what the party was about, then this was a phenomenal accomplishment.

“Where's the computer?” he asked, knowing transporters required the most powerful computers with massive amounts of memory capabilities. Theoretically, computer capability, maintenance of the data string, and the data relationships were the largest problems behind teleportation—besides the moral issues. If there remain any morals these days, he thought.

Although he'd followed scientific progress closely all his life, he decided to play ignorant while questioning Penelope. He wanted to see how much she knew about Yamamoto's work.