Published:
January 15, 2025
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I woke up too early with a pounding in my head that wouldn't stop. Voices drifted in from the other room. Since I live alone, that got me moving.
First things first, though. I padded to the bathroom and spent a minute on essentials. My visitors didn't sound upset. They could wait.
I popped two aspirin, pulled on my robe, and left my lovely dark bedroom. It was pretty bright out there. I squinted against the glare and tried to make sense of things.
"Oh, Mr. Vargas! You're awake."
Familiar voice. Yeah, that's right: my new house-bot, Sheila. Only had her a couple of days. I grunted and poked my nose into the living room.
"Anton! Sorry to wake you, pal."
Phil Cleary is nobody's pal. He's a cop and looks it. Big, battered, and perpetually rumpled, he took up most of my black leather couch. His beefy mitt was wrapped around my favorite coffee mug, and breakfast covered the coffee table.
I mumbled a response. I'm not my best in the mornings.
Sheila pressed a mug full of hot steaming goodness into my hand. "The officer insisted," she said apologetically.
I sipped and almost forgave her for letting him in. Coffee that I don't have to brew myself is a glorious luxury. Still and all, though... "We'll discuss it. Later."
"Can't blame her. I showed my badge and said the magic words. Official business." Detective Cleary grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "She wouldn't let me wake you, though."
"He needed his sleep," Sheila said sharply. "He's been sick."
"Yeah, I'll bet."
"Excuse me," said a small voice. I hadn't even noticed her there in Cleary's shadow.
"Oh, right. F'give me," he said. "My partner, Elise Cho."
"Charmed." I didn't try to sound sincere.
"Trainee," confided Cleary. "They have me break in the new ones. She's doing okay... so far."
"Mr. Vargas, we're here to—" she began.
"Now, now; don't rush the man," admonished Cleary. "He's still half asleep. No harm being polite."
He grabbed a Danish. Judging by the crumbs, it wasn't his first. "No, it's fine," I said. "You two have jobs to do. I'll try to keep up. If I have questions, I'll ask."
I plopped into an armchair and sipped.
"Okay, fine," said Cleary, mouth half full of Danish. "Where were you last night from nine to two?"
"Easy. Here."
"Home all night, which is why you're having a hard time waking up at half past ten. Ri-ight." He was watching his wrist. Unlicensed lie detector in his smartwatch. Pretty reliable.
"Seriously," I said. "Ate a tamale from Julio's. Little while later, I was sick as I've ever been. You can ask Sheila. Didn't actually get to sleep until almost four."
"It's true, Detective," Sheila said. "And you know I'm programmed to cooperate with law enforcement. Otherwise, you wouldn't be sitting here."
Cleary started to object, but his trainee overrode him. "She's right, Detective. She did let us in."
He scowled and glared at her. I spoke before he could.
"It's not really polite for you to sit here, eat my food, and call me a liar, Phil," I said mildly.
He turned his scowl on me. "Robot's word's no good in court, Anton, and you know it."
"I do. But we're not in court." I sighed. "Look, Phil, you did your job, asked your question. You may not like the answer, but that's no reason not to believe it. Especially..." I waved at his watch.
Cleary had the grace to look abashed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
He set down his mug, braced to stand.
"No, we're not done. You were gonna tell me why you came asking. Besides, might as well finish your coffee. Can't pour it back in the pot. Officer Cho, anything for you?"
She started to shake her head, then relented. "A glass of water?" Sheila went to fetch it.
"Wish I could afford one of those," Cleary said. "Way too much on a cop's salary."
"Too expensive for me too, at least if I stay retired. On loan from a friend," I explained.
"So you're not working at all, huh?"
I spread my hands. "It's your turn to talk, Phil."
He drank some coffee, then leaned back. "Okay, fine. Last night, a robbery up in the Heights. Clean entry, precise. Quarter million in jewelry gone, and the couple never woke up. Naturally I thought of you."
"Naturally."
His eyes narrowed, but he continued. "Then Willy Grossman gets himself whacked downtown. I put two and two together—"
"Who's Willy Grossman?"
"Willy the Weasel. Pawnbroker. Fence."
"I know the Weasel. Knew." Damn.
"Yeah, I know you did," he said dryly.
"Honest, for a fence," I observed. "Or so I've been told. Reliable. Not one to cheat a customer."
Cleary shrugged. "And dead," he said. "In his pawn shop, just change in the register, and no stolen property."
"I'm no killer, Cleary. Besides, like I said, I'm retired. No jewelry, huh? Maybe check the homeowners."
"Why?" asked Cho.
"Might be insurance fraud," explained Cleary. "We've got people on them already, but thanks."
"I'll ask around. Willy was... well, not a friend, exactly, but—"
"Yeah, I understand."
We shook hands, and then they were gone.
"So that's why you let him in. I'd wondered."
Sheila nodded. "I thought you might need an alibi."
"I really was sick," I reminded her.
"I remember. I also remember the large stack of money you had." She didn't ask where it went.
"Yeah. Willy paid fair value." I sighed, then went to dress. "Guess I'd better start asking questions."
"So you didn't kill him."
Ouch! "I don't kill people, Sheila."
"But you do steal from them." She sounded confused.
"Only the deserving. I'll explain the difference later. For now, I've got work to do. I'll be back when I'm back."
How do you explain Robin Hood to an android? Maybe I'd have her read the book. But can a robot understand Howard Pyle?

Copyright 2024 - SFS Publishing LLC
House-Bot
Just how loyal are androids?
J. Millard Simpson

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