Duel: A Harmless Inquiry
Duel, Episode 1
This is Duel: A Tech-Noir Detective Story
Sol II System, Eden, New Chalcedon. 20:00 Local time
Detective James McElroy stared into his favorite drink at his favorite bar—respectively: a Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey, double, neat; The Last Call. The rain outside pounded on the pavement, while the Whiskey pounded on his head.
The Last Call was filled with the usual suspects. There, in a booth, a smooth-talking man spoke emphatically to an unimpressed lady. Off in the corner, two well dressed gentlemen spoke to a nervous looking man. On the other end of the bar, a workman still in his uniform jawboned loudly to a waitress. Yes, this was the seedy underbelly of this particular district of New Chalcedon. But it was familiar, it was home, it was where James liked to go to relax after finishing a job, and indulge in a rare spirit. These are my people, he thought to himself; why should I celebrate any differently than they do. He poured the fiery elixir into his mouth, and it burned all the way down. Still alive. He took a long drag on his pipe, and blew smoke to the side.
His robotic assistant, DB431, moved his head out of the cloud. “Please do not do that,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah. What, afraid you’re gonna get smoke in your lungs?”
“I do not need to be human to prefer not to be shrouded in smoke.”
James blew a big puff of smoke right in his face. “You gonna order a drink or just complain?”
“You asked me to meet you here.”
It was true. It felt wrong to celebrate a job when the droid had done most of the work. “Yep. They finally ID’d that body. One Charles Beaufort. Wealthiest man around the second Sol. Notorious recluse. No one knew he was living there. That’s another case closed.” He took another swig of whiskey.
“Understood. Is that why you wanted to meet me?”
“Yes indeed. Congratulations Buddy.” James held out a cash-chip.
“Please do not call me Buddy.”
“Should I call you Dubby?”
“DB431 works just fine.”
“Yeah ok. Take it. It’s your cut.” James waved the cash-chip in front of DB431.
“Why do you insist on paying me?”
“Why do you insist on doing work?”
“I did not have much of a choice.”
“Me neither. Take the money.”
DB431 took the cash-chip and downloaded it into his databank. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
An awkward silence descended over the pair. James took another deep sip of the whiskey. Still alive. He held the cool glass to his temple, and looked up. Bottles. Memorabilia. Is this what life is? Contracts and whiskey? Just work and then eventually die? What is fun? What do I do for fun?
After a few minutes, DB431 was first to venture conversation again. “Do you have any leads for new contracts?”
James took another long draw on his pipe. “I’m sure there’s some hapless inquiries in my box. We just wrapped up a case, we’ve got some spending money until things get lean again. You trying to make plans?”
DB431 was unphased, “When you do not work you are miserable company.”
James smiled sardonically. “You don’t know what to do with yourself when we don’t have work, is more like it.”
“Maybe so.”
“Tell you what,” James said, up-ending what was left of his whiskey, and grunting through the burn, “Let’s go check the box now. We can pick some little job to keep us busy while we take a rest.”
“Understood.”
James swiped his cash-chip and he and DB431 left The Last Call, stepping into the rainy streets of New Chalcedon.
= = =
The glass window in front of the office had the words “Detective James C. McElroy, Private Investigator” printed on the front, with the traditional eye-symbol in the center. As James pushed the door open, a small pile of mail caught the door.
“See, DB? Business is good.”
“You will throw out half of the inquiries.”
“Yeah but half of a hundred inquiries is more than half of ten.”
DB431 answered with silence.
James picked up the mail and dropped it heavily on his sparsely adorned desk. The room was dark, lit by a solitary hanging lamp, and had a sitting room, a desk—ostensibly for a secretary to use, but James could never keep one long. DB431 stood motionless in the center of the room while James sorted through the mail.
“Wouldya sit down? You’re making me nervous.” He said. “I’ll pick three you pick one, like old times. How’s that sound?”
DB431 lowered himself carefully and heavily into the soft cushions of a waiting room chair. “You have always been bad at picking.”
James was halfway through reading the letters when a woman showed up at the door. She knocked tentatively, peering inside— “Hello? I’m…I’m sorry to disturb you. Are you open? I could hear voices.”
“Sorry, gal, we’re closed. If you have a written inquiry I’ll take it now—if you don’t, you’ll have to come back.”
Irritation assumed it’s position on her face. “You’re here and you’re at your desk. I do have an inquiry. I’m told you’re the only man for the job.” Her tentative demeanor instantly evaporated.
“You don’t take no for an answer do you?”
“No, and I’m in no mood to start now.”
“Alright, take a seat. That’s my associate, DB431. He wasn’t built with a personality so I apologize in advance.”
“I do in fact have a personality.” DB431 retorted, while the woman took a seat across from the droid.
“Yeah but nobody likes it. Anyway, I’m McElroy, but I suspect you already knew that. I was just reading through a pile of other people’s important inquiries. Tell me, why do I care more about yours than theirs?”
“Because I’m not going to ask you to find my lost cat or cheating husband.”
“You already know where they are, then?”
“No.” She said—giving him a disapproving look. “Stop being light—there’s nothing funny about what I am going to ask from you.”
She took a breath, and composed herself. “I am Bridgett Bergenz, my father is—was—George Bergenz.”
“Bergenz, of the Bergenz Brothers? Bergenz Brothers Engineering?”
“That’s my fathers company.”
“Didn’t he die in some accident last week? It was all over the news.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
“Oh yeah?”
“It wasn’t an accident—he was murdered.”
“Murdered, huh? Sounds like a job for the police then.” James leaned back in his chair, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe.
Bridgett scowled. “They’ve already been. They spent the last week investigating, and they called it an accident.”
“Well, that’s that, case closed, eh DB?” James winked fruitlessly at the droid.
“DB431,” he corrected. “Yes, it does not sound like you need our services.”
Bridgett stood, impassioned by this rejection. “I know it was murder! It must be!”
James leaned in, trying to sound both reassuring and logical: “I need you to tell me how you know.” He gestured calmly for Bridgett to sit again.
“I heard a gunshot.”
“Did anyone else hear a gunshot?”
“And why did the police not acknowledge the gunshot in their investigation?” DB431 added.
“I know he was murdered. It is all too convenient. I heard the gunshot, I saw the pylons fall off the truck.”
“Ok ok, hold on, sister. Let’s take a step back shall we? You’re an eye witness. You heard a gunshot. You talked to the police. The police investigated. They found no evidence of foul play, is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“That’s a point against you,” James punctuated with the bit of his pipe. “If this was a murder, there would be evidence of a gunshot. For the police to disregard this evidence would mean that more than one person at the police force was not convinced this was decisive evidence of a gunshot, or—thinking out loud here—the police are in on it somehow. You following me so far?”
Bridgett nodded.
“DB, how am I sounding?”
“DB431. And, more sane than usual.”
“Great. So listen, these next two questions are important. You need good answers to them, for me to even consider taking this case.”
Bridgett nodded again, her face intense, her hands gripping tightly to her handbag.
“Who benefits the most from George Bergenz being dead? And who would be powerful enough to sway the police to look the other way?”
James leaned back in his chair and puffed on his pipe while Bridgett thought over her next words.
“I think the answer to both questions is the same.” She said, finally. “My uncle, Gerard Bergenz—co-owner of Bergenz Brothers Engineering.”
James smiled. “You hear that DB431? I think we have a mystery on our hands.” DB431’s eyes flickered. “Alright Ms. Bergenz. Just to be clear—I have not yet agreed to take the case, but let’s talk due diligence. Tell me everything.”
Thank You For Reading!
This has been DUEL, a tech-noir serial featuring Detective James McElroy and his Detective Droid DB431. This will be a serial publishing every other week unless I get my act together and write it quickly. There are nine episodes planned, and I reserve the right to add more if I can’t tell the story succinctly.
If you enjoyed this episode, please let me know with a like, or a comment! If you REALLY like it, tell your friends with a restack? If you’d like to not miss an episode, be sure to subscribe!
"When you do not work you are miserable company."
That line made me laugh aloud enough that my wife noticed. Nicely done!
I love the noir feel of this, and you've got it down; the rain, the gal, the smoking even... beautiful. Can't wait till the next installment!
This is such a fantastic start!! I don't read a lot of noir, but even I can recognize the conventions and I love the subversion of them in the scifi setting. The atmosphere is perfect, and I'm a sucker for snappy dialogue.
Can't wait for more!! ✨