Duel: An Investigation Interrupted
Duel, Episode 2
This is Duel: A Tech-Noir Detective Story
Previously: Bridgett Bergenz demanded the services of Detective James McElroy and his Robot assistant, DB431, to look into the death of her father, which she claims was a murder…
Sol II System, Eden, New Chalcedon. 07:23 Local time
The next morning, James and DB431 agreed to meet Bridgett at the Bergenz Brothers stockyard. This was the scene of the untimely death of George Bergenz—or, the alleged murder.
James turned up the collar of his trench coat. Yesterday’s rain had given way to low, grey clouds, which moved quickly through the sky on a cool autumn wind. They were waiting outside the chain-link fence of the stockyard, where the Bergenz Brothers kept their materials and equipment while they weren’t in use. There were warehouses, but also an open-air warehouse where goods which were not weather-sensitive were stored. A smoke-stack of a manufactory towered over the stockyard, and an expansive parking lot abutted the chain-link fence.
“Are you scanning, DB?”
“DB431. And yes.”
“Listen, DB431 doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. How many nicknames have I tried to give you over the years?”
“Thirty-two.”
“I like to shorten things. At least DB is not some ruination of your name.” James had an agitated edge to him.
“Do you need some coffee?”
“I’m fine.” James snapped, as he turned his back to the breeze and away from DB431. “What do you see?” he asked, pulling out his pipe and trying fruitlessly to light it.
“It is hard to say. After a week, the scene will have been sterilized. But I am recording the setting—we can review more later.”
“Great.” James finally lit his pipe and puffed pensively. If Bridgett doesn’t arrive soon, security will see us and wonder what we’re doing.
After a few tense minutes, her car pulled in swiftly off the main road—luxury car, of course.
“7:00, I thought we agreed 7:00.” James said in greeting, as Bridgett approached.
“It was 7:30. Anyway we’re all here now—thank you for being early. I don’t like waiting.” She said with a glib twinkle in her eye.
“Are we allowed to be here? Should we expect security?”
“We have an hour tops, probably less. Call it thirty minutes. They won’t immediately notice because I—” She swiped her badge triumphantly on the automatic gate, “am still an employee.”
“OK, we need to be quick then,” James said as they walked determinedly into the stockyard. The facility was enormous—there were large trucks and cranes and specialized equipment James couldn’t name. Large pallets the size of buildings rested in orderly grids in the open air. Trucks sat idle around the perimeter—for an industrial stockyard James was surprised to find it sparsely trafficked.
“Where is everyone?” he asked.
“We had a work stoppage for the investigation. We haven’t started back up yet—a show of respect. Things should pick up later today or maybe tomorrow.”
“So this is our last chance to get an unadulterated look at the scene.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“I need you to tell me exactly where the accident happened, and point me to where you were. We’ll have questions but we’ll need to go over them after this. First we need information. DB, I need you to record and scan anything and everything.”
“Understood.”
“OK,” Bridgett said. “There was a truck…about, there, I think.” she pointed to a spot adjacent to a stack of shipping containers. “The cab was facing towards the rear of the stockyard, and my father was standing on the right side.”
“Ok. I’ll stand where your father was, now where were you?”
“I was over this way, maybe 200 yards away. I was working on an inventory report in the foreman’s office back there, and was coming out to talk to my father. I could see him, but he didn’t see me.”
“OK. Don’t go all the way over there, I won’t be able to hear you.” James looked around at his surroundings. “What time did all this happen, again?”
“It was after 6pm.”
“The sun would be setting, it would be low light for sure. When you heard the gunshot, could you tell what direction it came from?”
“No—it echoed, but was drowned out immediately by the falling pylons.”
“Do you still have the truck that was involved in the accident?”
“Yes, but it’s—oh no…” Bridgett broke off, and stared behind James’ shoulder. James whirled around.
A tall, older man with white hair and a fine black suit smiled mirthlessly as he towered over them, backed by six armed guards.
“Well, well, well! Bridgett, good to see you again so soon. Who is this nice gentleman you are escorting around my property?” His voice was thick and boomed with authority.
“Name’s McElroy, James McElroy. This is my associate, DB431. I’m a Private Investigator. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” He held out his hand in greeting.
“Gerard Bergenz.” He said loftily, ignoring the outstretched hand. “Bridgett, you should know better than to get hoodwinked by some two-bit grifter from the gutters of New Chalcedon. The police completed this investigation already. I am grieving with you, my dear—he was my brother as much as he was your father. But if this man approached you offering miracles in exchange for money—”
“Actually, I hired him.” Bridgett said defiantly.
“Solicited me—” James corrected, “We haven’t signed a contract yet.”
Gerard looked taken aback, and then angry. “This is irresponsible. Do you have no respect for our police force? It’s bad enough that your father has tragically died, but now you go throwing your money away indulging fantasies?” His voice trembling with restrained force.
“Sounds like she felt their investigation was underwhelming.” James quipped. “Do you think I could have a few minutes of your time for an interview?”
“Absolutely not. Get out!” He pointed aggressively towards the exit. “You need authorization to bring guests into company property—it’s not some playground. There are rules!” The guards approached from behind Gerard and encircled the four of them. “Enough fanciful larks for today. And Bridgett—I’m putting you on a leave of absence until we can talk—” he glanced at James and his droid, “—privately.”
The three of them were ushered out of the Stockyard. “Bye bye now. Thank you for coming. Bridgett, I will be in touch.” Gerard crossed his arms and stood in front of the gate, flanked by his guards. He watched them as they made their way towards their cars.
James whispered to Bridgett as they went— “Bridgett, do not go straight home. Find a bar, anywhere—a public place—and call this number. This is my business line for clients.”
“Does this mean you’re taking the case?”
“Absolutely.”
= = =
James and DB431 drove around town for an hour before Bridgett called. “McElroy here.”
“Detective, I’m at a restaurant like you said. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“That’s OK. We’re coming to meet you. Stay where you are, and stay in public.”
“Why?” her voice sounded more accusatory than confused.
“If your theory is true—that your uncle has the police on his side, was willing to kill his own family, and has something to hide—do you think he would have any hesitation to remove you?”
“I…I…”
“I don’t know if your theory is true. But we need to act like it is: this man could very well be very dangerous. We’re coming to you. Where are you?”
“Marko’s Family Diner, River district.”
“I know it. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He ended the call.
DB431 said, “This one is going to be trouble.”
James nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Are you sure you want to take this case?”
“DB, what did you see at the stockyard.”
“A pristine crime scene.”
“Did you notice which direction was north?”
“Towards the parking lot.”
“And what did you see to the west, on the right side of the truck.”
“The factory, a smoke stack.”
“And if the sun was setting in the west, where would it be from the perspective of the truck?”
“Behind the smoke stack.”
“Exactly. If George Bergenz was murdered, I think that’s how it happened—an assassin on the smoke stack. But why? And who? With only one shot, it still could have come from anywhere. We don’t even know there was a shot because we have no evidence. And we have only a suggestion as to motive. This case is weird—this isn’t small-time, we’re going up against a big-time industrialist, possibly with something to hide worth killing for. Does that scare me? Yeah, a little. Do I think she can pay us enough to make it worth it? Yes.”
“Do you think we will live long enough to get paid?”
James looked at DB431’s expressionless face, as he drove towards the diner.
“Good question.”
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!
“Do you think we will live long enough to get paid?”
James looked at DB431’s expressionless face, as he drove towards the diner.
“Good question.”
Good question indeed. I would say that the odds are midling to low, DB. lol.
Good job, @Scoot. Good job.
Uncle Gerard is super sus, is all I'm saying.