I Only Killed Him Once Page 3

  I gave a shrug and I watched myself in the reflection. I looked insubstantial, transparent. A ghost in a machine.

  “You’re probably right there,” I said.

  “Uh-huh,” said Ada. “Water and electricity—they don’t mix. Water and computers don’t mix. And that’s what you are, Ray. A walking, talking computer.”

  She paused, and I had the feeling she was smoking again even though that was impossible.

  “A walking, talking computer who is good with his hands,” she said.

  I sighed and it sounded like a low-flying jet traveling too slow.

  And then the clock ticking over the main door clicked over to the hour and I woke up and it was another beautiful morning in Hollywood, California.

  5

  The morning sun poured in through the window in the office as I sat at the little round table in my shirtsleeves reading the newspaper. Ada’s tapes spun around me and every now and again I’d look up and watch some lights flash and then I went back to my reading.

  It was a nice morning. Quiet. I felt good. Ada was keeping to herself but I assumed she was busy working on the next job. That was fine. In the meantime I could sit and read the newspaper and learn about the state of the world, and as I read I thanked my previous self for being so thoughtful as to bring the early edition up when he had gone to bed. Reading the news was a good way of figuring out just what was going on in all that sunshine outside. One of the first things I did was have a quick shuffle through to see if I could find the name of the president. I figured that was a good baseline with which to start the day.

  I found it on page four. President Kennedy was settling nicely into his second term and people seemed pretty pleased with how he was doing.

  Good enough for me. Then I turned to the sports section and memorized a table of baseball results because I felt like it.

  Ada was still busy doing hard sums so when I was done with the newspaper I folded it as neatly as I could and I stood up and went to the window. If I leaned a little to the right I could see past the brown brick building opposite and down to the street. There was a slice of brilliant blue sky above and people and cars moving down below and the world was turning and life went on and so far I didn’t have much to do.

  That was fine by me. Every minute standing by the window was another minute for our covertly invested finances to grow with interest. It occurred to me that with no job to do Ada was probably counting it all.

  Everyone needs a hobby.

  I picked up the newspaper and I unfolded it and refolded it and then I had the strangest notion that I could go out for a coffee and maybe a paperback novel if there wasn’t anything else to do, and I was about to suggest the same to Ada even though I knew I couldn’t drink coffee, when I heard the sound. It came from beyond the door that connected the computer room to the main office and it was the unmistakable announcement of someone coming in from the hallway and closing the main door behind themselves.

  “Ada?” I asked.

  “Look lively, chief,” she said. “We’ve got company.”

  “So I gather.”

  I turned to face the door that led to the main office. Beyond that door was a large room with a polished wooden floor that was only partially covered by a thick rug. As far as my current memory tape went I’d never seen that room before in my life but I knew it was there all the same.

  The sound of the outer door opening and closing was quickly followed by the sound of heavy footsteps crossing the office, not fast but not slow either, the owner of those particular shoes clearly on a mission to reach somewhere to sit. That somewhere was one of the two chairs in front of the desk that sat in front of the big louvered window. It was the kind of desk any self-respecting private detective would pilot, robotic or not, and had an appropriate amount of stationery arranged on the top along with a red leather blotter with just the right amount of wear and tear. The Electromatic Detective Agency might not be much involved in the detecting business anymore but looks were important.

  The heavy footsteps became muffled as the potential client—one I would send packing, with the usual excuse that our books were full and maybe he could call again sometime next Christmas—hit the big rug, and then followed a series of other emanations consistent with someone pulling out a chair, sitting down in it, then adjusting the position just so.

  “I’m assuming we’re not expecting anyone?” I asked.

  “The diary is wide open, chief,” said Ada. “As it always is. You’d better get out there and find out what they want.”

  “As you say, boss.”

  I slipped my jacket from the back of the chair I had just been occupying and slipped it on. I left my hat where it was by the newspaper.

  And then I walked up to the connecting door and opened it and stepped through it and then I closed it behind me.

  The man in the chair looked up as I walked in and he gave me a smile that was as warm as a mortician’s slab. He was a good-looking guy heading somewhere toward his fiftieth birthday. His strong jaw was clean shaven and his piercing eyes were as friendly as his expression. He had crossed his legs with one knee a good deal higher than looked comfortable. His hat was black and small, a trilby, and he held it with the fingers of one hand with the other hand folded underneath and he tapped it against his knee to a slow beat. The hat went rather well with his suit, which was also black, and with his hair, which was a dark oil slick that swept back from an impressive forehead.

  I didn’t know who he was but he looked like he meant business.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, “Mister . . . ?”

  “Daley. Touch Daley,” said the visitor. “And as a matter of fact, Mr. Electromatic, I’m here to help you.”

  6

  Mr. Touch Daley kept smiling and I didn’t like it but with no moveable parts on my own face I didn’t think he noticed. I stood by the closed door and watched him and he watched me. He had his head cocked, like he was trying to remember something. Maybe he was supposed to hit the grocery store on the way home but had forgotten what his wife said they needed.

  I walked over to the desk as casual as you like and I grabbed the back of the big leather chair behind and swung it back and forth on the pivot a little. Then I looked at my prospective client and he was still looking at me from an angled neck. We played statues for a few more ticks of the clock but I knew that was a game I could easily win so I decided to break the ice again by telling him to get lost in as polite a way as I could muster.

  “I don’t normally take cold callers,” I said, lowering myself into my chair. When I was in place I put two bronzed titanium hands on the desk, fingers flat, and tapped them a little against the red leather blotter. I hoped he would get the picture. People coming into the office wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. We were listed in the telephone directory and the number in the listing was real enough, as was the street address. The frosted glass of the door leading out into the building’s hallway still had THE ELECTROMATIC DETECTIVE AGENCY stenciled on it in nice big gold lettering and on the wall inside the office were some framed certificates that showed my production date and system verification and my license from the City of Los Angeles. The license was up to date.

  People could call us. Ada answered the telephone and told them we weren’t taking new cases at the moment. She also took calls about other jobs we were taking, but they came in on an unlisted number. One of several, in fact. But the main office door was unlocked while I was there. People could come in. I would just have to show them out again.

  The man sitting in the chair opposite me hadn’t taken his eyes from my face and he didn’t change his expression either, nor the angle of his head. But his hat bobbed only twice more on his knee and then was still and then he seemed to get more comfortable. The smile slowly faded but he didn’t seem ready to do any more talking. He just sat and breathed and blinked.

  I did none of those. I opened and closed the little flap that sat behind the grille of my mouth a couple of times
and Mr. Daley watched me do it.

  “Jobs the Electromatic Detective Agency takes on are of a very particular type,” I said, “and I have to say my dance card is looking pretty full presently. But if you want to leave this office with your name and your number and perhaps a small idea of what it is I can do for you, then I can get my associates to call your associates and we can see what shakes out.”

  Mr. Daley watched me with firm lips that were now pursed and blue eyes that were now narrowed.

  “On the other hand,” I said, filling the air because the man in the other chair had apparently forgotten how to speak, “if you think you have information that I might find useful, I’d invite you to lay it out so we can take a good look and see what we’ve got.”

  Then his hat bounced on his knee again and finally the great Mr. Daley deigned to use his voice.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” The corner of his mouth twitched up, like he was trying not to smile. I didn’t like that any more than any other expression he had tried on in the three minutes I had known him.

  “Can’t say that I do,” I said, which was entirely the truth. “But even if we’ve done business in the past, the moment you walk through that door we’re back to square one. If it’s a new job then we have a new agreement. I’m programmed for discretion and I have a talent for privacy, so you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t break out the cigars and brandy and yak about old times.”

  I thought that was pretty good. I sat back in my chair feeling pleased with myself. The fact was that nobody knew about the limitation of my memory tapes other than me and Ada.

  At least as far as I knew.

  “I remember you, Ray Electromatic.”

  “That is apparent, Mr. Daley.”

  The man’s mouth twitched again like his smile needed a little kick-start, but a second later it was installed and shining as bright as the Alaskan sun.

  “But as I said, Mr. Daley, if you think you can help me, by all means, let’s hear it. Electronic I may be. Psychic was beyond the skills of my creator.”

  The hat bounced. Daley looked down at the rug. “Ah yes, Professor Thornton.” Then his eyes came back up and the hat stilled. “That was a shame, wasn’t it?”

  I didn’t know and that was also the truth, but I wasn’t about to give Mr. Daley the pleasure, so I sat where I was and I kept my vocalizer unpowered.

  “A shame about him, too, of course,” said Mr. Daley.

  That was when the telephone on the desk next to my right arm began to ring. Mr. Daley glanced at it and smiled and he watched it like it was his favorite TV show. I watched him watch and then I said, “Excuse me,” and I picked up the receiver. I knew who it was.

  “Get rid of him, Ray.”

  “You talking in a permanent or temporary sense?”

  “You sit behind that desk and the power goes to your head, chief,” said Ada. “Temporary. His person and your office need to be separated by a distance, the farther the better.”

  I rotated the mouthpiece away from my face and looked at Daley and he just nodded and smiled and got to work juggling his hat again. I moved the mouthpiece back to where it had been before.

  “Is there something in particular you wanted to talk to me about right now?”

  “Your illustrious client is trouble, Raymondo. Whatever you do, don’t listen to him.”

  “That’s two things to do. I’ll need to make a list.”

  “Just shut him up and ship him out, Ray. Trust me on this one. Nothing Touch Daley says is anything you need to pay attention to. Are we clear?”

  “As crystal,” I said, and then I put the phone down.

  Daley jerked his chin at me. “Your . . . associate?”

  I didn’t like his tone. I frowned, or at least I tried to. I was doing it on the inside and I had a feeling Touch Daley probably knew it.

  “You’ll have to excuse me, Mr. Daley, but my schedule is full and I have matters to attend to. But thanks for coming by. This conversation was real swell. We should get together again sometime and not talk about anything.”

  Daley nodded and made to get up. I stood and then waited because Daley was only half out of the chair when he stopped and he sighed and then he continued on his way to the full upright. He winced, like he was in pain, and he pointed at me with his hat, which he held out by the crown.

  “She’s a real good gal,” he said. “It was such a shame about her, but then you wouldn’t know anything about that either, would you?”

  “Walking into offices and talking in riddles is a hell of a hobby you have there, Mr. Daley. You ever thought about collecting cigarette cards instead?”

  “Oh, no, I came here for a reason, don’t worry.” He put his hat on and looked thoughtful about it. “I was speaking the truth when I said I was here to help you.” He paused and looked at the rug while he contemplated the infinite. “Actually, I came here to tell you something very—”

  The telephone rang again. Daley stopped speaking and watched the telephone and he watched my hand reach for it, but I didn’t pick it up. It rang on and I didn’t know why I let it but I did. I stood there and Daley looked at the phone and then he looked at me.

  “I’m listening,” I said. “Say what you want and then you’d better get out. My associate needs me to go and get coffee and her magazine, and you know what they’re like when they haven’t done their morning crossword puzzle.”

  Daley nodded and he opened his mouth to raise his voice over the ringing phone, but I held up a hand and he stopped mid-breath.

  “I can hear you just fine.”

  Daley’s jaw clicked shut and he nodded like he knew what I meant. And then he glanced at the connecting door and then glanced back at me and he gave another nod and I knew that he did.

  “I’m here to give you a warning.”

  “Keep going.”

  “Trouble is coming.”

  “Trouble is my business.”

  Daley shook his head. “Not trouble like this. You’re going to be in danger, and very soon.”

  “Don’t tell me, you’re the only one who can get me out of it?”

  “Not at all. I have some . . . associates . . . of my own being mobilized as we speak. In fact, there’s a chance we might not meet again, although if we don’t then you’ll know that things aren’t going to plan. But there are others who will be coming to help. You’d be wise to let them.”

  I processed this information for a few seconds. The telephone continued to ring. Touch Daley looked at me and then he looked at the telephone and then he nodded again and he put his hat on his head.

  “I’ll see you again, I hope,” he said, and then he headed for the door. He paused again, and when he spoke he addressed his words to the door without turning around.

  “Check the spare wheel.”

  Then he resumed his progress toward the exit. I didn’t move. I just stood where I was and I watched him cross the office and leave it. His outline was visible through the frosted glass of the door after he closed it behind him, and I watched as he paused and seemed to check his direction before heading to the right, toward the elevator.

  The telephone continued to ring but I let it. I went back to the computer room. I wanted to talk to Ada in person.

  7

  As soon as I crossed the threshold from one office to the other the telephone on the desk stopped ringing. I stood in the doorway for a moment and gave the computer room a quick scan. Lights flashed on Ada’s consoles and mainframe banks and maybe it was my imagination but they seemed a little brighter than they had been earlier. Ada’s big reel-to-reel tapes spun this way and that and the tape snapped and whirred and the air was filled with a quiet burbling, like a tea kettle coming to a boil, as a million microswitches switched back and forth behind her shiny white panels. The clock above the door ticked onwards.

  I let the door close and I moved back to the little round table.

  “Anything you want to tell me, Ada?”

  “Nothing you don�
��t already know, chief.”

  I nodded. I reached down and moved my hat a little. “Considering I don’t know anything from before an hour ago, save what the Hollywood Daily News has to say about current events, I’m not entirely sure that answers my question.”

  Ada paused. It felt like she was holding her breath, or at least it felt like that somewhere inside my positronic brain. A moment later and that feeling was gone as the electrons that moved through my circuits got on with more important things.

  “Trust me, chief,” she said. “There’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  I pursed my lips. I was getting better at it.

  “Touch Daley,” I said.

  “What about him?”

  “I’ve met him before, I take it.”

  One tape reel slammed to a halt, then reversed direction. The noise of it was something of a surprise.

  “Ada?”

  “Yes, Ray, you have met Touch Daley before. But trust me, it wasn’t an encounter worth remembering. He’s a nobody. Forget about him.”

  A nobody I had met before, who knew who I was and who knew about my “associate” Ada. A nobody who seemed to know something about Professor Thornton. Maybe even what had happened to him.

  A nobody who had taken the time to come and give me a warning, in person.

  But Ada was right when she told me to forget about him, because I knew I would, after today. By this time tomorrow Touch Daley would be a stranger once more.

  Had Touch Daley been to the office before? Did he come every morning? Had we had that very same conversation every morning for the last six months? Somehow I doubted it. A warning tends to lose its urgency just a little if you have to keep giving it each day.

  So we’d met before but this was probably his first visit to the office. Maybe he had warned me before, somewhere else. Only he thought I wasn’t listening, so he had taken steps and come to the office.

  I wondered how much Ada had heard. I decided not to ask her. It didn’t matter. I may not have known a thing about my previous meetings with Mr. Daley, but Ada did. Everything that was on my memory tapes was in her memory banks, and they were all permanent ones. That was partly why she was the size of an office.