The Girl and the Pendulum (An Original Story – Part 9)
Part Nine
Cattrell could hear a machine cutting something in the distance. It was a soft purr, which he mistook for a cat. He realized that in his slumber, his fedora had fallen over his eyes.
He pulled the fedora up over his eyebrows, and the bright world flooded in. The sun was directly in his face, and a silhouette stood beside the car’s fender, peering in.
He checked his watch. 8:30am. He rolled the window down and instantly recognized the silhouette.
“You can’t sleep here, this is a private street.”
The cat lady wasn’t the homely woman he saw in the binoculars. She seemed younger, more vibrant. He noticed an absence of make-up on her narrow face, yet there was color in her straight black hair that wasn’t there last night.
“Sorry, I…”
“Are you homeless? Were those bottles in the ivy yours?”
Cattrell actually felt embarrassed for once. “No, to the former. Yes, to the latter. I’m sorry, M’am, I didn’t want to drive around drinking, I guess.”
Her face was flushed, like she had run a few miles. Her hair was shoulder-length, black, and streaked with auburn color that reminded him of autumn leaves.
If she was a thief, he was fooled.
Cattrell massaged his temple. “I know this is imposing, but do you have any coffee?”
The cat lady was taken aback, but considered it. “What’s your name?”
“John. John Cattrell.” He considered using his alias, but he thought that she could be onto something.
“Wait right here.” She went into her home and after five minutes returned with a mug of steaming coffee.
Cattrell drank it with relish. “Better than the usual grind.”
“Imported from Africa.”
Cattrell smiled. “What’s your name, if I may ask.”
“I don’t know why I would tell a strange man sitting outside my home my name,” she answered, peering at him with a depth of reasoning.
Cattrell shrugged.
“Cassandra.” She took the mug after Cattrell finished it. He regretted drinking it so fast. He didn’t get a chance to ask her the important questions. At least the Ben Franklin Effect was in play now, Cattrell’s favorite cognitive tool to encourage others to do things for him later. Having others fetch him coffee was the easiest way to do this.
“Thank you for the coffee, Cassandra. I’m feeling better already.”
She smiled, and began to walk away. She stopped, turned back towards him. “Nice camera.”
Cattrell shot a look at the passenger seat, betrayed by his lifelong partner. He looked up at her, and in a moment knew that she understood the truth. All he could do was nod his head.
“Why?” At that moment, her eyes were childish.
Cattrell was blinded by the question. A guilty person never asks why.
“I’m a private investigator.”
Her eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if it was for guilt or for innocence. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Not necessarily. I’m looking for something that’s gone missing. Something stolen.”
She took in a breath. “Good. I thought I had committed a crime. Mr. Cattrell, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Do you mind if I return tonight to ask a few questions?” He was kicking himself. What was he doing, giving her time to run? Instincts be damned.
“What time tonight?”
“6pm.”
“Okay. I’ll be here. Just knock.” Cassandra nodded her head once, and quickly walked the steps up to her flat.
Cattell smiled, thinking of old Ben.
Read from the beginning:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight
Read the next chapter:
Part Ten
"The Girl and the Pendulum" is an 18-part future-noir science fiction story about a a private investigator's search for a missing android. How can a man who searches for missing women find lost artificial intelligence? I welcome feedback on this story about a man and his difficult case in a post-war, post collapse world. Stay tuned, as I also will begin publishing my 300,000 word epic novel "The Messiah" on Steemit in 2017.
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