Helix

A cyberpunk detective story.

She looked at me in a soon-to-be-emotional way that meant I should get to the point as quickly as possible.

“Those are my fees,” I said. “I’m not flexible regarding them and I expect to be paid on time.”

She nodded and inhaled through her nose, a wet, stuffy sound made more pathetic by the tears. I didn’t have a Kleenex to give her.

I continued, “Mrs. Wynett, I’m aware this is difficult for you.”

“You don’t know anything,” she said.

I looked at her without speaking. She wore an outfit out of the latest fashion feed: ribbons of bioluminescent fabric hung from a plastic ring around her neck, covering nothing and pulsing colors in a caricature of chromed reflections. Her skirt was barely opaque and pale green, veined with darker shades. She looked like a flower gone to seed.

I nodded. “You might be right. But this is my job and I deal with situations like this every day. So while I may lack your subjective awareness, I certainly have a keen objective grasp of the in’s and out’s.”

“I’m beginning to not like you, Detective Pegg.”

“You don’t have to like me,” I said. “You’re hiring me to find your husband, not replace him.”