A Strange Case Of Infidelity

There’d been a time, a long time ago, when Crayton West had wondered at the meaning of life; the summum bonum as they say on old Earth but this quest for meaning or the good life had not lasted long before it was replaced by the more urgent struggle to survive and Crayton had been struggling ever since, never bothering himself with the ‘whys’ but focusing on solving the ‘hows.’

For example, right now, he was wondering how he was going to pay off the crack-head Transylvanian loan shark known as “Count Crackula”.

“Noon tommorrow, Mr Vest”, the count had informed him, “Or my boys are gonna make you kosher, get me?”.

West needed a fee-paying client and pronto, but where was the chance of that. Nobody wanted to higher a private detective these days, not when surveillance technology was so cheap and freely available. Everyone and his grandmother was a D.I.Y. P.I.

“I need a miracle, Miss McChanical”, he told his robot secretary, who was helping him to pin up wreathes of garlic around his office, “or I’m going to be spending the rest of my days sleeping in a coffin”.

“Well”, said Miss McChanical, checking through her mental inbox, “You had a voice mail about two days ago but I accidentally filed it under spam with all those strange advertisments for viagra and pornography”.

“Err.. never mind about those”, said Crayton, “Just give me the message”.

“Dear Mr West”, said Miss McChanical, “My name is Dr Jacqueline Sykes. I found your website completely by chance while Googling the west nile virus but then it occurred to me that I really do require the services of a Private investigator because, you see, I suspect my partner Jessica Conseal of infidelity”.

Dr Sykes went on to list the usual reasons for such suspicions, stuff that Crayton had heard a million times before and which always made him yawn. She said she’d been through her partners credit card statement and her mobile phone bill and noted strange purchases and numerous calls to mysterious phone numbers blah blah blah but Craytons ears pricked up when she said that she would pay him everything upfront
plus extra expenses.

“You see, this is a very sensitive matter, Mr West”, she continued, “My parents are deeply religious neo-evangelical Christians and I have never told them about, well, about my partner and your website says that you are trustworthy and that absolute discretion is assured”.

Suddenly the photoprinter lit up and started printing out a colour photograph of Jessica Conseal. “I’ve included a copy of her photograph and all the information that I could gather about her daily movements. I do hope that you’ll be willing to take my case, Mr West”.

This was just the kind of break that Crayton needed. Miss McChanical sent an immediate reply stating that he’d be happy to take her case and Crayton got down to work.

Changing into his most inconspicuous yet stylish stake-out attire and packing all his surveillance gear into a small shoulder bag, he mounted his red Yamaha motorcycle that allowed him to cut through the traffic with ease, and headed off to the Cherry Jubilee club on the corner of East Pemberton street where, according to Jacqueline Sykes, her partner often spent her evenings.

Jessica Conseal was no oil painting, unless that oil painting was a Picasso, not the sort of woman who you’d expect to have a partner let alone be cheating on one, but Crayton never made judgements about his clients tastes or their lifestyle, he just kept his mind on the money.

The Cherry Jubilee club was a shock to West. Jessica Conseal, judging by her bank balance wasn’t the kind of girl you would expect to be frequenting a seedy dive in a poor neighbourhood; yet, taking a seat by the door, he immediately spotted her sitting at a table near the stage and eyeing up a female stripper who was cavorting with a large serpent amid dry ice and lasers.

Then, suddenly a scantily clad hostess came over and took a seat next to her. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for, to get video evidence of Jessica Conseal in the arms of another woman, even if it was just some nightclub hostess.

But, just then, Jessica looked over at him, as if she knew who he was and the next thing he knew, she had risen from her seat and was making her way towards him,her eyes burning with a dark, intense anger which, for some strange reason, made him shudder as he had never done before.

“I know who you are and what you are, Mr Pest”, said Jessica, in a deep growl unusual for a woman, “But you have no idea just what kind of person I am”, and, without warning she grabbed hold of Craytons collar and, with power like that of a forklift, yanked him both out of his seat and off of his feet, his legs dangling helplessly in mid air.

“You must spend a lot of time in the Gym”, said West, amazed by the irate woman's strength.

Jessica didn’t answer but she must have hit West pretty hard because he suddenly felt a burning blow to his head and blacked out almost instantly.

When West finally re-awoke, it was an hour later and he was lying in an old dumpster in an alleyway around the corner from the club where, he presumed, Jessica Conseal must have left him.

How had she known who he was and what kind of steroids was she on?

“You”, said one of the Cherry Jubilee’s burly, grim faced bouncers, as West staggered out of the alleyway into the street, “You got anything to do with that crazy bitch who just left the club”.

“You mean the one who gave me this skull fracture”, said West, clutching his throbbing head.

“Yeah. We had to throw that bitch out ‘cause she was molesting the girls and when we asked her to leave she went crazy and started trying to smash up the place, and it wasn’t easy getting rid of her either; it took 4 bouncers just to push her out the door. She was like some sort of animal. I tell you. I was almost afraid of her”.

“I don’t know her”, said West, “But I know a woman who does”.

Still dazed from Jessica Conseal’s haymaker, Crayton mounted his Yamaha again and headed back towards his office to get some medical attention and more info on his client Jacqueline Sykes.

However, as he approached his office building he heard its burglar alarm and when he checked the door he saw that it had been ripped almost off of its hinges.

Unholstering his pulse revolver with his right hand, he cautiously opened the door with his left and saw that, inside, the same destructive force had been used to tear apart his office. All over was scattered broken and ripped furniture and shards of glass and there were even holes in the wall where someone very strong had rammed an angry fist into them, it was as if some wild silverbacked male gorilla had been running amok among his things and then he found, cowering inside his wardrobe that had been tipped over onto its side, his terrified robo-secretary Miss McChanical.

“I hid. That’s all I could do, Mr West”, said Miss McChanical, “It was horrible. She was like some sort of terrible monster and then, all of a sudden, she just seemed to quieten down and then she left”.

“My poor Miss McChanical”, said Crayton, cradling his traumatized android, “You’re the best robot secretary a human could ever have”.

“Oh”, said Miss McChanical smiling, “Oh, that’s a very nice thing to say. You’re the best human an android could ever have”.

“That’s good. See, Miss McChanical, you’re perking up already”, said Crayton, “Now how about finding out all that you can about our client Jacqueline Sykes?”.

“That wont be necessary”, said Jacqueline Sykes, suddenly entering Wests office, “I can tell you everything that you want to know about me and”, she looked around at all the carnage “I can see that Jessica has been here. I’m sorry. You will be compensated for all the damage that she has done, I promise”.

“I better be”, said West, “but first, I want to know who or what Jessica Conseal is because I don’t buy your infidelity story anymore”.

“How about ‘To thine own self be true’”, asked Jacqueline.

Crayton shrugged, “I’ve never really liked proverbs doctor, or riddles”, he said, impatiently.

“Perhaps you’ll understand then, when I tell you the name of my great, great, great, great grandfather, a rather famous Chemist of old Earth called “Dr Jekyll”. I inherited his journals on biochemistry when I graduated with My P.H.D and, with our current technology it wasn’t hard to reproduce his fabled transformation formula but, like
my great ancestor, I became utterly addicted to the thrill of being a monster: powerful, voracious and totally without inhibitions or moral constraints, yet now I cannot even control the transformations and responsible Jacqueline Sykes is starting to worry about the things that her evil alter ego might be capable of”.

"Well? What do you want me to do about it. You’re the doctor, Doctor, not me!”, said Crayton, angry and bewildered.

“It’s too late for doctors now, Mr West”, she said, her voice beginning to deepen; her eyes growing narrower, darker, wild and wolf like, her delicate, pale blonde hair becoming coarse and black like bristles, her teeth growing sharp and crooked, her
arms, muscular and hairy and her hands , claw like as they reached around Craytons
throat and started to squeeze.

The shot was instinctive. Squeezing the trigger of the pulse revolver he had been holding , Crayton sent an electro-magnetically propelled armour piercing bullet through Jacqueline Sykes’s red velvet dress and Jessica Conseal’s monsterous body.
In a city full of armour plated alien criminals it paid to be well armed.

Watching Jacqueline Sykes die, writhing upon his office floor, was not a pleasant sight but, ultimately, though he had taken her life, he had also saved her soul and thanks to her he was able to pay off The Count and his blood-sucking goons and, as Jacqueline had promised, when her will was read out, it contained within it compensation for damages payable to Crayton West, Private Investigator. Perhaps now, thought West, he might start his quest for a life of meaning again.