“Unlike you, Clunky wasn’t a run of the mill robot dog,” said Gilby sadly. “It took me months to put him together and every single component was the best, and the most expensive, to be had at the time.” He shook his head and sighed again. “It would take me, even if I could afford it, weeks to build a new Clunky.”
“Why do you want to do a dumb thing like that? All you have to do is tune-up the old original Clunky’.”
Gilby shook his head. “Hell, I sold the old original Clunky over two years ago,” he said, “to raise enough money to start this half-wit business.”
The lean black man on the vidphone screen was wearing a white medsuit that seemed somewhat loose for him. “What seems to be the trouble? I’m Dr. Mackinson.”
“No, you’re not Dr. Mackinson.” Gilby was leaning far to the left as he faced the phone, careful to avoid the thin stream of processed sewage that was cascading from the living room ceiling into a large plaz bucket. “Mackinson is a big wide Scandinavian gent with an unruly mop of blond hair.”
Dr. Mackinson smiled, nodding understandingly. “I bought the Dr. Mackinson franchise for the New Phoenix AZ area well over a year ago,” he explained. “I’m the local Dr. Mackinson now.”
“Christ,” muttered Gilby. “Where’s die other Dr. Mackinson?”
“Technically, you see, he isn’t Dr. Mackinson anymore. The way the deal works is that in each franchise area there can be only—”
“OK, whoever the hell he is—can you tell me where to find the guy?”
“Perhaps I could help you with this anxiety attack, Mr. Gilby?”
Gilby, slowly and carefully, inhaled and exhaled. He moved a few more inches to the left and tried not to scowl at the phonescreen. “I’m not having a medical problem at the moment, doctor,” he explained. “The thing is, I sold something to Dr. Mackinson a couple years—”
“The former Dr. Mackinson.”
“Him, yeah. I’m eager to locate this object and, if possible—”
“Oh, say, I recognize you now. Even though you’re much fatter and pastier than you were back in your heyday,” said the black medic. “Ridge Gilby. I have to tell you, I was a great fan of My Pal Clunky when I was in med school.” He paused, remembering. “Is the Clunky botdog the object you’re seeking, Mr. Gilby?”
“Yep. Did he take it with him?”
“No, he sold that appealing little pup to a fellow collector shortly before giving up the practice here—just before he retired to Old New Mexico.”
“Sold Clunky to who?”
Dr. Mackinson shook his head. “No idea. I do recall that Sven expressed regret on more than one occasion that he’d been foolhardy in getting rid of such a pleasant and lovable electronic companion.”
“I built in those qualities,” said Gilby. “OK, is Dr. Mackinson’s real first name Sven then?”
“Sven Nordling. He’s residing, last I heard, at the Golden Years Chateau Complex in Taos.”
“Thanks. I’ll try there.”
“I can prescribe something for that twitch if you’d like.”
“What twitch?”
The doctor tapped his right eyebrow: “A cross between a twitch and a flinch actually. A few swigs of Relaxacon should fix it right up.”
“It’s only the sewage that’s making me flinch, doctor. But thanks again.” He ended the call. “Damn, here’s my chance to get out of this lame-brained business and I can’t even locate—”
“You ought to turn up the aircirc system to compensate for the reek,” suggested Rex from the living room doorway.
“You’re not supposed to leave the lab. I’m still working on you.”
“Important call for you on the holo-phone,” explained the large silvery dog.
“Bill-collecting bots and andies aren’t important.”
“This is your ex-wife.”
“Which one?”
“Lady who calls herself Molly Spartan.”
“Go tell Molly I’ll be catching up on her alimony chex very shortly.”
“She says she doesn’t want money from you just now.” Rex nodded back toward the lab. “She says she’s calling about making you money.”
“I’ll take the call,” he decided.
Molly Spartan was tall and slim; her office was several levels above the ground in the Santa Monica Sector of Greater LA. Red-haired at present, she was just ten years younger than her erstwhile husband. “You ought to rush to a spa as soon as you can,” she was telling Gilby as she guided him into a tin client chair and moved around behind her wide Lucite desk. “You’re really pasty-faced, Ridge.”
“Current medical opinion seems to agree,” he said. “If you’re finished itemizing my flaws, let’s talk about how exactly you’re going to make me money.”
“You shouldn’t ever wear those form-fit tunics,” she said as she settled into her chair. “Not with the form you’ve got.”
“Money,” he repeated quietly.
“Going to robobarbers again, are you?”
He brushed a hand at his temple. “Molly, you dangled the possibility of my increasing my intake of cash when we spoke this morning.”
She looked him up and down and, seemingly with some reluctance, ended her critique. “I’ve been very successful since we separated,” she informed him. “The Spartan Investigation Service is considered one of the best private inquiry agencies in GLA.”
“And?”
“In addition to security work and marital cases—I’m an absolute wiz at tracking down people,” she said. “I’m confident that I can also find a missing robot dog.”
He sat up straight. “How the hell did you know I was looking for Clunky?”
“A man who owes me nearly $13,000 in overdue alimony is someone, Ridge, I’m going to keep an eye on.”
“That’s not legal, is it?”
Molly smiled, patting the air in front of her as though she were patting his head in a humoring way. “You’ll forgive my mentioning this, but you’re going about this in your typical incompetent way,” she said. “It’s extremely dumb, in my opinion, to contact people and blatantly indicate that you’re desperate to get that little hound back. What’s called for, rather, is an oblique approach.”
“Jesus, I am desperate. I’ve absolutely got to have him up on the ShowBiz satellite in seven days. I don’t have time to be oblique.”
She steepled her slender fingers, rested her chin on them. “It’s possible to be both subtle and fast. Want to make a deal with me?”
“Could you, Molly, maybe at least hint at the details of this deal?”
“I help you locate Clunky, negotiate his return to you on the best possible terms.”
“And your fee is what?”
“All you have to do is pay the back alimony—with interest,” Molly said. “And, soon as the deal with Farr is set, you increase your weekly payments to me by 235 percent.”
“Christ, that would amount to—”
“Or you can forget about Clunky and I’ll simply get the law to attach your guard dog setup and pay me out of—”
“I’ll accept your onerous terms,” he said. “What I was planning to do, once I located the present owner, was to offer him a percentage of the take from the new show for the use of my dog.”
“That may not be necessary.”
He eyed his former wife. “Do you already know where Clunky is?”
“Not yet, but I’m confident I can run him to ground soon—and I can get his ownership returned to you for as low a price as possible.”
He studied her thermocarpet for a few silent seconds. “OK, all right.” He stood up and held his hand across the desk. “Shall we shake on the deal?”
“Signing papers will be sufficient,” she said, ignoring his hand.