Rosalina Perez consented to the autopsy of her son. While the results would be available to Spooner the next day, the young detective did not truly need them. After the revolution ended, he saw many dead bodies similarly damaged by ruthless robots. It was something that Del never saw before and hoped to never see again. The bruising and brutality of Santo's neck break was the same. Spooner analyzed the crime scene pictures while in his auto-driven police vehicle. With every NS-5 decommissioned, he wondered if the timid, infantile Sonny was a murder suspect yet again.
"Dial Dr. Susan Calvin," he ordered his phone.
Susan walked with her artificial son for twenty minutes, learning more about Sonny. When her phone beeped, the caller identification displayed Del's number. "Hi."
"Where are you?" Del answered, not smiling.
"I'm out walking with Sonny. You won't believe what happened to me today."
"Tell me over dinner tonight."
She was taken aback by his dismissive tone. "Time and place?"
"8:30, Gee Gee's." he announced.
"Why at your grandmother's?"
"She's out of town on some Church excursion. Her kitchen's stocked with leftovers. I'm not in the restaurant mood."
"I'll see you there." She answered with a finite tone.
Del hung up without saying good-bye, but a latent voice immediately sounded, and then tapered off. "Del."
His right eyebrow arched as he checked its screen. It was disconnected. His headache suddenly returned like a ball peen hammer struck him from behind. His reaction was vocal. His eyes teared-up from the pain. But it disappeared as fast as it came.
Susan was left hanging. Sonny saw her facial expression regress to the earlier, more stressful form.
"At least he contacted you," the robot noted.
"Listen to my sweet boy always looking on the bright side!" She said with a laugh.
Hours later, the estranged couple finally met at the quaint apartment of Spooner's grandmother. They ate chicken, collard greens, and sweet potato pie. But Del's appetite was not much. They spoke very little in the short time they sat at the round table.
"I was taken off the NS-6 project. The positive is I'm getting paid to do nothing." Susan broke the silence.
"Sorry to hear that," he said while poking his fork into a piece of pie, but not consuming any of it.
Susan stared at his failure to ingest his favorite delicacy. He was not in character, but then again, she did not know how he dealt with relationships. He was, after all, a divorcee.
"What the hell is going on?" She asked.
"I beg your pardon?" Del looked up from his mangled pie
She did not like the dramatic approach she took here, but Susan had little choice. "You've been avoiding me like the plague. If you're seeing someone else, at least let me know."
"Jesus, Mary and...I'm not seeing anyone else!" He finally woke up.
"Then I'm really at a loss here, Spooner."
When she used his last name, that was a bad sign, and Del felt obligated to answer. "I'm just...I need some room."
"I don't mean to sound paranoid. I'm fully aware how we're two different worlds, but it seemed we made this relationship work."
"Paranoid?" Del sat up straight in his kitchen chair.
"I'm unaccustomed to being emotionally attached to anyone. I'd been too preoccupied with work to notice, until our son had to make me aware you're never around."
"Sonny," he said, under his breath, with regret.
"Here I am, thinking that you wanted to make things right. But you stoically sat here not giving a shit!" Susan continued.
"Don't you dare say I don't give a shit!" He stood up, towering over Susan.
Once again, his tone shook Susan. "Why did you just overreact like that?"
"Oh God, you can go on and on and on, can't you? I called you here to question you about Sonny." Del answered.
"What about him?"
"I'm investigating a murder where the bruising was consistent with several victims of the revolution." He sat down again.
Susan Calvin slowly moved her chair back and rose from it. She was intelligent enough to see where he was going. "How could you suspect Sonny, who's been in our close care since then?"
"Calm down. I'm not suggesting he did it." Del Spooner held his hands up to stop her.
"This is a classic case of regression," she casually diagnosed.
"What?" Del was dumbfounded.
"Such change in your life has occurred to you, that you'll reject any further infusion!"
"Do not analyze me, Susan," he growled.
"Whatever. Sonny is a child; hell, an infant, who doesn't murder people, period." Susan concluded, sat and stared straight ahead.
"If the wounds weren't the same, if every single robot wasn't decommissioned and accounted for, I'd never investigate our son. But I have a job to do and so do you. Run a full diagnostic on Sonny and get me his activities logs for the past six months."
"Fine."
"I don't think he did it, Susan."
They both sat at the table, quiet again.
To be continued