I don't know yet

[Morgan Evanar]

Jon Jansor was pronounced dead at 857. His bio-bracelet said so. The record index said so because the bio-bracelet told it to. Cause of death was categorized as "Impact." Jon Jansor was wholly unremarkable. He was an unremarkable color, with an unremarkable skeleton, feet, arms, legs, ears. Sure, Jansor had somewhat tough skin, to resist cleaning chemicals, but that was standard for a Jansor, all the way back to the first Jansor, Abe. This specific Jon was a basic model for cleaning office buildings and homes. He was halfway through his life cycle.

Like the millions of other Jansors, Jon had been quiet, polite, and good at his job, until he had flung himself off the 3rd Bank Building. He had screamed before impact, which had been a polite thing to do, as the sidewalk was crowded at 857. No one else was physically injured by Jon's suicide, but most who witnessed the event would need therapy. Contrary to dramatic portrayals otherwise, the human skull does not typically explode. The skull and skin are adept at keeping most of what should be inside, inside.

Jansors didn't commit suicide, and the 3rd Bank Company wanted to know why their Jansor had. The Practical People Corporation sent an investigator, who promptly signed the 3rd Bank's Non-Disclosure forms en-route

Inspecta Bamman stared at the cordoned-off section of sidewalk. He passed his wrist over the fence, which moved aside. Bamman noted that Jon had made sure to impact head first, which would have either killed him by the blunt force or spinal separation. It was a polite thing to do, if one was going to jump off a building.

Why would a Jon Jansor jump off a building?

[Morgan Evanar]

Inspecta Bamman was met at the entrance by the 3rd Bank's local legal council, Raymon Ranner. It was 1122. Ranner was an large man, with broad shoulders and dark brown eyes that were used for intimidating others. Banner was at a loss today, and he hoped Bamman could explain the Jansor's behavior. As the matter was both sensitive and public, Ranner wished that Jansor had killed himself in his closet, instead of publicly. It would have made his job much simpler.

Bamman had the opposite feeling. This was intensely interesting. He was in his element: a situation that wasn't known, with questions. Bamman loved finding answers. It was just his nature. He flexed his fine, long fingers. It was something he did while the questions brewed.

"I'm Inspecta Bamman you must be Raymon Ranner." Inspecta Bamman said to Raymon Ranner. His head bobbed slightly on his long neck. It only added to his bird-like appearance. Ranner had only met one other Inspecta before. They could be profoundly annoying, but they did have their upsides. They were good at taking in information, even if that meant that they were wrong, which was nice, but their patience and persistence could be infuriating. Ranner offered his hand. Bamman looked at the hand quizzically, and then ignored it.

"Yes." Ranner replied, thankful that it was not him that was under investigation. He let his arm fall back to his side, mildly annoyed. Bamman began to pace. It was socially unfortunate that he was doing it in a bank lobby. Banking still maintained the decorum of accessibility that many other of the service industries had done away with over the years. Marble floors, with luxurious wood and gentle lighting.

"I need to see his room his closet has anyone gone there yet? Is it still sealed? You sealed it I hope." Bamman was clearly in thought. Ranner started for the elevator, and Bamman followed like an eager puppy.

"No one has entered or left the closet since the late Jon Jansor this morning." Raymon Ranner said. He hoped Inspecta Bamman's visit would be short. The elevator doors closed.

“Basement Two.” Ranner told the elevator, which obeyed.

"Was Jon Jansor supposed to have access to the roof?" Inspecta asked. The doors slid open. The second basement was clean, but dull. The walls were a dull white. Piping for water and waste were color coded red and yellow. Electrical conduits were blue. The hallway echoed with footsteps: Ranner’s heavy and Bamman’s light pitter-patter. No one cared to add acoustic paint

"Yes. He had a key."

"Good good." The Inspecta's lips moved after the statement, as if his brain couldn't fully disconnect from his mouth.

Ranner walked up to the Jansor’s door, which opened automatically for him. Ranner had complete access to the building.

“Mary Happenstance Horseradish.” Ranner said. The Inspecta slid past Ranner’s robust frame. The revelation did not affect him in a remotely similar fashion. Inspecta Bamman turned on his imager.

“Isn’t this, yes, interesting. Interesting. Well, it does explain things--your Jon Jansor went crazy. Or he was defective, something like that.”

“Let me know when you’re done in here.” Ranner pinched the bridge of his nose. Both the room and the Inspecta were giving him a headache. Except for a corner near the bed, it looked like a mostly red rainbow had exploded, and the tall, thin, dark Inspecta was not aiding matters with his bobbing and weaving. Inspecta Bamman reached into his Inspecta’s coat, a grey affair that went to his knees. It was loaded with gadgets and gizmos for inspecting. Most importantly it carried gloves and tongs. Bits of disposable towels, scraps of wallboard, broken electrical conduit, well, everything had been painted. Bamman reached into his coat, and retrieved a device that looked like pen. He stuck the tip to the floor, to the cabinets, and to the scrap sculpture. The inspecta hummmed.

“This red paint is newer than the other paints, only a day old. He’s been crazy for years now.” Inspecta rattled.