Radcliffe, unsure of himself at first, gathered confidence as he noticed Keller's interest growing. He began:
"Well sir, for this job I need one of the best detectives—" he paused at Keller's grimace—"and since you're one of the few detectives in the city who can read minds, and the only A-2 'tec in the state—" He shrugged, and finished, "I figured you'd be the man for me."
Keller saw that he was telling the truth, after a quick check into the man's mind. "All right, Mr. Radcliffe. What's your problem?"
Radcliffe seemed to not be able to focus his thoughts. His mind, Keller saw, was a loose stream of unconnected thoughts, trying to merge into a whole. Keller could read no message out of them. He suspected a block—an unusual thing for a C-3, but not impossible.
He gave up, sat back and awaited the other's response. Finally it came, jerking Keller out of his chair.
"It's murder, Mr. Keller. The murder of my wife."
Murder!
It was the first suspected murder in thirteen years. Ever since the Ricjards case in '04, peace and tranquility reigned in a calm and placid nation. For thirteen peaceful years there had been no hint of manslaughter other than accidental. It had been conditioned out of humans at the prenatal stage, and unless there was a violent, all-encompassing urge to kill, murder was completely out of the question.
It was hard to believe. But it was not a lie; no non-tele could block a lie, and Keller scanned the truth in Radcliffe's brain.