‘The Bicolour Spiral’ by Matthew Hughes

Author Matthew Hughes writes in many genres under many names, including Matt Hughes and Hugh Matthews. He has won the Arthur Ellis Award from the Crime Writers of Canada and has been short-listed for numerous others. And in April 2020, he was inducted into the Canadian Science Fiction and Fantasy Association’s Hall of Fame!

Matthew’s work has appeared in three issues of Pulp Literature (13, 23, and 26), and in 2019 we had the honour and delight of publishing his magnum opus, What the Wind Brings.

Fresh from the pages of Issue 26, we bring you an excerpt from ‘The Bicolour Spiral’. Join the ever-popular Erm Kaslo as he explores hostile planets, tracks treasure hunters, and seeks stolen fortune. Matthew’s futuristic hero leaves no bloodstained stone unturned in this space opera of mystery and murder.

The Bicolour Spiral

by Matthew Hughes

The young woman was nervous, wringing her soft cap between two pale hands, her gaze moving from place to place in Erm Kaslo’s workroom because she was unable — or at least not yet ready — to meet the confidential operative’s assessing stare.

“Sit down,” Kaslo said. “Take a breath. I haven’t bitten anybody … in ages.”

The remark did not win him a smile. The visitor lowered herself into a chair then scooted forward until her narrow buttocks were perched on the edge of the cushion.

“It’s a comfy chair,” the op said, taking a position on the corner of his work table and adopting what was meant to be a reassuring tone. “People who come to see me professionally are often under considerable strain. I try to encourage them to relax.”

The young woman looked up at him, then quickly away. Her hands continued to worry the hat.

“A mug of punge?” Kaslo said. “Or a drop of something stronger?”

A sharp shake of the head caused a lock of lank blonde hair to fall in her face. She brushed it aside and went back to work on the cap.

Kaslo suppressed a sigh. He said, “How about we start with you telling me your name?”

It took two attempts, the first strangled by a dry throat. Finally, the young woman managed to say, “Kundlemaz. Purindath Kundlemaz.”

Kaslo’s encouraging expression did not change, but he recognized the name. Murderers were rare on the long-settled world of Novo Bantry, even here in its capital, which called itself ‘The City of the Crystal Towers’, though its more prosaic name was the Commune of Indoberia.

“And why have you come to consult me?” he said, though he knew the answer.

“I …” The cap took more punishment. “It’s …”

Kaslo changed tack. “It’s because the Provost’s Department intends to arrest you. For the murder of your uncle. They’re just waiting for the warrant to arrive from … where is it again?”

The already pale face before him had now gone ashen. Kundlemaz half rose from the chair, her eyes wide and panicky now, her head turning to make sure she knew where the door was.

The op slid off the desk and laid a firm but gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder, which trembled like some small and defenceless creature that knows it is being hunted. 

“It’s all right,” Kaslo said. “You’ve come to the right place. They won’t arrest you if you engage me.”

“Is that really true?” said Kundlemaz, a faint light of hope diluting the fear in her face. “I mean, I’d heard … but I didn’t know.”

“How would you? You’ve never been accused of a crime before, have you?” Kaslo didn’t need to ask. The look of a potential client told him all he needed to know. Crime was rare on Novo Bantry, where life was easy and the human mind well ordered. Passions seldom boiled over, and, in the rare incidences when emotions ran amok, the cause could usually be traced to a malfunctioning of the brain resulting from physiological disorder or overindulgence in powerful stimulants. 

Purindath Kundlemaz showed no signs of either. She looked like a young woman whose hitherto smooth voyage across the ocean of enjoyable existence had suddenly been wrecked on uncharted rocks. Kaslo patted the air in a quieting gesture and said, “If you engage me — and I accept the assignment — I will stand surety for you until your case is heard by the arbiters. You will not be confined, and I will be responsible for you.”

Kundlemaz settled back into the chair, blinking and nodding as she took this in. Then Kaslo saw the fear come back. “I don’t know,” the young woman said, “if I can afford you.”

“Your uncle was a wealthy man,” the op said. “You are his sole heir, if what the Provost’s Department says is accurate. You should have no trouble paying my fee.”

“If I am convicted, I cannot inherit. It will all go to the Commune.”

Kaslo smiled. “All the more reason I should work hard in your behalf.” He went to the confectionary and had it generate two mugs of hot, steaming punge. He gave one to Kundlemaz, who let her cap fall into her lap. Her hands had lost the worst of their tremors.

The op sat in his work chair, took a sip of the brew, and said, “Now, take a good long drink and tell me what you know.”

To find out what happens next, pick up your copy of Issue 26, Spring 2020 here!

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Matthew Hughes has won the Arthur Ellis Award from the Crime Writers of Canada and has been short-listed for the Aurora, Nebula, Philip K Dick, Endeavour (twice), AE van Vogt, and Derringer Awards. His work has appeared in Issues 13, 23, 26 of Pulp Literature. Matthew’s foray into historical fiction, his magnum opus What the Wind Brings, was published by Pulp Literature Press in 2019 and is available now through our website. You can follow Matt on his Patreon page for updates, or visit his website.