She spied Randy’s Retrotech up ahead, the tech pawnbroker that had been the scene of the crime for Bronte and Hernandez’s case. She made her way casually toward it like any other shopper would do.
In the windows were large holographic displays, a rotating slideshow of just some of the items to be found inside. Some she recognized instantly, but there were others she’d never seen before, and she wondered what era they were from. She glanced around the streets and spotted a SFPD drone flying around in the distance, but the nearest stationary security camera looked to be back at the Cylin station exit. She turned back to the store, pushed open the door and stepped inside.
A lighthearted chime sounded, alerting the store to her arrival. She closed the door behind her and found herself in a narrow entrance with Perspex cabinets aglow either side displaying various gadgets of retro origin. Ahead, running along the back wall, she saw the service counter, entirely enclosed in what she guessed was bulletproof glass. She’d read the case file on her way and knew the owner had not been behind the protective glass when he’d been shot. He’d been out front in the store, which told Salvi he must’ve known his killer; he trusted whoever it was enough to come out from behind the bulletproof shield.
A young woman suddenly appeared behind the glass counter and stared at her. She looked to be 16 or 17 years old, maybe 5’4 and 110lbs. Her hair was short, peroxide blond and slicked back. She wore a large pair of sophisticated, enhanced glasses upon which Salvi saw text scrolling, and she was covered head to toe in tattoos and piercings.
“Can I help you?” she asked, in a slightly hostile manner.
“Just browsing. That alright?” she said.
The woman studied her, then nodded suspiciously.
“I’m looking for a gift for my nephew,” Salvi said, trying to allay her fears. “He loves all things tech.”
The young woman said nothing, just watched her carefully, brows knitted in a slight scowl.
Salvi stepped around the entrance displays and scanned the rest of the small store. She turned to the left and began to stroll past more sealed Perspex cabinets lining the walls. Clearly this was a place you could only look, not touch, unless you were ready to buy. The locks on the cabinets looked to be digital, which meant they could be opened from behind the bulletproof counter. So why had the owner come out into the store? His time of death had been late, after store closing. Perhaps he’d been stocking shelves or setting up a display? But how did his killer get inside? He had to have known them. Salvi was sure of it.
She continued strolling and browsing. She saw all manner of modern but pre-loved items, several cabinets dedicated to ‘old-school’ tech for collectors, and, most interestingly, a whole array of hand-cobbled pieces of DIY inventions. She paused when she saw several items of headwear.
“I haven’t seen you in here before,” the girl said from behind the counter, eyes narrowed.
“No,” Salvi smiled. “This is my first time.”
“How’d you hear about us?” she asked, folding her arms. Salvi saw she was wearing a haptic glove on one hand, covered in all sorts of wires and chips.
“I overheard some kids talking on the Cylin. Apparently, this was a good place for gadgets.” She shrugged. “What can I say, I’m trying to be a rad aunty for my nephew.”
“You looking for something in particular?”
Salvi glanced back to the cabinet of DIY headwear.
“I’m curious about the DIY stuff. It looks like it’s one of a kind. What does this do?”
The girl stared at her in silence for a moment. “The piece at the front is a pair of VR glasses.”
“Yeah?” Salvi asked. “Did you make them?”
“Those ones, yeah.”
“You’re pretty talented. Is this all your work?”
“No. We’re a pawnbroker,” she said. “It’s not all my stuff.”
“Right,” Salvi looked back to the cabinet again. “Some of this stuff is weird. I don’t know what it’s for.”
“That’s all headwear,” the girl said. “VR glasses, scalp strokers…”
“Scalp strokers?” she looked back at the girl casually.
“Yeah. You wear it and it massages your scalp, or tickles it, or gives you a buzz.”
“A buzz?”
“You know, a little zap, makes you tingle all over.”
“Right,” Salvi smiled. “Sounds like fun.” She continued on, passing the cabinets and moving to the other side of the store. “I bet you must’ve had some strange items brought in, huh?”
“I guess.”
“What’s the strangest thing you’ve had?”
The girl studied her. “Define strange?”
Salvi shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything crazy? Like… off the charts?”
The girl shrugged. “You’d be surprised how often people try to cash in their old sex-robots.”
“Yeah?” Salvi laughed.
“They don’t seem to understand that nobody wants their leftovers… Then again…”
“Then again?”
“Let’s just say there’s a market for everything.”
“I bet,” Salvi nodded. She finished perusing the store, then turned and looked back toward the DIY cabinet. “What about old neural tech? You ever get any of that?”
“You a cop?”
Salvi looked at her and laughed. “Do I look like a cop to you?”
“A little,” she nodded.
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
“It’s an insult,” the girl said.
“You treat all your customers like this?”
“No, just the ones asking too many questions. So just to clear things up, we can’t buy or sell neural tech because it’s been illegal since The Crash. Alright?”
“Sounds like you get asked this question a lot.”
“People try to sell it to us all the time. A lot of it was pricey when it
