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Detective Inspector Alexander Blake stared glumly at the chart on his desk. All his other programs had gone quite well. Why had he hit a snag with this one? Opening a drawer in his desk, he pulled out a folder and removed a sheaf of papers. He compared his first recording sheet to his current one, as if on the tenth examination it might yield up some glimmer of progress that he had previously missed.
Someone knocked on his door, likely Oliver Fitzroy, judging by the cadence and intensity.
“Come,” he called.
Detective Fitzroy entered, very nearly wringing his hands. “I do not wish to do this, sir. You are distressed enough about the matter as it is. Yet your orders were quite explicit.”
“Has she lied to you just now?” Alexander reached for his pen, his heart heavy.
With trembling fingers, Fitzroy pulled a paper from his waistcoat pocket. “Right here in the Definition. ‘Obscuring the truth through vague, misleading, or emotional language.’ I’m afraid she used all three in an attempt to access the files on the Whitlock investigation- the ones you specifically said she wasn’t to see at this time. She almost had me, too, sir, I must confess.”
“You did the right thing, Detective Fitzroy.” Alexander marked a neat “x” in the box labeled “4:30-5:00”. So far today, she had not managed to stay truthful for even one of the half-hour intervals, a record even worse than the previous day’s.
“Alec, what is all this?”
Fitzroy had neglected to close the door and now Eliza Scarlet, Alexander’s betrothed and Scotland Yard’s new Detective Liaison, was stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and a frown on her angelic face.
Alexander quickly schooled his features, not quite ready to give up on the Program just yet. She had not got the reinforcement of accessing the files when she had lied to Fitzroy; he had to take care that she did not receive the reinforcing attention she was used to getting after being caught in a lie.
“Detective Fitzroy and I were discussing a matter. Have you anything to report on the Davidson case?” A little redirection always helped.
“As I have already told you, that case is practically solving itself. I am simply waiting on Clarence to obtain certain financial documents. In the meantime, I have a working theory in regards to the Whitlock case and I wanted to examine the evidence gathered so far."
His differential reinforcement program may not have been having any effect on her truthfulness, but he had found that an extinction program was working wonders on her attempts to make him change his mind. Ignoring her plea to see the file, he said, “When you have finished your current case, I will need a full written report.”
Eliza huffed. “And people say I’m stubborn.” She crossed the room and leaned on his desk. “You didn’t answer my question- what are all these papers? And what matter were you discussing?”
Fitzroy’s hand dropped slowly to his pocket, still holding the paper. Eliza caught it before it disappeared. With a startled gasp, he released it and she snatched it up triumphantly.
“Let’s see what we have here shall we? ‘Program goal- replacement of lying with truth-telling, save for officially sanctioned dissembling when working legitimate Scotland Yard cases.’ And there’s a definition: ‘Lying: making statements that are false or not aligned with reality; concealing or omitting the truth, obscuring the truth…’.” She looked up. “I suppose I could pretend I haven’t a clue what this is all about, but that would be a lie and you would have to make another little ‘x’ on your paper.”
“Oh, no. He wouldn’t actually.” Fitzroy picked up the chart. “He only has to mark whether you have lied during each half-hour interval. And as you lied to me only moments ago, he would not have to add another mark.”
Eliza stared at the chart. “Have I really told this many falsehoods today?”
“It would seem so. The Inspector started out trying to record each one, but there were simply too many. Before one can undertake a serious behavioral modification plan, one must have accurate baseline data.” Fitzroy smiled earnestly. “Inspector Blake has been teaching me all about behavioral theory. It’s really quite fascinating.”
“Indeed. At least now I know why Charlie Phelps keeps marking in his notebook every time I speak with him. He’s keeping score, I suppose.” She slipped around the desk to perch beside him on the edge of his desk. “What do you propose to do, Inspector Blake?”
“The plan is detailed in the paper you stole from Detective Fitzroy.” He took her hand gently, hoping that the mild reinforcement would encourage her to continue this sudden bout of truthfulness. “Firstly, you must never be allowed to get what you want by lying. Secondly, anytime I can mark a check in one of these boxes, I shower you with praise and attention.”
“Is that why you called me into your office yesterday to kiss me and tell me what wonderful work I’ve been doing?”
“Yes. I had started with one hour increments but found I could hardly catch you at truth-telling. With half-hours, I have had somewhat better success and I have been able to provide reinforcement twelve times since I started the program last week.”
“I do not lie that often, Alexander.”
“Eliza, in eight minutes, the clock will strike five and we will begin a new recording interval. I would very much like to have one truthful interval to record today. Thirdly, if we can achieve what looks now to be the nearly impossible goal of sixteen consecutive truthful intervals, I shall take you to dine in a lavish restaurant I can scarcely afford and sing your praises all evening, both to you and to everyone we meet.”
Eliza’s mouth fell open. “Will you kiss me in front of everyone, as well?” she asked at last.
“I should think so.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”
“I assumed you would be displeased.”
She lowered her eyes. “I was- until I saw the chart.” She gave a wry laugh. “Have I really lied twenty-two times today?”
“No, you’ve lied thirty-five times, if Detective Phelps’ record is to be believed.”
“Thirty-five times?”
“I’m afraid so. And you see, Angel, I would be most pleased if you could change your lying habit into a truth-telling one before we are wed.” He slipped his hand under her chin and gazed earnestly into her eyes.
Fitzroy cleared his throat awkwardly. “If you’ll excuse me, sir. When you start calling Miss Scarlet ‘Angel’, I know it is time for me to take my leave.”
Alexander arched an eyebrow. “If you wish.”
As Fitzroy hurried from the room, Alexander turned back to Eliza. “Now then, will you help me or must I abandon the effort as hopeless?”
“It is a bit humiliating that you would use the same sort of program on me that you’ve been using with Sophia,” she pouted.
“It has worked exceptionally well with her. The recording charts show a dramatic reduction in her stalling behaviors on school mornings.”
“Yes, but she’s a child, Alec. Reward programs are not meant for use with adults.”
He gave her a sly smile. “What if I told you that I have used such programs with over half my men, both here at Scotland Yard and in Bristol?”
“Truly?”
“Indeed. A program I implemented with Mrs. Phelps’ assistance has significantly curbed Phelps’ drinking. I have a rather simple program going to encourage a number of my men to submit legible, properly organized reports. And I am about to embark today on a program to encourage Fitzroy to develop a stronger internal motivation and to depend less on the good will and opinion of others.”
Eliza snatched a paper from his hand. “Oliver is a delightful young man, just as he is. You must not try to change him in any way.”
“In other words, you like being able to manipulate him.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Well, since I am to tell only the truth, his eagerness to please has benefited me on many occasions.”
“See there? Telling the truth is not so hard, after all.”
Eliza seated herself more comfortably on his desk and examined the paper in her hand. Unlike the recording chart for her falsehoods, this paper listed specific instances of Oliver’s people-pleasing behaviors, demonstrating that these behaviors were reinforced by the praise and attention of his fellow officers. Detective Phelps was a prominent culprit in the recorded incidents.
“Will you help me, then?” Alexander’s voice broke into her thoughts.
She toyed with the paper. “ I will, on two conditions. Firstly, this ridiculous program for Oliver ends right now.”
“It’s for his own good.”
“Secondly,” she folded her hands primly in her lap, “I get to create a program for you.”
He regarded her through narrowed eyes. “And what behavior of mine do you wish to replace, Angel?”
“I don’t know quite yet. Perhaps your irritating habit of being right most of the time.” She hopped off of his desk, caught his hand in hers. “It is now precisely five o’clock. In half an hour, I will return and I shall be expecting lavish praise and kisses. Only the truth will come from my mouth.”
He rose and pressed her hand to his lips. “Until half past five, my Angel.”
She laughed, returned the kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Detective Inspector Alexander Blake. And that is the whole, unvarnished truth.”