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"Hey, you! Stop right there!" The flatfoots who were supposed to be guarding the cordon had finally woken up to my presence. Time to turn it into my absence instead. I picked up the pace, slipping unimpeded under the "Do Not Cross" tape and, keeping my head well down, melted into the crowd, zigging and zagging a couple of times to keep the coppers guessing. A convenient alleyway entrance provided the easy route out, and a minute or two of fast walking took me well away from the crime scene, with not even a hint of any pursuit. A piece of cake. The day job - what I do for a living, really - takes me into situations where I have to make it up as I go along rather often, as it turns out. I guess it's my own modus operandi: find opportunities to put myself close to the action, then react quickly and intelligently to the opportunities my presence affords. Doesn't always work, of course, but often enough to keep me both in paid employment and, more importantly, alive. So, I'm a Private Investigator, detective-for-hire and occasional bounty hunter. I was in the regular police force once, for long enough to pick up a few friends and to identify rather more coppers who owe me a favour. But that was all a long time ago; now, I manage to retain a PI licence for all of the Lower Realms, as well as a surprising number of jurisdictions in the Surface World, although I suspect that most of the human authorities up there don't quite realise to whom, or to what, they have granted a PI licence. Which leads to another edge I still manage to maintain. As a Goblin, I am big and tough enough to pass as a human in the surface world: both physically - with the aid of lift shoes in low light conditions, I can be mistaken for a short human in old-fashioned clothes - and mentally, since most Goblins become distressed, extremely distressed, perhaps to the point of catatonia, without a solid rock ceiling above their heads. Once upon a time, the Goblins lived on the surface, separated from the humans only by distance and convention. But, long ago, when the men on the surface began to multiply alarmingly and extend their influence everywhere, the decision was made to retreat from the surface world and build the network of caverns to accommodate the entire population. Goblins disappeared almost entirely, becoming the stuff of myths and legends, children's tales and horror stories. Most of the humans have forgotten that Goblins really exist at all, mainly because we do tend to keep ourselves to ourselves. It's become an ingrained habit: after all these millennia, most Goblins are pathologically incapable of functioning on the Surface. There are few exceptions, and I'm one of them. I can, and do - when the occasion demands it - conduct business up there, although of course I do prefer to stick to shady spots and darkened rooms. (More coming soon.)
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Part 1