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After Luncardy had left, I finished my coffee slowly and tried to piece together what I knew. There must be some common thread, some sequence of events or interests linking together the people and their motives, but it sure eluded me. This is not unusual; I could accept that I may never learn the full details, but I was quite certain that I would be able to discover a good deal more. I sure wasn't going to give up just yet. A little later, I arrived at Gumshoe's office using much the same route as I had used the last time. With little ado, he swept me down to the quiet street where he had parked his ancient Oldsmobile and ushered me inside. I sat in the back, dark glasses and brimmed hat sheltering me from what little light leaked into what he would consider a dimly-lit interior. Gumshoe set off smartly, deftly inserting the vehicle into heavy New York traffic. As always, he concentrated fiercely on driving - a task that required the sounding of the horn at what seemed like ten-second intervals – as he worked his way out of the city and onto the freeway which would take us most of the way to Dulelm Hollows. Now there was little for me to do; at our present rate of travel, we should arrive at Dulelm Hollows in the early evening, just when it would be getting dark, so that I would be able to move around without undue discomfort. I tugged my hat down further over my eyes and settled back for a catnap. Gumshoe's sources had turned up a little more information. From the reports, it seemed that perhaps three buildings, all in isolated areas of Dulelm Hollows well apart from the main settlement, were thought to be haunted and were generally shunned by the local residents, especially after nightfall. Also, these ghostly sightings appeared to have become more frequent in recent years. Gumshoe woke me when we drew up outside the first of the properties on his list. The rumble of the engine died away to nothing. He got out of the car cautiously, leaving the door wide open. After a careful look around, he held the seat forward for me to exit. We spread out and moved towards the abandoned building. It had once been a farmstead of some kind, built of large blocks of stone and heavy dark wood. Now, the windows and doors were boarded up, and there were several roof tiles missing. It was set in a clearing at the edge of a wood, with farmlands on the other three sides. Even though the sun had just set, a light mist was already forming around the trees in complete defiance of everyday metrological expectations. And it was quiet; even the birdsong was muted and distant. Gumshoe loosened the pistol in his shoulder holster, a nervous reaction common to many in our profession and allied trades. He clearly felt uncomfortable, on edge, although if he were challenged, he would have found it hard to articulate just what was giving him concern. I already knew what was upsetting him. One of my senses was tingling, alerting me to something I should have guessed. There was magic here. Pervasive, old-fashioned magic, the kind used thousands of years ago when there were more Goblins on the surface, magic used to scare away any iterant humans from areas which my people wanted to keep private. Another of my senses was telling my something else. Goblins have a very well-developed sense of smell, and get used to the odour of one another. My nose told me there were no Goblins here, hadn't been for a long time. And no humans, either. This place was as abandoned as it looked. "Gamshack," I called out wearily, "We're wasting our time here."
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Part 55