by Trevor Hopkins

Moving as quietly as only a trained Goblin can, I made my way down the back stairs of the low-rent block where Gumshoe's offices were located. I was trusting that Gumshoe could look after himself. His office was a veritable arsenal of weaponry - mostly legally acquired - and I knew he was competent enough to use it effectively. I also knew his office was more well-defended than might appear at a first glance, with defences other than firearms. Besides, there were enough shady businesses in the building that an out-and-out fire-fight there was an unlikely possibility.

I quickly made my way to the nearest entrance to the Lower Realms, bounced out of the arrival portal and waved my PI's buzzer at the uniformed customs officials and border guards. I wanted to move swiftly, to get to Luncardy to persuade her to take my message where it needed to be heard. But the Captain probably wouldn't be on duty for an hour or so yet, for all that she was an early riser. Time to kill for the moment.

It was many hours since I had been below, and it was time to check in with my messaging service. I ducked into a bar - one I had never entered before or since - which was still open even at this early morning hour and ordered a stiff whiskey while I spied out the telephone in a booth at the back. I dragged the receiver from the rest, gulped half of the mediocre scotch, fumbled for coins in my pocket and dialled a number from memory.

There was a couple of messages from names I vaguely recognised who thought I owed them a modest debt, one dubiously prospective client - which came to naught in the end - and one annoying cold-calling salesman for the kind of gadget - for the "Professional Consulting Detective" - that I could never in a million years imagine a use for. The last message was from earlier this evening, a terse missive from Maddoes the barman at the Deepest Joy: "Call me." And a telephone number I vaguely recognised.

I shrugged, rummaged deeper in my pockets for more coins, swallowed another portion of the whiskey and dialled the number Maddoes had left. I didn't doubt for a second that the other bar would still be open. Places like that never close.

"Deepest Joy Bar."

"Hello. Is that Maddoes?"

"It is. That'll be Mister Gask, then. I thought you'd get back to me sooner."

"I've been out of town. A long way out of town. Just received your message now."

"You're too late. He's gone now."

"Who's gone?"

Maddoes sighed. I could almost see the faint sneer on the old bartender's face.

"Look, Gask. You managed to scare off one of my better customers," he said with a hint of reproach in his voice, "I saw what you and your lady friends did."

It seemed that Coupar Angus had re-appeared in the bar. I mumbled some apology but Maddoes shrugged it off. He was probably just making a point.

"Anyway, Mister Angus is back. Not looking very happy, not happy at all. Like he didn't want to be there at all. And he was talking to a very strange-looking cove, most unlike the usual customers we get in here."

"What did he look like?" I demanded, "This other one."

"I thought you’d be interested in this one," Maddoes snorted, sounding amused, "He was a fastidious little Goblin, dressed in an old-fashioned way. Looked like he ought to have been a Professor or something."

"Garrick," I breathed.

"You recognise him. I'm not surprised. Anyway, the little professorial guy seemed to be accompanied by a couple of large muscular Goblins. And just as well. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Angus got violent, attempted to attack the little Goblin. He had to be dragged away by his companions, even before our own bouncers to grab him and throw him out. He might be a good customer but we don't tolerate that kind of thing here."

Maddoes paused, then went on despondently, sounding like a punter who had bet everything on a horse which had come in second place.

"Anyway, they've all gone now. I thought maybe you'd be interested."

At some later time, I would reward Maddoes handsomely. It was only fair, after the loss of a regular customer like Coupar Angus. Oh, and the valuable information he had passed over.

Part 85 Part 87