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That certainly answered the question of who was following me. But it left the question as to why he was so doing wide open. I knew the voice at once, of course, but it took a few seconds to strip away the centuries and recognise his face: back to a time and place long ago and far away when I was a wet-behind-the-ears rookie cop: younger and very impressionable, with many more ideals and far fewer scars. "Ardoch Dunsinan, you old scoundrel!" I said with an equal measure of bonhomie and volume, "Long time, no see!" I sat down at the table opposite him and reached over to grasp his proffered hand to shake it warmly. David put the two menus in front of me with a slap. As he turned away, he scowled at the suggestion that his place was in any way down-market in a way he probably thought only I would have seen. He was wrong. In my business you develop metaphorical eyes in the back of your head, and very little that goes on escapes my notice. Dunsinan was good, very good, maybe better than me; I doubted he would have missed anything that obvious. "So you've been watching me?" I added more quietly, "That's very flattering." He grinned and nodded in acknowledgement. "I wanted to know what you were up to these days," he said confidentially, adding with the faintest of sneers, "Doesn't look too exciting to me." I looked over Dunsinan as he spoke. The years had not been particularly kind to him. He'd always been a big strong Goblin - not quite as tall as me, but much more powerfully built. But now his muscles had run to fat, and the flab had collected at his waist and belly. His blotchy face and broken complexion told of one who drinks far too much - not that I have a leg to stand on in that regard; my own consumption is rather more than any prudent doctor would recommend. He was very sharply dressed, though. He sported a very new suit of a cut and quality I could not hope to aspire to, overlaying a crisp cotton shirt that looked as if it had come out of a packet this very morning. A discreetly-expensive signet ring adorned one finger and the open neck of the shirt displayed a heavy gold chain. He certainly wasn't short of a few dollars to spend on non-essentials. "But you're looking well on it," he added, perhaps realising the direction my thoughts were taking. "You too, old son," I lied smoothly. Maybe he hadn't noticed the platitude. David bustled up, pencil and notebook already in his hand. "Can I get you gentlemen something to drink?" he asked, glancing from me to Dunsinan and back again. "Yes, please, David," I replied briskly, naming a traditional brand of dark beer I knew he stocked in some considerable quantity. "Hey, I remember that one," Dunsinan chipped in, "I'll have the same." "Two beers," David acknowledged, making a brief annotation on his pad. "And I'll take the blue-plate special," I added. David scribbled again, then turned to Dunsinan, pencil poised. "Yeah, why not," he said casually, "Home cooking like Mom used to make. When in Rome, and all that." The patron made a final note, collected the menus from the table-top and hurried off to harass the kitchen staff, leaving me wondering exactly where it was that my old colleague had been where he couldn't get standard Goblin fare on a regular basis. I turned my attention back to Dunsinan. "So what have you been up to? It must be, what, a hundred years since I saw you last." "Well," he replied, lowering his voice still further, "That's a bit of a story. Wanna hear it?"
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Part 2