WoFCT: Chapter 4

 I did not put on the hat and trench coat, as cliche of a life I led, I may have as well. It was also pretty warm in the evening and with the trench coat I’d be sweating. Tee shirt and jeans were my clothing of choice, but every once in awhile I put on a suit to look formal for whatever I needed, especially when visiting The Oceanside. The suit was well tailored, something Morcant insisted on. He also frequently frowned at my graphic tees and jeans. I felt like I needed to remind him that is was not 1940’s America but 2026.

The Notary was located in the seedier part of town, not quite red light district but hookers had been known to bring johns to the bar on occasion. Well the non-human hookers. The Notary was something of a safe haven for monsters and I wasn’t allowed to change it, and after living the life I had for the past three years, I would never. The Oceanside was a completely different story. Upscale, dress code, and completely a step back into the past with a live band that mostly played 40’s style blues. I guess the 40’s were a golden decade for monsters and they never wanted to go forward in time. The last name Blackwood had weight in the city, and it easily got me a table inside, without a reservation. The outside of the restaurant looked like a common dockside dig, but the inside was completely refined. White linens, waiters in tuxes, a drink menu was offered to me but I ordered a scotch, neat. I usually did not drink while working but I wanted to watch the place a bit. The dinner crowd was different from the lunch crowd.

I waved the waiter over and showed him the photo of Thaloran’s wife, oddly named Betty Thaloran. Most merfolk had exotic sounding names, Thaloran’s first name was Kairos. He took the photo and I noticed his eyes linger on it. The waiter was non-descript, almost forgettable. Average brunette, average height, build, not a scar, blemish or tattoo. I realized he almost seemed non-descript on purpose if that was possible. Once I walked out of here I wouldn’t remember what he looked like.

“You remember her?” I asked. He seemed hesitant to answer. “My name’s Asher Blackwood,” I began and he seemed to relax, another way to spot a monster, I wasn’t sure which kind he was.

“She comes once a week, lunch, good tipper, unless her husband is with her, then we get stiffed,” he spoke with a slight, almost barely discernible Irish accent. He was one of the fae. The reason he looked so not memorable was because of the glamour. It was something fae did, they didn’t like to be noticed, but even fae needed to pay the bills.

“She ever dine with anyone not her husband?” I asked and the waiter shook his head, “She was last here a month ago, with her husband.” He nodded. “Did she look distressed?” He shook his head.

“Mrs Thaloran was the one in control,” which made me blink at him. Then why stiff the wait staff when her husband was present? My cell phone buzzed in my pocket.

“Thank you,” I said before answering the phone, “Blackwood.”

“I’ve got something you might want to look at,” came the smooth soft voice of Vael Ithraan in his also barely detectable Middle Eastern accent.

“I’m already on a case,” I said to him.

“I know, you told me. That’s why you should come see this.”

Vael Ithraan was a detective for the city police. I found it to be an odd job for a djinn, basically the creature the “genie” is based on. Vael didn’t grant wishes, but he had a few magic abilities, shape shifting, hypnosis, and an amazing ability to hear if someone was lying. He had given me the address to a beach house not far from The Oceanside. I could smell the dead fish the moment I exited my modest Lexus, another thing that Morcant was insistent on was no super luxury cars. The beach house was not modest, and probably larger than my bar, mostly glass and stone. Vael was standing in the driveway, he was dressed impeccably in a suit almost as well tailored as mine.

“Fish is inside,” he said to me. That meant merfolk, as handsome and well cultured as he appeared to others, Vael was much more on my level as far as lingo went. He led me into the house, minimalistically furnished in real chrome and real leather. As he led me deeper into the house the dead fish smell got stronger and stronger until I was holding a handkerchief over my nose and trying not to breathe. I had tried my mouth, but could taste the scent and nearly tossed my scotch into a trash can. He walked to the open door of a bathroom where another detective, Bill Patterson, Vael’s human as human could get partner, stood in the doorway. We shook hands and he immediately left to toss his own lunch outside in the bushes.

Laying in the bathtub, the water having overflowed onto the floor was one of the merfolk. She was dead, black hair, and glazed sea green eyes. Betty Thaloran.

“How did she die?” I asked. Vael was probably better than any forensic person with his ability to touch things and know about them.

“Get this, she drowned.” I looked at him like he was joking but his face was completely serious.