Going Concerns

by Watts Martin

  He grinned. “You can’t stand my company for any longer than necessary?”

  “That’s not what I meant. I just like to be solitary.”

  “You’ve been solitary all day.”

  She kept her voice polite, but firm. “I’ll see you at seven-chime, Mr. Scava.”

  He sighed. “Fine.”

  ~

  The night again passed without incident, until the knock on the door.

  Annie had never thought of herself as that light a sleeper, but she sat bolt upright in bed, ears folded back reflexively as she rubbed her eyes. Scava hadn’t fallen asleep this time; he’d already leapt to his feet, holding a hand toward her warningly.

  After several seconds of silence, the knock came again, this time three quiet raps, followed by a soft voice. “Gibson, are you there?”

  “Dudney?” The cat hesitated, then unlocked the door, cracking it just a few inches and keeping his body behind it, ready to slam it shut again if necessary.

  “Yes.” This time Annie could clearly identify the voice as Rowell’s. “We’ve heard back.”

  “Really? That quickly?” The Melifen let the door open further; the Vraini stepped in and shut the door behind him.

  “Yes. It seems—oh.” Rowell had turned and caught sight of Annie, with the sheet pulled up over her chest. The fox cleared his throat and looked away, focusing on his fellow Guard. “It seems he’s gotten scared by recent events.”

  “I’m a bit unsettled by them myself.”

  “He wants to meet at three-chime behind the garden shop on Charin.”

  Annie blinked blearily. Given the utter lack of sunlight outside that had to be at least four hours in the future. “The what?”

  “Garden shop,” Rowell repeated.

  “So an in-person meeting for the first time, but he doesn’t want to meet in a public place?” Gibson lifted his brows.

  The fox shrugged. “He doesn’t want to be seen, I suppose.”

  “I suppose. All right. I’ll meet you there.”

  “I was thinking that you two should meet with him, and I should keep Captain Snow a bit…” He waved a hand. “…occupied with something other than wondering what you’re up to.”

  Scava grunted. “Excellent thinking.”

  Rowell stepped to the door. “I’ll let you get back to sleep, ma’am. Or give you privacy to get dressed if you’re going to stay up.” He nodded politely as he headed out.

  The cat locked the door again behind him. “So sleep or stay up?”

  “Stay up, I suppose.” She sighed. “I don’t think trying to sleep another hour or two is worth it.”

  “We can get breakfast at a little café I know not too far from Charin.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been eating out too much as it is.”

  “I’ll pay.”

  “You can’t—”

  “I insist.”

  Annie sighed again. “All right. I’ll get dressed.”

  He nodded.

  They stared at one another a few seconds, until she cleared her throat meaningfully.

  “Oh.” He headed to the closet. “Would you like me to pick something out for you? This purple blouse looks lovely.”

  “Mr. Scava,” she said warningly.

  He raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll go stand in the corner, and you can tell me when it’s safe to turn around.” The cat moved to the far corner of the studio’s main room and faced the wall.

  Sliding out of the bed, she stalked over to the closet. “Could you stop being deliberately insufferable?”

  “I’m not! I think I’m one of the more sufferable people you could meet.”

  Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her clothes and slipped into the bathroom.

  “Feel better?” he said when she stepped out again.

  “No, and I probably won’t until this is all over and we’re not tangled in one another’s fur.” She grabbed her purse and reached for the door handle. “I’d appreciate it if—”

  He hurriedly grabbed the door and unlocked it himself. “Let me lead.”

  She made an exasperated noise.

  “Guarding you is why I’m stationed here.” He opened the door and motioned her through, then pulled it to.

  “You’re not stationed here. You’re doing this on your own.”

  “Is that what you were going to say you appreciate?” He let her lock the door, then led her down the hallway.

  “No. I do appreciate that, but I’d appreciate it if you’d stop—stop teasing me.”

  “About being a beautiful woman?”

  “Yes, about being a beautiful woman.”

  “I’d have thought most women would like that. Or do you not think you’re beautiful?” He turned around, facing her as he walked backwards. “You know I’m a man of the world—”

  “Have you ever been out of Raneadhros?”

  “The world comes to Raneadhros. Other worlds come to Raneadhros.” He gestured with his hands for emphasis. “I’ve seen a lot of women, of a lot of different races, and I can assure you that you are, most definitely, a beautiful woman.”

  Her inner ears colored, but she didn’t say anything. She walked faster.

  Gibson walked faster, too, still moving backwards. Somehow he knew to pivot around a lamp post rather than smack into it. “I’m not teasing you. I mean, I know have been, a little, but I’m quite serious.”

  “Out of all the things I’ve seen you be, ‘quite serious’ isn’t one of them.”

  He raised his hands, looking genuinely affronted. “I’ve meant everything I’ve said to you, about the case, the danger you’re in, and how good an investigator you are as well.” He spun around to walk normally, and fell into step beside her once again.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked on in silence, looking subdued.

  It didn’t last for more than a few minutes, of course. He pointed ahead as they turned a corner. “There we are. As I said, breakfast’s on me, unless you want to keep being grumpy about it.”

  “I’m not grumpy.”

  He held the café’s door open for her. “Well, not all the time.”

  She sighed, heading to a table. “I’ll try to be bright and cheerful during breakfast.”

  As he took the seat opposite her, he grinned wryly. “If you’d just stop looking like you’d rather have your tail sawed off than be around me, that would help.”

  “I’m not that bad.” Her ears lowered. “Am I?”

  “Well.” He leaned back. “Every time I try to make you smile, I think I’m only succeeding in making you want to punch me.”

  “You’re trying to make me smile by flirting.”

  “And you want to punch people who flirt with you?”

  “No, but this—I mean—” She waved her hands in exasperation. “There haven’t been any circumstances we’ve been together in so far when flirting would be appropriate. Do you understand?”

  “I do.” He sighed and looked off to the side. “And…I’m sorry. I suppose I’m just trying to break the tension. There’s a lot of it between us.”

  “You think there’s tension between us?”

  He raised his hands hastily. “I don’t mean between us like that, I mean because of the investigation.”

  “So you wouldn’t be flirting with me if it wasn’t for the investigation.”

  “I didn’t say that. But you’re right. I just think you need to smile more.”

  “We haven’t met under the best of circumstances for smiling, you know.” Annie frowned.

  “That’s close. It’s just the wrong way.”

  She rolled her eyes, then laughed. “I’m really not a dour person. I’m just…”

  “Serious.”

  “Serious.”

  Gibson looked up to wave at the approaching waitress, a squirrel woman who clearly recognized him. “Emma, Miss Swift and I would like some serious pancakes.”

  SIX


  ~

  NOT HAVING MUCH OF a green thumb, Annie had never been to a garden shop, but she imagined them as bright, sunlit spaces full of colorful flowers. Maybe in some room on the inside, the inventively named Charin Street Garden Supply House matched that image. From the alley behind it, though, it looked like a giant dilapidated toolshed full of sawhorse tables and potted plants, and smelled like insecticide and horse poop.

  She held a hand over her nose. “I don’t see anyone else back here.”

  “We’ve got a few minutes to go. Have some patience.”

  “Do you have any idea what your informant looks like?”

  He shook his head. “Not a clue.”

  “So how are we supposed to know who it is?”

  Scava gestured around the empty alley. “The next one back here who doesn’t look like he’s here to buy a plant, I suppose.”

  “I suppose.” She thrust her hands in her pockets, then grimaced at her first breath and put her hand over her nose again.

  “I’m guessing running a farm is out for you as a future career choice.”

  “I think that’s a safe bet.”

  They waited another several minutes before footsteps approached from the other side of the alley. A Vraini—middle-aged, rather stout, at least a head shorter than Annie—walked toward them, looking wary but not as furtive as Annie imagined an informant would be. He’d hidden most recognizable features behind a hat, dark glasses, coat and scarf. Given the weather it had to be uncomfortably hot already.

  “Are you with the Guard?” He looked from side to side, then back at Gibson and Annie. “You don’t look like you’re with the Guard.”

  “We are,” Gibson said. “Well, I am. She’s a consultant working with me. And I’m guessing you and I have communicated before.”

  “I’m guessing,” the fox said, sizing Annie up before he turned to the cat. “So you found out more about what’s going on at Union than what you heard from me, didn’t you?”

  The Melifen nodded. “You got us pointed in the right direction, and we connected things back with what we knew about what was going on in Garanelt at that branch.”

  “I didn’t tell you that much about that.”

  “No, but Miss Swift was able to fill in some details you couldn’t.”

  He looked back at her. “Miss Swift. Right! From the Garanelt office. But she—you—you didn’t know about the smuggling, either.”

  “No, I didn’t. But I think you can fill in some of those details for us.”

  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

  “Where the furs are coming from, for a start.”

  The fox grinned. Being unable to see his eyes made it a decidely humorless look. “Like, are we killing people and skinning them, right? No. They’re from a mortuary.”

  Annie shuddered. “Who would buy anything that…that awful?”

  He shrugged. “People who don’t know where they come from, or don’t care, or think that makes it even more valuable. None of them stay in Ranea. A lot end up making a big circuit back to Raneadhros and out through the Great Gate to entirely different worlds.”

  “That’s still terrible!”

  “Yeah. Terrible. That’s why I came to you in the first place.”

  Gibson stroked his chin. “Why didn’t you tell us more details?”

  “Details about what? I gave you what I knew.”

  “You’re an accountant, too, aren’t you?” Annie said. “You talked about the double checks, the same things that I noticed.”

  “The checks. Right.” He lifted his brows. “Yeah. The checks were the first things I noticed. I kept digging around when his investigation didn’t go anywhere, though.” He gestured at Gibson.

  Annie nodded. “What else can you tell us now?”

  “Well—”

  Gibson cut in. “Start with who you really are.” Annie looked back at him in surprise, puzzled.

  The fox stepped backward. “I don’t give out names.”

  “I know, I know.” Gibson stepped forward. “But you’re not my original informant, are you?”

  His ears flattened, making the hat shift slightly. “Hey.” He raised one hand. “I don’t have to be here.”

  “No, but since you are here, the truth would be ever so helpful.” Gibson moved to grab him and motioned for Annie to grab his other side.

  Before they got there, the fox’s other hand came out of his coat holding a little red ball, much the same size as the gremlin light.

  She stopped mid-stride. “What is it?” she hissed to Gibson.

  The fox grinned, walking backward quickly. “Thanks for the help, Miss Swift. Only a couple people handle checks in the office—I’ll find our snitch now.”

  “Run!” Gibson barked, vaulting for the greenhouse just as the Vraini threw the ball at the ground in front of them. Annie launched herself after the cat before the ball hit.

  The next noise didn’t sound like an explosion as much as someone popping the largest paper bag ever made. They could see the rush of air whip past. Annie thought about throwing herself to the ground, but she hit it before she could complete the thought, foliage and dirt crashing down around her.

  In just a few seconds it was over, the alley returned to a state of quiet, although she could hear alarmed voices far away but getting closer.

  She knocked plants off her and started to take a deep breath, then gagged. The poop smell had become many times stronger; she realized she and Gibson—the cat lay next to her, groaning—were covered in aerosolized fertilizer.

  She sat up, then winced at a sharp pain in her leg. She looked down; it was bleeding, but it wasn’t serious, just painful. Other cuts started announcing themselves to her, too.

  Gibson pushed himself up, looking woozy. “Are…are you all right?”

  “I think so. Nothing hurt. I just need to shower for the rest of the day.”

  Gibson laughed weakly. “Yes, we both do.” He brushed off a few clumps of dirt—or worse—and looked up at her. “But we were very lucky. The plants took the brunt of the damage for us.”

  “It must not have been a very powerful grenade.”

  He shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t want to risk hurting himself, too.”

  She nodded, then looked at him curiously. “How did you know? That he wasn’t your real informant?”

  Gibson sighed. “The slight surprise when you mentioned the checks to him. He didn’t know about them.”

  She folded her ears down. “I messed that up, didn’t I? Your real informant’s in a lot of danger because of me.”

  “You couldn’t have known. I might have done the same thing. I wouldn’t have thought they’d have managed to get there—”

  “Stop! Sir! Ma’am! Stop!” a voice called from ahead. They turned to see two uniformed Guardsmen running toward them, both Vraini but neither one that Annie recognized.

  “We’re not even moving,” Gibson called toward them.

  “Keep your hands out and away from your bodies,” the other one said, brandishing a baton threateningly. “Stand up slowly.”

  Annie did so, eyes widening.

  Gibson complied more half-heartedly. “Check my identification, left hip pocket, please.”

  The first Guard did so, then raised his brows, showing Gibson’s badge to his companion. Both of them relaxed. “What happened here, Officer Scava?”

  Annie lowered her arms. “The Vraini who you apparently didn’t see running madly out of this alley set off an explosive charge, that’s what happened.”

  Both officers looked at her. “And you are?”

  “She’s with me,” Scava said. “This is Miss Swift. She’s a consultant on my current case.”

  The officers looked at each other at that, then back again. “I think you’d both better come with us.”

  Scava’s smile was too resigned to look sincere. “Of course, of course.”

  As they trudged out of the alley, Annie gave Scava a doleful glance. “I didn’t spend nearly as
much time in Guard stations before I met you.”

  “I always did know how to show a girl a good time.”

  ~

  The time spent giving statements at the Charin Guard station proved both uneventful and blessedly short. The escort back to Gibson’s home station proved less so; Captain Snow waited at the entrance door, with a look in her eyes that made Annie reflexively tuck her tail against her legs.

  Before either she or Gibson could speak, Snow pointed, arm outstretched. “In my office.”

  Both sets of ears flattened. They shuffled ahead of her.

  Closing the door with barely restrained force, the human stalked to stand in front of her desk, facing both of them. Despite her visible anger, her voice remained quiet, which somehow made her all the more intimidating. “I’d like either one of you to explain what the hell you were thinking, let alone doing.”

  Gibson began with strained casualness. “Well, ma’am. It’s quite simple.”

  She fixed her gaze on him.

  He shifted from foot to foot, tail swatting behind him. “We had an opportunity to, ah, meet our former informant and get—”

  “Would this would be the informant who had us raiding a warehouse without finding any evidence of smuggling yesterday, or the informant who had us scanning accounting ledgers last month without finding any evidence of conclusive wrongdoing?”

  He took a deep breath. “The former. Not that we don’t know that they aren’t the same, of course, but—”

  “I don’t know that, but if you know, Officer Scava, I’d very much appreciate it if you see fit to share.”

  “I, uh, don’t. Ma’am.”

  “Then what do you know? What I know is that you made a secret arrangement to meet an informant which resulted in significant property damage. You put members of the public at risk, including Miss Swift. You claimed Miss Swift is a ‘consultant’ on this investigation, and apparently both of you need reminding that she is not. Apparently both of you also need reminding that there is no investigation for her to be consulting on.”

  The Melifen set his jaw. “There needs to be one, Captain.”

  “Oh, we’re in agreement on that.”

  Gibson clenched his teeth.

  “Ma’am,” Annie cut in.

  Captain Snow’s smoldering gaze turned full on the wolf.