by Richard Amos
“Why?”
“We should spend it with Lou. Doesn’t feel right.”
The canal to my left was frozen solid, a pigeon skating across its surface in a fluster. The whole of the red-light district was drowning in white. “But what about us?”
“All about the sacrifice, right?”
“Yes, but we also have to take those together moments so things don’t stagnate.”
“Stagnate?”
“You know what I mean, Jake.”
He sighed as the snow crunched under our boots. “I do. I agree.”
“It’s the tears,” I said, taking his hand. “They hit like a bullet. But she’ll be fine, and we’ll go out after she’s put to bed. How about that?”
“Not like she’ll wake up.” He smiled. “That girl could snore away the apocalypse.”
We reached the offices of Jake & Dean Investigations, a building of three floors. The top two were ours, the bottom a window where our friend Cherry worked. Her blue light was off, the red curtain drawn closed. Not the best time of day for clients, and not really the weather either.
“Okay,” Jake said, “we’ll do it.”
“It’ll be fun.” I stuck the key in the lock.
As we entered the narrow hallway, the door on left which opened into Cherry’s window was open. I looked up the stairs leading to our offices. Our front door was shut.
Jake drew the spear from the holster on his back, me readying my knuckle dusters.
“Cherry?” I called.
“Hallo?” she called back.
“Overkill,” Jake muttered.
“Better to be safe than dead.”
He nodded, putting his smoking spear away.
“You okay?” I asked in Dutch through the gap.
Heels clicking, then she opened the door. Cherry’s red hair was sleek, her thin face painted heavily with makeup that was slightly smudged around the eyes, and she wore a small pink nightgown with matching fluffy heels.
“I’m fine. How are you both?”
“Good,” Jake and I said at the same time.
“I had a late client. Just cleaning up.”
“Need some help?”
“No, no. You boys get to work. I’m sure you have a busy day ahead.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Thank you.”
“Rest up,” I said.
“I will. Have a great day.”
Something wasn’t right.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” I pressed.
She nodded, her eyes glistening.
“No you ain’t,” Jake said. “Come here.”
She fell into Jake’s arms, breaking into heavy sobbing. He stroked her back, let her cry into his chest.
“What happened?” I asked.
She looked up from Jake, makeup even more smudged. “I don’t know, I’m just so…so tired.”
“Did someone do something? Hurt you?”
“No. It was Victor. He was as sweet as always. I just…I just feel so alone. He makes me feel lonely because he’s so lovely. Sorry, I’m being stupid.”
We’d heard about Victor before and how much she enjoyed it when he came to visit her window—which was becoming a weekly thing. “You’re not, and I get what you’re saying,” I offered. “You want things to be real with that man.”
“That makes me stupid. He’s just a client.”
“He comes every week though,” Jake said.
“That doesn’t mean I should feel like this. What I do isn’t real. It’s a service, not love, not affection. Maybe there is some affection sometimes with the gentle guys, but Victor is more than gentle, he is like a lover. But he still pays to touch my body, and that makes it unreal. And I wish it wasn’t.”
She’d fallen for him. I knew what that felt like when it was new and confusing and tearing you up inside. Like the first time I’d seen Jake and how I’d wanted to protect him, to know more about him. Some people just got under your skin, filled your head and your heart, and Jake had been something unexpected. I’d tried to fight it, but love has a funny way of turning the world upside down.
“I need to sleep,” Cherry said. “That’s all.”
No, that wasn’t all, but who was I to give lectures on matters of the heart?
Jake had a hand on both her shoulders. “Take it easy, yeah? You’ll be okay.”
“You’re both very sweet.”
Jake and I hugged her and left her to clean up, heading up the stairs into our offices.
The heating was on, warming up our messy space. Our desks were loaded with paperwork, laptops sitting in the middle of the chaotic sea of notes and research. Jake had dusted a week ago, not that it looked any different. This was one of those places that just collected dirt, never letting it go.
I sat down, opening my laptop. “I’ll carry on with last night’s stuff.”
Jake nodded in agreement. “Cool. I’ll carry on with the clay fucker. But first, I need more tea. Fancy a cup?”
“Please.”
THE RESEARCH HADN’T BROUGHT up any species with invisible powers at all, and no indication of similar crimes or matching supernatural fingerprints. That was fine. I was expecting a call from Lars—he’d texted to let me know he’d contact me shortly with some information. That was one thread I’d deal with, put together a plan for. As for the goblin, it’d be a case of digging deeper. So far, the two incidents on my doorstep appeared to be unlinked. We had a name for the dead goblin—Roberto. Goblins specialised in cleaning up messes, and he’d helped with the clean up here when that guy who’d been injected with liquid wand crystal had breached our wards and exploded in the bathroom upstairs. That was all the information The Goblin Society of the Netherlands had provided so far.
Someone had part of Jake’s DNA, allowing those wards to be breached. Parker Smith/Elijah Hart. Mila had fixed the wards and beefed up the ones at home too. I was convinced Parker/Elijah had been responsible for that exploding incident. Now I just needed to know what it was he wanted with Jake. Because there was something. There always was.
Another mystery to solve.
The autopsy on the goblin was completed. Trauma to the head, multiple stab wounds. Basically, what we already knew. No pod traces, but tests were being carried out on some of the fibres found in the wounds, but I didn’t hold out much hope of them revealing anything other than what the murder weapon, or weapons, was.
I also needed to talk to Mila, but my calls were going to her voicemail. She never had her phone on when she was asleep. Can’t say I blamed her.
My phone rang.
“Hallo, Lars.”
“Hallo. We have a match. I’ve emailed over the details. His name is Thomas Ark. Eighteen. Been in trouble once for drunk and disorderly behaviour. Nothing else before or since.”
I opened the email. “Is he still at this address?”
“Ja. I’ve some officers heading over there now to bring him in.”
As the PIA on this case, I’d need to get over there for the interview. “I’ll be at the station in thirty minutes.”
Jake looked up from his work, cocking an eyebrow.
“I’ll be here.” Lars ended the call.
“They got a match?” Jake asked.
“Yes.” I gulped the last of my tepid tea. “They’re bringing him in now.”
“Cool. Well, not cool for him or the dead bloke…. you know what I mean.”
“You really didn’t need to explain yourself.” I gave him a wink.
“You’re being one cheeky git this morning.”
“What? What have I done now?”
“Don’t play innocent.”
“Not playing at it. It’s true.”
He smirked. “Silly sod. Anyway, what do you want to do about the clay thing? Want me to go? Or should I start talking to goblins?”
The clay doll wasn’t a danger, just a nuisance the city wanted rid of. Still, where I’d maybe pinpointed its master to wasn’t somewhere I wanted Jake to g
o alone. “We’ll sort that out together. Do you mind talking to some goblins?”
“Sure thing.”
THE CITY COULD NORMALLY GET a handle on snowfall, keep the streets clear for everything to function. Not today, not in recent times.
Nowadays, snow was an extremely disruptive event, unrelenting until it was done. It started to fall again in heavy clumps as I made my way to the Nieuwmark metro station. The trains were still running, in part, at least, unlike the trams.
Eventually, after being crammed into a carriage, enduring the journey, then heading back up to the surface to trudge through deeper snow, I arrived at the police station.
Lars was waiting in the doorway. He was a big guy with an even bigger ginger beard that seemed to grow a few inches every time I saw him. His blue uniform strained at the swell of his huge arms that were folded across his chest.
“Really shit weather,” he announced as he opened the door.
“I’ll say.” I dusted myself off, stamping snow off my boots. “How are your people doing with this Thomas Ark?”
“We had to bring in a snow plough.”
“Really?”
“Great, isn’t it? I wish this snow would fuck off.”
“Same.”
“Anyway, it’s going to be longer than we thought. Let’s have a coffee and a catch up.”
WE SAT in the empty cafeteria, nursing black coffees in Styrofoam cups.
“You think this kid has been messing with some potions?” Lars said. “Maybe some pods?”
“That’s one theory. He could have invisible powers as a result of pod contact. Scary prospect.”
“Very scary!”
The autopsy results would be coming through at some stage today. Hopefully we’d have more to go on other than Thomas Ark’s fingerprints and some pod traces.
Was this guy pod-born?
I kept my head on straight, but I was itching to talk to him so he could give me an explanation as to what he was doing outside my house.
FIVE
JAKE
Of course I’d fallen flat on my arse, swallowed by the poxy snow.
Ugh.
Even as I sat up, the walls of white were almost covering my face. I felt like shouting ‘peekaboo’ to the next person who came past. Not that there were many people on the streets. A lot of the businesses were closed, or closing, because you had to be one crazy knobhead to be out in this.
A crazy knobhead like me.
Back to being vertical, I continued my slow walk down Zeedijk, which wasn’t far from Jake & Dean Investigations.
Was Amsterdam about to be swallowed by snow? It better not! I’d like to get in my front door again!
A woman walked past me, stumbled, and ended up on her backside.
“You okay?” I called.
“Yes!” she yelled, leaping to her feet. She looked like a snowwoman, covered head to toe.
I thought better about recommending she get herself a carrot to complete the look.
She didn’t say a word, carried on, no emotion on her face. Bet she was fucking fuming on the inside.
With patience I never knew I had, I made it to the narrow side street I needed.
The Goblin Society of the Netherlands was smack bang in the middle of the bunched-up row of buildings, a wooden plaque with gold lettering indicating the helpful fact I already knew. This place was the go-to for the goblins of this country. Looked too small to be a seat of power, but then I wasn’t a goblin, so what the frig did I know?
I knocked the light brown door, polished to within an inch of its life, then rang the doorbell. Always good to cover both avenues.
A few seconds later, the door opened and a goblin in a red smoking hat, with a white beard and red robes with golden trim, answered. He looked like a mini, green-skinned wizard.
“Oh, it’s you.” His amber eyes regarded me through wonky spectacles.
“Me?”
“Jake Winter.”
I felt like I should bow—I’ve no idea why. “That’s, er, me. How do you know my name?”
“Any goblin worth his or her salt know all about you and your escapades.”
“My escapades?”
“Yes. Indeed.”
“Oh.”
“I’m Rebus.” He offered me his tiny hand.
I shook it. Rebus really didn’t look too pleased to see me. I had one goblin super-fan back in Coldharbour, but not in this bloke.
“Nice to meet you, Rebus.”
“What do you want?”
Talk about frosty. “I need to talk to you about—”
“The goblin murder.”
If you knew that already, why did you ask? Prick! “Yes.”
“What about it?”
“Is there any information you can give me about Roberto?”
“He was murdered.
“I know that. But, you see, he did work for us before. I don’t know if—”
“Yes, yes. I know.”
“Then—”
“What is there to say, Mr. Winter?”
“Well, anything that you think might help.” He clearly wasn’t about to let me in. “He—”
“No. Not here. I will not have this brought here.”
Keep your cool. “If you know all about me and what went down in Coldharbour, then you’ll know I was on the side of your people, that I have—”
“I know. Rose and Randy speak highly of you.”
Man, this bloke was exhausting! “Cool. Then what’s the problem? I’m not the enemy here.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“So why this treatment?”
He hesitated a moment, even stroked his beard. “I know the good you did, but I also know of the danger that follows you. Now one of mine is dead.”
“But—”
“If you’re about to give me a speech on how this is the nature of this world, then save it. I will not be condescended. All I know is that Roberto did some work for you, and now he’s dead.”
“Then what about the others who worked with him that day?”
“What about them?”
“Are they dead?”
He shook his head. “We’re looking into it.”
Oh shit. “What? Tell me.”
“This is a goblin problem. We do not require the services of Jake & Dean Investigations. You’ve done enough.”
He slammed the door in my face before I could answer.
“Rebus!” I hammered on the wood, kept a finger on the bell for at least twenty seconds.
The door wasn’t answered again.
“Bollocks!” I yelled and kicked the door. “Fucking bollockingshitfuck!”
FUCK THE GOBLIN SOCIETY KNOBHEADS. I’d try a few little green people I knew. Later, when bars and cafés might start opening again.
Poxy snow.
Freezing my nuts off, I made my way back to the office, stopping off at a bakery first, ordering myself a sausage roll (Saucijzenbroodje) and a coffee, managing to get them back without slipping again. Amazing work on my part!
Thawing out back at my desk, I called Dean.
“How rude is that!”
“Didn’t lose my rag.”
“Good, good.”
“Okay, I did kick the door, but that was it. Played it as smooth as, well, your backside.”
He laughed. “Thanks, baby.”
“I was being sarcastic. We need to get the wax out.”
“Is this revenge?”
“No, a fact.”
He laughed again.
“So what’s happening that way?”
“Still waiting on the suspect.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Going crazy.”
“Is Lars that boring?”
“I heard that!” Lars replied.
That made me chuckle.
“Just too much waiting around,” Dean answered.
“At least we ain’t out hunting that clay bastard. That would’ve seriously pissed me off.”
“
Small mercies, I guess.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I’m gonna make some notes, and hold the fort.”
“Okay. Call if you need me.”
“Will do. Same to you.”
“Love you, baby.”
“Love you too.”
“You two are so cute!” Lars said.
“And so not boring!” I replied.
“Why does he keep saying this, Dean?”
“He’s messing with you. Ignore him. Bye, Jake.”
“Bye.”
THE BUZZER RANG.
A new client?
I lifted the receiver of the intercom. “Hallo?”
“Hallo.” I recognised that woman’s voice. She wasn’t Dutch.
“Who is it?”
“You don’t remember me?”
I remembered within a second. Implacable accent, but probably Italian, just like her mother’s.
One half of Tessa’s surviving twin offspring.
I went to the window, opening it up to look down on the street.
There she was, short black hair, olive skin, her green eyes looking up at me, a stupid fuckin grin on her face. Standing by the edge of the canal was her twin brother, same green eyes, his black hair longer and messier, grinning just the same.
Elena and Emilio Ricci.
“Oh, you’re still alive?” I called down. “Shame.”
Her grin waivered just a little, which made me happy. “I could say the same about you.”
“What do you want?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Revenge.”
“I didn’t kill your mum.”
She looked flummoxed for a moment. “Not that, the other thing you did.”
“And what was that?”
“You brought all this upon us.”
“Oh, that old crap.”
Elena folded her arms, her brother mirroring her actions. “Crap? Yes. Pods are crap. You are crap, a heathen, nothing but a vile sinner and a sodomite.”
“Guilty!” I stuck a hand in the air.
Her grin was gone. “There’s nothing to be proud of. You are scum, Jake Winter, the doom that keeps on living.”
“And just like your dead mother, you’re fucking clueless.”
Emilio trudged forward, slipping in the snow in his anger.
I tried not to piss myself at how stupid he looked—a wobbly wannabe bad arse.
