Dime a Demon

by Devon Monk

  “The kind that breaks into a campsite and chews on everything, including the camper’s toiletries,” I covered smoothly. “That was part of the report from last night. Food missing, camp torn up. We checked it out, and the bear got into all their supplies. Frankly, destroying that cologne was an act of kindness on the part of the bear.”

  I grinned and invited her to join in.

  But she just deflated. “You really don’t think it was Bigfoot?”

  “Do you have any pictures or video that could change my mind?”

  “No. No, I was so startled. And by the time I got my phone out of my pocket, it was gone. Faded into the trees and shadows like nothing had even been there. It didn’t make a sound. Don’t you think a bear would have made a sound?”

  “I think you were startled, it was late at night after a long day, and adrenalin does funny things.”

  “True. That’s true. So, a bear?”

  “They really are big when they’re up on their back legs. And if we have a grizzly in the area, that’s an even bigger fellow.”

  “So, should I avoid any particular area?”

  “Just don’t hike after sunset for a few days. Just to be safe. I’ll contact the rangers and they’ll make sure any bears in the area are tagged and can be tracked. If we’re lucky, this one’s just wandering through to its home territory.”

  “Don’t hike at night,” she repeated.

  “That’s it. And if you happen to see anything like that again, even if it actually is Bigfoot,” I paused to give her a tolerant smile, “don’t approach it, don’t take flash photography, don’t do anything to startle it. Just call us again. Even if it’s the middle of the night, okay?”

  “I have a gun. I could hike with a gun.”

  “Handguns won’t do much except make a bear angry. And while we don’t know what a bullet would do to a Bigfoot,” the smile again, “I’d rather not have you be the one who finds out, okay?”

  “Yes. Of course. I could have really been hurt, couldn’t I? A bear.” She was going a little pale, so I helped her sit down on the couch.

  “We’ve had them in the area before,” I said. “Never had any deaths or maulings. So I think you’re going to be fine as long as you stick to daylight.”

  “And if I see one again?”

  “Stay very still and let it walk on by.”

  “Right. I can do that. I can do that.”

  “All right then. If you’re feeling okay, Mrs. Kestner?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine, thank you. I’m sorry to bring you out here and ramble on about…well.” She blushed.

  I waved a hand. “No problem at all. That’s what we’re here for. Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone to sit with you a bit? Georgia or Paul?”

  “No, really. I’m good.” Her color was warming up back to normal.

  “All right then. We’ll leave you to your day. I’m so glad you’re okay, Mrs. Kestner.”

  “Thank you. Thank you both.” She stood and walked us the short distance to the door. “Thank you for coming out.”

  “Any time.”

  We stepped into the bright afternoon sun and wind and she shut the door behind us.

  “You lied,” Than noted.

  “Yes, I did. It’s in the rules. Especially when it comes to keeping the supernaturals safe. If people knew that Bigfoot really lived here, swarms of people would come to try to find him, and eventually someone would, because he is a dumbass who can’t resist a shiny glass bulb.”

  “Are you angry?”

  “Not really.” I started the car and waited until he had buckled, which he did with such a look on his face, before driving onto the street. “He’s never been caught, not even spotted for long. So it’s not like I’m going to have to squash hundreds of sightings.”

  “He is acting in his nature, and though it might be annoying, it isn’t destructive,” Than suggested.

  “Exactly. We put up with a lot of this kind of behavior as cops. Although stealing the light bulbs isn’t ideal.”

  “And the demon?”

  “What about the demon?”

  “Is he not acting in his nature by possessing Delaney’s soul?”

  “His nature is harmful.”

  “Do you truly think so?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  “Not at all.”

  I sighed. “You like Delaney, don’t you? You have a…friendship?”

  “Death is a friend to many.”

  “Vague.”

  He nodded in agreement.

  “I need a solution, Than,” I said. “To save Delaney’s soul. To make sure Bathin doesn’t make a terrible choice we’ll all pay the price for.”

  “Perhaps the solution will reveal itself to you in time.”

  “You either have a lot of faith in me or time. I’m not sure which.”

  “I have known Time for all existence. I have never had faith in it.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I smiled.

  ~~~

  Call number two:

  “When did you last see the penguin?” I asked Mrs. Yates. We were in her sunroom, which had become a large display space and museum for all things penguin.

  Her concrete penguin statue was the unofficial star of the town. Framed newspaper and magazine articles filled the walls in neat rows, separated by photos of some of the more inventive penguin-nappings.

  There was the little penguin stuffed in the barrel of a cannon. There was the little penguin dressed as an angel dangling above the main intersection in town. There was the little penguin strapped to the cross on the church steeple.

  A few non-kidnapped pictures were sprinkled among the others. The little penguin out in Mrs. Yates’s yard, in the snow, autumn foliage, spring flowers, and deep greens of summer.

  Really, she’d gone all in on the famous penguin part of this gig, which had started as a high school prank and had turned into a national obsession.

  Tour buses came by to see the penguin in her yard as part of winery tours, for heaven’s sake.

  “This morning. I was having coffee right here in the sunroom. It has the perfect view of the front yard.” She pointed at the wall of windows. Than and I turned in tandem to stare at her yard. The marble podium she had commissioned for the penguin was noticeably empty of said penguin.

  “I got up to get my toast, and when I returned, it was gone.” She didn’t sound upset. Not really. If anything, she seemed a little excited about this theft. It would, after all, be another picture on the wall if the kidnappers were creative enough.

  “Did you see any suspicious cars?” I asked.

  “Do you know who took it?” Than asked.

  Mrs. Yates’s gaze snapped up to his face, and she looked him up and down as if she had just noticed he was in the room. “What was your name again?”

  “Than.”

  “Didn’t you used to run the kite shop?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “He’s a reserve officer. We’re training up a few new people over the autumn and winter months so we can better handle the influx of tourists next summer.”

  “Oh, of course. Like Mr. Bailey.”

  “Exactly, and it doesn’t cost the taxpayers a thing.”

  “Well, isn’t that wonderful! What a wonderful thing. How community minded of you, Mr. Than.”

  “Cars?” I prompted.

  “No, nothing unusual. You know that house on the corner always has someone coming and going. I don’t want to judge, but I think multiple families live there. I never see the same people for long.”

  It was a good guess on her part, and something that we allowed as a cover story for the family of shapeshifters who lived there. While they each had their preferred human shape, sometimes they took multiple shapes, especially the children who were still learning what it took to control their gift.

  It could look like three different families lived there, but it was really two men, two women, and fou
r kids.

  “That property is zoned for multi-family use. There are two families living there, and they’ve let us know they sometimes have extended family stay for blocks of time. Being so close to the beach is a real draw.”

  I smiled, just like I always did when I was covering things up. Mrs. Yates took me at my word.

  Than raised his eyebrows, but I stared back at him. Other than omitting the fact that they were shapeshifters, I’d been telling the truth. When other shapeshifters showed up in town, they always stayed with the Persons.

  Yes, I got the humor in that last name.

  “I don’t know who may have taken my property, Mr. Than. That is why I called you here.”

  “All right, so no cars, no people you noticed walking by lately?”

  “No one I haven’t seen before. A lot of people stop by to see the penguin, you know.”

  I knew. Everyone knew.

  “Were there any tour buses?”

  “No. Although there was a couple who said they were driving Highway 101 from beginning to end, and they stopped by to take a selfie. They came up to the house to talk with me briefly.”

  “About what?”

  “They asked permission for taking a picture in my yard. They were very polite.”

  “Did you get their names?”

  “Troy and Trisha Smith. Cute couple. Young. Here, they sent me the photo.”

  She stepped over to the little dining table and retrieved her tablet. It only took her a moment to scroll through the pictures and find the one she wanted.

  “This is them.” She handed me the tablet. I studied the faces. Young couple. Cute. Their car was parked across the street at just the right angle, I could make out the plates. “We’ll run their plates just in case.”

  “Oh, I don’t really think it’s them,” she said hastily.

  “No?”

  She drew her hands together in front of her and picked at one of her thumbs. “I’m sure it’s someone local.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  Her eyes dashed to the side, back to me, then dashed away again. She was hiding something. She knew something.

  “Who took the penguin?” I asked. “If you know, I can just go to them and retrieve it. It won’t be a problem. If you want us to let them off with a warning, we’re happy to do so.”

  “It’s just that things have been quiet, with the summer season winding down.”

  “Yes,” I encouraged.

  “And there hasn’t been an article for months now.”

  I scanned the framed clippings again, and noted they were in chronological order. The last was dated June. So it had been three months since there was any outside press.

  “I thought stirring things up wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

  “Did you give someone the penguin?” But even as I said it, that didn’t make any sense. Why would she call us in if she knew where it was?

  “No. I…even I’m not that hungry for attention.”

  Jury was still out on that.

  “But I might have seen who picked it up,” she went on. “I think…I don’t think it was a normal kidnapping.”

  “Why?”

  “It was that glassblower.”

  “Crow?” I asked.

  She nodded. “He came by this morning. He seemed inebriated. Drunk. And loud. He was singing. And he waved. He knew I was right here in the sunroom.”

  “You watched him that long?”

  She sighed. “When I saw he was taking the penguin I didn’t want to interfere. He is an artist of a sort. I thought maybe he would dream up a delightful photo op. Maybe something that would renew interest? I mean, not for me, of course. I have all the attention I could possibly want. But it’s good for our town. Brings in the tourists.”

  I didn’t tell her that the nearby casinos, gorgeous open beaches, ample fishing, antiquing, wineries, craft breweries, and small town coziness was more than enough to bring in the tourists.

  “Did you contact Crow and ask him to bring it back?”

  “I tried. He wasn’t answering his phone, so I drove to his shop.”

  “And?”

  “It was closed.”

  Crow had just gotten back into town. It was possible he hadn’t wanted to head straight back into the glass-blowing business. It was also possible he was still drunk from Roy’s party.

  “We’ll look into it,” I told her.

  “You don’t think he’s going to…to harm it, do you?”

  He was a trickster god. “I don’t think that would be his goal, no. Have you thought about setting up your own photo shoots with it?”

  She shook her head firmly. “I just wouldn’t. Part of the fun is seeing other people get creative. If it were just me dressing up a concrete penguin. Well, my goodness, do you realize how much of an eccentric attention-seeker that would make me out to be?”

  Than cleared his throat. I would have said he was choking back laughter, but I knew he never laughed.

  “Right. Okay. We’ll try to locate Crow and find out if he still has the penguin in his possession.”

  “Do you think he might have given it away? Or might have sold it?” She was wringing her hands now.

  “I don’t think he sold it.”

  “But it is valuable. He could probably get a pretty penny for it on the dark web.” She leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “I know what that is.”

  I nodded soberly. “Next time you see someone stealing your penguin, please just call us. We’ll come out, stop the theft, and you won’t have to imagine your penguin smashed into a million pieces and being sold, chunk by chunk, on dark ebay.”

  “There’s a dark ebay?”

  “There’s a dark everything, Mrs. Yates,” I said as seriously as possible.

  She frowned, looked out the windows, and tugged on her fingers. “I hope you find Mr. Crow quickly. Tell him I will press charges if anything has happened to my property. I’ve insured it, you know. If it’s harmed, I can sue. I will sue.”

  “I’ll let you know the moment we have anything to report.”

  “Thank you, Myra. You have always taken this so much more seriously than either of your sisters. And don’t get me started on Officers Hatter and Shoe. They make jokes when I call in my complaints.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “I am a taxpayer, you know. I pay your wages. Theirs too.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “And I pay your…” she pointed a finger at Death, then curled it back in on her palm. “No, you’re a volunteer, that’s right.”

  We let ourselves out, and I dialed Crow’s number.

  “Busy,” he answered, and hung up.

  I dialed him back.

  “You hang up on me, I’ll break your kneecaps.”

  “Myra? Is that you? What can I do for you, my darling?”

  “Return the penguin.”

  “Penguin?”

  “Crow.”

  “I…can’t. Really. Not yet.”

  “Where are you? What are you doing with it?”

  “What does anyone do with a concrete penguin in this town? No, don’t answer that. I haven’t been home in a bit and I’m afraid things may have veered into the X-rated zone since I’ve been gone. No kink shame, if that’s your thing.”

  “Hand me the phone, Myra Reed,” Than said.

  I narrowed my eyes, but since I wasn’t making any progress with Crow, I handed him the phone.

  “Your excuses are no longer sufficient to ensure your further existence, Raven.” He paused to listen to Crow’s reply.

  “I am an officer of Ordinary’s law now.” Than pulled the phone away from his face and lifted both eyebrows. He inhaled, exhaled, then placed the phone to his ear again. “I will uphold the law for mortals, supernaturals, and, more significantly perhaps in this regard, for deities. Bring the statue back to its proper placement within the hour, or I shall thoroughly enjoy interpreting Ordinary’s laws as I see fit.”

  He swiped one thu
mb over the screen and handed it back to me.

  “You…uh…I’m not sure that was exactly by the book.”

  “I clearly stated my rank, my intent, and my preferred outcome. As the book instructs. Also, it is Crow.”

  The look on his face, so long suffering, made me laugh. “Okay, fine. You know you can’t kill him while you’re here?”

  “Yes. But then…accidents do happen.”

  That got me laughing again.

  ~~~

  Call number three:

  “I don’t see the problem.” I tipped my head to one side and back again. The restroom off of 24th was a nice, new, single building at the end of a small parking lot, which was at the end of a residential street.

  The town had put in parking spaces, a restroom, a drinking fountain, and a picnic table, because 24th ended on an easily accessed rise above the beach. A new, steep, concrete staircase led down to the sand. A lot of tourists used it. So did the locals in the neighborhood.

  “The yarn, perhaps?” Than suggested.

  “Yeah, I see that.”

  It was pretty hard to miss. The picnic table was covered in a patchwork of squares and each square featured some kind of creature, from little spiral snails to several patches in a row that made up a winged dragon.

  The benches were also covered in squares of flower after flower after flower.

  The trash can had been turned into a robot; the drinking fountain, a mushroom. I paced over to the stairway and noted the metal banister was now wrapped with a swirling pattern that arced like rainbows and clouds and birds swooping through them. I thought there, at the bottom of the stairs, it ended with butterflies.

  It was actually very pretty. It also was not the work of one person. There was just too much of it.

  “So who called this one in?” I wondered to myself.

  Than glanced around at the houses. “Perhaps that man can tell us?”

  He pointed to a man about four houses down on the left side of the block. He lifted a hand and started our way.

  “Hello,” he called out. “Hi there! Are you here to remove the…uh…graffiti?”

  We walked toward him. “You called this in, sir?”

  “Yes. I didn’t think it was…sanitary.”

  I glanced back at the picnic table and garbage can. “Sanitary.”