by J. L. Ray
Glinda shrugged and didn’t meet her eyes. “Needs must, little witchling. And you need to know what is safe and what is not. I am not sure that you are safe working with Detective Bear, but the good Azeem must see some need for it, and I an inclined to trust him. So—follow your partner, but remember,” and now she directed a pointed stare and a pointed finger at Tony, “keep your heritage to yourself, for now.”
“I’ll do my best, G, but you know how it is at SCIB. A secret is something you don’t mind sharing with thirty or forty of your closest friends.”
“Just finish this assignment with Sebastian. Then it doesn’t matter if he knows,” Glinda told her.
It was only after Tony left, towing the cart loaded with pink plastic birds that she wondered why it wouldn’t matter after the undercover op was done.
Chapter Three
Tony stood at the back doors of the building that housed the D.C. offices of the SCIB, near the loading dock for large, confiscated items like catapults and oversized caldrons. She leaned against the flat of boxed flamingoes, wondering where Baz the Bear-man had gotten to in the ten minutes it had taken her to load the cart onto the freight elevator and ride up to the dock and then roll it off. Finally, feeling just a little like she should have stayed in bed today and ignored that call from the Lieutenant, or better yet, stuck her to plan for a long soak in her clawfoot tub, she pulled out her f-light and signaled Detective de Groot.
“What?” he yelled when he answered, apparently still getting accustomed to mage-tech after what had to be at least a decade of having had it. Fairy-lights had originally been designed for the SCIB, but the mass market applications led to a civilian version only slightly less exciting than the police-issued version. F-lights had killed cell phone sales so completely that the market never recovered. Everyone in Mundania, no matter how poor or how young, carried f-lights.
“Damn, Baz, could you dial down your volume? I lost a few decibels of hearing just then.”
“Sorry, sorry. I can never tell how loud I have the setting...”
She sighed, hearing the appeal for help in his voice. “I’ll show you how to compel your settings if you hurry the hell over to the docking bay. Time’s a wastin’.”
“Time is what?”
“Never mind. Just get here, already, okay?”
She jumped as he rumbled from behind her, “But I am right here, already. See, no wasting of time.”
She turned around, shaking her head. “Nice.” She put her f-light back in the pocket of her jacket and held her hand out for his. “Gimme that and I’ll set it up for you.”
He gave her a very serious look.
“What?”
“You won’t make any bad tricks on it?”
“Why would I do that?”
“My partner before Michael made it growl at me instead of chime when I got calls.”
“Like a bear growl?”
Baz nodded grimly.
“And that wasn’t nice?”
He shook his head.
She folded her arms. “Before we go out and try to work this case, we better get some things straight. You used to be stuck here in Mundania in bear form?”
“Yes,” he ground out. “For hundreds of years.”
“And you really didn’t like it.”
He smiled grimly at her. “Since my princess didn’t save me, and I didn’t escape the hag who enchanted me, no, not really. Of course, as the years were going by, I grew accustomed to eating raw fish and grubs, the occasional dog or deer. Or Natty.” He flashed his teeth and Tony gulped. That was the reason he ranked as dark fae with the Geas. “But over the centuries, it became harder and harder to avoid human hunters.” He paused dramatically. “I am a large bear, and they wanted very much to stuff me and put me in their trophy rooms.”
Tony nodded. “So, no growling, grunting, or using animal noises for your ringtone. How do you feel about The Gap Band?”
He looked confused.
“Never mind. I’ll use ‘Burn Rubber’ but leave off the opening with the motorcycle taking off.”
He started to protest, but she held up his f-light and it played the opening notes to that song. Within seconds, she was doing her best to not laugh at him again as he stood there, bumping to the music.
“So, good to go?”
“Is there more of this music?” he asked, slapping his large hands together in glee.
Her eyes widened. “Oh my. Of course. Later, we’ll sit down together and I’ll introduce you to funk, R&B and soul, and disco, you poor, sad, undereducated fellow. For now, we’ve got pink flamingoes to move.” She gestured at the cart, then at the moving truck the lieutenant had sent round, following instructions from the Sutherlands.
Twenty minutes later, the truck was loaded and ready to go. Lieutenant Azeem had come out to see the progress, and just as he paced up, Tony’s f-light chimed her own call signal, Capital Cities’ “Safe and Sound.”
She paused and saw that it was Phil, glanced a bit guiltily at her boss and her temporary partner, and then walked to one side to take the call. Since she did want to be private, she didn’t signal for visual and kept her side to the silent mode so that she didn’t have to speak out loud.
“Tony! Where are you?” Phil sounded worried.
Tony thought, “I’m at the station.”
“You are not working, are you?”
Tony narrowed her eyes as she asked, “Why?”
“I am not sure that it is a good idea to have you working so soon after the seizures.”
“But you said I was okay,” Tony replied, wondering if her anxiety read as loudly as she felt it right that minute. She generally only used silent mode for work, stakeouts and such.
“You are okay to be at home and to rest. But to work a case? I am not as sure about that.” He paused and added, “I think I should call Lieutenant Azeem.”
“No,” Tony thought at him, wishing she wasn’t on silent since she really, really wanted to be firm and clear right now. “No, you won’t call the Lieutenant. This is his decision, not yours, my decision, not yours. Do you understand?”
There was another pause, and then Phil said, “I have overstepped my current boundaries with you, have I not?”
She grinned, relieved to know he recognized when he was being inappropriate, at least about her job. “You’re so far over the line, you may be in another state, even as we speak.”
“Can you put me on holopic?”
Tony turned and looked around behind her. The privacy setting seemed to have done nothing so much as pique the interest of both her temp partner and her boss. They were just a few feet away, both staring at her, obviously hoping to eavesdrop and coming up short.
“Give me a second,” she told Phil. Then she turned to Azeem and Baz. “Excuse me, gentlemen?” she said decisively. “This is private. It will just take a minute.”
“Go right ahead,” the lieutenant told her as the two of them stood there waiting.
“Give me a second, in private, is what I mean.” They looked blank. “Move about ten feet away.”
“Oh, oh, yes,” Azeem nodded, and then turned, bumping Baz. “Come along Detective.”
She turned back around and said, “Sound,” to bring it off silent and added, “Image.” An image of Phil popped up. He was standing just outside her apartment door, a large bouquet of Asian lilies in his hand.
“You’re at my apartment?” she asked, surprised, as she took in a breath filled with the spicy, sweet scent of the pink and white lilies.
He nodded, “I was going to surprise you with some flowers. I thought I might entice you,” he paused for a moment and grinned suggestively before adding, “to leave your apartment and join me for dinner. For a dinner date, in fact.”
“That is pretty sweet. And you brought my favorite flowers,” she added. “How did you know?”
“I asked Cal,” he told her blandly, “who says you should relax and let me take you out to Oyamel for grasshopper tacos.” He wr
inkled his nose. “I have eaten grasshoppers in the past, though that was on a dare from a vengeance fae trying to wreak havoc on a group of Egyptians. Do you normally choose that for a protein source? They are not very exciting,” he told her.
“Off topic, Phil, and I need to get back to work.”
He frowned. “What happened to time off?”
“Yeah, well with Mama stonewalling me on searching for Adele, when the Lieutenant called me in, I figured I might as well do something to take my mind off of that.”
Phil gave her an evil grin. “I could take your mind off of your trouble.”
“And I do appreciate your offer,” she told him, “but in coming in and talking to the Lieutenant,” and here, she lowered her voice, “I got the distinct feeling that he doesn’t want me on that hunt either, which is odd.”
“Indeed.” Phil’s face became so devoid of response that she suddenly knew, without any doubt, that whatever stance the lieutenant had taken, Phil definitely had an idea of what was causing it. Well, she had questioned easier suspects in her time than Mephistopheles, but those easier suspects hadn’t been interested in, uhm, dating her, so at least she now had a better option for starting her search for Adele and some pretty good leverage to boot. This might be a total score to obtain information, once she could get some time alone with Mephistopheles. She shifted tactics.
“Look, Phil, this is all really sweet of you, but I agreed to come in and help the Lieutenant. I’ve got to go.”
“Would you like to try for dinner tonight?”
He looked so hopeful that she grinned and said in warning, “It might be late.”
He smiled back. “I am quite sure that I will be up for something…tasty.”
She rolled her eyes at the double entendre. “You just never quit, do you?”
“Quit? I do not know what you mean.” He smiled and she shook her head at the way her breath caught. He really was a handsome devil.
“Call me as soon as you can leave?” he asked. “I can pick you up at the station.”
“You can count on that. In the meantime, I’ve got to roll before Detective de Groot gets impatient. He’s a real bear.” She grinned at her own pun and shut off the communication, cutting off the transmission and totally missing the look on Phil’s face and his words as he yelled, “Not Sebastian de Groot?” She turned around and almost fell over that same Baz de Groot, who had moved forward as he listened in, Lieutenant Azeem right behind him.
Pocketing her device, Tony put her hand out. “Guys, this is a little creepy.”
“Was that Mephistopheles?” Baz growled.
“Yes, it was. He dropped by my place to take me out to dinner.”
“In the middle of the day?”
Tony shook her head. “Three p.m. isn’t the middle of the day, and what the hell difference does it make? I’m not going out for gourmet tapas, I’m going to go trade cheesy plastic flamingoes for...what are we trading for?” She turned to the lieutenant. “You never said.”
Azeem huffed, “The Sutherlands couldn’t tell us much about the trade. Apparently, they likened it to some Mundane custom—a ‘grab bag,’ I believe, is what Maybelle called it.”
“So you’re sending us in without even knowing what we might be trading for?” Before the lieutenant could answer, Tony stopped him with one hand, “Hang on. My undercover name is Maybelle?”
“Is that a problem?” Azeem asked her, perplexed.
“It could be. Have the smugglers from here in Mundania met the Sutherlands?” she asked him.
“Not this specific contact, apparently. The Sutherlands said that they usually speak to someone remotely, someone who apparently lives in Fairie. The point of exchange varies as do the go-betweens. Sometimes they meet at a location in the city, sometimes outside of the city, like the one scheduled for tonight. They work with different Supers. This is supposed to be a new contact for them, which is why we must have a presence at the meeting. It might be our only chance to infiltrate the ring. Why?”
“Does Maybelle have an accent they would recognize? What about her husband?”
“Accent? Maybelle and Mickey? No, no…” Then Azeem paused and cocked his head and mane to one side, thinking about his recent meeting with Sheriff MacMurray up in the Shenandoah Valley. “Well, they are perhaps a little bit...country?”
“Fabulous,” she responded, obviously meaning the exact opposite. “I need to meet them before we go to the trade. Can you set that up?”
Baz interrupted them both. “I have them on my f-light—I recorded a moving holopic.” He sounded a little smug. “It was my first moving picture on this device. Will that work?”
Tony slapped Baz’s arm. “That will be a big help! And look at you, all techie wit’ your bad self!”
“What?”
Azeem rumbled his form of laughter. “She means you did well with the f-light.”
“Why does she not say that, then?” de Groot looked a bit grumpy.
Tony snickered, then turned back to Azeem. “What’s the plan tonight?”
“We deliberately picked the flamingoes because it seems they are a hot item in Fairie right now. The Sutherlands’ contact jumped on this immediately. I want the two of you to assess their contact, ascertain if the Being is a low-level player or one of the main smugglers. Either way, I want you to offer the Being access to something larger, something more difficult to obtain, in order to encourage a meeting with a higher level operative in the Fairie ring, a Being who might be the key to stopping the ring altogether.”
Tony widened her eyes. “And that more-difficult-to-obtain item would be?”
Azeem’s eyes narrowed to happy slits as he purred, “The Elvis Rose Cadillac.”
Tony’s jaw dropped.
“What?” Baz grumbled. “What is that?”
They turned to him and in unison said, “It’s a 1955 Cadillac Fleetwood Series 60.”
Tony added, “Elvis had it painted pink, and gave it to his Mama, though she couldn’t even drive it.”
“Who is this Elvis?”
Tony shook her head. “This isn’t going to work, boss.”
“What?”
“How can he sell Elvis’ ride if he doesn’t even know who the King is?”
“The King?” Baz asked. “Oh, is he king in one of the Mundane countries that still has a sensible government?”
Tony gave Azeem a pointed look. “I rest my case, boss. What if I take Phil? He can pass as human.” She snorted. “He probably ‘made’ Elvis’ career in the first place.” She put out her hands as if to stop confirmation. “If he did, I don’t want to know, by the way.”
She put her hands over her ears to shut out the din that ensued, both Beings growling enough to sound like a circus had come to town. When the noise died down, she shrugged. “Geez! Okay, okay. No to Phil, then.”
“He is far too well known!” Azeem told her.
Baz was muttering something else, but it was so low and so deep in his chest, it just came out as vibrations.
“It was just a thought!” she said. “Lieutenant, that Cadillac has to be one of the most famous ever made. Why would they believe a couple of low-end pickers like the Sutherlands have access to it?”
“Maybelle and Mickey have a cousin.”
“Most of us do. More than one, even. And?”
Azeem purred. “He has a reputation as a thief, and not just any thief—one who targets particularly difficult items. Randy Sutherland fancies himself a kind of Robin Hood, without the actual giving-to-the-poor part of that particular tale. According to Mickey, Randy is currently lying low due to some misunderstanding from a prior job and might be willing to allow us to use his name in connection with a ‘robbery’ at Graceland.”
“Misunderstanding?”
“Randy got caught in bed with his partner’s wife. It ended the partnership, violently. Apparently, his former partner is still looking for blood vengeance, so Randy has retreated to let him cool off and to heal his various wounds.
”
“A Natural Being of honor,” Baz stated, though it wasn’t clear whether he meant Randy or the partner.
“Or something like that,” Tony mused. “The museum is letting us borrow the car?” “Why is the car in a museum?” Baz interjected.
“Because it’s super famous and it belonged to Elvis,” she said, as if that explained everything. “Then, the plan is that the ‘Sutherlands,’ Baz and I, are going to dangle the Caddie in front of whoever this is, courtesy of our cousin, Randy the Robber. But we only agree to a trade if we can meet their boss, maybe ask for a more regular contract for Randy?”
Azeem nodded. “Exactly, Detective Newman, exactly. And Randy will only sell his merchandise through the auspices of his favorite cousins. Once we hook them with the hope of this iconic Mundane article, we try to find the ultimate leader and take that Being down. Then we can shut down the biggest supply of unregulated magical items coming into Mundania.”
Baz shook his head. “I understand that older Cadillacs are a brand that many in Fairie associate with the Golden Age of Mundania, but I fail to see how one specific car, especially a pink one, would have so much value to this smuggling ring.” He mused, “It is an unusual color, yes?”
“Wow.” Tony looked from Baz to Lieutenant Azeem. “How much time before the meeting? I have to give Detective de Groot a crash course in Elvisology. Good thing the King is all over my f-light playlist.”
“You meet your contact at 6 p.m., but the meeting is outside the city. You have just under two hours before you need to leave. Is it enough time for you to study the Sutherlands as well?”
“Well, it’s one for the money, two for the show,” Tony sang, and Azeem added, “Three to get ready, now go, cat go.” They ended in laughter.
Baz stood looking at them. “I don’t understand,” he said flatly, which made them laugh harder.
Finally, Azeem pulled himself together. “You will understand, Detective, really you will.”
For the next hour, Baz sat in Lieutenant Azeem’s office viewing an Elvis documentary from Tony’s f-light. In return, she sat and watched the footage on Baz’s f-light of Maybelle and Mickey Sutherland as they talked to Baz and the Lieutenant, absorbing their vocal intonation and accents while she got a handle on how two low-level hucksters had gotten into such a very dangerous business.
