He was staring out into the mass of officers in the station.
Ah, so that was it.
He was feeling underdressed. They all had on suits. He didn’t. And since I had on a suit, too, that meant everyone but him was dressed the part.
“Don’t worry about it, Harvey,” I said gently. “You look fine.”
“Chief,” he replied while continuing his fidgeting, “we’re in London here, not Vegas.”
“So?”
“So as a werebear, I already feel out of place.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of werebears in London, Harvey.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He stood up and began pacing around. “I’ve always felt out of place, ever since I was a kid. I’m tall, built big, have a lot of body hair, and I turn into a werebear.” He held up a hand at me. “I know there are other werebears, but we’re kind of rare when compared to werewolves, vampires, fae, pixies, djinn—”
“You don’t have to name them all,” I declared, “and haven’t we had this discussion before?”
“Sort of, but the point is that—aside from weresheep—I’m in the minority here.”
“You’re talking to the only known amalgamite in existence, Harvey.” Then I froze and frowned at him. “Wait, what?”
“What, what?” he said, turning to face me.
“Did you say weresheep?”
“Yeah, why?”
I scanned back through all the courses I’d taken at the academy and there was no mention of weresheep. I shuddered to think how they even managed to come into being, not that werebears or werewolves were any better.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’ve never heard of weresheep?”
I gave him a stern look. “Apparently not or I wouldn’t have said anything.”
“True. Well, yeah, there are weresheep.”
“Come on. You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nope.” He leaned back on the wall. “There were even wererabbits at one point, but it was abundantly clear that they were going to overpopulate, so that was nipped in the bud.” Harvey then laughed lightly. “If you think you’re horny, Chief, you should have seen those guys.”
“What’s their special power?” I queried.
“Wererabbits? Screwing, I’d guess. I mean, seriously, they could go all day.”
I rubbed my temples and calmed myself. It was bad enough that I was in London hunting after my ex-partner who had apparently been kidnapped by werewolves, but now I was talking about weresheep with a werebear who was intent on describing the sexual prowess of wererabbits!
“I’m asking about the weresheep, Harvey.”
“Oh, right. They kick and bite, but that’s about it.” He snapped his fingers. “They also grow back their wool really quickly.”
“So?”
“So they can run shops for wool and produce it like it’s nobody’s business.”
Insanity. To be fair, I didn’t know that zombies were a thing until Shitfaced Fred brought them up to play.
“Anyway, I just don’t feel like I fit in, ya know?”
“Again, I’m an amalgamite, Harvey.”
“Yeah, but you’ve learned how to blend.” He motioned at my clothing. “You don’t stand out like a sore thumb. Hell, when I first met you, Chief, I could have sworn you were a vampire.”
I groaned. “Why does everyone think that?”
“Well, look at you,” Harvey replied with a chuckle. “You wear the best clothes, your hair is always just right, you keep that five-o-clock shadow running, you’re a good-looking dude, and you carry yourself in such a way that tells the world you think your shit doesn’t stink.”
I wasn’t sure whether to feel complimented or offended. On the one hand, everything he said had been true; on the other hand, I didn’t want everyone thinking I was a fucking vampire!
But as any good chief would do, I turned my attention back to the problem my subordinate was facing.
“So what do you want to do about it?”
“You looking like a vampire?” he replied. “I don’t think it’s up to me to do anything about—”
“About you feeling uncomfortable, Harvey.”
“Oh, right.” He shuffled his feet. “Honestly, I’d just like to get an outfit that helps me fit the part.”
I nodded at him. That was one thing I could understand.
Power suit.
Harvey would need something properly tailored. If he let me help pick out the perfect outfit, he’d definitely up his street cred. The question was whether or not he’d be able to afford it. I had no problem paying for the outfit, but typically when I made these offers to my officers, they would decline, and I always felt like a pompous ass.
“I can help you out with that,” I declared, “but I don’t know what your financial situation is, so it may be out of your price range.”
“Oh, I’m good on that front, Chief,” he replied seriously. “Back before Matilda turned into a real pain in the ass, we had a small business doing decorating for big casinos. I’ve got enough money in the bank to last a few lifetimes.”
I was shocked by this admission.
Harvey did not seem the type to have money. Now, I know that does make me sound like a pompous ass, but usually you can tell the difference between arrogant wealthy people and people who didn’t have much in the bank.
“Seriously?” I said.
“Definitely,” he said, smiling. “Don’t tell anyone, though, yeah? I wouldn’t want people thinking I’m some kind of rich douchebag.” He suddenly turned pale. “No offense, Chief.”
“I’m not a doucheba—”
The door swung open and a gentleman walked in. He was roughly my height, somewhat slender, had brown hair that was styled just so, a slight tan, and blue eyes that seemed to hold a permanent smirk. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a bowtie. I’d have guessed him to be in his early thirties, but the creases on his forehead marked him as being closer to forty.
“Gentlemen,” he said, raising an eyebrow while looking us over. “You’re the two Americans, yes?”
“That’s right,” I said, standing up and offering my hand. “The name’s Ian Dex and this is Harvey Smith.”
He kept quiet for a moment.
“And you are?” I questioned him.
The guy stood a little taller and said, “Leland. James Leland, 00737.”
Harvey was all smiles.
I found this odd, until the werebear spoke.
“You look just like James Bond,” he said with a near giddy voice. “It’s incredible.”
Leland was clearly happy with this response from my partner because his face got even more smug than it was when he’d walked into the room.
“I’ve always found it best to follow in the footsteps of the greats,” Leland stated.
“You do realize that James Bond is a fictional character, right?” I said, finding it difficult to not want to burst this guy’s bubble.
“There’s always truth in every fiction, Mr. Dicks.”
“Dex.”
“Ah, yes. My apologies.”
“Dicks is probably more accurate, eh, Chief? I mean, you’re always with the ladies and—”
Harvey clearly noted my expression because he clammed up and looked away in horror.
“Anyway,” I started, moving the conversation away from James Bond and the fact that my partner thought I should have been named after my prowess in the sack, “you are Rachel’s current partner, right?”
His sly face grew even slier. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, Mr. Dex.”
“I’m talking about her partner on the PPD, Leland.”
“Oh, that. Right. Well, yes, we are…were.”
“Were?”
“She’s been kidnapped, you know,” he said, leaning in.
This guy was obviously a complete boob.
“Yes, I do know. That’s why we’re here.”
“Oh, right. Well, we haven’t had
any solid information on her whereabouts as yet, but there was a note that said she’d been taken.”
“Werewolves,” I announced. “She was taken by werewolves.”
His left eyebrow lowered and his right one went up.
“How do you know this?”
“Let’s just say that I have friends in low places,” I replied.
“A reaper told us,” Harvey said excitedly. “He’d healed my leg after I’d been shot in a parking garage. We were chasing this djinn guy and he possessed me somehow. Anyway, when we—”
“Harvey,” I interrupted, barely glancing at my partner, “now is not the time.”
“Sorry, Chief.”
I took a deep breath.
“Leland, we need to start searching the town for clues regarding werewolf hideouts and such. If you have any ideas on that, we should pursue them. If you have any informants, we should talk to them.”
His nod was one of a man who thought his toes were being stepped on. “I know how detective work works, Mr. Dex.”
“Then let’s get to it,” I said with a hint of menace. “My partner is out there in trouble.”
“Ex-partner,” he amended. Then he sniffed and added, “Honestly, Mr. Dex, I wouldn’t have expected such caring from a fellow vampire.”
“He’s not a fucking vampire,” said Harvey sternly. Then he looked at me. “Sorry, Chief. Just trying to be supportive.”
My head fell forward.
“Can we just go, please?”
Chapter 10
We headed toward the main exit of the London PPD precinct, when Harvey put his hand out and stopped both Leland and me from going any farther.
He pointed.
It was a small shop that contained suits, ties, hats, and other various items that a properly dressed officer should wear. Even I was impressed with the layout. I didn’t recall seeing it on the way in, but we hadn’t exactly been looking everywhere in the office.
“You have a clothier in your precinct?” I asked with a sense of awe.
“You don’t?” Leland replied.
Harvey gave me a gaze that included puppy-dog eyes. He obviously wanted to take care of his clothing situation before we went back out into the field.
“Can I, Chief?” he pleaded.
I wanted to tell him that time was of the essence, but I doubted another fifteen minutes was going to spell the difference between Rachel’s life or death. The werewolves wouldn’t do anything to her without first sending a list of demands. Unless, again, they were just planning to eat her. But seeing that there were tons of perfectly tasty people in the world, I assumed her kidnappers had other plans than a simple meal.
“Fine,” I replied like a father who was talking to his overzealous teenaged son, “but make it quick.”
His face beamed as he ran into the shop.
Honestly, I could have used a new pair of shoes and socks myself. Over the last number of months, I’d run low on them due to all of the damn ubernaturals popping up around Vegas.
That thought was worrisome.
“Lydia,” I said through the connector as Leland pressed into the shop and began looking at ties, “is everything okay there?”
“It’s fine, sweetie,” she replied. “I’ve been keeping my ears open for anything new on the Strip, but nothing has happened yet. The crew isn’t due in for another few hours.”
“Good, good.” I licked my lips. “I’m sure they can handle anything that comes their way.”
“Of course they can, honey.” Her voice was gentle. Obviously she knew the stress I was under. “How are things there?”
“Interesting,” I replied quickly. “Harvey’s being a mixture of helpful and annoying.”
“So, helpfully annoying, or annoyingly helpful?”
“Exactly,” I answered. “And Rachel’s partner is a real piece of work. He thinks he’s James Bond.”
“That sounds lovely,” she said.
Sometimes her algorithms didn’t quite pick up on my sarcasm.
“Well, if anything comes up, don’t hesitate to contact me, okay?”
“Of course, sugar,” she said. “And if you need anything from the crew here, they’re only a couple of portal jumps away.”
“Speaking of that,” I said, snapping my fingers, “you should know that the London PPD is not exactly in the National Gallery building.”
“I know, puddin’,” she stated smoothly. “They’re located at the back of the building next door, but it is still part of the Gallery.”
“Right.” Even my AI had to be difficult at times. “Okay, well, I’ve got to get back to it, Lydia.”
“Be careful, lover.”
“Sure thing.”
I disconnected and set about studying the Wanted posters on the wall. It didn’t seem much different than what we had at the Vegas PPD, aside from the fact that there were far more faces. Granted, London was a larger city than Vegas, but there were easily ten times as many posters here. That explained why this precinct was crammed with officers, and it also explained why Bellows was wound so tight.
That made me feel kind of bad for how we’d treated the poor guy.
Still, with all this mess, you’d have thought he’d want the help.
By the time I’d gotten to the third row of faces, Leland and Harvey stepped out of the shop.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said at the vision of my partner.
“You like it?” he asked hopefully.
Imagine a nearly seven-foot tall, hairy, burly guy wearing a brown tweed deerstalker cap, a matching trench coat with the collar up, a pipe in one hand, and a large magnifying glass in the other.
“Sherlock Holmes, I presume?” I said in a really bad British accent.
Harvey was all smiles.
“So you do like it?”
I wanted to tell him that he looked like a fool, but I just didn’t have the heart. It was clear he was greatly enjoying his look. And, to be fair, seeing as how he was standing next to a man who thought he was James Bond…well, it just worked. Frankly, they probably should have been partners.
“It’s great, Harvey,” I said with a shake of my head. “You’re really something, you know that?”
“Thanks, Chief.” He was very excited. “I was going to go with the top hat instead of the deerstalker, but I’m already pretty tall and so I figured it’d be knocked off my head wherever we walked. Besides, this feels more authentic to the original character.”
“Oh, most definitely,” I agreed, trying not to lay the sarcasm on too thick. “All you need now is a Dr. Watson and you’ll be all set.”
He took the pipe out of his mouth. “You want to play that part, Chief?”
“Um, no. I only play dress-up with the ladies, Harvey.” I went to turn away but stopped myself. “And don’t go getting any ideas about trying to find someone to actually be your Dr. Watson. We don’t have time for that. Understood?”
“I got it, Chief,” he replied, looking a little disappointed.
This was definitely going to be an odd adventure, and we’d certainly stick out like a sore thumb, but that may not be such a bad thing. It was better for our prey to focus on these two, thinking they were part of some weird acting entourage, than it was for them to be on the lookout for actual PPD officers.
With one last glance over my two partners in law, I said, “It’s time to get moving.”
Chapter 11
Sure enough, everyone was staring at Leland and Harvey as we walked through Trafalgar Square.
It didn’t bother me in the least since the attention was focused solely on them and not me. They, on the other hand, seemed to relish the attention.
“Where are we going?” I asked Leland.
“Down Whitehall,” he replied, pointing. “There is a McDonald’s that way.”
“That’d be great,” said Harvey. “I’m starving.”
Leland nodded at him. “Which is all well and good, but the purpose of our visit is to speak with one o
f my contacts.”
“And you haven’t already done this?”
“Of course I have,” he answered tightly. “However, she is the type of lady who only provides information for special favors, and last I spoke with her, I was already spent from a previous fling.”
“Favors?”
“Yes, Mr. Dex.” His grin was of the naughty nature. “Most of my contacts are of the female persuasion. I give them a little something of what they need and they reply in kind with a bit of information.”
“I see,” I said, appraising Leland in an entirely new light.
Actually, I kind of liked this idea. Back in Vegas, my informants either wanted cash or expected me to help them out of parking tickets and such. If I could line up a bunch of chicks that I could bone in exchange for intel, that’d be a win-win, for sure.
“I like this idea of yours, Leland,” I said finally. “I’ll have to start using that back home, too.”
His face changed to one of concern and he slowed his pace until we stopped.
“Listen, old boy,” he said in a mentoring way, “it’s not my place to tell a fellow officer how to run his jurisdiction, but it takes a special touch to manage things the way I do here.”
“What do you mean?”
He wiped some lint from his right sleeve. “Ladies expect a certain level of seduction that few men are able to provide.”
“Oh boy,” said Harvey, clearly recognizing that Leland didn’t know exactly who I was.
“Ah,” I said, giving Harvey a wink. “Well, I’ll just have to watch and see what you do. Nothing better than learning from the master, right?”
Leland adjusted his bowtie proudly at the comment. He then gave me another onceover and nodded. I wanted to slap that raised eyebrow right off his face, but for now I’d let him do his thing.
We needed information.
I didn’t care how we got it.
“I guess my first lesson,” I added, unable to control myself as we moved back down the road, “is to shack up with ladies who frequent McDonald’s.”
“You have to have contacts in many walks of life, Mr. Dex,” Leland said in stride, either not realizing I was chiding him or not caring. “It’s uncommon to find informants on the wealthy side of town, I’m afraid.”
London Growl Page 4
