Welcome to Deep Cove (The Vellian Books Book 3)

by Reed, Grant T.

  “I used to hate it,” agreed Garrett. “It grows on you.” He took a swig to prove his point and winked at the younger man.

  The crowd erupted with cheering and the fellow atop the stage allowed the noise to swell for a moment before raising a hand for quiet. The man was middle aged with thinning hair, lengthy grey sideburns and a kind face. Clearing his throat, he took in the crowd before speaking. “Good evening all,” his tone was not overly loud and Garrett was sure the people at the back would complain that they couldn’t hear. To his surprise, the crowd quieted completely for the man. Not so much as the clanking of tankards could be heard from the expectant onlookers. “Looks like we have another full crowd,” continued the man in his even voice. “I’d like to remind you all that next week we will hold our spring boat race in the rill out back. This year all proceeds will be going to little Cathy Molligans and her parents. As you know, they recently lost their cottage in a fire. We thank God everyone was spared from injury, and by coming together as a community we can get the Molligans back on their feet again.” The crowd cheered.

  “I’m taking the Carving Cup this year Bill!” called a man from the back.

  “Well Elgin, you should take the time to whittle your boat this year as opposed to throwing a piece of driftwood in the creek and dubbing it the ‘The Hand of Nature.’ The crowd laughed, most people recognizing the man at the back.

  “No, no,” assured Elgin, “I’ve found the racer that’s going to take the cup this year.”

  Up on the stage, Bill pretended to look perplexed. Scratching at his thinning grey hair, he turned to another man in the crowd. “Armos, did you leave your winning schooner on the beach last year?”

  Armos, another middle aged man seated at one of the tables near Garrett’s, raised up his mug of beer apologetically. “I might have, Bill,” he admitted. “Don’t worry, I’ve carved me out a ship twice as fast as that piece of driftwood Elgin tried to sail last season.” Bill smiled.

  “One more piece of business before we get started this evening. I’d like to introduce you to the newest member of our community. He’s been a cop in Cassadia for eight years and served in his Highness’s Royal Legionnaires as a youth. Now he’s been assigned to us and has pledged to keep our streets safe. Detective if you’d be so kind as to give us a wave to let us know where you’re at?” For some unknown reason, Garrett found himself sinking into his chair. He had the same feeling in his stomach he’d get when he was a kid and stole the last of the cookies from the inn where he lived with his adoptive father. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” continued Bill, “Detective Archibald Honi.”

  Honi made his way to the stage and waved to the crowd. His welcome was less warm than Bill’s, but he was greeted kindly nonetheless. “Thanks all,” he said gruffly. He was dressed in work clothes and carried a large wooden keg under his arm. “I’m not much for words, so I’ll make this short. Me and the fellows from the precinct would also like to help the Molligans. I’ve taken this tankard you folks have so kindly emptied,” at this, the crowd erupted with approval, “and I’d like to pass it around. If you have a spare gon or two, don’t be shy, all proceeds will get to the Molligan family. Me and the fellows at the precinct have agreed to match your donations.” Nodding, the detective stepped down from the stage and passed the empty keg to a man in the first row.

  “That’s very kind of you boys,” said Bill. “On that note, I’d like to offer the crowd a free drink.” Cheering erupted again and this time it took Bill half a minute to calm the lusty audience. “So if you folks would like to donate an amount equal to that next beer you were going to buy,” he winked at the crowd, “We’ll have that tankard filled in no time for Mr. Honi. Feel free to donate what you can, of course!”

  “Here’s to Bill!” someone called and the clinking of glasses was heard from the back of the pub.

  “And to Mr. Honi and our friends down at the precinct!”

  “Here Here!”

  Bill nodded and clapped politely with the rest of the crowd. “Without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s get this evening underway.” Bill waved a thank you to Honi who disappeared into the crowd. “You may know him from his stint on the stage at Curtains, or possibly from his day job down on the docks, but either way you love his comedic outlook and his spin on the life lessons he’s learned. Please put your hands together in a warm welcome for our very own Maury Popopal!”

  The crowd let roar with the loudest outburst of the evening, and Maury stood from his seat and waved to everyone. “Enjoy the show,” he said to Garrett. Then motioning to the bar, he signalled for two more drinks to be brought to the table. Garrett stared at Maury, his eyebrows raised and his mouth open. Beside him, B.S. laughed at Garrett’s expression.

  Maury waded through the crowd and stopped beside Detective Honi. The policeman leaned in so he was heard over the cheers and said something into Maury’s ear. Maury nodded and shook Honi’s hand. Clapping the man on the back, the ogre replied before making his way to the stage.

  Bounding up beside Bill, Maury’s lopsided grin twisted around his incisors and his eyes gleamed with excitement. Shaking the inn owner’s hand, he waited for the older man to clear the stage before addressing the crowd.

  “Hello everyone,” he called out. “It feels so good to be loved. I don’t know why I ever leave this place!” The throng of guests cheered their approval. “Just last week on my way home, two guys tried to love me in the back alley.” The crowd laughed as one of the bartenders carried a beer up to Maury. The ogre pulled a stool from the wings of the stage and set his tankard on it. “They said they were going to beat me ugly. What Could I do? I’m no fighter, so I backed up a few feet ready to take my thrashing. I guess I stepped into the light of the street lamp, as both of them fled. I figure the first guy realised I couldn’t get any uglier, and the second recognised me from Bill’s stage and knew I was broke!”

  “It’s okay, we love you!” someone shouted.

  “I love you too, honey,” agreed Maury. “Right after her, and her, and maybe her…” Maury’s finger signalled out three of the finer looking women in the crowd.

  The audience chuckled and Maury took up his beer and wet his lips with the thick liquid. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked one of the men in the front row. “Never seen an ogre drinking from a mug before? I know it’s a little unsightly with all these teeth sticking out, but it’s also impolite to stare.” The man smiled, showing his own mangled mess of rotting teeth. “Whoah,” said Maury taking a step back, “by the Gods, what kind of accident were you in?”

  “They’s always been a little crooked,” admitted the man with a good natured snort.

  “What’s your name?” asked Maury.

  “Richard,” guffawed the man, trying to cover his teeth with the back of his hand.

  “Now I know why Richard was staring; he thought he found his long lost brother,” said Maury.

  “I’s hung like an ogre too,” returned Richard with another gaping smile. The crowd erupted with mirth “Maybe we is brothers!” Maury grinned and pointed a finger at Richard as if the man had scored a point.

  The ogre took a seat on his stool. “Speaking of large hairy packages, you all know I work with two minotaurs over at Kline’s. I get a lot of people asking me what it’s like working with such fearsome culprits as the pair of them. They’re not that much different than you and I, to be honest. Sure they plug the toilet a little more often, and they need a cleaver to cut their toenails, but other than that there are only minor differences. You guy’s ever met Frank’s old lady? Now she’s a real cow!” Maury paused to let the joke register. “No, I’m kidding, I was talking with Frank and Hector one afternoon and Frank assures us she’s lean beef!”

  Maury held his mug of beer out to the crowd. “Hey, you guys hear of those crazies over in the east? They’re always trying to get the Minotaurs to join their holy war against us heathens in the west. Ya it’s true! They promise that if you die while fighting the west
ern infidels, you’ll go to a place of udder delight!” The crowd chuckled and Maury winked.

  “What do you call a minotaur with no legs? Ground Beef!” Laughter echoed across the tavern.

  “Okay, enough picking on the big guys. I should be nicer, eh? When you look like me, it’s hard enough to find a nice girl who wants you for more than your money. It’s true!” he pointed an accusatory finger in Richard’s direction. “Richard here knows what I mean!” Laughing, Maury’s eyes playfully assessed Richard’s table and the woman sitting to the man’s left. “I’ll bet Richard has lots of money. How else do you get a good looking woman like that to come out with you when you look like you’ve swallowed a porcupine?”

  “She’s his sister,” someone yelled from a nearby table and Maury smiled sympathetically when Richard’s face grew red with the truth of the statement.

  “Well like I was saying, myself - I’m a single guy too. You know it ain’t so bad. You never have anyone telling you to get the chores done or what time to get home by.”

  Richard agreed enthusiastically, “That’s right!”

  Maury nodded to a table of gentlemen dressed in fine dark robes. They were young, but had a bookish look to them. “Here’s one for the academics in the crowd,” he said. “Maybe you fellas can answer this one for me. God knows I’ve spent my fair share of time wondering about it. Why isn’t phonetically spelled phonetically?” The crowd went silent, clueless looks passing throughout. The table of scholars erupted with mirth. One young fellow snorted beer through his nose when his colleague elbowed him in the ribs.

  Maury winked and stood from his stool. “I might not be the brightest pearl in the ocean,” he said, “but sometimes these self proclaimed geniuses of the world, come up with some pretty stupid notions!” A ripple of laughter went through the crowd, and Maury drained his beer and signalled a man off to the side of the stage. The man passed up a ukulele for the Ogre. “All right my friends, I only have a few minutes left, but as usual I’d like to leave you with a ditty. This little tune is about my grandfather.” Strumming his instrument, Maury made sure it was tuned to his liking as the crowd began to clap along.

  Grandpa was sentenced to the chain gang,

  He was caught hunting Renli’s geese.

  Some will say the man has repented,

  But he’s not scheduled for release.

  Many of the patrons began tapping the tops of their tables to the familiar tune of Maury’s song. Maury grinned foolishly and plucked a solo while some of the guests cheered.

  He’d come from the bar drinking rye,

  A man trying to unwind.

  Somehow he’d gotten to thinking,

  His better days were far behind.

  When they found him in the hollow,

  He was dancin’ him a jig.

  “That’s no goose I’ve shot” he hollered,

  Are you blind? It’s a bald eagle in a wig!

  Grandpa was sentenced to the chain gang,

  In our opinion he cooked his own goose.

  Some will say he has repented,

  But I don’t think they’ll let him loose.

  Now we’re all so proud of Grandpa,

  He’s making friends out on the line.

  Big Mike, Big Lou, and Big Harold,

  When finished work, they share their wine.

  It's not easy without Grandpa,

  Who’s going to bring home the meat?

  What will granny cook for dinner,

  And who’ll be so kind as to wash her feet?

  Oh Grandpa was sentenced to hard time,

  And we all have to pick up the slack.

  But why would he come home now,

  When he’s got Mike to rub his back?

  The ogre strummed an extravagant finale, indicating he’d reached the end of the song. “Thank you all,” he bellowed, bowing several times. “I’ll see you again next week!”

  “One more….One more,” the crowd chanted. Maury pretended he was about to exit the stage, but at the last second turned back for his stool. “One more… One more.”

  “I know what you want,” he yelled above the noise. He waved the ukulele at them. “You want one of Maury’s Dirty Ditties!” The crowd roared in agreement. “I must warn you now; this is indeed a fowl telling.” He strummed his instrument and the crowd quieted. “Of course this little tale was passed on to me by a friend! I don’t condone cockfights.” He winked and started to sing.

  If you travel out west, may I suggest, you avoid the town of Hee,

  If you must go, take it real slow, it’s a dangerous place you’ll see.

  If your rooster’s a raring, in need of a pairing, you may try and press your luck,

  Heed my warning; you’ll end up mourning, your chicken, she’ll likely pluck.

  Meet Ilene, she’s not routine, she owns the nicest cockpit in town,

  Take my advice; it’s not worth the price, her secrets will take you down.

  Ilene’ a queen, prettiest you’ve seen, and she sports her own large rooster,

  And when faced with her cock, most entrants do drop; it’s not a morale booster.

  It’s big it’s black, it’ll take your back, the monster has one eye!

  It’s mean, unclean, filthiest thing you’ve seen, kiss your ass goodbye.

  Purple flapping sack, throbbing to attack, your cock will cease to crow,

  Twelve inches of meat, straight at your seat, your eyes are sure to grow.

  When all’s said and done, if Ilene’s had her fun, she’ll put away the beast,

  Your pride will hurt, your birds inert, be thankful you’ve been released.

  Clear the place, but remember her face, your shame you have been dealt.

  You’re one of many, victims aplenty; another notch on Ilene’s belt.

  Mean Ilene, with her bird unseen, a rooster under her skirt,

  When you have your go, you’re sure to know, you’re in for a world of hurt.

  You’d be wise, to observe my cries, this is not the war to wage!

  Value your crower, don’t get to know her, and keep it in its cage!

  The crowd was on their feet and cheering as he handed off the ukulele and bowed several more times. Waving to the audience, he made his way to Garrett’s table.

  Garrett and B.S. applauded loudly as the flushed ogre pulled out his chair. “I thought you guys didn’t like comedians,” said Garrett above the cheering.

  “Nah,” responded Maury humbly, “that’s just Frank, he’s touchy that way.”

  * * * *

  “Aren’t you going to eat me?” asked the girl. “The ogre looked her square in the eye and said ‘Honey, that would cost you more than a gon!” Maury broke into rapturous laughter and slapped the tabletop. Garrett and the others cackled.

  Richard wiped tears from his eyes and shook his head. “You’re a riot, Maury. Been a while since I’s had this much fun at a pub.”

  “Anytime,” said Maury, nodding and draining the last of his beer.

  “I guess its ‘bout time I escorted my sis home though. Sun will be up in a few hours. Thanks again for the beers.”

  Garrett nodded to Richard and his sister as they pulled out their chairs to leave. He blinked in an attempt to clear his vision and glanced across the now empty room. Detective Honi leaned against the bar with his own mug of beer, chatting with Bill. “I didn’t realise it was this late, I should be going as well.” Standing, he had to brace himself against the table. “Been a while since I closed a place.”

  “Come on, chum,” offered Maury standing beside the man and lending an arm for support. “That’s what you get for trying to drink an ogre under the table.” Garrett belched and pushed his chair back.

  They both stumbled when Garrett tripped, and Maury grabbed the table. “Oooh,” said the ogre. “I’m a little tipsy me self. B.S. Can you help Garrett up?” B.S. nodded and offered his hand.

  Garrett lay on the floor laughing to himself. “I think that might hurt tomorrow.”<
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  At the bar, Detective Honi finished his beer and shouldered his keg with a grunt.

  “You sure you don’t want to pick that up tomorrow, Mr. Honi? It’ll be safe here if you want to leave it.”

  “That’s okay Bill,” said Honi. “I have a carriage across the lane. I sent the young lad out to hitch it up an hour ago.”

  “Alright,” conceded Bill. “You tell the fellows we really appreciate what you guys are doing for the Molligans.”

  “Will do.” Honi waved without looking back and made his way out the door.

  B.S. latched on to Garrett’s wrist and pulled the man to his feet. “Come on, Mr. Willigins I’ll walk you home. It’s on the way.”

  “Me too,” said Maury stumbling for the door. “But I have to take a leak first.’

  Bill smiled from behind the bar. “No wonder my roses aren’t growing in the alley,” he said and threw his bar rag at Maury.

  Maury laughed and waved at the man. “See you next week, Bill.”

  “Good night, fellas.”

  B.S. held the door for Maury and the ogre was quick to head around the corner of the building to relieve himself. Leaning against the building, Garrett focused on the cart across the street and the detective fiddling with the carriage handle and trying not to drop the heavy tankard.

  The door to the carriage exploded outward and Honi was knocked to the ground. A shadowy figure emerged from the coach and descended on Honi. From behind the cart, three more figures moved into view. The drum of money hit the cobbles and the lid was dislodged, sending coins spilling in all directions. B.S. jumped at the noise, his head swivelling to take in the scene. Beside him, Garrett was already running in an effort to reach the downed officer.

  The blood was pumping in Garrett’s ears and he wished he hadn’t drank so much. The adrenaline seemed to clear his mind momentarily and he powered his way toward Honi with the intention of interceding. Behind him he could hear B.S’s footfalls as the young man raced to join him.