Cretaceous Clay And The Ninth Ring

by Dan Knight

  ~~~~~~

  They approached the crime scene without a challenge. No one had bothered to run a tape yet. Techs and investigators hovered around the gurneys with their macabre loads.

  A moleman liveried in green greeted them with a friendly wave. “Good to see you, Gumshoe.”

  “Magnum Wiggles,” said Gumshoe, “the finest policeman in all of Moab.”

  “All of Nodlon,” Wiggles corrected him with a wink. He thrust out his hand, “Good to see you, Mr. Clay.”

  “Call me Jack, Constable,” said Jack smiling.

  “Sergeant York told me all about your narrow escape from the Marie Celeste.”

  “Yes,” said Jack. “I’m glad we all survived. The Black Dwarf nearly eighty-sixed us. I hope our next encounter will be more productive.”

  “It’s an honor, Jack.” The rotund moleman swelled. His belly threatened to pop the buttons on his green coat. “Round here, you’re famous. My missus and all the kiddos saw your show couple of years back.” His wave took in the port. “Welcome to the Strand, Mr. Clay. You too, Mr. Shotgun, I do wish we had met under better circumstances.”

  “Thank you sir,” said Shotgun.

  “Call me Wiggles,” said Wiggles “Biots are people too.”

  “Biots are people too,” said Jack. “I’m glad the Surete takes these murders seriously.”

  “We’re all biots in Moab,” Wiggles winked.

  “Our job is to prevent people from assuming room temperature,” said Gumshoe. “I don’t care who their parents were or if they had any at all.”

  “I’d love to let our firefighters have a go at this Black Dwarf of yours.” Wiggles frowned. “To do what he did! Polite words won’t work for it.”

  A gaggle of curious on-lookers surrounded the crime scene’s investigators. “Follow me chaps,” Wiggles said. “Let’s meet the victims.”

  The Constable parted the crowd, and they all plowed into his wake. They stepped lively to keep up with the moleman. They wove through the crowd to reach the stretchers bearing the victim’s mortal remains. Soon they reached the end of the boardwalk.

  Shotgun spotted a technician in the crowd. He had to skip a bit to pull alongside Wiggles. “Constable, may I cross-check our records on the victims?”

  “Yes,” Wiggles hesitated, “but please share your findings.”

  “Certainly,” Shotgun dropped back to find the technician.

  “Can you fill us in, Wiggles?” Gumshoe asked.

  “Five female dwarves have been recovered so far.” Wiggles choked up. “All maidens, all maidens, tragic, really tragic.” The Constable coughed. “We have identified three of them. All the victims were pulled from the river, and we’re still searching. A fishing boat returning from Stevedore Lake found one maiden floating in the harbor. Two more bodies were found under the Fisherman’s Wharf.” Wiggles pointed across the harbor to the wharf on the other side.

  The Constable barked an order, and the crowd parted to offer a view across the jetty to the end of the wharf. He pointed at a pair of fishing boats working a string of buoys blocking the mouth of the Great River. “Volunteers ran fish nets across the mouth of the river to catch anyone floating into the harbor.”

  Ripples spread quietly over the harbor. The ripples sparkled under the warm, yellow lamps of Moab. “We’ve sent officers and volunteers downriver to search for more victims.” The portly moleman frowned. “I hope we won’t find any more bodies, but I don’t want to leave any of these young women behind.”

  “Did you get my report, Wig?” said Gumshoe.

  “Are you always a harbinger of doom old man?”

  “I could ask you the same question, Wig. Every time I come down to see you, all you have for me is a full meat locker and a load of bad news.”

  “Very bad news,” said Wiggles. “Same modus operandi as in your report I’m afraid, very bad. Could have used it the day before yesterday, old man.”

  “Sorry, Wig. Didn’t intend to leave Moab out of the loop, but the Black Dwarf is full of surprises. Having a supertanker fall on us left me a bit rattled.”

  “No matter, old man,” the rotund police officer patted his ample girth. “One never knows the facts until they’re discovered, right?”

  “What about the cause of death, Wiggles?”

  “The same,” the jolly policeman turned dour. “Their microchips were ripped out of their foreheads as if they exploded from within. The killer drained their blood. They have minor burns over their bodies. Their clothes were intact for the most part. They weren’t molested as near as we can tell from the initial scans. So I can agree it’s sadistic, but it’s not obvious why they were murdered. Any questions?” the Constable studied their faces to assess the impact on his guests.

  “No,” said Gumshoe, “but let me update you on the girl we just found in the sewer.” Quickly, he summarized what they knew.

  “We need to share this information with headquarters,” said Wiggles. “Just give me a moment to wrap up here, and we’ll go down to City Hall.” He collected his reports from his technicians.

  “Gumshoe,” said Jack. “We’ve got to stop these murders before we run out of biots.”

  “Now, this isn’t a joking matter Jack.”

  “No jokes, this is bigger than we thought. This is more than a murder. This is a massacre. We have to expect more victims. The Crown must warn all the dwarves in the city! Whether or not they’re synthetic they feel and suffer.”

  “All right Jack,” Gumshoe waved down the elf. “Now I follow you, and I agree. I’ll do everything I can. I’ll tell Barfly to issue a warning.”

  “You need to shut down New Gem,” said Jack. “The Black Dwarf is targeting dwarf maidens because he can lure the hopeless into his web.”

  “How Jack?” Gumshoe sniffed and put his fists on his hips. “I can’t even pull a warrant on them. Our evidence is only as good as the judge thinks it is. If I push hard enough, I’ve got a feeling I’ll be the one under the microscope.”

  “We’ve still got to warn them. Biots are people too.”

  “Weren’t you the one just saying they don’t have any souls?” Gumshoe lifted an eyebrow. “The lady doth protest too much.”

  “I’ve researched everything supernatural, old man,” said Jack. “I’ve found no evidence for souls, and I don’t know why it would matter to the Black Dwarf. The Black Dwarf is a psycho. Maybe he gets his jollies sacrificing young women to his idols. I don’t know. All I know is that people are special.”

  “People are special,” said Gumshoe. “I can’t prove souls exist, Jack, but I do believe there is a world inside each of us. Simply because we can’t explain it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. When we figure that one out, I think we will find the evidence for your missing souls.”

  Their dwarf walked up swiftly and rejoined them. “Bad news, Inspector” said Shotgun. “A yacht put in with another victim aboard.”

  “God save the King! Was it another maiden?”

  “Yes Inspector. Her chip was ripped out the same as the others.”

  “Dagnabbit, I’d better go collect Wiggles.” The Inspector spun on his wingtips and strode off into the crowd. A knot of technicians and molemen engulfed him, and he disappeared.