Werewolf PI (Paranormal Private Detective)

by Tim Myers

  WEREWOLF P.I.

  By Tim Myers

  Werewolf PI

  by Tim Myers

  Copyright © 2010 by Tim Myers

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental

  Chapter 1

  It was late afternoon when the couple walked hesitantly into my office, and it didn’t take my heightened senses as a werewolf to realize that they were scared out of their wits being in Dogtown, a name the locals and the cops called our part of the city. As a private detective, I couldn’t afford a place on Prince Avenue in the downtown district near the courthouse where some of my competitors worked, and even if I had the money, I knew I wouldn’t be welcome there. Whether I liked it or not, I was right where I belonged, among my brothers and sisters of the Wolf. Being a werewolf meant that there were built‑in prejudices against me in the outside world, but I hadn’t chosen the freak chromosome that had made me what I was. If I was honest about it, I would have to admit that I liked the way things were just fine. There are definite advantages to being able to shift into something more than I normally am; something primal, something dangerous, and in many ways, something superior. It’s all a matter of controlling the shift, and brothers and sisters of the Wolf learn to do it early in their existence, or risk being sent away to New Pitcairn, a small island off the coast of Australia where escape is impossible, and redemption nonexistent.

  “May I help you?” I asked as I studied her shoes and his suit. An ex girlfriend had once taught me the difference between Jimmie Choos and PayMore knockoffs, and I could see the man’s suit was Armani. He was at least twenty years older than his companion, but it was pretty clear she was the reason they were in my office, ten miles and a dozen social levels below their comfort zone. It looked like I’d be eating better than my usual budget takeout if I could land them as clients, so I was on my best behavior.

  The woman nudged her escort gently, and he finally spoke. He must have been in good shape a dozen years ago, but he hadn’t taken care of himself, and his weight was something he couldn’t hide with expensive tailoring. There were streaks of gray in his hair, and a puffiness in his features. “You’re Trask.”

  It wasn’t a question, but I answered it anyway. “Guilty as charged. And you are?”

  He paused, and she obviously got tired of waiting for him to reply. Her hair was blonde, and while time had ravaged her companion, she looked like she hadn’t gained an ounce since high school. I would have been willing to bet she’d been a cheerleader, but I doubted she’d appreciate the question, so I kept that one to myself. When she spoke, her voice was calm and full of the power of people used to being listened to, and obeyed. “I’m Stephanie Granger, and this is my husband, Thomas. We need your help.”

  “That’s why I’m here. Would you like a seat?” I was as charming as I knew how to be, driven by my checking account balance, which was dipping perilously close to double digits.

  “Thank you,” she said as she took the best chair I had, leaving her husband to fend for himself. He didn’t take the other client chair though.

  Instead, he stood over me and stared for at least a minute before he said, “You’re really a…”

  I didn’t let him finish. “Private detective? That’s what it says on the door, and I have cards to match, if you’d like one.” I tried grinning at him, but the expression on his face made me kill it instantly. Most folks outside of Dogtown found my teeth a little too disturbing. It didn’t file them like some of my compatriots do, but I have some pretty sharp canines hidden from the world most of the time.

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said.

  His wife shook her head. “Thomas, just ask him.”

  “We heard that you’re a werewolf.” He spat the words out at me as if they were poison.

  I leaned back in my chair, trying not to lose my temper. I couldn’t afford to, at least not without more justification than I had so far. “Some of us prefer the term lycanthrope, but werewolf’s fine with me. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m not going to transform right here. Believe it or not, we don’t spend a lot of time shifted in wolf form, no matter what you might have heard.”

  Thomas Granger looked outside my window as the day started creeping into twilight. “Isn’t there supposed to be a full moon tonight?”

  I smiled again, not caring if I showed my glistening teeth. There was no warmth or amusement in my expression. I wasn’t a big fan of bigots, if they were potential clients or not. “You’ve been watching too many Lon Chaney movies. The pull of the moon isn’t what changes us. We have control over that ourselves. If you have any silver bullets on you though, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t test that particular theory out on me.”

  Stephanie looked up at her husband. “For goodness sake, Thomas, sit down. You’re making a fool of yourself. Do it now.”

  It was a command, not a request, and he reluctantly obeyed.

  I gave her my full attention, since it was pretty clear the decision to hire me or not was hers. “Mrs. Granger, I doubt you came all the way down here to this part of town just to slum it and see how the other half lives. How can I help you?”

  She nodded. “It’s our daughter, Jennifer. She’s run off, and we need you to find her. Mr. Trask, our child may be seventeen, but she’s still our baby girl in our eyes, and we’re afraid she’s gotten herself into a situation she can’t get herself out of.”

  “No offense, but there are plenty of private detectives in your part of town. What made you choose me?”

  She didn’t want to tell me-it was clear enough in her eyes-but she really didn’t have much choice. Mrs. Granger was trying to find the right words when her husband spoke for her again. “Jenny ran off with one of your kind. We need you to track her down and bring our daughter back home to us, no matter what it takes.”

  That got my attention. Werewolves exist on a kind of permanent probation, and if what she was telling me was true, another werewolf had just violated it, and had done it in a big way. In the eyes of the law, their daughter was still a minor, and that made it grounds for banishment for him. If the slightest bit of harm came to the girl while she was with him, he’d be executed. I couldn’t think of anything or anyone worth risking New Pitcairn or worse, if death was indeed the poorer of the two. Either he had lost control, or she had some kind of powerful hold on him. No matter the reason, this guy was going to be dangerous. I’d once lost a friend, James Evans, who’d gone over the edge. A woman named Amanda-one of our kind, ironically enough-had broken his heart, and instead of getting drunk, James had gone berserk, shifting to his wolf form in the middle of downtown at dead noon. If I’d been there, maybe I could have stopped him. Or maybe not. But at least I would have tried. James had torn up a lot of property, and that would have gotten him a pretty severe punishment, but what sealed his fate was the injury to one of the cops trying to subdue him. It wasn’t much more than a few scratches across the man’s forear
m, but it had drawn blood, and the way the law had been written, that was enough. James had been trying to free himself from the silver nets they’d thrown on him, and he’d taken a swipe with his claws out of frustration. The authorities showed his execution on special big screens mounted all over Dogtown, and sometimes I could still hear his screams at night. The part about cruel and unusual didn’t apply to me or my people, and the executioners had taken their sweet time killing him.

  “What’s this man’s name?” I asked the Grangers.

  “Harkins,” Stephanie said, as if she were uttering a curse. “I don’t know his first name.”

  “It’s Matthew,” I said softly.

  “You know him?” Thomas Granger asked.

  “We’ve met.” It was a great deal more than that, but I wasn’t going to get into it with these people. Most of the residents of Dogtown had believed that Harkins would be the next one to go over the edge for the past six or seven years, but somehow he’d managed to hold on, covering his shifting rages and the havoc that he’d reaped while he’d been zoned. That’s what some of our people called shifting, zoning to another state of being as the transformation kicked in. I’d been zoned more myself than the law would have liked, but I’d learned to cover my tracks too, though I’d never killed any innocents while I’d been shifting. There was an edge, a fine element of control, that was tough to master, but it kept the rational part of me in charge, and not the killing wolf baying in frustration, trying to get out.

  Harkins and I had a few run-ins in the past, and once he’d shifted on me in the middle of an argument, going for my throat while I was still in human form. If it weren’t for my quirky ability to shift quicker than just about anyone else-including Harkins-he would have ripped my esophagus out, and there wouldn’t have been anything I could do to stop him. As it was, he’d latched onto mostly fur, but I’d been hoarse for a week from the impact of that single strike to my neck.

  “Can you bring our baby back home to us?” Stephanie Granger asked, the hope impossible to miss in her gaze.

  “I’ll do my best,” I said.

  “What if that’s not good enough?” Thomas Granger asked, with more than a hint of disdain in his words.

  “If I can’t do it, then there’s nobody in Dogtown able to get her back,” I answered flatly, biting my anger down.

  Stephanie looked at me for a few seconds, then commanded her husband, “Pay him.”

  “I’m not satisfied yet,” Thomas Granger said.

  She didn’t say a word, but the look she gave him was more than eloquent enough to motivate him to do as he was told. Granger didn’t even question my fee, or my daily expenses-and I’d doubled them both on the spot, just because he’d pissed me off. I like to think of it as my jack-ass tax, assessed whenever someone behaves accordingly. I took the check from him, folded it once, then put it in my sparse wallet. I’d have to deposit it soon and draw out some cash. The places I was going to have to go in search of their daughter didn’t take checks or credit cards, and money would buy information.

  “I want to see her room, and then I’ll need a recent picture of her.”

  Stephanie Granger stood, and her husband and I followed her out into the hallway.

  “Don’t you need to lock up?” Stephanie asked as she paused outside my door.

  “No, I’m good,” I said.

  “You trust your people that much?” Thomas Granger asked, looking at me with open contempt.

  I didn’t want to tell him that there was nothing in my office worth stealing. Instead, while his wife was looking away, I shifted, just a little. It wasn’t enough for anyone but the most observant watcher to see from more than ten feet away, but it was still enough to get me arrested for illegal shifting. I showed Thomas Granger my open grin, checking to make sure his wife didn’t see me as I elongated my teeth and phased my blue eyes to glowing green. The bridge of my nose loosened for just a second, and I flashed a muzzle of teeth at him. As quickly as I’d shifted into my wolf phase, I shifted back to normal just as Stephanie Granger looked over at me.

  The shift might not have been long, but it had been effective. Thomas Granger’s Armani suit was going to need to be dry‑cleaned before he wore it again.

  I’d made my point. He’d hired my talents and abilities to find his daughter, but he hadn’t bought himself a trained dog, and if there had been any doubt in his mind before, it was gone now.

  There was a midnight black Hummer limousine parked in front of my building, and I suddenly understood why the Grangers had risked a visit to Dogtown. Leaning against the vehicle was a well built man over six and a half feet tall. He had a machine gun clutched in his hands, held with the touch of somebody who knew how to use it. The guy would have been arrested going around like that in any other part of the city, but in a way, he fit right into my little neighborhood. In the growing shadows across the street, I saw two dark shapes fade into the background, intently watching us, but nobody made a move in our direction. I’d joked with Thomas Granger earlier about silver bullets, but I knew that a shot in the heart would kill one of us just as easily as it would kill one of the norms, what we called folks untouched by the gene that had turned us into wolves.

  But was their guardian using the right ammunition? A regular barrage of bullets would slow us down, and maybe that was all he was after. Either way, I wasn’t about to ask. The chauffeur/bodyguard went into full attack readiness the second we stepped out onto the sidewalk. Not everyone in Dogtown was a werewolf, but enough were to wager that the two watching us made the cut. Not that I’d have to bet. They couldn’t have been any easier to spot if they’d been sporting glow-in-the-dark nametags. They wore the miracle rayon jumpsuits that allowed us to transform without disrobing, outfits that shifted with us, in and out of werewolf form. My heightened senses included a more pronounced sense of smell, and while the Grangers had no idea they were there-let alone that there were werewolves stalking potential prey-I knew exactly how much trouble we were in if they decided to strike. The bodyguard, no matter how good he was in the outside world, wouldn’t be of much help, and I was in no mood to take two of my brethren on for this group. Still, I had the feeling that the guard knew more about the likelihood for trouble than he was letting on. The Grangers got into the car, and then I slid in beside them. Ten seconds later, the driver got in up front and took off at a pretty fast clip. Maybe he’d had a better sense of potential trouble than I’d given him credit for.

  Ignoring my new employers for the moment, I leaned forward and asked, “Spot them both?”

  He nodded. “Five meters away, one on each side of the doorway across from us. Werewolves, both of them.”

  “What gave them away?” It was more than just idle curiosity. There were many times in my occupation when I had to walk among the innocents, and I couldn’t do my job if they could tell I was a shifter.

  He shrugged. “Half a dozen different things about them.”

  “For instance.”

  He saw I wasn’t going to let up. “They were both standing there one second, and the next they’d faded back into the dark, like they were made of smoke or something.” He frowned, and I spotted it in the rearview mirror.

  “Anything else?” There was something he wasn’t telling me.

  After a long moment’s hesitation, he said, “If I said I could smell them, you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “You might be surprised.”

  He looked at me in the mirror a second more, then said, “You wouldn’t be, though, would you?”

  All during our conversation, the Grangers sat there silently, as if they were afraid to move or utter a single word.

  “No points for that guess,” I said. “Look where we just came from.”

  He sniffed the air, then said, “I wasn’t guessing.”

  I nodded. “If you’re that good, why don’t you hunt Jennifer and her boyfriend down yourself?”

  Mrs. Granger stiffened beside me. “Don’t call him that. Ever. He’s a
monster, and not just because of his chromosomes.”

  I shrugged. “My question stands.”

  Thomas Granger said, “We can’t spare him. Emmitt has too many other responsibilities with the family.”

  Like protecting your precious hide, I thought. For once, I kept it to myself. Still, it surprised me that Mrs. Granger hadn’t insisted on it despite her husband’s protests.

  Emmitt finally answered himself, but only after Mrs. Granger nodded slightly with her permission. “I got clipped in the leg a few years ago, and it hasn’t been right since. I can’t move like I used to.” He gave me the confession like it cost him money.

  “What happened?”

  He tilted his head. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

  The car finally came to a stop, and I looked out to see that we’d pulled in front of a stone and steel protected property, with barbed wire lacing the top of the perimeter fence. Emmitt hit a remote control button on the dash, and the gate vanished straight down into the pavement, allowing us to pass. As the rear bumper passed by, the gate came back up with a smooth and fast motion. The process was quick enough to deter any but the boldest interloper.

  After driving up a long and twisting road, we came to the house. It was a mansion, bigger than I’d ever been in before, and I found myself wishing I’d trebled my fees instead of just doubling them. Too bad there was no chance of getting any more out of Thomas Granger now; my shifting demonstration had seen to that. I still didn’t regret it. He needed to know up front that, while he’d bought my time and my best effort, he hadn’t bought me.

  We went inside, and Stephanie Granger said, “Jennifer’s room is this way.”

  Her husband excused himself and left the two of us alone. Once he was gone, she turned to me with amusement in her gaze. “What did you do to my husband? I’ve never seen him so cowed.”

  I tried my best look of innocence on her. “Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”