Helmut Saves the World

by Matt Sheehan

  Helmut Saves the World

  By Matt Sheehan

  My name is Helmut Haase and I’m one half of the Fog City Detective Agency—specifically, the half that pays all the bills. My partner, Shamus O’Sheagan, mostly drinks beer and naps. I keep him around because he’s my friend, but also because he’s a Druid. I’m just a detective, and there are plenty of those in Wudong, the Confederacy of Hesperia. There’s not another Druid for miles.

  We had it pretty good until the day we met Alek Pallas. He hired us to track down a thieving employee, and even though something was off, his big fat check was too much to pass up. But the man we found wasn’t what we were led to believe, and neither was Alek.

  I’m talking shape-shifters, fallen angels and a conspiracy involving the vicious Cretan Empire. At least we didn’t die. Hope that doesn’t ruin the story.

  Why am I telling you all this? Someday I’d like some credit for saving the world. Maybe not the entire world, and maybe not alone, but I still deserve a medal. And perhaps a cash prize.

  31,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  I know many of you have been waiting for the next installment of New York Times bestselling author Marie Force’s thrilling romantic suspense series. Fatal Jeopardy is finally here, and Nick and Sam are as good as ever!

  But that’s not all the great storytelling we have in store for you with the March releases. This month, we introduce debut author Matt Sheehan and a book that had the Carina Press acquisitions team in hysterics. Be sure to check out Helmut Saves the World, in which there’s magic, fistfights and one-liners with the best, most handsome and, of course, humble detective Helmut Haase and his apathetic sidekick Shamus O’Sheagan.

  If you’ve been longing for a great historical romance, we’ve got two this month. Juliana Ross finishes up her erotic Improper trilogy. In Improper Proposals, a lonely young widow learns to live—and love—again as she and her ambitious publisher, the most captivating man she has ever met, work on a forbidden guide to sexual pleasure. It’s An Heir of Uncertainty by Alyssa Everett and it’s also the answer to Colonel Win Vaughan’s prayers when he learns he’s the heir to the newly deceased Earl of Radbourne—but the beginning of a deadly mystery when he arrives to claim his inheritance, only to discover that the earl’s lovely widow is carrying a child who could displace him.

  If you’re looking for something hot, with an unusual hero, Solace Ames releases erotic romance The Submission Gift this month. A young husband offers his wife an unusual gift—to fulfill a fantasy she’d always set aside. But what starts out as a onetime session becomes something precious shared between three—one of them a male escort. Solace Ames brings something new to this story and if you love erotic romance, you’ll want to check this out.

  Also in the hot category is Up in Knots by Gillian Archer. Still bruised over the death of her boyfriend two years ago, Kyla Grant is determined to get back into the kinky dating scene, and bad-boy top Sawyer is just the man to help her. Joining Gillian, Juliana and Solace in the erotic romance category, Nico Rosso’s Slam Dance with the Devil, from his Demon Rock series, brings entertainment to a new level. Wild rock star Kent Gaol’s dark past goes back even further than private investigator Nona Harris could’ve imagined, and one night onstage surprises them both by slamming her into his supernatural world.

  March shapes up to be a good one for erotic romances because Emily Ryan-Davis brings us the follow-up to Ménage on 34th Street, which she coauthored with Elise Logan. In this next installment, Dial M for Ménage, it’s a new year and a new way of life for Katrina Holland, who started 2014 by waking up with two men in her bed. Now, she, Owen and Hunter struggle to define, and redefine, their relationships with one another after the first rush of newness fades.

  Paranormal romance author Lorenda Christensen follows up her funny, entertaining Never Deal with Dragons with the next in the series, Dancing with Dragons. If Carol Jenski knows anything, it’s fashion—and it’s in fashion to consort with dragons, even though they’ve coexisted with humans since WWIII. Still, she would never have agreed to take part in a plot against them. Now a dragon lord has called for her head, her boyfriend is MIA and she’s been abandoned in a foreign country.

  Stacy Gail’s paranormal romance miniseries, The Earth Angels, comes to an exciting conclusion in Dangerous Angel, where the heroes and heroines from all the previous books combine their efforts to avert a demonic apocalypse. In Kathleen Collins’s Death’s Daughter, Realm Walker Juliana Norris hunts a serial killer targeting Altered children while an enemy from her past closes in.

  This month we have two titles in the science-fiction genre. First, join the adventure At Star’s End! A galactic treasure hunter and an astro-archaeologist race across the galaxy in pursuit of the last remaining fragment of da Vinci’s Mona Lisa in this space opera romance from Anna Hackett.

  And we’re pleased to welcome T.D. Wilson with his debut, The Epherium Chronicles: Embrace. Set in the mid-twenty-second century, Embrace is the first book of an exciting new space opera series where Earth’s newest warship, the Armstrong, must make contact with fledgling colonies in nearby solar systems amid the threat of an alien attack.

  If you’re ready for a cozy mystery to keep you guessing as to whodunit, look no further than Julie Anne Lindsey’s latest release. Most islanders celebrate the reprieve of summer tourism with cider, mums and cocoa, but sharks, birders and a possible serial killer seem intent on ruining autumn for Patience when Murder Comes Ashore.

  Anne Marie Becker returns with another suspenseful installment in her romantic suspense series. In Dark Deeds, SSAM security expert Becca Haney is hiding a past that could hurt her ex-lover, NYPD detective Diego Sandoval—but the true threat comes from a “fan” whose conscience urges him to kill.

  Coming next month: contemporary romance Taken with You from New York Times bestselling author Shannon Stacey. Also, sports week and six irresistible sports romances!

  Here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Executive Editor, Carina Press

  Dedication

  To Lisa and Jeff, my amateur and professional editors respectively, for making this mess readable...

  To the real-life versions of my characters:

  Chris, Jen, Johnnie and Ray—without your inspiration, there is no story...

  And to my poor mother for putting up with me all these years...

  Thank you.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  I don’t smoke, drink or do drugs. Not because my body is a temple or any of that nonsense. It’s because in my line of work I never know when I will have to throw hands, and being inebriated would slow my reflexes; not to the point where I would lose the fight—I’m very good—but it would be very unprofessional to h
ave to go to work with a black eye or split lip. I do have my vices however, primarily the long-legged and shapely variety. I don’t tend to have a type as much as a numerical range starting at 9.5 and ending at 10. I will consider a nine if she has a spectacular personality and can cook.

  How rude, I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Helmut Haase, and I am part owner of the locally famous Fog City Detective Agency. I am the half that does all the legwork and pays all the bills. Shamus O’Sheagan, my business partner, mostly drinks beer and naps. I keep him around because he’s my best friend and he happens to have a far different skill set that isn’t so common on this side of the pond. Shamus spent his early years training to be a Druid, and due to his natural affinity for all that mystical nonsense, was being groomed for a leadership position. I’m sure they weren’t happy when I snuck him out in the dead of night and we hopped a steamship to the States.

  Back home on the Emerald Isle, adoptive in my case and Sha’s by birth, everyone and their cousin seems to at least know a guy who works for a Druid. However, here in the Confederated States of Hespera, the idea of a Druid is akin to that of a mermaid or unicorn. Hesperians have little history, the western hemisphere of the “new world” only having been colonized a few hundred years ago, but what they lack in shared culture has been made up for with progress and innovation. This is where the industrial revolution started after all. So in a new land with a booming economy, we fill a niche that no one else can.

  Shamus and I work in an old remodeled fire station in Wudong, overlooking the bay. We got it from the city for a song after finding the mayor’s daughter. Turns out she wasn’t exactly kidnapped, and the mayor and city council felt it better that the true details of the case never surfaced. We kept our mouths shut and scored ourselves a sweet pad. The area is mostly industrial and pretty quiet at night. Shamus was happy about the old gnarled oak tree at the back of the property. He actually lives in the upstairs apartment, although he usually sleeps in the tree.

  I, on the other hand, after scraping by and living with Shamus in a less-than-stellar abode our first few years in town, have chosen to live a more upscale lifestyle in the Gaoshan district. The view from my balcony in and of itself is worth the king’s ransom I pay each month. On the right I get an incredible view of the bay, at least in the afternoon in between the fog rolling out and back in again. To the left I can see most of Independence Street, or Suicide Hill as it’s known locally, and its iconic tower at the very top.

  Skateboarders came up with the street’s nickname and it stuck. The thinking was a person had to be suicidal to ride down a hill that steep. One of the cafes I like there has outside seating, and I’ve spent many a morning sipping cappuccino and watching brave young souls egging each other on at the top—and being carted away by paramedics at the bottom.

  When we first started our little venture, we took whatever case we could get and charged on the low side of market rates. Over time our reputation grew and so did our fees. We became known for solving cases that others had taken a shot at and failed. After we broke a few high-profile cases early in our career, the cops began quietly coming to us when they were stuck. We even did some pro bono work for the poor and downtrodden for the good publicity. Now we have a commercial, and the ladies have told me I look quite dashing in it. Shamus even combed his hair before filming, and for that I am thankful. We don’t take the freebie cases anymore unless Shamus is feeling charitable. I never feel charitable.

  I’m in charge of doing all of the real work that is required to run a detective business. I meet and greet the clients, do all the classic detective work and knock heads when necessary...and sometimes when not. Truth be told, I would do the head-knocking for free. You wouldn’t begrudge a talented artist painting a masterpiece would you? It’s not my fault that my great talent involves blood and concussions. Shamus has referred to my style as a ballet of violence. I think it’s kind of catchy.

  I would say 90 percent of the time I don’t even need the little Eirishman. But, when leads dry up, Shamus can look at tea leaves or talk to birds and all of the sudden we’re back on track. Sounds simple right? Alas, it’s not. Shamus is hard to motivate. We’ve made enough money the last few years that he could live his simple existence up in his room for the rest of his life. He’s perfectly happy drinking beer with Willie the Wonder Dog and reading books all day. Yes, the dog drinks beer too. He also eats my shoes if they are left lying around and pees on my car tires. The dog, not Shamus...unless he’s really drunk.

  I have different persuasive tactics that I have used over the years. Guilt works, but it’s not my favorite. Outright begging is a last resort used only in emergencies. Not because it’s ineffective, but because it’s unseemly. There is one sure thing, but she is unfortunately not under my control. More about that later.

  Why am I telling you all this? So someday I can receive some credit for saving the world. Maybe not the entire world, and maybe not all by myself, but I still deserve a medal and some official recognition. And perhaps a cash prize.

  Chapter Two

  I’m so bad with names. The day in question started out like any other day. A cool breeze was blowing off the bay, giving the room a refreshing chill. The sun crept up the foot of the bed and a slender arm and blond hair were draped across my chest. Well, any other day is a slight misstatement; the hair is not always blond. I met her in the lobby the night before and used pickup line number seven. That one is perfect for random encounters. I brought her upstairs and cooked her dinner, and she provided the dessert. When she began stirring, I realized I didn’t know her name.

  “Good morning, sweetie.” Nancy?

  “Good morning yourself, handsome.”

  “I would ask if it was good for you, but we both know it was...and so do the neighbors.” Nicole? It’s definitely an N word.

  We went through the usual night-after small talk and promises; we have to do this again, I’ll call you, blah blah blah. She plays the game as well as I do. Maybe I will call her again. As she was leaving, she wrote her name and number on the chalkboard on the fridge. Narcissa—I knew it was an N word.

  After a quick shave and shower, I put on my usual workday attire: slacks and an open-collar shirt, black leather shoes and belt. It’s actually a little underdressed for my line of work, but much easier to move in than a suit. And most important, no tie that can be grabbed in a fight. I keep my hair short for the same reason. We were having our usual brisk summer, so I grabbed my trench coat and snap-brim hat on the way out the door.

  I rarely cook if I’m alone, so I walked a couple of blocks to the local diner for a quick breakfast. It was a pleasant surprise to find the same hearty breakfasts here in the city as are common in Eireland. It’s actually one of the reasons I chose the West Coast to set up shop. The thought of yogurt, figs and bread dipped in olive oil on a regular basis made me sad. I get bacon and eggs and sourdough toast with butter every morning.

  The young waitresses are usually an added plus, but on this occasion the server was a few decades past her prime. With no one to flirt with, I focused on my coffee and newspaper. Nothing was particularly new: the city leaders were corrupt, the cold war was continuing to heat up, and the home team couldn’t catch a break. Not that I really care about futbol or hurling matches, and as far as the corruption goes, it can be good for business. Just a month before, we nailed a blackmailer who had dirt on the mayor, almost half the city council and four judges. He was making a small fortune each month tax-free until we were hired to find him and shut him down. We did, but not before the city paid us a small fortune. And I made sure to photograph every incriminating file before I returned them to our benefactors.

  World politics was another matter entirely. I care—it’s just not as important to me on a day-to-day basis as it was in the past. Back in Eireland, if the Empire was getting froggy and armies started mobilizing, it was likely that some of th
e men being stationed were friends or neighbors.

  Here in Hespera, they have always followed the saber rattling between the Empire and the Allies, but with a bit of clinical detachment. Of course, it’s easy to be aloof when you live in a country that’s never been invaded and that is on the leading edge of the technology curve.

  According to the front-page article in the Daily Banner, the odds of war breaking out between the major powers were currently low. However, it was their opinion that much of the fighting going on throughout Ifriquia and Braseal was simply the Allies and the Empire fighting through intermediaries.

  It was an early day at the office, so I left after only two cups of coffee. We had a client arriving at nine whose story was a little vague, but whose advance payment was just fine. He wanted a face-to-face with me and Shamus that morning before proceeding. Everyone wants to meet Shamus, and I totally get it. I’m just a detective, and there are dozens of good ones in the city. Granted I am the best, and the most handsome and of course humble, but he is the only Druid within 12,000 or so kilometers, and that is part of our appeal. Druids are renowned as judges and spiritual leaders in the old country, but very little is commonly known about what supernatural powers they actually do or don’t have. The simple answer is that it varies wildly, and that Shamus was considered a prodigy among them. Frustrating and inconsistent, but a prodigy nonetheless.

  Now being a Druid does not make one a great people person, and as a result of that I try to keep the paying customers away from Shamus as much as possible. His demeanor does not always instill confidence in potential clients. Shamus doesn’t really like strangers and has little interest in talking to them. He barely wants to talk to the people he knows. He can fake it if he feels like it, but whether or not he will feel like it is another story. Mr. Pallas was very insistent and strangely persuasive, hence our face-to-face this morning. So I convinced Shamus to put on appropriate attire, shave and brush the twigs out of his hair. At least, I did my best to convince him. After paying my bill, I walked back to the garage and picked up my car.