The Night Beat, From the Necropolis Enforcement Files

by Gini Koch

  “Why don’t you like him?” Sexy Cindy asked quietly.

  “Ralph?” He was sniffing the Hellfire again. Jack had the Savior Spray. I had no idea what he thought he’d do with it should Ralph and I be wrong about this, but at least he was going to try.

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s…he’s kind of a dork. And sometimes he’s a real goof, too.” And a werewolf solidarity fanatic, but now probably wasn’t the time to list all his faults.

  “I suppose.” She sounded thoughtful. “Only, he’s brave and loyal and it sure seems like he’s got the major crush on you. And he’s willing to risk his life to protect you. I don’t know, I wish I had a guy who was like that interested in me, kind of goofy or dorky or not.”

  I almost mentioned that Ralph tended to grandstand any time he was around me, but it died before it could get off my tongue. Because if we were wrong, then Ralph was really offering to die to protect me, and Sexy Cindy was right -- that wasn’t grandstanding, that was heroic.

  “Yeah, I guess he is. Jack’s brave, too,” I added apropos of pointing out I was already with someone.

  “I guess.” She sounded a little doubtful. Then again, she’d already been dead when he’d grabbed the gun and taken on Slimy. “But…he’s not the one who offered to go through the Hellfire.”

  I found myself wishing Amanda and Maurice were here. The need to discuss this with someone was almost overwhelming. But the only someones I could so discuss with were in the backseat.

  “We should perhaps call him Cyrano,” Freddy said.

  “The guy with the big nose?” Sexy Cindy asked. I was impressed she knew.

  “Yes.” Freddy chuckled. “You do know your classics, don’t you, my dear?”

  We were spared any more literary comparisons by the fact that Ralph moved into a springing stance. I guessed he’d chosen the find out and/or die fast option. Couldn’t blame him. He sprang and I held my breath.

  He sailed through, looking like he was practicing to get the blue ribbon in the dog show agility event. But he didn’t burn and turn to dust. I let my breath out.

  Ralph landed, spun and trotted back. Still no harm and no foul. He came over to my side of the car and I opened the door. “It’s a good illusion. It felt hot when I went through it.”

  I sniffed him. “You smell wrong. Not of Hellfire, not of anything related to fire, really.”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure what base they used for the incantation, but this is warlock-created. I’d bet my tail on it.”

  “You feel okay?” He looked okay and he smelled reasonably normal, but it never hurt to check.

  Ralph nodded. “I don’t think it’s supposed to do anything more than it did. Keep us out and make us waste time and effort.” He crawled into the car and got into the backseat as Jack tossed the Savior Spray into the trunk.

  Jack got back behind the wheel and we started off through the fake Hellfire. I still held my breath as we went through it. So did everyone else, if the collective sigh as we passed through it unscathed was any indication.

  We wound up into the Estates through the narrowest road I’d been on in a long time. Any part of the Estates not covered with house or grandiose grounds was covered with nature -- trees, bushes, grass, flowers, anything and everything. I’d heard they imported deer and other benign wildlife, but I’d never hunted up here so couldn’t confirm or deny. It was shady and lovely and all that, but there was no shoulder or turnout. “Why do you think they make this road so hard to use?”

  “No idea,” Jack said. “But if we meet another vehicle we’re going to be in trouble.”

  “Maybe they restrict how many workmen can come in at a time,” Sexy Cindy suggested.

  “Maybe. But you know, one of the things they brag about is how this isn’t a gated community. It’s to let the people who live here kid themselves that they’re both exclusive and kind to the poor, or something.”

  “Anyone can come to the Estates,” Freddy intoned. “We are an open community.”

  “You help write their ad copy?”

  “No. Jerry used to say that all the time. He thought it was funny, I suppose.”

  I considered this. “Or, the Prince’s side infiltrated up here a lot longer ago than we’re thinking.”

  “If his father’s on the Prince’s side, that would make sense,” Jack said.

  “Not all rich folks have sold their souls for their money,” Sexy Cindy mentioned. “Just a lot of them.”

  We continued on, thankfully meeting no other vehicles. No one other than Bill the Realtor seemed to be out, at least not on or around this tiny stretch of road. We hit the first real street of the Estates and turned off the workman’s road. I couldn’t speak for the others, but I felt relieved.

  We meandered through the humongous and ritzy neighborhood, but we remained the only living things so doing. We were still pretty far from the Little Church, but even if the majority were up there, surely someone other than Bill didn’t attend services. “Is this normal for a Sunday morning?”

  Jack nodded. “Pretty much. The religious are all in church. The drunks and stoners are sleeping it off. The non-religious are sleeping or prepping to watch whatever sporting event’s on TV. Most Saturday night perps are behind bars. And so on.”

  “Even hookers take Sunday morning off,” Sexy Cindy added.

  “It is the day of rest,” Freddy added.

  “Then,” Ralph said tensely, “why is that guy not resting?”

  I looked where his nose was pointing. Sure enough, there was someone in a copse of trees that stood between two of the lower level estates. He almost looked like a gardener, or a zookeeper, since he was dressed in what looked like a khaki shorts jumpsuit and hiking boots. Only there was no truck or equipment nearby and Ralph and I were the only wild animals in the immediate vicinity.

  Jack stopped the car and I got out, Ralph scrambling after me so quickly he sort of fell out of the car. He managed to recover so that he landed on his paws, not his snout, but it was a close thing. I chose to pretend I hadn’t seen it, though I did hear Jack chuckling.

  We got nearer to the man, whose back was to us. I wasn’t sure that he’d heard us arrive, which was sort of odd. Then again, we hadn’t shut my door and I could barely hear the S-Class’ engine running and I had werewolf hearing. I resolved to find a way to insist on our keeping this car, or getting our own.

  We got closer. Whatever this guy was doing, he was intent on it. He also wasn’t likely to be good-looking, at least if his backside was any indication. He had skinny legs under a rather hefty body. Light blond hair. I stared at it. The hairstyle had a certain…ancient look to it.

  I looked at Ralph out of the corner of my eye. His fur was up. Good.

  I cleared my throat loudly and the man spun around. It was nice to be right.

  “Nero! My favorite lunatic. What’re you up to, big guy?”

  Chapter 49

  Nero’s shifty blue eyes did their look frantically for escape thing. Ralph was growling, however, in a way that indicated Nero running would be a bad idea for Nero and a fun idea for Ralph.

  Nero was many things, but monumentally stupid wasn’t one of them. He gave me what I assumed he thought was a beguiling smile. “Ah, Victoria, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right. Agent Wolfe, Major, Necropolis Enforcement to you, however.” He really was dressed like a zookeeper. I found myself wondering why. “Just what are you doing, Nero?”

  “Ah, public service,” he answered brightly. “Foliage control.”

  I looked around. “I see no weeds that need whacking.”

  Ralph’s growl went up, but he didn’t say anything. I figured he was staying undercover, which, considering where we were, was probably smart.

  “Err, ah, well,” Nero said, clearly stalling. “I’ve cleared most of it already.”

  “Into what?” Nero stood there without an answer and I took a deep breath. A lot of smells mingled together -- exhaust, earth, foliage, garbage, and the li
ke. But one smell stood out. Interestingly, it wasn’t the smell of sulfur or Hellfire. I smiled a very unfriendly smile. “You know what I think you’re doing, Nero?”

  “No. What?” he asked nervously.

  “I think you’re planting maggots. In fact, I’d guess you’re planting all kinds of larvae. Bet they mature quickly, too.”

  His eyes got more shifty. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

  I said it under my breath, without moving my mouth. “Sic’ him.”

  Ralph lunged. Silently. Well, Ralph was silent. Nero shrieked like a hyena. While Ralph played Bad Werewolf, I considered our situation.

  Nero was a ghoul but he looked human, no drippy parts, no distended eyeballs, no stench. I’d always figured it was his payoff for being a royal bastard in every sense of the words. But now I wondered -- Ishtrallum had said Nero was good friends with the warlock who’d spelled The Pleasure Palace. I found myself wondering who this warlock was and if I’d find him nearby, like up at the Little Church.

  Once Nero was appropriately roughed up, Ralph tossed him at my feet. Then he went back to where Nero had been and started digging. Nothing beats a werewolf in full dig mode.

  I put my foot on Nero’s throat. “So, what’s my precious puppy digging up, Nero my not-really-a-man?”

  “N-nothing.”

  I pressed a little harder as I heard a car door slam. “Come again?”

  “Just something I’ve planted.” Nero looked away from me. Well, as much as he could. “Help me.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Jack snorted. “I’ll help you to a jail cell.”

  “That creature is tearing up my yard,” Nero sputtered. “I demand recompense.”

  I cleared my throat. “He’s fully aware of who, and what, you are, Nero. Nice try, but you’re not getting out of this all that easily.” Something registered. “Your yard?”

  “I live here.” Nero managed to sound offended and proprietary, both.

  I took my foot off his neck and Jack hauled Nero to his feet. “If it’s your property, then you’ll be able to enter it with us and prove that it’s yours…won’t you?” Jack was doing bad cop. Of course, so was I. And, technically, so was Ralph. Well, Nero didn’t rate any good cop treatment, really.

  Nero got slowly to his feet. “Indeed.” He brushed himself off and tottered to the nearest door. The houses on the lower part of the hill were smaller, merely huge enough to fit two normal homes inside them. Nero opened the door and walked in, Jack and I right on his heels.

  “This proves nothing,” I mentioned. “Anyone can open a door.”

  “It was unlocked,” Nero huffed. “Because I left it unlocked while I was gardening.”

  “Nice try, not buying it.”

  “I live here,” Nero protested. He pointed to the walls, which were rather covered with Roman, Greco-Roman, and Roman-influenced artworks, some of which stretched the definition of art.

  “I can buy that you either helped decorate or you picked a house where the owners are as into Roman history and so-called glories as you are. Not anything beyond that.”

  Nero sighed. “Fine. Let me get my papers.”

  He started off towards the back of the house, but Jack grabbed him. “Oh, no you don’t. I think I’ll accompany you, just to make sure no one broke in while you were gardening.” Jack looked at me. “We’d better put the car into the driveway.”

  “Watch him, he’s slippery.” As I went outside I heard Nero starting to give a tour of the house. I had a horrible suspicion he was telling at least part of the truth. Freddy and Sexy Cindy were still in the backseat, looking worried. I got in and pulled into what might be Nero’s driveway.

  “What’s going on?” Sexy Cindy asked. “And is Ralph digging to China or something?”

  “The guy we roughed up is Nero. He’s claiming this is his house. Jack’s escorting him to supposedly see the proof. Ralph’s digging up whatever nasty stuff Nero was planting. Fairly sure it was maggots, larvae and such.”

  They both made gagging noises. “Why would anyone do that?” Freddy managed in between retching.

  “Flies, mosquitoes, locusts, all sorts of nasty bugs you don’t want me to name, they get used by the Prince’s minions a lot, because most humans have your reactions to them. The more bugs about, the more freaked and grossed out humans get. Even those whose fight or flight reaction to most bugs is ‘stomp ‘em’ can get freaked by the equivalent of an airplane hangar full of bugs coming towards them.”

  “So, do Hell bugs mature faster than regular ones?” Sexy Cindy asked thoughtfully as we got out of the car. I took the keys with me. The previous owner hadn’t been careful with this baby, and I had an obligation to get it back to them safely. Somewhere in the future.

  “Yes. I’d guess we’re looking at something that would mature in hours.” We went over to Ralph, who seemed about done with the digging. “What has Mommy’s precious puppy found?”

  He gave me a dirty look, in more ways that one -- his fur was covered with grime and loam. “About what you’d expect. All the usual insects with some specials thrown in. I figure we got here just in time -- another thirty minutes and the first of them would have hatched.”

  I trotted back to the S-Class and rummaged through the trunk until I found what I needed. Went back and tossed a can each to Freddy and Sexy Cindy. “Spray everything Ralph’s dug up and anything that looks like maybe he should have dug it up.”

  Sexy Cindy looked at the can. “Insect Repellent -- for bugs so tough you’d swear the Devil made them do it.” She snorted a laugh and shook her head. “Who names these products?”

  I grinned. “Put it this way -- he knew the power of words and hype when he was alive and beings don’t change that much over time, not even undead beings. Though he insists that, these days, one’s born a whole lot more than every minute.”

  Freddy laughed. “P.T. Barnum?”

  “One and the same, the greatest showman on the face of the Earth.” I liked P.T. He was a fun undead to hang around. I’d heard his hype for a long time now, but it never got old to me.

  “Will we meet him?” Freddy asked.

  “Not likely, not on this case, anyway. He doesn’t do field work, he’s R&D.”

  “Research and development?” Sexy Cindy sounded confused. “Why would a circus man do that?”

  “He’s not just a circus man, or one of the greatest marketing minds around. He’s an artist, but with words and images and things, and their effect on humans, demons, and many other beings. He teaches upper level classes at the University sometimes.” And I’d taken every one. Okay, I was a Barnum groupie. Was that so wrong?

  Jude and I had fought about what he called my unhealthy fascination with P.T. and I called mild hero worship. It had never bothered Ken. I considered this while we sprayed a goodly portion of what might really be Nero’s side yard. Amanda thought it was because Ken was from a time when marketing had already permeated the human experience, and Jude wasn’t. I wasn’t so sure. I’d always gotten the feeling that Jude was jealous of my attraction to P.T. in a very boyfriend-jealous way. Which was funny. I wasn’t attracted to P.T. sexually -- I just loved how his mind worked. And he was an astute student of the human animal and what drove it, and that was something you needed to have a good grasp of if you were going to be any kind of good cop.

  While we sprayed Ralph sniffed the rest of the grounds. He came back as we finished up. All three cans were almost out of juice, there was that much to destroy.

  “I think this was the only area,” Ralph said as he sat on his haunches. “Can’t figure out why, though.”

  I looked around and studied the area. There wasn’t much of an obvious reason as I looked at street level. But I happened to look up. I pointed and the others looked the way I directed.

  “Huh. Well, I think Nero might have concentrated here because it’s such a clear flight path up to the top of the hill.”

  “And right to the Little Church,” Sexy Cindy adde
d.

  Ralph was growling and I was close. “Let’s go ask Nero some more questions, shall we?”

  Chapter 50

  We stormed inside the house, to hear Nero finishing up his homeowner’s tour. “So, you can see, I’ve really made this place my own.”

  Jack looked bored out of his mind, and also frustrated. I raised my eyebrow and he shook his head. “He has the right papers to prove ownership. Could be forged or magically created, I can’t tell.”

  “Well, real homeowner here or not, I’m sure the local Homeowner’s Association has a lot to say about the planting of dangerous pests with intent to send them right up to the big house of worship on the hill.”

  Nero feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, I think you do. But, to be fair, we’ll take you in for questioning and let some of the beings more adept and dragging information out of suspects have some alone time with you.”

  Nero looked nervous. “I think you need a warrant.”

  “If I were arresting you as part of the Prosaic City P.D., yes, I would. Since I’m arresting you as part of Necropolis Enforcement, however, I need nothing more than the fact that I don’t like you.”

  “Fascist,” he muttered.

  “No, but speaking of which, is Hitler up at the church?”

  He tried to control it -- he kept most of his expression neutral. But his eyes opened a bit wider and his body jerked, just a little. “I have no idea.”

  “You’re big on saying you don’t have any idea about anything. But Nero, my not-so-favorite ghoul, you’re an idea being. So, I’m betting you have a really good idea of what’s going on. Like who set the fake Hellfire perimeter.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not saying another word.”

  I considered our options. Continuing to question Nero could bear fruit, or it could just leave us barking up a very silent tree. I refused to just let him wander off because Yahweh only knew when we’d find him again or what he’d do. But my alternatives weren’t all that exciting. Tying him up just meant he’d get free in some way -- I’d seen enough movies and heard enough stories to know that never worked. Taking him up the hill with us would give him a prime opportunity to advise the Forces of Darkness that we were coming, let alone allow him to mess things up in any way he could.