Diamond In The Rough (Moonlight Detective Agency Book 2)

by Isobella Crowley

  Remy inched the Lincoln between two of her black Teslas and pulled far enough ahead to be clear of the door, which closed behind him once he had stopped.

  Riley slumped on the dashboard but stirred when the vehicle came to a halt. “Remy,” she said, “I didn’t want to mention this before, but there was…a really bad smell back there. In the tunnel.”

  “I know,” he replied. “Dead bodies get like that after they’ve been sitting out for a while.” He pulled his key out, opened the door, and exited. She zipped after him.

  “No,” she protested. “Not only that. I mean…something smelled evil. I couldn’t recognize it but I don’t think it was anything normal that did that. Even normal by preternatural standards, I mean.”

  He opened the side door of the garage and let the fairy through before he ambled toward the mansion’s front door. “I was afraid you might say something like that. We’ll talk to Taylor about it. It pains me to admit it, but she’s probably smarter than I am.”

  While he tried not to shudder, the charnel scene he’d photographed and the desperate last stand they’d watched reappeared constantly in his mind. Especially the dead eyes of Rimbledon, the very dwarf he’d tried to track.

  Taylor’s house was built more or less into a low rocky cliff that emerged from the crest of the hill. It was located at the back of a labyrinthine, old-money neighborhood. The mansion was only two stories tall but still significantly large and possessed an ornate elegance that many of the area’s nouveau riche would envy.

  He mounted the steps to the front doors. The right one opened before he could knock and he stepped over the threshold.

  “Hi,” he droned, not feeling up to any further conversation at the moment.

  Presley, Taylor’s butler, closed the door behind him and accepted his jacket. The retainer noted the presence of the fairy but declined to comment.

  Remy had once been surprised to learn that the elderly English gentleman was, in fact, a lycanthrope. He’d never seen him transform into a wolf-beast but he had seen other werewolves do exactly that, so there was no reason to doubt that the old boy could pull it off.

  The butler stood a moment as if he waited and braced himself for something, but there was only silence as the new arrival trudged to his usual chair in the antiquated foyer.

  “Sir,” he asked in his dusty yet dignified old voice, “is something wrong? Usually, you incorrectly refer to me as ‘Jeeves’ and make obnoxious comments of some kind. You don’t seem at all yourself.”

  “Uh…” He drew a deep breath and loosened his tie. “It’s been a long day, Presley. Or Jeeves, whatever. Let’s simply say we found some clues but it’s the kind of thing that makes me think maybe Taylor should handle this one herself.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Oh dear. That does sound dreadful, then. May I fetch you something to drink? Any honey for Ms Riley?”

  Both man and fairy replied in unison with, “Yes, please.”

  With a quick nod, the butler strode toward the kitchen. Dusk wasn’t too far off, anyway, so Remy supposed he’d have to prepare Taylor’s red salt tea, as she coyly referred to it.

  Riley settled herself on his shoulder, her shapely legs draped over the edge so her feet dangled slightly above his armpit. “Thanks for saying I have nice features back there.” Her voice was soft and cooing. “I could show you them at your size again if you want.”

  Freezing water. Instinctively, he attempted to visualize the thought. A glacier in Alaska is melting and I’m standing right under it. In truth, it was entirely unnecessary. The gruesome and depressing spectacle in the tunnel had definitely killed the mood.

  “You’re welcome,” he responded. “Some other time, though. After what we found today, I suspect we’ll be busy with serious work for a while. Ugh, as if I didn’t already have enough things to worry about.”

  “Worry about?” the fairy protested.

  Remy sighed. “I don’t mean worrying about you. I meant dealing with the aftermath of that massacre on top of all the work I’m doing expanding our business. You’re fine, fear not.”

  “Oh.” She folded her tiny arms over her chest. “Well, I guess I believe you…”

  He leaned his head back and allowed the house to reassure him with its familiarity. It was an old, dark kind of place and furnished in a way that didn’t even try to be modern, but everything was tasteful, even sophisticated, and Taylor and Presley kept it clean and functional.

  Across from him, a small table held a pile of books. Taylor was always reading in her spare time—usually scientific or esoteric stuff but sometimes music theory. He supposed a person got bored when nothing except highly specific types of violence could kill them. Least of all, time.

  The butler emerged from the kitchen with a broad tray that held a teacup and saucer, as well as a tiny sauce dish half-filled with honey.

  “Sir,” Presley began, “I added a touch of brandy to your tea if you don’t mind. I’m afraid I got the impression that you could use it.”

  “Quite right, Jeeves,” he replied and perked up slightly. He seized the cup and drank half of the steaming beverage in one gulp.

  Meanwhile, the retainer set the tray with the sauce dish on the end table. He’d broken a single tine off a plastic fork, Remy saw, for Riley to use as a utensil. The fairy, beaming with joy, fluttered enthusiastically toward her meal.

  The butler clasped his hands behind his back. “Let me know if you need anything further. I’ll be in the sitting room until Ms Steele awakens, which ought to be quite soon.”

  He wasn’t wrong. When the last of the sunlight beyond the windows died and ceded space to the darkness, something stirred in the crypt below Taylor’s basement.

  The investigator finished his spiked tea with slow sips while he listened to the barely audible sounds as Taylor glided up the stairs, pushed the cellar door open, and moved down the hall.

  “Remington,” she greeted him. “No business today, I see.” She wore a black silk night robe that flattered her greatly, albeit in a classy sort of way.

  He cleared his throat. “The business you sent me on was quite enough. I have some fairly important things to share.”

  She nodded. “Let me have my first sip of tea and you can tell me all about it.”

  While he didn’t particularly feel like waiting, she was a difficult woman to disobey.

  By now, he’d finished his tea and Riley, her honey. Taylor vanished into the kitchen for three or four minutes before both she and Presley strolled out to the parlor. In her hand was a teacup, the interior of which was stained a deep rusty-brown color and which, at present, contained a steaming crimson liquid. Her eyes flashed subtly red when she drank.

  “Now,” she began and seated herself in the armchair across from him, “tell me everything.”

  He tried not to waste too much time on the basics of his visit to Fluttershire, his brief meeting with Surrly, or their jaunt around the piers in search of Rimbledon the dwarf. The important thing was, of course, the conclusive evidence that the diamond couriers had been butchered to the last man. He even showed her the picture he’d taken on his phone and tried not to look at it himself.

  Taylor nodded. “I see.” She betrayed no particular shock.

  His jaw and gut tightened suddenly with the beginnings of anger. “You don’t seem surprised. Did you expect this? Did you know you were sending me after…I don’t know, some rabid monstrosity that was able to kill half a dozen heavily-armed dwarven mercenaries?”

  The woman remained calm. “I did not know anything for certain,” she answered, “but let us say that I considered this as an unlikely worst-case scenario. In any event, you’re still in one piece, and so is Riley.”

  “True,” he conceded.

  “And you said that whoever attacked them didn’t steal the diamonds?” Taylor went on. “Where are they now?”

  “Correct, it wasn’t a robbery, after all. And the diamonds are in the trunk of my car, of course. I concluded that y
our garage was about as safe as anywhere else, especially with you waking up soon.”

  The vampire finished her version of tea. Her face grew distant and placid as she considered his words, arranged information into branching trees of possibilities, and sifted through various courses of action.

  It took only a moment. “I will take the investigation over from here,” she stated.

  Remy blinked in surprise. He had expected that she would simply tell him to get more third-party help, suck it up, and try not to die. “Oh,” he stammered, “that’s…uh, probably for the best, to be honest…” He inserted a finger into the top of his shirt around the neck and loosened his collar.

  “However,” Taylor continued, “your role is not entirely concluded.”

  He braced himself and decided he wasn’t sure he liked the thought of that. But he was good at poker so put on his least-expressive face.

  “In the morning,” she said calmly, “I want you to take those diamonds to Surrly. He was expecting us to retrieve them, of course.” She lifted her empty cup and saucer and Presley stepped forward to take them.

  Remy exhaled with relief. He couldn’t help himself. Something—some primal fear—had wormed its way into him when they’d found the dwarves’ bodies and now, in a single instant, he was liberated from it.

  “Yes,” he agreed, eagerly, “that sounds fantastic. I’d be happy to. The bag isn’t really even all that heavy, at least not after Riley magically reduces its weight. And Surrly is a tremendously pleasant gentleman to do business with.”

  Taylor almost smiled. “The moneylender will reward you for the return of his merchandise. When he does, you may take that and use it to make a down payment on whichever office space you think is most suitable for our new, expanded operation.”

  The evening simply kept getting better and better. He grinned and re-buttoned the collar of his shirt. “Excellent. I’m glad to know you’ve finally come around to the wisdom of having a front, of sorts. Like the mob. Only we truly are a legitimate business, more or less.”

  “More or less,” she agreed.

  Remy forged ahead. “I thought perhaps something halfway-ish between your home and mine. So that I don’t have to drive so goddamn far every day—no offense—while still being a reasonable distance from your lovely estate here. Upper Manhattan or Washington Heights, perhaps, or even Yonkers or one of the more tolerable parts of the Bronx. I don’t know. I’ll look into it.”

  The vampire waved a red-nailed hand. “Do so. It sounds like you’ll have fun. But keep yourself available. I will handle the more dangerous aspects of the Surrly case but I may still need you to do important auxiliary work.”

  Riley, who had listened quietly until now, took wing and perked up. “Does that mean we’ll still work together?” she asked and gestured at her human crush.

  “Probably,” he said. “It never hurts to have someone around who can deflect bullets. And your company is moderately pleasurable, as well.”

  “Yay!” the fairy exclaimed.

  He stood and dusted himself off. While he wasn’t looking, Taylor pointed at his fae companion and issued a silent command, ordering her to linger in the house a moment after Remy took his leave. Her eyes flashed with surprise but she nodded.

  “Well,” he said, “I really ought to get something edible and actually eat it. And sleep, of course, after a little research and a few other chores. I’m glad to have helped with the whole diamond business.”

  Taylor stood as well. “You’re welcome. Good evening, Remington. Be careful.”

  The young man turned, retrieved his coat, and saw himself out the front door. The fairy, meanwhile, remained in the foyer. She floated toward Taylor.

  “Riley,” the woman began, her dark eyes almost enveloping the small form, “I assume Remington has already paid for your services, but I want you to stick by his side, regardless. Even if you have to stretch the terms of your formal bargain a little. For me…as a favor. I’m trying to keep him out of too much trouble, but it’s possible he’ll need your help soon.”

  Riley nodded with a vigorous motion and brought her tiny fists toward her chin. “Oh, yes, of course, Taylor. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to him. Some of the other people in my nest might get mad again if I spend too much time around him, but I can always say you told me to.”

  “I did,” the woman observed. “They’ll certainly respect that. Now run along before he drives off and forgets that you’re not with him.”

  The fairy waved goodbye and darted toward the door, opened it with magic, and flapped out into the early-winter darkness. The door drifted shut behind her.

  Taylor stood where she was and took a few moments to listen to the sounds the night made, all of them audible even within her creaking old mansion. Presley stepped up behind her.

  “I must say,” the butler ventured, “it’s fortunate that he didn’t investigate that little disappearance any sooner. Granted, it might have allowed us to reach a conclusion more swiftly, but it’s likely we’d be permanently deprived of a fairly useful employee.”

  The vampire turned to look at him. “Do I detect a note of criticism in your tone, Presley? Oh, you’re right in a way, I suppose.” She sighed. “But then again, his luck is in itself almost a preternatural ability. It ought to see him through while I deal with the worst of things in the meantime. Besides, I’m taking every reasonable precaution to keep him safe.”

  “Quite,” Presley agreed and paced across the foyer, “and that is commendable but not entirely accurate. Every precaution except removing him from the case and putting him in protection for a time.”

  She laughed softly. “He’d protest that and probably find a way to sneak off, anyway. He’s positively high on this idea of transforming us into a more traditional business. I still have my doubts. You and I have run things smoothly for all these years, only the two of us. But our current situation makes me think that perhaps it is time to expand and step up our game. We still don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with, but the world is growing more dangerous.”

  The butler nodded. “Shall I contact one of our allies and have them watch over young Remington, then?”

  A red nail traced its way around the vampire’s lips.

  “Not yet,” she said.

  Surrly Lending, Chelsea, New York City

  This time, the receptionist recognized them and didn’t give them the run-around.

  “Oh, hello,” she said when Remy strode in with Riley fluttering along behind him. A heavy-looking sack dangled from his hand. “The gentleman from Moonlight Detective Agency, yes. Taylor left us a message last night explaining your findings.”

  “Good,” he replied and gave no sign of his irritation at himself for having forgotten to call them. Between the horror of his discovery yesterday and the excitement of his coming payday, he had too much on his mind.

  The lady waved them toward the far door. “Surrly is in. He’s expecting you. And, ah…yes, I see you have the merchandise. Wonderful.”

  He grinned. “Isn’t it, though? I promised him we’d have the matter resolved within a day or so.” His smile drooped. “It’s really too bad about the men, though.”

  The receptionist merely nodded. She pressed a button and the door buzzed until he opened it and stepped into the hall toward the dwarf’s office.

  “Come in, come in!” Surrly’s voice boomed.

  He was seated behind his broad oak desk and Remy noticed, with some relief, that the blunderbuss was nowhere to be seen. Most of the piles of riches had also been reorganized and removed from the floor, returned to their safe boxes, or perhaps taken away by the man’s clients or partners.

  “Mr Surrly,” he declared, stood before the desk, and held the bag aloft. He was thankful that Riley had enchanted it again since in its natural state, it probably weighed at least thirty pounds. “I have located your lost shipment. Mission accomplished. Unfortunately, the men you had escorting it had all been dead for at least a day or so by
the time we arrived.”

  He tried not to think about it, although it was difficult. He’d seen violence—he’d even been in a gunfight and killed a few men along with a werewolf—and as bad as that was, it still didn’t compare to the awful scene they’d stumbled across yesterday.

  The dwarf, huge except in height, nodded solemnly. “Yes, that is indeed unfortunate. But it’s the cost of doing business. The darker the trade, the more this kind of collateral damage tends to happen. They all knew the risks. I can only hope we don’t lose any more. Place that bag in the corner near the black safe, if you would, please.”

  Remy obeyed, although Surrly’s words surprised him. And not in a good way, either. Yesterday, the moneylender had seemed almost heartbroken by the prospect of a group of his fellow dwarves—and loyal employees, at that—being murdered on the job. Now, he took the information in stride.

  Part of him recoiled in disgust. He was tempted to turn and berate the dwarf for his callousness, but that would be both unwise and bad for business. Instead, he considered that perhaps this was some cultural response that humans could not understand. Dwarves might have different ways to express grief.

  He set the bag down as instructed.

  Surrly turned his chair toward the young man. “Of course, you will be rewarded for returning my property. The reward will be worth far less than the value of the merchandise itself, naturally, but you ought to find it to your liking. And stealing from me would have been profoundly stupid, anyway. You’d draw not only my wrath but Taylor’s as well. I’m sure you know better than to make her angry.”

  Remy nodded. After Taylor had tracked down the leaders of the conspiracy against her two or three months before, she’d had to pull some strings to keep a lid on the sheer magnitude of the death and destruction she’d wrought. The general public never heard the details and it helped that she hadn’t harmed any innocents. But a few conspiracy theories circulating on the Internet had posited that terrorists had successfully destroyed a CIA safehouse, or something like that.