Diamond In The Rough (Moonlight Detective Agency Book 2)

by Isobella Crowley

  Volz frowned. “They suddenly started acting like human teenagers during a citywide riot. A whole crew of them burst in as I was closing up for the day, shoved past me in a mad rush, and looted my store. Actually looted it! They grabbed everything they could carry, bowled me over when I protested, and left in one hell of a tremendous hurry. It seems they were fleeing the city.”

  His hands clenched and unclenched as he recounted this tale. Remy didn’t blame him for being pissed. That kind of behavior was even less tolerated among dwarves than it was among humans.

  “So,” he continued, “after being robbed in that fashion by people I considered to be on my side, no less, you can imagine how I might be a tad concerned about strangers coming into this place at odd times.”

  Remy waved a hand up, then down. “Oh, think nothing of it. I’ve had large hammers swung at my head before. I completely understand.”

  The dwarf uttered a short, barking laugh. “Somehow, I don’t doubt the veracity of that statement.”

  He smiled. “But seriously, though, your…ah, friends were probably fleeing whoever it was that killed a group of their co-workers in a tunnel a few days ago. Did you hear about that, by chance?”

  “Vaguely,” Volz admitted, “but I almost preferred to avoid the details.”

  “Yeah, well,” he countered and while he allowed his tone to become gruff and cynical, he maintained a pleasant expression so the dwarf might feel like he was being included in a secret. “Unfortunately, the details will come looking for you. Wait, that doesn’t make sense. You know what I mean, though. There’s trouble afoot.”

  Volz nodded curtly. “That much is obvious. Perhaps it would be best if you filled me in.”

  Glancing around, Remy saw a crate that was almost at pelvis height. “Do you mind if I take a seat?”

  “Not at all. I think I may do the same.”

  Both men now sat, and Riley, meanwhile, had fluttered into the rafters to poke around. He let her go for now. There seemed to be no danger.

  He explained the situation to Volz. While he left out some of the more specific details to be safe, he started at the beginning and made it clear that someone had slaughtered a group of dwarves to send a message—and without even robbing them of their diamonds.

  The dwarf shook his head slowly as the human reached the end of his story. “We live in strange times and New York is a stranger place. I’m sure you want to know what I know about the whole business. And the answer to that is nothing. I got the impression that Surrly was occasionally involved with shady characters, but I have no honest idea who ordered the hit.”

  Remy studied the dwarf’s face as he spoke. Between his own experience dealing with smarmy high-society types and a few things Taylor had taught him, he could usually tell when someone was lying unless they were exceedingly good at it. Volz seemed to be telling the truth.

  “Too bad,” he quipped. “I was kinda hoping we could wrap this entire case up within the next five minutes after you confessed.” He smirked.

  “Hah!” Volz laughed. “For someone with all the strength of a limp scarecrow, you do have some measure of balls, as humans say. I like that. Too bad I can’t be of any help to you unless you’re in Philadelphia and require—”

  “Actually,” he cut him off, “I might be able to offer you a job. Working with myself and Taylor, I mean, so it’d be safe. You’d probably be more secure under her wing than you would in Philly. Think about it. Everyone heard what happened to those assholes a few months ago who fucked with her, right?”

  His companion rubbed his beard with a thick hand. “I did. And your offer intrigues me. Tech work, I presume?”

  The human nodded. “We need a computer network set up at our new office. For that matter, we need computers. Our operation is basically analog at this point. Vintage.”

  Riley fluttered down. “Are we getting another employee? He tried to knock your head off.”

  Remy tried not to roll his eyes. “It was a slight misunderstanding. You would have done the same in his position. Besides, for a short guy who looks like he bounces for a dive bar where you have to be under five-foot-two to get in, he seems smart.”

  The dwarf made a flicking motion beside his nose. Remy assumed it was an obscene gesture. “I won’t, at least,” Volz stated, “be the shortest one around. Look at her. I could step on her if I’m not careful.” He chuckled when Riley lowered herself to face level.

  The fairy’s eyes narrowed. She did not look amused.

  “Besides,” Volz went on, “I can smell money on you, Remington Davis. And especially at a time when a quarter of my stock has been subject to random larceny, that is my favorite smell.” He smiled.

  Chapter Nine

  Bushwick, Brooklyn, New York

  “Volts!” Remy called and strode toward the squid-like mass of wires and cables where the redheaded dwarf squatted. “How’s it coming?”

  The short figure turned his head and glared at him from under bristling brows. “My name is Volz. Don’t make me start calling you Rammy. Would you enjoy that? I’m not German. The last letter of my name should be pronounced according to the standard English rendition of the letter zeta. Or ‘zee,’ as modern Americans call it.”

  He stretched his face in mock surprise. “Wow. Volzzzzz,” he drawled slowly and stretched the sound as if hearing the name for the first time. “I promise I’ll try to remember that.”

  “Good.” The dwarf grunted. “Smarmy bastard. Anyway, it’s coming along fine, barring some concerns about exactly how good a network you want. But I have the basics well under control, so I’d estimate an hour or so before you’re online.”

  “That’s great to hear,” he responded. “Keep earning that pay, my diminutive friend.”

  Volz snorted. “I’m only diminutive on the vertical axis. You’re disturbingly small on the horizontal.”

  Remy beamed. “That, too, is great to hear, since I’ve actually put on at least five pounds since summer. Being off drugs, you remember to eat food.”

  “Good for you. You don’t seem too curious about the concerns I mentioned, though, nor did you answer the implied question.”

  “I was getting to that.” He watched as the dwarf fiddled with a screwdriver. “Tell me these concerns and I’ll answer your questions, implied or otherwise.”

  The dwarf had been sprawled on the floor. Now, he sat and took a deep breath.

  “All right…well, for starters, like I said, you’ll have working computers with basic Internet in very short order. But I’ll need to order stacks if you want to get a powerful private server running. A proper, serious business really ought to consider that, I’d say. Of course, setting one up costs both time and money.” He looked sidelong at his new employer and cocked an eyebrow slyly while he waited for a response.

  “You,” Remy said, “would make a good salesman, Volz. Our own super-powerful private server sounds awesome. Do it, I say. Spare no expense.”

  To illustrate that he meant what he said, he dug into his pocket, produced a fat wad of cash, and waved it seductively before the dwarf’s gleaming eyes.

  Maps Cat had sold another load of the dwarven gems—the bulk of them by now, in fact. The profits, in this case, were even beyond what he had hoped for. He could more than afford a couple of nights on the town as part of Taylor’s bait operation. And he could afford to have their new office hooked up with every possible advantage.

  Volz almost trembled as Remy put the money back in his pocket. “That’s the kind of attitude I like to encounter,” he stated. His voice was gruff but he grinned openly now. “It’s good to know someone values my skills highly enough to want to put them to good use. Yes, Mr Davis, there are many things I could do with this place—for the right price, of course.”

  “Go on,” he instructed.

  The dwarf glanced around and fondled his mustache.

  “For starters, internal and external security cameras. Closed-circuit television. With the nature of your business, yo
u can’t be too careful. I could also get you extra surge protection, layers of insulation for the wiring, and other such things that will reduce potential fire hazards. An updated central air-conditioning system might be nice, at least before next summer. Maybe an artificial fireplace.”

  As the dwarf came to the end of his extensive sales pitch, the door opened and in sauntered Ms Roberta Diaz.

  “Bobby!” Remy exclaimed and turned away from Volz toward her. “It’s such a pleasure to see you.” It was true—she wore a fairly low-cut blouse with the top button unfastened. “I bet you’re excited for your first day of work, aren’t you? Well, it’s only a half-day, but still.”

  She grinned a little sheepishly and fished around in her purse for her gum. “I’m definitely excited, Mr Davis. Ooh, who’s this? The janitor?” She’d seen Volz and now stood over him and gawked with curiosity like a child who’d stumbled onto an ostrich at the zoo.

  Volz made a barking, snorting sound that rapidly transformed into a proper laugh. “Tech guy, actually,” he corrected her in his deep, rough voice. He didn’t sound angry, though.

  “Ohh,” Bobby marveled. “I guess it would help if we had computers and stuff. I know how to use them but am terrible at setting them up or fixing them. Will you be around for a while? It might be helpful to have you here in case anything gets screwed up.”

  “Probably,” the dwarf said. “It depends on how much the boss here wants to pay me, though, of course.”

  Remy smiled for the benefit of them both. “Like I said, spare no expense. By the way, Bobby, this fine gentleman’s name is Andrew Volz. Volz, this is our receptionist and I suppose also my personal secretary, Roberta Diaz.”

  “Call me Bobby,” she interjected.

  The dwarf set his screwdriver down. “Bobby. I like that. So tell me, Bobby, if you’re not a technology person, what kinds of things do you find interesting?”

  “Oh,” she replied and seemed to search for the right words as she pulled a chair toward the reception desk. “Haha, I don’t know, really. Well, the paranormal, but you probably don’t want to talk about that.”

  Remy bit his tongue to hold his laughter in check. This ought to be good. She thinks he’s merely a short, stocky guy with an epic biker mustache. I wonder what the dwarves think about the government rat-mutants?

  “Hmm,” Volz began. “On the contrary, that sounds like it might be a diverting subject. At least as interesting as stacks and servers and what Remy is willing to pay for them. Go on.”

  Bobby did. Since Remy and Taylor weren’t really advertising for customers to come to their new office yet, there was almost no actual work for a receptionist at this point. He had merely thought he ought to bring her in for a few hours to get used to the place, fill out all the payroll documentation, and maybe run through a couple of exercises on how to deal with their clientele. Plus anything Taylor might specifically want to talk to her about, of course.

  But, without customers to deal with, the girl still had considerable time to regale the dwarf with all the exciting material she’d gleaned from that most august and important of publications, The New England Inquirer.

  “The experts are now about, like, ninety-eight point four percent sure that, because of all the genetically modified organisms—that’s what GMO stands for—in our food, we may be opening ourselves up to subversive influences through the astral plane. See, ʼcause organic food contains stuff that naturally helps us block out all those negative energies. But the GMOs inhibit the formation of psychoreceptors, which means people with harmful intent, like curses and stuff—or maybe even aliens or demons—can broadcast signals directly into our brains. That’s probably why there’s been a spike in mental illnesses recently…”

  Remington had the young woman fill out payroll forms gradually while she spoke, but he made no particular effort to stop her from regaling Volz with her theories. It certainly enlivened the workday for all of them.

  The dwarf, for his part, chuckled and shook his head. “I suppose you make a semi-convincing argument there but forgive me if I’m a skeptic.” He glanced quickly at Remy. “I don’t believe in any of this supernatural or paranormal shit.” He sighed. “There isn’t any evidence for it. If it were really as prevalent as these so-called experts say, we’d see some of these strange beings walking around every day, wouldn’t we?”

  Remy kept a straight face. Back in college, he and the boys had pulled off quite a few beautifully executed practical jokes on the more gullible of the freshman, so he had experience in playing along. Not to mention his skill at poker.

  “But,” Roberta protested, “how do you know we don’t see supernatural beings walking around and we simply don’t recognize what they are? I mean, you’d think they’d have ways of disguising their true identity.”

  “Hah!” Volz scoffed, although he kept his tone friendly. “Next thing, you’ll try to tell me that dwarves exist and have their own secret network here in New York. I’m sorry, but it’s too much to swallow.”

  Remy continued to chew on the side of his tongue as the two of them argued. They both seemed to be enjoying themselves, at least.

  “Look,” Bobby urged and again, her hand disappeared into the depths of her purse. “Here’s the latest issue of the Inquirer. You really should read this if you don’t already. They have a column about Unexplained Occurrences. Right now, they’re talking about an upcoming exhibit that’ll be at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum—occult objects that supposedly carry great power. Some of them have even set off highly delicate instruments in ways that science can’t explain, like when people tried to measure their—”

  “The Guggenheim,” commented Volz, “is an art museum, and art—pleasing though it might be—is mostly fiction. If it were being hosted at, say, the Museum of Natural History, I might be inclined to take it a little more seriously.”

  The conversation petered out when he proved intractable and Bobby grew increasingly distracted by the rigors of filling out forms. Taylor hadn’t made an appearance yet, and Riley had gone home to the Fluttershire Colony for a night off—protesting even as Remy insisted she take a brief vacation.

  That left him with nothing to do but watch the dwarf work. Which got boring really, really fast.

  “I think,” he announced, “that I’ll be going shortly. I need to run a little investigation of my own—something personally requested by Taylor.”

  Bobby looked at him and her mouth formed a perfect “O” shape.

  “Wow, that sounds exciting,” she remarked. “Even though it’s almost dark.”

  “Exactly,” he countered.

  Somehow, tonight seemed like the appropriate time to spend the money Ishmapps had paid. As the boss had said, he needed to engage in conspicuous consumption, the more conspicuously the better.

  After that, he simply had to see who happened to show up to say hello.

  Times Square, New York City

  Remington stood bathed in neon light. “Ah,” he proclaimed, “the night is young and Maps Cat is a kind and generous provider.” He thrust a hand into his pocket and fondled the wad of cash secured by his money clip.

  Justin, standing a few feet to his left, smirked and drank from a flask. “Fuckin’ A.”

  Craig, who stood a few feet to his right, popped a pill surreptitiously into his mouth and sighed happily. “And a beautiful night it is. Heh, heh.”

  He was not worried in the slightest that either of them would ask who Maps Cat was. Even if he told them, they’d simply laugh and ask what he was on and where they could buy some of it.

  Of course, he’d lied about the night being young. It was actually 3:17 am already, but by his old standards, that was early. The goal, after all, was to act like his old self again.

  He’d therefore drunk a cup of coffee before setting out and meeting the boys—to be safe since lately, he’d been on the type of sleep schedule befitting an adult with a real job.

  Now, the three of them staggered down the sidewalk and fo
rced aside the bodies of all who crossed their paths as easily as they had summoned their attention.

  Justin cackled and drained his flask of its final drop of booze before he flung it in the general direction of the nearest trash can. “Ooops!” he shouted. “It looks like I missed.”

  “Gosh,” Remy intoned and his mind slid easily into the thought patterns he’d established before he’d attempted to improve himself, “I hope some salaried peon doesn’t have to actually clean that up. God forbid the little people have to earn their pay.”

  Craig snickered and the sound broke into a snort for a moment before it resumed. “Hey, look. Sexually mature female organisms at ten o’clock.” He gestured in the appropriate direction.

  Remy squinted. The man’s observation was correct. As they marched along the rim of Times Square, the trio rapidly approached two attractive specimens. One of them wore a fur coat and even looked vaguely familiar. He had no idea who the hell the other chick was.

  Not that it mattered.

  The two young women were talking to each other about some or another bullshit and aggressively ignored everyone else in the universe on their stroll. Especially guys. Remy saw this as a challenge, albeit not a very difficult one.

  He looked directly at them, cupped his hands around his mouth, and bellowed, “Hey!”

  The girls looked up, half-shocked and half-amused. They didn’t stop walking but at least they slowed.

  Remy had their attention. He shoved his hand into his pants, produced the money clip, and held it and its contents up for all to see. “Do you girls wanna buy stuff?”

  That settled it. Soon, the five of them crisscrossed Times Square, left large-numeral dollar bills wherever they went, and made no effort whatsoever to keep their voices down.

  Of course, Remy, Justin, and Craig had begun the night with several overpriced drinks. That helped ensure that, admittedly, he was having a good time so far, even if this was technically a work assignment. It was good to be back.