WereWoman (9 page)

Another Goblin entered. This one wore an expensive suit, and was clearly a top executive. “What's going on here?”

“Chief Hardknock, this BeWitch is mooning us!” Wretcha said indignantly. Somehow the internal E and W did not sound clearly.

The Chief studied the exposure carefully, which remained defiantly visible. “And she's certainly making a good job of it.” His gaze swept across to register on me. “And a buxom braless Were! To what do we owe the dishonor of this intrusion?”

“I am Mena Were, investigating the murder of a Warlock,” I said. “Burket Goblin is a suspect. We need to interview him.”

Hardknock nodded. “Come into my office. I'll knock some sense into your thick noggins. Good work, staff.”

We entered his office, which was surprisingly spacious. He closed the door. Then Nonce stepped into his embrace, kissing him firmly on the mouth, something she had not done with Clunker. Obviously these two knew each other.

After some time they separated. “It's good to see you again, Nonce,” the Chief said. “If you should ever need a man again—”

“I'll keep you in mind,” she said. “But I seldom do repeats. You know that.”

So they had been lovers. I was annoyed but not completely surprised; Witches were notorious, and Nonce clearly got around. If all the Chief had in the way of women was a Gobliness like Wretcha, he would be hungry for a dream like Nonce. I understood that Goblin males and females were chronically antipathetic, getting together only briefly for the purpose of propagating the species. Also that Goblinesses, too, bought the kind of handsome company they preferred.

“And your friend?” he asked, eying my bounce.

“Mena's not into Goblins.”

“Too bad,” Hardknock said with what appeared to be genuine regret. I really would have felt better in a bra. “So what's your pretext this time, Witch?”

I explained our mission.

“Burket didn't do it,” the Chief said firmly.

“So Nonce says. But we have to be methodical.
Someone
did it.”

Hardknock nodded. “We don't want any suggestion of murderers in our midst. It gets in the way of making money and buying pretty houses and fair maidens. But his shift is six hours from conclusion. He's on Level 92. You'll have to go down into the mine to meet him.”

“We'll do that,” I said.

“We'll set you up with breathers, but you won't like the pressure, so I'm sure you won't linger long.”

“Just until the job's done,” I said.

He provided us with oxygen kits and escorted us to an elevator. The two of us got in, the door slid closed, and the bottom dropped out. I flailed wildly, but Nonce caught me. “It's a fast descent,” she said. “Goblin mines are deep.”

So it seemed. It felt as if we were plunging miles. Then it came to a bone-bruising halt and the door slid open on Level 92. Heat blasted in, and the air pressure increased, making my ears creak. I was having trouble breathing.

“The kit,” Nonce reminded me, putting the mouthpiece to my lips. I sucked on it. Invigorating oxygen emerged, marvelously improving my condition.

We walked down the hall. The walls and floor were hot; this could have been a passage in Hell. It led to a cave where a single Goblin worked. He was ugly in the normal fashion, decked with tools. The wall before him glinted with embedded gems.

I took a gulp of oxygen. “Burket, I presume?” I said.

“What's it to you, gasper?” He did not stop working.

“I am Mena Were, a PI investigating the death of the Warlock Standish.”

“That donkey hole ripped me off for a pile of gold!”

“By getting himself killed? I'm sure it wasn't intentional.”

“Killed? He suicided.”

“Not as we see it. Somebody murdered him, and you are a suspect.”

“Oh, you're trying to make me buy you off? Cornhole it, jerk; I'm not paying.”

Nonce stepped in. “We are here to exonerate you, handsome miner. You were his closest business associate of the moment. We need to be able to tell others that you are innocent.” She smiled fetchingly.

Burket was plainly flattered by her attention, probably remembering their prior liaison, but he rallied. “
No
Goblin is innocent! But I didn't put him down. I
need
that reality room! Now I'll have to shop for another Warlock.”

Nonce took a breath that emphasized her décolletage. “All we need is for you to do a bit of your magic. Then we'll depart.”

“Whatcha offer in exchange?”

“One Witchly kiss.”

“That's not enough! I can buy—”

He was cut off by her ardent kiss. I could practically see the magic shimmering; she was putting everything into it.

When she finally let him go, the Goblin wavered slightly on his feet. It was clear he had not before had a kiss of that caliber, maybe not even when she seduced him before. Then he focused on the nearest projecting gem, which looked like a blue diamond of incalculable value, even raw. He touched his finger to it, exerted his magic, and it dropped into his hand. “You'll want to get it faceted,” he said, giving it to her.

“Thank you.” Nonce glanced at me. I nodded; the Goblin was clean.

Burket paused before addressing the next gem. His gaze fell on my too-tight bosom with an almost tangible impact. I tried to stop breathing, but it was impossible; I had to sip the oxygen. He opened his mouth.

“Mena's not into Goblins,” Nonce repeated.

Burket struggled to tear his gaze away from my burgeoning décolletage. “You wouldn't happen to have a sister, would you, Witch?”

Nonce considered. “Will a virgin Witch do?”

His surprise was genuine. “There are virgin Witches?”

“Not many, and they don't remain so long. Look up Delle Witch. I'll tell her to expect your visit. Be gentle and generous; she'll be shy at first. Virgins are.”

“Where's the catch? She ugly?”

“No, she's rather pretty, and a nice person. She knew the Warlock passingly. She just hasn't found the right man.”

That sufficed. “I'll go to her tonight.”

“Clean off the rock dust before you go. Don't use four letter concepts. She's a pristine gem that requires careful handling.”

“That's the kind I want.”

“Her magic is slight. She makes Penny Curses. Compliment them.”

“Got it.”

We returned to the elevator. “Was that wise?” I asked.

“He's a good sort, for a Goblin. He'll bring her a corsage of diamonds and take her to the town's richest restaurant where the management will fawn over her in order to impress him; they know their business. She'll never be poor again. All she has to do is be nice to him. She can handle it; she's a Witch. She might even come to like him. It's easy to like a generous rich man.”

I shook my head. “Maybe I have lived a sheltered life.”

“Indeed,” she agreed. “I'm attracted to innocence too.”

I knew she wasn't fooling. “So we have exonerated all the suspects who might have had motive to kill your cousin,” I said.

“Yes. That does make it difficult.”

“Not necessarily. Murders of passion require motives, but serial killers require only opportunity. It simply means that we do have an outside killer to deal with. We'll have to run down any common elements in the three murders, in case they point to any particular person.”

“That seems like a long shot.”

“It is. But there might be evidence left at the crime scenes, if the killer gets careless. That's where the straight gumshoe labor comes in.”

“Make Phil do it.”

The elevator forged upward with the same intimidating power it had descended. I hesitated to estimate how many Gs acceleration we were enduring.

When the door opened, I sucked in cool fresh air. The Goblins endured eight-hour shifts in that inferno? Well, that was part of their magic.

We returned the oxy kits and departed the premises. It had been an interesting experience.

“Now I'll tell Delle to expect a suitor,” Nonce said in the car. “Then I'll see to you. Has Mena ever made out with a woman before?”

I didn't argue. It should be interesting.

Chapter 6:

Memories

Next we tackled the Weres. Nonce was resting after her efforts of the morning, and I returned to the office and to my male form. I had been perhaps foolishly free in revealing Mena to Delle, but I did like the Witch and the idea of being her female friend. Now it was time to put Phil back in harness. Syd ran down all Bear's significant contacts, and we set about verifying them. Bear had not been a social animal, like his Were-form, but he had interacted with a number of people.

First there was the sensei, or martial arts instructor, at the dojo where Bear worked as a record keeper. His name was Oto, a severe contraction of a complicated Oriental name. Bear wasn't a great martial artist himself, but he had a lot of power and nerve, and that counted for a lot. With Sensei Oto's advice Bear had gradually improved, and actually won some low-level recognition. Mainly he liked to be around martial artists, and especially around Oto, who was a Were Jaguar. On occasion they would Change together and range the wilderness, as bear and jaguar, loving the sheer animality of it. But they never spoke of it at the dojo, the martial arts shop, because the majority of its students were normals. Still, it did attract some Supernaturals, including Weres, Goblins, Witches, and Warlocks. They wanted to be ready to defend themselves in case magic failed.

Syd and I talked with Oto in his spy-proof office. He knew Syd as Bear's girl, and she had taken some classes. She had also invested some money in his business, helping him get started. That was not the kind of favor he was ever likely to forget. He knew me as Bear's closest friend, and I also had taken an occasional class, though I was no combat specialist. He understood our compelling desire to run down Bear's murderer.

“The mundane police believe that Bear's death was an accident,” I said. “That some careless driver collided with his car and sent it out of control. He smacked into a tree and was impaled on the steering column. That may have happened, but we believe it is far from the full story. There was one report of a man in the car with him shortly before it happened. There was no sign of a man in the car after the accident, but if he had a way to escape he might have drugged or pushed Bear so that he lost control and crashed.”

“Bear was a good driver,” Oto said. “And a bear of a man, not exactly a pun. I don't think anyone could have pushed him into that kind of trouble.”

“But with a gas bomb, or an anesthetic dart, whose effect would dissipate rapidly and not leave a trace in the body?”

Oto nodded. “Such things exist. It is possible. But why would anyone do such a thing? Bear was well respected at the dojo.”

“What about the bullies he suppressed?”

“They understood him. To them he was a bigger bully. They just stayed out of his way and he didn't pursue them. Not much motive there.”

“What about his other contacts?”

“He wasn't much of a mixer. He mostly minded his own business. I don't believe anyone connected to the dojo would have done it, and he didn't have many other contacts. Certainly no one important, apart from the two of you.”

“Now we come to the awkward part,” I said.

“I am a suspect.”

“We don't believe you did it,” I said quickly. “But you could have, and if there had been any private bad blood between you—well, we just have to be sure.”

“Only if he tried to cook my books. He didn't. No bad blood.”

“It's really a formality,” I said.

“I know your talent,” Oto said, standing and doffing his clothes. He was a compact but muscular man, and Syd eyed his body appreciatively. At such a time as her grief for Bear subsided, she might become interested in a man like Oto.

Oto murmured his Name and began his Change. I read his nature immediately: innocent.

“I have enough,” I said. “No need to complete the transformation. You are vindicated.”

Oto nodded and reversed course. He had known he would be exonerated, but also understood the need to nail it. “I will miss those romps in the wilderness,” he said.

“I will go with you, if you care for the company of a serpent,” Syd said.

“I care for your company, whatever the form.” Now that he had been cleared, he could afford to express guarded interest.

“It will be a while,” she said. “I was going to marry Bear.” But I could tell she was intrigued.

“He loved you absolutely. I would not want to tread on his memory.”

“We could compare memories.”

“There are many good ones.”

“Is there anyone else you know of that we should verify?” I asked.

“There are a couple of ladies who admired him, but they knew he was committed. No motive there.” Then he paused. “Which reminds me, Phil: Molly is back.”

“Molly! My old girlfriend?”

“The Were-bitch,” he agreed. “When she reached the age of 18 she slipped her chain and returned here. I saw her yesterday. She asked after you.”

That stirred old emotions. I had loved Molly. Maybe I still did. “I—have another girlfriend now.”

“The Witch,” he agreed. “I think that's why Molly did not approach you directly. She doesn't want to complicate your life.”

“All the same, I think I'd better interview her. She could be a suspect.”

“She could never hurt you or Bear. She's a sweet girl.”

“I'm sure. But I want to exonerate her at the outset.”

“I will tell her to contact you.”

“Thank you.” We shook hands and departed.

We stopped at an eatery along the way, and talked as we ate burgers and shakes.

“Imagine that,” Syd said. “Molly back from limbo. She was gone before you joined the Clan, so I never met her, but I feel I know her. You and Bear told me so much about her. She must prefer the Supe environment here.”