Hank Mossberg, Private Ogre: Murder in the Boughs Read online

  “Give me a break,” he said with a grimace. “We’re at the shallow end of the labor pool here.”

  I reluctantly held my keys out and one of the brownies snatched them out of my hand. I cringed as they crawled inside my Blazer and started the ignition. They drove away with one of them standing on the seat, handling the steering wheel, and the other on the floor working the pedals. I looked down at Gene and gave him a hard stare. “If something happens to my Blazer…”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “They’ve been working here for months, not a problem yet! That’ll be twenty bucks!”

  “Twenty bucks!” I set the briefcase down and fussed around with my wallet. I handed the money over. Gene smiled as he shoved the bill into his pocket. I moved on before I said something I’d regret. Besides, my neck was starting to hurt from staring down at him.

  I stepped through the doors into the atrium and a cool, fresh breeze washed over me, like forest and fog and moss. It always smells like that inside the building, because of the Mother tree. I suppose I should explain:

  The outside of my building looks just like any other San Francisco apartment building, but on the inside, it’s a tree. It’s the Mother tree. See, every ancient forest has a Mother tree. They’re thousands of years old and they carry the seed for every type of tree. Over the eons, since the beginning of time, the Mother trees spread their seeds across the land until it became filled with vast forests. Because of weather patterns and terrain, some seeds took root and spread while others died out. That’s why every forest is different.

  Over the years, as humans multiplied and the forests began to disappear, the local fae did what they could to protect the Mothers. Here in San Francisco they built a building around her. It’s a run-down old building with brick walls on the outside, but when you step through the front doors, what you see is a massive tree rising several hundred feet into the air. It’s breathtaking.

  There’s something about the Mother tree that’s mysterious and familiar all at once. She might look like an oak from one angle, or a maple from another. She has the psychical characteristics of every tree in the world. And yet, she doesn’t look strange at all. She just looks like a giant, beautiful tree.

  Hundreds of apartments are carved out of the Mother’s trunk and limbs. I assume this was done with the Mother’s approval. I’ve never heard her complain about it, and she seems to like the company. Of course, the Mother is so old she doesn’t really talk at all. She just kind of stands there, like most trees. But I get vibes from her from time to time. She seems to know what’s going on.

  If you stare up at the tree long enough, you can pick out things like windows and balconies and bits of roof or walls that have been added to expand rooms here and there. Then there are the wisp lights, which are just magical. The wisps love the Mother tree, and they’re always moving around up in the branches. They glow like fireflies, but much bigger, and they change colors as they move around. It’s really something to watch.

  “Paper?”

  I glanced over and saw Brian the beggar standing next to his news booth. Despite the moniker, Brian is not actually a beggar. Not anymore. He was at one time, until he found us. Brian was one of those rare humans who had always been able to see the fae. As a young child, he used to talk and play with the fae creatures around his home. The adults around him thought he had mental problems so they put him on drugs to make him normal. The result was that Brian became suicidal; you might even say criminally insane. As he grew up, he more or less lost his marbles. He got into crime and drugs –the same kind the doctors gave him, but the street versions, the real heavy stuff- and he ended up in prison for a few years.

  After prison, Brian became a homeless transient, following the drugs and the welfare system from city to city until he landed here. His life had been one long, sad story up until that point. It was in San Francisco that Brian finally rediscovered the part of his life that he’d been trying to reject. It was here, at the Mother tree, that he accepted the greater reality he was part of. Now he sells papers to the rest of us freaks.

  “Sorry, my hands are full,” I said, displaying my limp trophies. “Did the Giants make it into the Series?”

  “Not yet, but I’m hopeful.”

  “Thanks. Send a paper to my room and put it on my tab.”

  “Sure.”

  I headed off to the right side of the building, where a pair of roots ten feet tall close in over a narrow wooden stairway leading down through the floor. I grunted as I tried to fit my broad shoulders into the narrow passageway. The two mobsters I was carrying didn’t help.

  The stairs lead down into a subterranean mesh of tunnels and rooms in Mother’s root system. Some of these tunnels branch out to different parts of the city. Others lead to the undercity, a giant underground metropolis built by the dwarves and inhabited by just about every fae creature imaginable. It’s an interesting place, but I wouldn’t want to live there. Being so deep underground and so far from the fresh air and sunshine doesn’t suit my nature.

  I passed Fitzpatrick’s tavern, which despite being just before five o’clock, was already filled with drunken dwarves. They raised a cheer as I passed by, and being unable to wave I just nodded. I suspect they were too drunk to realize what I was carrying over my shoulder. Dwarves tend to be heavy drinkers. It has something to do with their internal biology. They also speak with a strangely Irish accent, which probably has to do with their roots in the old world.

  A couple twists and turns later, I stepped into the jailhouse. The main room has a concrete floor and a fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling. Three jail cells line the far wall. They’re carved into the trunk of the tree, which is so dense that it might as well be solid steel. The bars are made up of roots and vines that hang down along the front of the cells. Further down the tunnel, on the lower level, there are a few more cells for a total of twelve.

  I set the briefcase down on my desk and then hauled Julius and Vinnie into separate cells. I retrieved my two river stones and emptied their pockets. They didn’t have much, just a couple of wallets full of cash and a manicure set. Elves are quite fastidious about their personal grooming.

  As I left the cells, I touched the roots with my hand. The Mother tree instinctively responded by locking the roots and vines into a tight mesh across the front of the cells. These were the cell bars; living roots as tough as iron and impervious to magic. Most importantly, they don’t open until I tell them to.

  I heard my deputy Butch O’Shea sloshing up the tunnel as I settled into my chair. I use the word deputy loosely. All I can really count on Butch for is to be somewhere down in these tunnels, drunk as a skunk. To give him credit, he does sober up now and then when I really need his help, but I try not to count on him. I propped my feet up and waited. I heard Butch bang into the wall three times before he finally made it around the corner.

  “Aha! Therrrr…. There you are!” he said with a hiccup.

  I rolled my eyes and glanced at my watch. “A little early for drinking, isn’t it Butch?” As I spoke, two more dwarves came rolling into the room behind him, Kal and Mickey. They both looked equally sloshed.

  “’Twas a quiet day,” Butch said defensively. “And I had the boys to keep company.”

  “Right.”

  “What you got there?” said Kal, eying the briefcase. I glanced at him. Maybe he wasn’t quite as drunk as I thought. With dwarves, you never can be sure. I stared at him for a minute, contemplating whether I should tell them or not. If there’s one sure way of making sure a secret gets out, it’s telling a dwarf.

  “Ahhh, come on now!” Butch said. “You’rrre not gonna show your own deputy?”

  “I suppose there’s no harm,” I said. I put my feet on the ground and watched them smile and pat each other’s backs. I spun the briefcase around and opened it, giving them a full view of its contents.

  “What… what is that?” Butch said.

  I watched their faces. “Pixie dust.” I sai
d solemnly. Their eyes widened and they glanced back and forth from the little bags of powder to each other, and to me.

  “Real pixie dust?” Butch said. “Made from real pixies?”

  “Is there any other kind?”

  They were understandably awed. Pixie dust is a horrible, horrible thing; not just what it does to people, but where it comes from. The creation of pixie dust is one of the worst crimes among the fae. “What’re ya gonna do with it?” Butch said.

  I slammed the case shut. “I’m keeping it as evidence. Butch, I need you to keep an eye on these two.” I motioned towards the cells. He followed my gaze, for the first time realizing we had prisoners. He crept closer and stared at them. He turned to me and said:

  “Do you know who that is?”

  “Of course I know who it is. I arrested them, didn’t I?”

  Butch’s eyes widened and for a second, he seemed almost entirely sober. “Anthony Kaiser’s gonna kill you,” he said.

  “No he’s not. Butch, I need you to make some phone calls. I want the entire Council of Elders here for a meeting. I want them here tonight.”

  Butch stared at me with a profound look. “But, they’re…. okay, sure, boss.”

  “I also want Anthony Kaiser here. This meeting’s about him.”

  I glanced at Butch’s drinking partners. They looked uncomfortably sober. Kal threw back a long swig from his tankard and wiped his chin. “Well, I best be gettin’ back,” he mumbled, heading for the tunnel. Mickey muttered a similar sentiment under his breath and took off after him.

  As they disappeared, I jumped to my feet and grabbed the briefcase. The chair made a slight crashing sound as it hit the wall behind me, and Butch flinched. He was staring at the briefcase, his eyes wide. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” I said reassuringly. “After you make those calls, reserve a conference room. This is going to be one heck of a party.”

  He nodded and reached for the phone.

  Chapter 2

  I climbed the stairs back up to the atrium and headed for my apartment in the upper branches. I passed the front desk on the way and hit the bell just to wake up the arrogant little high-elf who was napping there with his feet up on the counter. “What… hey!” he called out after me.

  I ignored him, smirking as I passed by. A tiny spark of lightning whizzed by my ear, causing me to stumble in my step. I heard cackling laughter behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see him gripping his wand. Fair enough, I thought. It was worth it.

  The heavy wooden doors at the bottom of the trunk opened up as I approached, and I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed behind me. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the pale light of the single torch on the wall.

  “Good evening, Mr. Mossssssberg!” That was Apophis, the giant snake that operates the Mother tree’s elevator system.

  I glanced up at the serpentine creature curled around the roof of the elevator. His body glistened in the pale torchlight with gold and black markings. I saw rolls of coils moving slowly here and there, and I glanced around, looking for his tail. I never have found it. Sometimes I wonder if the rest of Apophis is outside the elevator, somewhere inside the tree. I’ve always wondered just how big he is.

  “Evening.”

  “Going home?” he said.

  “Yeah. I’m in a hurry.”

  “Ssssertainly!”

  The elevator began to move and I tried not to wonder if it was Apophis lifting me up into the air. I’ve wondered about that for a long time, but I’ve never found the courage to ask him. I’m afraid of the answer. The elevator made a few whisking movements, defying gravity as it flew towards my destination. A few moments later, the doors parted. I stepped out and the elevator slid shut behind me and vanished into the tree.

  I live in a narrow, tri-level apartment that’s slightly wider than the front door, which I have to turn sideways to get through. I’m exaggerating, but only a little. The apartment is actually about ten feet wide, if you don’t count the appliances, cabinets and furniture. After you pack all that stuff in, there’s not much room for anything else. It’s kind of like living in a tunnel, except it’s a tunnel on three different levels. The kitchen and dining area are on the first level, the postage stamp living room and my tiny office are on the second, and my bedroom is on the third.

  My answering machine was flashing with a message when I walked in, but I ignored it and went upstairs to take a shower. I was tired of smelling like stale beer. I locked the briefcase in the safe in my closet. It’s a normal safe, but I do have the added security of Mother’s root system. The roots and vines closed in around it just like the jail cells downstairs, encasing the safe in a shell of living foliage. Just like the jail cells, it was now practically invulnerable.

  As usual, there wasn’t any warm water. The Mother tree has most of the modern conveniences, but they’re modest to say the least. The hot water is sporadic and often nonexistent. The power goes in and out so often that most of the occupants just rely on magic, or lanterns. The phone service is a bit better, probably because it almost never requires any maintenance. The wireless internet works just fine because the high elves love their online gaming. You’d think a bunch of arrogant little wizards would have something better to do with their time, but I guess not. They love online role-playing games and they’re big into first-person shooters. From what I hear, they’re very good.

  I took a quick shower and got dressed, all the while thinking about how I was going to approach the Elders. I had some good, hard evidence against the Kaisers. I knew I could put Julius away for a long time, but it wasn’t him I was after. I wanted his older brother Anthony. To do that, I was going to have to tie Anthony Kaiser to the briefcase full of pixie dust. I’d have to prove that Julius got it from him; that it was Anthony who was supplying the product. I just didn’t have any idea how I was going to do that.

  After my shower, I rang up Butch on the phone. I used the landline despite the obvious security issues, because I’d forgotten my cell phone upstairs. Besides, it’s a nightmare to dial the thing. My fingers are so big and awkward that it’s like trying to dial a cell phone with a German sausage. I keep a stub of pencil in my coat pocket in case I have to use the phone when I’m out and about, but the phone in my office is much more convenient. I have one of those oversized models for the elderly, with buttons the size of pancakes. I catch some flack for it, but there aren’t too many people with the fortitude to call an ogre my size a little old lady.

  I lifted the receiver and dialed the extension for the jail. The phone rang for more than a minute before Butch picked it up. “Yo!” he said breathlessly.

  “I thought you were watching the prisoners.”

  There was a moment of silence. “Uh… they’re still here.”

  “Uh-huh. Did you make those calls?”

  I heard him shuffling papers. “Yeah, the meeting’s at eight o’clock in the conference room. The Elders didn’t sound happy.”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “We gotta pay for it.”

  “Pay? Pay for what?”

  “The conference room… and the dinner.”

  I rolled my eyes. “We don’t need dinner, Butch. It’s not that kind of meeting.”

  “They wanted dinner,” he said. “They said you’re puttin’ ‘em out.”

  “Fine.” I almost hung up but then I remembered something. “Butch, do me a favor. I’m going to have to separate Julius and Vinnie to question them… put some fear into them for me.”

  “Sure, Boss,” he said with a chuckle. Before he hung up, I heard him shouting in the background, “Alrighty boys, this is how it’s gonna be!” Then the phone clicked and he was gone. I smiled, thinking about the stories he was going to plant in their heads. Butch doesn’t make a very good deputy but he certainly enjoys the perks of the job, like getting to scare the bejesus out of high-elves.

  I gave him about fifteen minutes to get them sweating and
then I went back down there. Butch was nursing another tankard of ale when I arrived. He had a wild, satisfied smile in his eyes. Julius and Vinnie didn’t look too happy to see me.

  “You can’t do this!” Julius shouted as soon as I walked in.

  I gave him a long deliberate stare and then turned to Butch and nodded. “You can go now.” Butch smiled. He gathered up his tankard and wandered down the tunnel whistling an old dwarvish folk song. I turned my attention back to Julius.

  “Where’s he going?” Julius said in a worried tone.

  “He doesn’t need to see this,” I said.

  Julius stepped forward, gripping the roots that made up his cell door. “I want my lawyer,” he said.

  “Lawyer? Lawyers are for human law,” I said. “That don’t apply to us.”

  His eyes widened. “You can’t do this to me, Mossberg. My family will kill you.”

  I glanced at Vinnie. He was hovering in the back corner of his cell, watching the whole thing play out. He was terrified. I could see that he was making mental calculations as fast as his little brain would work. The first chance he got, he’d deny having anything to do with the Kaiser family. Then he’d say he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, that he’d gone to the store for some milk or raw honey. That was good. He was getting malleable. I had a feeling he’d roll right over if I gave him the right push.

  I walked up to the front of the cells and reached up to touch the vines. “Julius, I don’t think I’ll be needing you,” I said.

  With that, the roots and vines closed in around him and pulled him back into the trunk. He screamed as he disappeared into the bowels of the tree. The sound grew distant, and the room went quiet. The tree roots shuddered and opened up, revealing an empty cell. I turned to Vinnie and said in a grim voice, “Okay, let’s talk.”

  He started singing like a blue jay. “It was all Julius’ idea,” he said desperately. “I didn’t want to do it, but he said nobody would talk. He said we could make some quick cash on the side.”