It was a long day, and I was tired. The clock showed that it was only two pm. Must be one of those slow clocks. I decided to dig in the fridge for some food and some firewine while thinking about what I’d learned. Leftover troll food. Cooked by a troll who attended culinary school. Good man. Good noodles.
I got a suspect by the name of Fang, little brother of Angmar, an elf. Ruthless killer, but I can’t imagine him branding someone with ancient magic. The victim, Raktaar, son of the orc cn leader, never got his name. Raktaar was branded with a dragon’s eye mark that Helga thinks is linked to an ancient form of soul torture magic. Sounds a bit far-fetched. I kicked some clothes off the couch and took a seat. Why brand someone to torture them and then just toss the body into the river? It’s like they’re begging to get caught. Unless the goal was to frame someone else.
I took the first big sip to give my stomach the heads-up. Then sent down a mouthful of soggy noodles to liven up the pce. It worked.
Was Fang being framed? A letter was left for the victim’s girlfriend, Lokara, that said he was going to pay off a debt at Angmar’s Debtors. The only issue is that Angmar is dead, according to the girlfriend. I might need to pay them a visit. Or find someone in the loop with a loose tongue. Then there’s the orc gdiator, Zhorgaash. So far he’s the only one not bothered by the death. Well, him and that damn elf. A government hit, maybe? Gerihte seemed pretty eager to pin it on Fang. If it were, then the brand is just a wild-goose chase to keep whoever is investigating busy enough to miss the obvious.
I rubbed my eyes as I took a rge swig from the bottle; it joined the noodles and did the tango. No good. My head is fried, and I’m nowhere near solving this. Gotta clear my head and let the info marinade for a while. Tomorrow I’ll chat with that professor. I just hope she can shed some light on this mess.
I polished the food and the alcohol in record time and stood up to leave. The best pce to unwind and gather your thoughts, and sometimes the thoughts of others, is the park. A lot of shady business happens there.
When I left the apartment, that damn lizardman was topping up his puddle. “Bugger off, you damn gecko. I’m gonna piss in front of your door next time!”
“Be my guest, that crap you drink will smell better as piss anyway.”
Damn it. He’s got some speed left in him. All because I put a funnel on that psycho rat of his. Thing was trying to take a bite out of everyone. My finger still hurts.
It didn’t take long to reach the park. I found my favorite seat. Under a willow tree by the water. The hanging leaves create a natural camoufge. You can sit there for hours listening to everything around you, and no one would know who you are. Perfect for a detective.
I sat under that tree for a long time. No new leads or a speck of information. Well, nothing useful to the case, but could be useful ter. Like the couple in the paddle boat. Human. The male has lighter skin on his ring finger, while his dy friend has nothing. Might be getting a case from a wife asking me to tail her husband.
Or the goblin behind me. He looks very twitchy and constantly rubs his nose and scratches his armpits. Symptoms of withdrawal. Clearly a druggie. My guess is powdered fae, a fancy name for a horrid chemical. Spliced with acid. Gives you a high while dissolving nasal passages. Mystic troll for the armpits, newer drug, injected. Makes you mellow. Highly addictive but causes no damage. Might lead to another murder case or drug bust.
Everything else was pretty standard. Thugs, wannabe gangsters, and stupid kids. I sat for an hour longer clearing my thoughts and making some mental notes before trudging back to the apartment and colpsing on the couch.
Neighbors screamed at each other. Ninth time this month. I put the TV on and flipped to the news.
“In other news, council members investigate the murder of an orc today. The suspect is believed to be an elf by the name of Fang. Council members refused to offer a statement. Stay tuned for more info as the story unfolds.”
Dammit, Gerihte. Probably went straight to the press as soon as I left the building. No doubt trying to put the pressure onto Fang, but all he’s done is force him deeper underground.
“Thanks, Golgrash. Gold is suspected to increase in value from twenty silver to twenty-five silver in the coming weeks.”
It just keeps getting worse. I switched it to the cartoon channel for the reruns of “The Hero from the North.” This town could use a hero. I thought of the case as I drifted off to sleep.
