The Case of the Pitcher's Pendant by Morris Tee

Author:Morris, Tee [Morris, Tee]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: ImagineThat! Studios
Published: 2012-03-31T22:00:00+00:00

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The sun had just about set, maybe not across the horizon but definitely behind the Chicago skyline. A dull purple-blue hue surrounded me as I returned to the alleyway that served as the Jefferson’s Servants’ Entrance. On my descent from the sixth floor, I stuck to shadows and kept an ear out for any other footfalls above or below me. There was less activity now than before, and since people would actually be taking the time to pay attention to their surroundings, there would be far too many prime opportunities to spot a Dwarf. By the time I reached the loading docks, I had less than half an hour to scout around the meeting place to see if there was anything I needed to worry about.

Oh, there was plenty.

The delivery trucks had left behind a few towers of crates. Those temporary fixtures, along with garbage cans in desperate need of dumping, screamed out to me as prime ambush points. This setting didn’t make me feel all warm and cozy about the upcoming chat Flyball and I were going to share; and considering the doubleback anxiety I’d had after his call, I didn’t want to take any chances.

One tower of crates was empties from the kitchen, and would probably get picked up again by the grocers for refilling, if not by passers-by in need of cheap furniture. I myself could easily tip one back. As they were all stacked bottom-side up, this would be a great place to stash a boom dagger and have it on call when a Dwarf detective wouldn’t be looking. Some of the other crates were still full. Those were fairly heavy and hard to move. Not as easily worked as these empties. So, behind the trash cans and full crates for surprise. Inside the empties for concealed weapons.

Beatrice was in my grip once more, and my trigger finger tingled lightly. I had owned battle axes and the odd mace or two that insisted on getting in some quality time on an opponent’s skull if they were brought out to play. Beatrice was no different. She didn’t like being out of her holster unless it was a serious situation that needed her undivided attention. I had loaded her up before coming here, so she knew I was expecting trouble. Now, it was her second time out—with the safety off, mind you—and I was alone.

No, I didn’t presume to think the gun was charmed in any way; but Beatrice does have a personality about her. She was getting antsy.

The surrounding windows were dark, save one. A lookout could be up there, keeping a watchful eye over the alleyway, but it would be a real hassle getting word to Flyball without me catching it. The one lit window revealed nothing more than an empty room. Probably someone left a light on by accident.

With a tug at my tie, I checked the time. 7:32. Not enough time to run off, grab a cup of java, and get back before meeting time.

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