Chastity settled down to her morning tea while she opened the office mail.  She had been there only a few days, but Janet and Bruce had let things pile up while they were assistant-less.  There were the usual bills, and some checks for payments.  Chastity had already gotten the company books mostly straightened out; they hadn’t been as hopeless as she had feared.  Sebben and Charles had been a nightmare when she started there – two weeks of mail that had barely been touched, and the accounts were a mess.  Chastity had done nothing but call past due accounts for the first week of employment.  Dyrtbagg and Slutt was a cakewalk in comparison.

She giggled inwardly.  Chastity would never pry, but she was dead sure that Dyrtbagg had to be a fake name.  Janet had explained her surname, but Dyrtbagg?  She shrugged, figuring Bruce would tell her when he felt it necessary.  It wasn’t like it was the only strange name attached to the office.  In searching through records, Chastity had come across some of the strangest names she’d ever heard.  The Windhail family was one of the less bizarre.  Sergio Vetanza was exotic, but not so bad.  But then she had come across clients like Tru Oenkogh, the Odibozol clan, and Elwood Yoggod.  At first she’d thought they were typographical errors.  But when she handed him the delinquency list, Bruce had not even blinked, which meant the odd names must be correct. Before she could ask about the strangeness, Chastity found herself calling a Mr. Yoggod to settle his bill. 

“Elwood’s Bail Bonds,” a cheerful voice responded after only two rings. 

“Mister, um, Yoggod?  Am I pronouncing that right?”

“Yes indeedy dear, but you can call me Elwood.  What can I do ya for?”  Chastity could hear him plop into a creaking chair.

“Mister – um, Elwood, this is Chastity with Dyrtbagg and Slutt.”

“Oh yes!  Good people, good people.  What can I help you with?”

“Actually sir, it’s what you can do for us.”  She took a breath to launch into a carefully prepared speech, but Elwood interrupted.

“Got someone needs taking care of?” he asked, his voice turning a bit sinister. 

“Um, no sir –“

“Need a leg broken, someone harassed?”  There was tapping from Elwood’s end – a keyboard?  “I’d think someone as big as Bruce could handle it himself, but everybody needs help sometimes.”

“No, sir, it’s your account,” Chastity fairly shouted.  Elwood stopped rambling and listened.  Chastity turned to her speech.  “I’m sorry to say that your account is three weeks past due.  You currently owe the office two hundred and thirteen dollars.” She took another breath to explain, but Elwood beat her to it.

“Oh,” he replied, sounding a bit deflated.  “Oh, dear, I’m sorry!  I get so busy, I get forgetful.”

“That’s okay, if you could –“

But he was off again.  “You guys are one of those accounts I like to take care of myself, see?  I don’t give your bill to my secretary.  Personal attention, you see.  But sometimes I get so busy with skips, I plain forget to settle up.”
     
“That’s okay, sir,” Chastity said quickly.  “Is there some time this week you could arrange payment?”

“Of course, of course,” Elwood answered, ruffling papers.  “Let me check my schedule...”

“Oh, you don’t have to come in person, sir,” Chastity assured him.  “We’re perfectly happy with a check, so long as I can tell Mr. Dyrtbagg when you’re mailing it.”

“I never use the mail,” Elwood retorted.  “Can never tell when some idiot mailman is going to lose my letter, and then where would we be?”

“That’s fine, sir,” Chastity interrupted, sensing another tirade.  “Someone will be in the office all week if you’d prefer to drop by.”
     
“It’s a date!” 

Chastity could hear the playfulness in his voice, but didn’t want to encourage a potentially eternal conversation.  “We’ll see you later this week, sir.  I look forward to meeting you.”

“And I you, dearie.”  Chastity hung up quickly, before he could regale her with undoubtedly epic stories.  Elwood sounded like a fine friend, but she had piles of work ahead of her.

Now it was four days later and Elwood hadn’t made an appearance.  She was considering if she should call him again, but Bruce had assured her yesterday that Elwood was no deadbeat.  Bruce advised her to wait at least one more day before bothering Elwood again.

“Chastity?” Janet called from the inner office.

Chastity leapt up and went to the door.  “Yes, ma’am?”

Janet smiled up from her desk.  “I told you, that makes me feel ancient.  Please, call me Janet.”  She turned back to her monitor.  “I can’t seem to access the Dilemed file.”

“Oh, that’s because I’ve got it pulled up out front.” Chastity turned to go back to her desk.  “Some of your records still aren’t set up for file sharing.  The conversion is taking a few days. Let me–“  She stopped short at the door and smiled brightly but fixedly.  “C-can I help you?”

The newcomer was standing just inside the outer door, looking expectant.  He was roughly the same size and height of a man, but his skin was a mottled green and grey, and looked very rough.  He stood about five-feet-four, had almost no neck, and was fairly stocky.  Chastity didn’t think he was fat, though; she got the impression that he was well-muscled under the denim jacket and jeans.  A black t-shirt that screamed “TROLL POWER NOW!” peeked out from under the jacket.  He was wearing a ball cap, but she could see short black hair peeking out from under the edges. 

He took off his cap and took one step forward, smiling white, jagged teeth at her.  Chastity restrained herself from taking a step back.  “Yes indeedy ma’am,” he told her.  Chastity blinked, recognizing his voice.  “I’m Elwood Yoggod, and I’m here to settle my account.”

Chastity blinked again.  That’s one heck of a skin condition, she thought.  She realized suddenly her smile had melted into her pity look, and reset it to charming.  She had learned long ago the value of different types of smiles. 

“Yes, of course, Mr. Yoggod,” Chastity replied as she walked to her desk.  She sat down and called up the file on her computer.  “Do you wish to make a partial payment?”  She looked up at Elwood, who was now standing over her desk. 

“Nah, I’ll take care of the whole thing now.  How much was it again?”  He reached into a jacket pocket.

Chastity looked back at the screen.  “Two hundred thirteen dollars, sir.  Will that be cash or check?”
     
Elwood laughed as Janet came to the door.  “Never touch the stuff, sweetie.  Janet, you still take troll gold, right?”  Chastity looked up in confusion as Janet smiled and nodded wordlessly.  Elwood brought a cloth pouch out of his jacket pocket.  He counted coins out of it onto the desk as he talked.  “Coins aren’t so bad, but I never trusted the paper stuff.  Paper burns, don’t they know that?  What’s the point in making money out of something that burns?  One match and there goes your whole treasure.”  Chastity’s eyes widened at the small stack of gold.  “And banks?  Honey, I got security ten times better than any bank.  Hell, I am security ten times better!”  Janet joined him in a laugh as he retied his pouch and put it away.  “That should do it.  Bruce knows where he can convert it to the paper stuff.”  He smiled patiently at Chastity.  “You still with us, hon?  You look a mite befuddled.”
     
Chastity stared at him, still processing his speech.  “Excuse me, but did you say ‘troll gold’?”  She picked up one of the coins.
     
“Yes indeedy, Miss Chastity.”  He leaned over the desk and waited for her to look him in the eye.  “I’m a troll.”
     
At his words, Chastity felt something click in her head.  Vague childhood memories flitted across her mind.  “You’re... a troll?” she repeated.  She saw Janet moving towards her out of the corner of her eye.
     
Elwood straightened and smiled almost as dazzlingly as Chastity.  “That’s right!”
     
Chastity blinked rapidly, thinking.  “Then if you’re real... fairies must be real too, right?”
     
Elwood’s eyes rose in surprise.  He glanced at Janet before answering.  “Yep, know a few personally.  They’re a pretty flighty bunch.”  He grinned; somewhere in the back of her mind, Chastity could hear a rim shot.
     
“Okay,” Chastity replied brightly, recovering.  “Janet, does this approximate Mr. Yoggod’s bill?”  She indicated the stack, looking up at Janet.
     
Janet looked very satisfied with herself.  “Yes, that’s actually more than enough.”      
     
“Interest,” Elwood answered.  “An apology for the lateness.  Or you could call it a generous tip for you lovely ladies.”  He spread his arms wide in a grandiose bow.  Chastity tittered; Janet stood and showed Elwood out.  As she closed the door behind him, she turned to Chastity.
     
“So,” she started, “Elwood didn’t startle you.”
     
Chastity had already returned to the day’s work.  “At first, yes,” she admitted.  Her voice dropped to a scandalous whisper.  “I thought he was a leper, the poor dear.”  She shook her head at herself.  “But he’s just a working schmo like the rest of us.  Interesting money he had...”
     
“But you do understand he’s not human,” Janet pressed, walking to the desk.
     
“Oh, yes of course!”  Chastity waved off Janet’s worry.  “He’s a good guy just like you and Bruce, he just looks different.”  She stopped suddenly, lost in thought.
     
To say Janet was surprised by Chastity’s reaction was an understatement.  Janet was immensely pleased, but hadn’t expected Chastity to accept the office weirdness so completely in her first week.  She became intrigued by the pensive look on Chastity’s face.  “What is it?”
     
“I was just wondering...” She shook her head and went back to her work.
     
“What?”  Janet leaned forward conspiratorially.
     
“Just what does he eat?”  She giggled and shook her head again.  “Silly, I know.  But does he eat cats, like the stories say?”  She giggled again, embarrassed by her curiosity.

Janet, struck dumb, had no answer but a grin.

Dyrtbagg slumped down in his car seat to avoid being seen.  Car headlights flooded the windshield over his head, moving slowly past him.  He waited a few moments after the night’s dark resumed before sitting back up.  The house in front of him was still quiet, shades drawn, but the porch light was on.  Bruce could sense the owner inside the house, but he was alone.  His mistress had yet to arrive.  The guy was worried, upset.  He was anticipating his girlfriend but dreading her at the same time.  Bruce wondered if maybe the guy was regretting the relationship that had caused the divorce.  “Too late, buddy,” he muttered to himself as he reached blindly for his soda.  “Get a girl pregnant, this is what happens.”  Bruce felt his camera again, checking to make sure the lens cap was off and the flash ready to charge.  It had a quick charge, so he didn’t need to run down the battery leaving it on.  And as tightly-wired as this guy was, whatever happened when his mistress arrived would be quick.
     
Bruce settled back to wait, shifting in his seat.  Few things were more boring than stakeout, except maybe patrol.  On patrol, you sometimes got to talk to a few people (and some of those who weren’t people), but you mostly had to keep to yourself.  On stakeout, all you got to do was watch.  He had a portable stereo and plenty of CDs with him to pass the time, but he found he didn’t want to listen to any of them.  Bruce had turned on an older Metallica to help him stay awake, but wasn’t really paying attention to it.  He had his empathic senses turned completely on the target, so there was no chance he’d miss anything, but his mind was elsewhere.
     
Tammy had surprised them that afternoon by showing up after a few months of no contact asking for help.  The lack of contact hadn’t been deliberate; she and Janet had been slowly drifting apart ever since they both left school.  Tammy had a drive and ambition that Janet was happy to do without.  She had been hired on at the examiner’s office right out of college as a lab assistant, and moved quickly up the ranks.  Bruce knew if she kept it up, she’d make county coroner within the next five years.  She had the brains to back it up, too – top of her class throughout high school, and then in college.  She and Janet had been roommates first, then best friends.  But the career mindset tended to leave friends in the dust.  Janet had been happy to become a detective for not much money, as long as she was helping people; Tammy pushed herself further and faster than anyone Bruce had ever known.  He didn’t know Tammy as well as Janet, but he wondered if Tammy wasn’t trying to overcome family history.
     
Bruce thought over their meeting at the office earlier that day.  Tammy had apparently called Janet the evening before, saying she had a case that needed their expertise, but wanted to discuss it in person.   She was already there when Bruce arrived, back from chasing a lead.
     
“Tammy!  How the hell are you?” he greeted her as he sat down at his desk.  Tammy was sitting next to Janet.
     
“As well as can be,” she answered, shaking Bruce’s outstretched hand.  “We’ve been catching up, sounds like you guys aren’t doing too bad either.  The Windhails owe you a favor, Janet tells me?”
     
“Yeah, Avi’s son,” Bruce agreed as he picked up a pencil and twirled it in his fingers.  “That kid sent us on a wild goose chase all over the city before we tracked him down.  Turns out he’d just got tired of his dad’s politics and ran off as a protest.”  Bruce laughed to himself.  “His dad was so grateful Mhora was okay, he decided not to punish the kid!”  Janet and Tammy joined him in another laugh.  “Now,” Bruce continued, “tell us about these bodies.”
     
Tammy laid a thick folder on his desk.  “There’s been four that I can tell.  I noticed the first one because of the complete drain.  Not even a residue left.”  Bruce looked through the autopsies as she narrated.  “Then there’s the unusual marks around the neck of three of them.  We can’t identify them.  None of the other examiners will admit that, mind you, but they don’t match anything I know.”
     
Janet pointed out the “cause of death” on the sheet Bruce was looking at.  “Massive heart failure – that’s what they all say, don’t they?”
     
Tammy nodded.  “That’s what got me suspicious.  I checked.  The first three were homeless and didn’t have recent medical records, but the other was healthy, young.  Not one had a history of heart problems of any kind.”
     
“Drugs?” Bruce asked, looking up.  He sensed it before she said it.
     
“Nothing in the toxicology reports.  So of course more tests were ordered, full workups... nothing.  We can’t find a damn thing.”  Tammy sighed and leaned back.  “As far as I can tell, these girls should all be alive.  The only reason the autopsies were even ordered was because of the marks.  Hell, I can’t even call them lesions, since the skin is perfectly smooth.  No indentation at all.”  She reached up and pulled out a picture.  It was of one of the dead girls’ necks.  Bruce and Janet studied it as Tammy continued.  “They look more like stains, but they don’t go more than one epidermis layer down, so they can’t be stains – stains soak in deeper than that, at least a few layers down.  And you see here...”  She pointed to the reddish marks.  “They vary slightly in shape and placement, but they’re all roughly circular, and almost exactly the same size.”  Tammy rubbed her eyes as Bruce picked up the picture.  “It’s not something you can scrape off, so it wasn’t placed on her skin.  More like a brand, maybe?”   Tammy waved a hand ambiguously.  “One of the doctors thought it might have been a necklace that stained her, but the same necklace on all three?  And again, the color would have soaked in further.”  She sighed again.  “So that’s why I called you guys.  There’s something not right here.” 
     
Janet was looking at one of the autopsies.  “Any ideas, Bruce?”  She had already decided to do something.  She wasn’t broadcasting, but Bruce could feel the righteous indignation swelling.
     
Bruce put down the picture and met her gaze.  “One or two.  But I’d rather not say until I talk to a friend of mine.”  He turned to Tammy.  “I’ve got another case to finish up, one more night, then we’ll see what we can find out.”
     
Tammy rubbed her head.  “I don’t have a whole lot of money, but –“
     
“That’s okay,” Janet assured her.  “This is what we do, and there are provisions for cases like these.”  Bruce stifled a groan.  He wasn’t worried about the money; they had a good-sized nest egg to fall back on.  It was the gushing of a telepath he found hard to take.  I’ll get you for that later, Brucey boy. 

Tammy sighed again, this time in obvious relief.  “Thanks, guys.  I’m just a sensitive – I don’t have near the experience you two do with this kind of thing.”  She stood to go.  “You can hang onto that file, just get it back to me when it’s all over.”

“You got it,” Janet agreed, rising to see Tammy out.  “We’ll get together next week, okay?” 

Bruce heard them leave, but didn’t look up.  He stared at the picture of one of the dead girls.  There was something distantly familiar about those marks, but he couldn’t place it.  He shook off the feeling, trusting his memory to spit up the specifics later.

Now, crouching in his car over his camera, he thought about those red spots.  He had done some preliminary checking before setting out that evening, but nothing in his files matched them.  There was a note some years back about some bluish lesions on a body, back when he was still on the force.  That had been the work of a larva – a parasitic spirit.  Larvae tended to be mindless foragers, taking whatever scraps of energy they could find.  They almost never killed, but this one had become bold enough to feed on the dying at a hospital, and had accidentally finished off its meal.  Once Bruce had identified the problem, it had been a simple matter to get rid of the parasite.

But this was different.  Parasitic larva usually left no physical trace, making them largely undetectable.  The blue lesions had been a rarity.  So what – or who – was stupid or careless enough to mark its victims this way?

Bruce left his thoughts behind as he leaned forward; the mistress had arrived.  Finally, he thought.  He raised his camera to his eyes as the deadbeat came to the door, and snapped a few quick pictures of them embracing.  The deadbeat hurried his girlfriend into the house, but not before she turned Bruce’s way.  She was pretty, red curls framing a smiling face.  Bruce shook his head, wondering for the millionth time why women went for jerks like him.  Once they were inside, he slipped out of his car.  Camera down at his side, he walked casually along the sidewalk until he was at the house, then crept up to the window closest to the couple.  Just a few shots of them together and he’d be done.  And then we can concentrate on the bodies, his mind whispered.  Dread shivered down his spine.  Thought I left this kind of crap behind when I left the force...

*  *  *  *  *