“Where have you been, Tedrick? How'd you get this bruising? Fighting?”
“The how doesn't matter, Doc,” I said. “It's the end result that I'm presenting you with.”
Doc Damshell wasn't known for his bedside manner. He fixed up Octopuses and Sepiants alike, didn't discriminate or anything like that. Any guy that came in with a bung arm got the same service. He had so many clients he didn't diddle anyone for clams.
This made him the central point of contact for most of the guys around town, which meant he heard a lot more gossip than was good for him.
He looked me over again, “The end result, if you keep this up, is going to be a lot worse than bruises and abrasions.”
“Hey, at least I'm here for something other than a sprained arm, eh?” I laughed. “At least you can – ow!”
“Hold still. You've got grit in your skin.”
Using two urchin spines as pincers he picked, scraped and squeezed out the flecks from under my skin.
“There! Now, that will need some suturing.”
He rummaged around the back of his surgery and produced a slug. He gave it a little squeeze and bound a gash on my fourth arm with its sticky excretion.
“Sprained tentacles are a lot nicer to work with than this. Sprained tentacles mean you're earning a living, the proper way,” he chided. “Not getting mixed up in shady business with riff-raff.”
“I'm no crook, Doc. I just got caught up with the wrong squids at the wrong time, is all.”
“Yes. Well. I hope for your sake that you aren't lying,” he said, handing me a foul-smelling kelp. “Now rub this on your bruising twice a day, anywhere that it hurts, actually.”
“What does it do?”
“With luck, smell so bad even mischief will avoid you.”
“Ha ha. Thanks, Doc.”
I slapped my clams on the rock and left. He called at me just before I slipped away.
“Say, Tedrick, do me a favour, will you? You've got a steady job, keep at it. Don't go slipping your suckers in the wrong spot. You're a good spud and I'd hate to see you on the wrong side of the Abyss.”
This one caught me off guard. First Taniel, now the Doc, were both warning me off the case. Could they be complicit? Taniel I could get. But the Doc? He was a straight-up guy.
I think what weirded me out was his demeanour. He looked seriously concerned, not at all his usual hard-love routine.
“I've seen a lot of spuds come in and out of here and I've known them from when they hatched, watched them grow up, yourself included. I watched them turn from bright little squirts to bad, foul-mouthed good-for-nothings,” he sighed. “Be straight with me. Tell me that you're not involved with anything criminal.”
“No, it's nothing like that, Doc. You know me, I don't swim that way. Never have.”
“I used to know you, Ted. Things change. Spuds change. It's been a while since, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
He curled his mitts about, “Your head wasn't in the right space. When we found you, you were babbling in all eight tongues. I wasn't sure you'd ever be right again.”
Doc was only looking out for me, I know. Still, I didn't like to hear him bringing that whole thing up again.
“Leave it.”
“You have to know that I did everything I could.”
“I know, Doc. I just don't like talking about it, is all,” I said. “I'm straight, Doc. Just something came up. Could be something good, I don't know. I'm putting my job on hold for a while, Doc.”
“So long as you know what you're doing, son.”
“I wish I did. Thanks for the assist, Doc,” I said, and sniffed the kelp. “You know what, better order some more. Something tells me I'll be back.”
“If you come in with anything more than a sprain I'll amputate your damn noggin and stuff some damn sense into it,” he said.
Ah, Damshell was back.
“Later, Doc.”
I was cautious all the way home, pausing at every new rock, moving quickly across the sands to make it to the main road. Anyone looking might have thought me insane. Fine. Let them look. I had more important things to worry about than looking cool.
The Reef is a risky place to live, even riskier if you're a spud whose job it is to go turning over shells to reveal sensitive underbellies. If you go about ignoring risks, you're asking for a short life.
The best way to mitigate a risk is to recognise it, then you can take steps. I knew that whoever had Belvedere knew who I was and that I was looking for him. The Unome had said that he was working for Sassam, and Sassam was strictly an Anti-Sepiant guy.
Not only that, he had backed right off when I mentioned Tommy.
From that I figured I needed to watch out for octopuses more than anything. If I was going to get ambushed, if would be from camouflaged spuds covered in sand or grit, or hiding behind the rocks in the back alleys.
It's for that reason I stuck to the main road all the way back, even though it took longer, and I copped a lot of strange stares. I looked terrible, I felt terrible and I stank of that kelp Doc had given me.
By the time I made it back to my rock, I was in a slump. I was several clams lighter than I had planned to be and had made no real progress. Sure, I learnt that Sassam had his beak in there somewhere, but that was the extent of it.
No names, no dates, no motives or players. Heck, I didn't even know if Belvedere was still alive!
One thing I did know for sure was that I needed a decent kip.
I dropped down from the ledge to my rock, swung under the shelf and froze.
Foreman Staffmarker was waiting for me just outside my hole.
His skin was rippled in tight bumps with irritation. That was bad. His good eye was practically popping out of his head. That was worse.
“Gritswell! There you are! What makes ye think ye can slack off and go whorin' when yer on the clock?”
I tried to get past him. He deliberately blocked my way.
“Back off, Staffmarker.”
“Why you...”
“I don't mean disrespect, I mean to go to bed. I'm tired and beat and I need sleep.”
“You'll get that when I darn well say so. Yer on the shift an' I hauled all the way down here to find you, so you're gonna damn well -”
“I quit.”
“Naw, now yer not thinkin' with yer thinker. Ye can't quit! You're a sifter. There's nothing left below a sifter, ye hear? Ye quit and there's nothing left after that.”
“Then that's me,” I said. “I'm nothing. There. You satisfied?”
“No. I ain't,” he thrust his mitt at my eye. “Ye stop with this slug-talk and get off whatever funk ye got yerself on, ye hear?”
“I heard. I quit. You hear?”
He was fuming by now, “Ain't gettin' another chance, Tedrick. No more. S'all you got.”
“Then that's up to me. Listen, Staffmarker, I'm not ungrateful. You've been good to me.”
“Slugbuff.”
“No, you have. You're a tough guy, but you're fair, and what's more, you're straight up. So I'll be straight with you. I wasn't built for sifting sand. I was built for finding out who done what to who and where,” I said. “Sure it looks like I'm just a washout, and heck, as far as sand-sifting goes, I guess I am, but I'm not in a funk.”
His eyes narrowed as he weighed me up. His skin smoothed and his colour returned to its normal mottled amber.
“Yer either a decent liar or a crazy mollusc.”
“I'd side with the latter, boss.”
“Well, one less lay-off for me to have to deal with, I guess.”
“I'll see you round. Thanks for everything,” I said. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“You know you could've saved me the trip down here by just telling me yourself.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. It's all come on real sudden.”
“Don't need yer 'pologies, son, just yer word that you know what yer doin'.”
I smirked, rubbing my bruises, “Can't give you that, I'm afraid.”
“At least clean yerself up. That stench could knock out a Hammer!”
I rolled the rock in front of the entrance and settled down for a rest. I do my best thinking when I'm dozing, and I do my best dozing when I'm not getting pestered. The rock doesn't completely block out the gobies, but they're alright. They just sniff about and quietly nibble at the buff on the floor.
After a while you can just block them out or snatch one and make a light meal.
It's nosy cuttlefish that don't know when to leave enough alone that drive me up the wall. Good thing is that Dewey can't squeeze through the window what with that bone in his mantle and he's not strong enough to move the rock.
Dewey was the nosiest little sucker going, always sticking his tentacles in where they don't belong, but he ain't a bad guy. Just curious. And annoying. And he was the reason I was rubbing stinking crud on a bulb full of bruises.
Ah, but why was I thinking about Dewey when I had so much more to sift through? Maybe I had copped a knock on something important.
I decided against opening a pod of darkwater. Sure, I had a hankering like no-spud's business. I also had a lot to think about. The better option was to apply more salve and close my eyes.
Start at the beginning.
Belvedere was known to patronise Taniel's Rock. Being an upper-Reef spud he wouldn't, couldn't be caught at the Rock itself. He had girls come to him, presented with a favour-bracelet and that bracelet came from Taniel's.
She had acted like she didn't know who I was on about and then, when I pushed, changed her tack and warned me off, just like that. Then that Unome showed up and put on the pincers, asking about what I was asking about and who I was working for.
That dredged up a lot of questions, the first of which was – how did he know I was there? You don't hang around brothels with two heavies on the off-chance that someone might be asking questions about someone you might have an interest in.
No. Either Taniel blabbed while I was in with Wyra, or I was being followed. The second option, though obvious on the surface, seemed dubious. Firstly, the Unome wouldn't be hounding me about who I worked for, since he'd already know. Secondly, if they wanted me to quit, they could have nabbed me before I went anywhere near the brothel.
So that left option one: Taniel was a dirty fink.
That didn't sit right. She was an old-world dame, the kind that knew the score and didn't rat. She didn't have to. She had nothing to gain, nothing that could come from having a guy roughed up in her house. Tends to put the punters off, you know? Like she said, her main export was discretion.
The answer, as I found out, was given to me a short while later, when I was woken up with an uneasy feeling. It was going to storm, it seemed, based on the amount of crud floating in the water.
That wasn't it, though. Storms don't scare me. There was something else.
I had the odd sense of someone else in the room, something larger than a goby. That, and there weren't any of the usual fish nibbling about.
I looked over at the doorway. The rock was still there. An uncertain trident of light poked through the cracks, illuminating the specks of dopey krill floating about.
Krill. Yep, it was going to storm. I convinced myself that's all it was it was.
A gentle sigh snapped me to attention.
“Eh? Whossat?” I said.
“Just me,” cooed a soft voice. “Don't be alarmed.”
I blinked and rubbed my eyes. Wyra! Was I dreaming? No, I wasn't.
“Wha – what are you doing here?” I said.
“Hello yourself, honey.”
I swept the room. My pad isn't that big, but you can never be too careful, especially if a gal can sneak up on you like that. Convinced that it was just her, I relaxed some.
“I'm sorry sweethearts, you have me at a disadvantage. I'm not exactly in my prime.”
“Oh, my. What did they do to you?” she asked.
“Who? Oh, those guys? Pah,” I toughed it out, waving a dismissive arm. “I can handle them.”
“You look injured.”
“Just some scratches, m'dear, nothing a bit of tender loving care can't fix.”
She swept over to me, “I can help with that.”
I swallowed. Yes, she could. She already proved that.
“How, ah, how's Taniel?”
Her mood darkened considerably.
“Don't talk about her.”
“She's on my mind.”
“Why?”
I shrugged and said, “Only because I've got it in my mind that she knows who set me up, is all.”
Wyra looked at me from under her eyelids, “Honey, she's the one you should be watching out for.”
“Why?”
“She's on the take.”
Of course that was my hunch, but it's nice to have it confirmed.
“Now, Wyra, you shouldn't go around saying things like that. Taniel might be retired, but she's got honour.”
“Honour? She's not a saint,” Wyra looked at me in earnest, wrapping her arm over my bulb. “She's the one who called those spuds. She got paid off to keep them informed.”
“Naw! Taniel? Next you'll be telling me Fizers ain't poisonous,” I said, baiting her. “Taniel doesn't need clams.”
In my line of work, it pays to act ignorant. You throw out an obvious mistake, people are more than happy to correct you. I wasn't disappointed.
“You're right, she doesn't need clams,” she said, “But that don't mean she doesn't want them.”
“Doesn't really fit with Taniel. Is there another, erm, massage parlour,” I asked. “Putting the squeeze on?”
“No, it's not like that.”
“So what's it like?” I asked, shuffling off my rock.
She clung to me, preventing me from going too far.
“Complicated.”
“It always is. Trust me, honey, I know all about complicated,” I said. “Look, you came to me for a reason. What is it?”
“Belvedere.”
“You already had my attention, honey. What about Belvedere?”
“You said he was missing.”
“Something tells me you knew that already.”
“You're looking for him. You'll find him, won't you?”
I scratched my noggin, “Why the interest?”
“He's a regular. A gentleman. The kind we like. Doesn't get rough. Or strange. Or, yeah, he's one of the good ones,” she said, wrapping another arm around me. “Like you, honey.”
“Eh, hehe, let's stick to Belvedere.”
“Oh, is it always business with you?”
“Afraid so.”
“Then make me your business.”
I gently, and reluctantly, deflected a couple more tentacles. I was still sore and beat and I stank with that rub. There was no way I was the least bit attractive, so either she was playing me for a fool or something else was up.
I pushed her away and said, “Really, Wyra, why are you here?”
“Oh, you men are all the same!”
“What?”
“You get a girl's hopes up and dash them on the rocks,” she cried. “You brute.”
“Wyra, I'm confused. Tell me what's going on?”
She snuggled up to me, “You'll protect me, right? You'll take care of me?”
Oh. So that was it. She was in it up to her eyeballs and there's me, the Valiant Knight, ready to defend her. She wasn't malicious. She was vulnerable. Scared and alone.
“Listen, Wyra, I'm going to tell you what I think. I think you're not as silly as you make out. You're playing the bimbo, but you're not a bimbo.”
“What, er, do you mean?”
“What I mean is you ain't as dim as you'd like others to think you are. It's in the eyes, honey, and your eyes are sharper than most,” I said.
“What would you know?” she snarled. “You men are all the same. All you see are tentacles and skin. I saw the way you looked at me in the parlour. Don't make out like you're above all of that.”
“There you go confirming my suspicions. There's a brain in that bulb, no denying. Wyra, you're a special breed – no, don't get mad, I'm not trying to butter you up. I'm trying to talk to you spud to spud.”
She looked out the window, swatting away some krill to look at the Abyss. From her membrane she drew out a keelstick and started chewing.
“I didn't choose this life, Mister Gritswell.”
“Call me Ted, please.”
“You think I'm smart, huh?”
“I do.”
“Yeah, that might have been true once. Gets so you can't be bothered thinking. Doesn't do no good, no how. You grow up and you learn that, unless you've got clams, the only thing the world sees is a pretty face. They don't care for anything you have to say,” she said. “A couple of bad choices and next thing you know you're rented out to the highest bidder.”
“You came down here to see me, and I believe that. I also believe that you need more than a cuddle. Am I right?”
She nodded.
“You're in trouble?” I asked softly.
She deflated and whispered, “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“What kind?”
“I tried to leave, you know, scrape up enough clams to move to a different Reef and start again. I, er, I got mixed up in a deal,” she said. “You're the only one who can help me.”
“I wouldn't pin your hopes on me, Wyra. I'm just a simple spud who's getting mixed up in a load of buff I don't even understand.”
She wiped her eyes and rubbed her face, “You have to help. Say you'll help!”
She had dropped the hoochie facade and before me was a scared little pipi who needed someone solid. That wasn't me. It couldn't have been me. I was a washed-up wreck myself. I couldn't tell her that, though.
Girls like her, they do it tough from day dot, see, and they're used to getting used up and thrown away by whoever comes along. The fact that she was willing to put her faith in me, to come down here and lay it all on the line, I can't tell you how much that meant.
“Please, Tedrick! Say you'll help me!”
What else could I do?
“I'll help. Hey, hey. Calm down, I'll help you, Wyra.”
I got her a pod of blackwater and tried to calm her nerves. She reciprocated, bundling herself against me.
“Whoa, steady on there, Wyra. I'll help you, alright? I'm not the kind of spud to go taking advantage of a gal in need. You're a good egg, I can tell,” I said. “So, ah, what kind of trouble are we talking?”
“It's Belvedere. I'm the reason he's missing.”
Call it coincidence, but just then a heavy wave crashed way overhead. That storm was really starting to chop.
“What?”
“I'm responsible. It's my fault. Please don't be mad.”
“Mad? I'm not mad. How can it be – your fault? Wyra, did you, er, do anything to Belvedere?”
She wrapped her tentacles around me again.
“Nothing bad, honey, just what I was paid to do.”
“That's not what I meant. I'm still confused. Let's start at the beginning. Where,” I began, trying to ignore her massaging suckers, “where ah, did Belvedere go?”
“I don't know.”
“I thought you said... Look, I'll be blunt. I stink, I know it, and I'm not in my prime, and you came all the way down here to tell me something so, if you'd be so kind as to keep me from guessing, I'd be very appreciative.”
“We can talk about that later...”
Just then the entrance opened and Coraline herself moved on in. Just like that. No time to even check my posture.
You can picture it: There's me, stinking, beaten and bruised, in a tangle of tentacles with Wyra, sultry and feverish, and there's Coraline, a glowering monolith filling the door.
“Uh. Hey, er, Coraline. This is Wyra.”
Coraline looked from me, to Wyra and back to me. Considering the ball we were in, she didn't have to move her eyes too far.
“Wyra, this is Coraline.”
She peeped an eye through her arms.
“Erm. Pleasure to meet you,” she said in a muffled voice.
Coraline, lost for words, did an abrupt about-face and jetted out of the door.
“Aw, nuts! Listen, Wyra, be a doll and bear with. I'll be back.”
“Don't leave me like this!” she cried. “Where are you going? Don't tell me your dropping me for that hussy?”
“That hussy is paying my bills, and blow me down if I drop two jobs in the one tide!”
I saw the realisation splash across her face, “Is she – is she Coraline –”
“Medici!” I finished for her, removing the last delicate tentacle. “Yes, Belvedere's sister and – dammit, there's no time. I gotta go after!”
“Wait!” she cried, but I was having none of it.
I made myself scarce, leaving Wyra at my pad, jetting after Coraline. The Golden Pearl had disappeared and the ocean was stained with that oppressive, inky weight of a maelstrom.
I caught up with her a short way. She was in a mood alright. It took more than a little persuasion to get her to stop.
When she did, I kind of wished I hadn't bothered. The water was cold. Ice cold. It must've been palpable because everyone heading our way turned about and headed in the other direction like they had anywhere to be but here. Even the gobies made themselves scarce. I wanted to joined them.
I moved a little back.
“Coraline, listen to me! Please!”
“Get away from me!” she hissed.
“Now listen, it ain't what it seems.”
A lame choice of words, I know, but it wasn't like I had much time to think. She bristled and bubbled, fuming. The ice thawed and the water started to boil.
“Ain't what it seems? Ain't what it seems?”
Yep. That storm had arrived. It hit with such a force I had to cling to the rocks.
“I trusted you! I put my faith in you! My brother is my family! I chose you because you were supposed to be reliable. Instead I find you shacking up with that hooch...”
“You see, there you're mistaken...”
I shouldn't have interrupted. You don't interrupt a storm. Doesn't work.
“... with her tentacles all over you! Did you even start your investigation or did you launch straight into blackwater and whores? Is that how you spend my clams?”
I flailed my mitts, “No, no, you got it all wrong.”
Again, I'm an idiot. When a storm is passing, you hunker down and let it blow itself out. Anything you throw in there is gonna get swept back in your face. Splat.
“You're damn straight I got it all wrong. I was wrong to trust you. I was wrong to think you were a decent spud. I was wrong to think we could –”
She flailed her tentacles, either out of words or stuck for them, don't know which, and, with nothing left coming out of her beak, she struck me across mine.
I accepted the blow. It was a surprising hit, considering her size. I rubbed the spot and looked at her. She was furious, yes, but she'd let out the bad-blood. Now was my chance to get in.
“Miss Coraline,” I pleaded. “Ma'am, if you'll listen, I can explain what's going on.”
“This better be good.”
“That gal knows vital information pertaining to the whereabouts of your brother. I was just on the verge of – ”
“On the verge of something, alright.”
“- getting the information from her. This could be a break in the case, my first real lead. So far I've got my suckers full of hunches and suspicions -”
“Looks like your suckers were already full.”
“She was the last person to see him. She was in his room the night he disappeared!”
There. That did it. In my desperation to keep her on the line, I committed the cardinal sin of spilling disparaging information about a loved one. Loudly. In public. Sure, everyone had made themselves scarce, only sight-wise.
“What?”
No backing out now. She already knew what I was going to say. Wouldn't be fair to keep her guessing the details. I lowered my voice, like that was going to help.
“Look, Belvedere is an octopus just like everyone else.”
“He visited those – those hoochies?”
I shrugged, “He has needs. He has means.”
Silly boy, Teddy. Silly boy! The eye of the storm had passed over. The other side was coming in with a vengeance.
“Slander! Sheer insolence! Belvedere is a gentleman! I will not have his name sullied by association with common whores!”
“Now, please, Ma'am, this isn't the place to be expounding, er, misinterpreting the situation.”
She flashed a curling mitt at me, “There is no situation! And as far as I'm concerned, Mister Tedrick, you are finished.”
“Finished? Ma'am, I'm on a hot lead,” I said.
Ah, poor choice of words. Man, I was rusty.
“Hot lead?”
“What I mean to say is that I've got to get back and finish up...”
What I wouldn't give for a goby to follow me around with a big sign saying, 'Stick a cork in it, Tedrick'.
“Don't – don't give me any of the dirty details. I don't want to hear them. I don't want to hear you. We're done. You're done. I – I need to go.”
“Ma'am, please, wait!”
But she was gone. With her went my hopes of rebuilding my life to being anything more than a pathetic, underpaid sand sifter.
Ha. Even that option was off the cards now.
I sighed and turned back. Time to find a new reef. Somewhere far away from Borobo. Somewhere even further away from my history.
Problem is, history has a habit of catching you up.
Back at my pad, the rock had been left open and some old crab had tumbled in and was poking about. Wyra was gone.
I don't blame her. That poor girl had put her faith in me and I'd let her down. Why bother sticking around when the flake you opened your hearts to goes scrambling off like a chump after another gal?
At least there was something good to come out of all of that. I fished the crab out from under a bench and I tucked into what was going to be my last meal on Borobo and, with nothing left in the place but half a pod of blackwater, I sat and ruminated on the facts.
The case was still there, even if I was off it, and considering I had nothing else to employ my talents, I wasn't about to forget the only mentally stimulating challenge I'd had for, well, I don't know how long.
I picked up a polishing rock and worked abstractedly at the walls. I was unemployed. That didn't mean I was unoccupied. In true Gritswell fashion, I resolved to crack the case, clams or no.