The gator-guys were precisely as intelligent as I suspected. As thuggish lieutenants they were frightening enough, but as effective sales associates they weren’t particularly warm and fuzzy. (Most reptiles aren’t.)
As escorts, they totally sucked.
Larry, Moe, and Curly got lost three times trying to lead us to the headquarters of Ah’Chulhu Underground Realty. We headed down one tunnel to find a bricked-up dead end; then we passed a large effluent drainage pipe that didn’t look familiar to any of them. After a long, hissing consultation, the gator-guys turned around and backtracked to the main intersection, where we finally found the barbershop quartet of frog demons again.
Moe looked down at his scaly palm, on which he had written an address with ballpoint ink. “This is in case I forget where we live.” He held his hand up to the frog demons. “Do you know where I can find this street?”
“Turn left,” sang the first member of the amphibious barbershop quartet.
“Then right,” sang the bass.
“Then right again,” sang the baritone in a rising register.
“And then LEFT!” sang the tenor.
The gator-guys were overwhelmed by the information, looking down at their submerged feet. I suspected they had left and right marked on their shoes to help them keep track, but they couldn’t see through the murky sewer water.
“We’ll take it from here,” I said and headed off in the lead, letting the three gator-guys hurry after me. I could tell Sheyenne was growing impatient.
We finally reached a cavernous grotto, which was like a sunken cathedral—Ah’Chulhu’s main office complex. Moe, Larry, and Curly led us through an arched opening into the huge chamber, where mushrooms grew on the walls, and flying bat-winged rats swooped around the ceiling like hummingbirds. Dozens of erect gator-guys kept themselves busy next to frog demons and other slithery things.
The center of the chamber held a raised and ornate stone dais carved with ancient writings, starfish-headed creatures, and hieroglyphics laid out in patterns like crossword puzzles. On top of the dais, the awe-inspiring tentacle-faced Ah’Chulhu sat upon his porcelain throne.
His smooth gray head was rounded like the abdomen of a fat spider, and it glistened with a thin coating of ultra-gloss slime. His widely set eyes blazed a baleful red, but the lower half of his face was a distraction of quivering tentacles that extended from nose level all the way down to his chest, like a beard of eels. He had human arms and legs, and wore a dapper gray business suit, sharp-creased gray dress slacks, white shirt, and a blue power tie. He primly crossed one leg over the other.
Seeing us, Ah’Chulhu half-rose from his commanding white throne. His voice echoed out with a deep resonant power, as if thrumming partly from another dimension. The oddest part of all was that he spoke with a pronounced Australian accent. “G’day, mates! Welcome to my grotto. Here to talk about real estate?”
Ah’Chulhu’s facial tentacles twitched, and I had no idea whether or not he was grinning. He gestured with a human hand toward one of the frog demons. “You there, go throw another tadpole on the barbie for our friends! Then we can get down to business.”
I stood in my damp and rank sport jacket, adjusted my fedora, which I considered part of my business attire even though I had no use for a hat down in the sewers. “I’m Dan Chambeaux, zombie private investigator, and this is my associate, Sheyenne.” Unable to resist, I turned to the gator-guys next to me. “Associate: A-S-S-O-C-I-A-T-E.”
“I knew that was how to spell it,” said Curly.
Moe snickered. “He said A-S-S!”
I turned my attention back to the tentacle-faced demon. “We’re here on behalf of a client, regarding some mad scientist laboratory space.”
“Ah, so you’re lookin’ to rent? I’ll be a waltzing Matilda!”
“What’s with the accent?” Sheyenne asked. “It’s a little overboard.”
Ah’Chulhu said, “This is my natural voice. I’m from down under.”
Now it made sense. “A young man rented lab space from you so he could work on some very important research projects that would have let him conquer the world.”
“Or destroy it,” Sheyenne added.
Ah’Chulhu was unimpressed. “That’s what they all say. Crikey! I don’t want any dramas. Who is this person you’re talking about?”
“Jody,” I said. “Jody Caligari.”
“Oh, the kiddiwink! Cute bloke,” Ah’Chulhu said. “He’ll never get far in this world looking like that. Much too normal.”
“A person can’t help how he’s born looking,” Sheyenne said.
The comment seemed to sting Ah’Chulhu. His face tentacles twitched, and he looked away. “I remember the ankle-biter. Talks heaps, but he’s charming in a human sort of way. Never should have rented to him in the first place, though. Crikey, he’s irresponsible!”
I said, “He claims you evicted him without cause and confiscated his possessions.”
“I confiscated his possessions all right—just might have to sell ’em at auction to get back the money he owes me. No matter what he told you, the little bugger was not evicted without cause. There’s a waiting list on those labs, you know.”
“We did see several empty ones for rent.”
“Offers pending.”
I pressed the issue. “So Jody’s possessions are intact?”
Ah’Chulhu reached over beside his porcelain throne to tap one of several rectangular lockers piled up beside him. “Everything is right here, safe and sound, but these items aren’t going anywhere until he pays his back rent and late fees.”
Now that was new information. “We didn’t know about the late rent,” I admitted. I wondered how much else Jody had neglected to tell us.
“Three months behind,” Ah’Chulhu said. “Bugger, I was perfectly within my rights to evict the kiddiwink and get a new, more reliable tenant.”
“I can’t believe you signed a lease contract with a minor in the first place,” Sheyenne said. “Jody’s only twelve.”
Ah’Chulhu let out a long sigh that blew his facial tentacles outward. “First you complain that I evicted your client, and now you’re upset that I signed a lease in the first place? Crikey, what are you, a lawyer?”
“No,” I said, “but our partner is.”
The assistant frog demon came over to us holding skewers of barbecued tadpoles, but Ah’Chulhu held up a hand. Now he seemed pissed. “Bring those to me. This isn’t a social visit anymore, and these aren’t potential customers.”
The frog demon hopped over to the porcelain throne, and Ah’Chulhu snatched the skewers. The snakelike appendages on his face plucked the crispy tadpoles off of the skewers and drew them into his hidden mouth. After slurping noisily, he tossed the skewers to the side.
“Real estate is a bonzer cutthroat business,” Ah’Chulhu said. “And property values are going up. I’m a businessman specializing in unreal estate, and I’m within my rights to hold the kid’s toys until he pays.” Now he pressed his hand firmly on the locker beside the throne, as if to keep the confiscated objects from escaping. He leaned forward, his facial tentacles squirming. “I might suggest you move your offices underground, just so you can be prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” I asked.
“You never know.” He sounded suddenly crafty. “The Big Uneasy was just a start. There’s an upheaval coming, then a downheaval. Sooner or later, the whole Quarter is going to be worthless slum territory. It’ll be bloody glorious!”
“We already have our own real-estate agent,” I said. “I’ll bring you his card next time.”
Ah’Chulhu commanded the three gator-guys. “Escort our visitors back home.”
“Yes, escorts!” said Curly.
I decided to play it safe. “We can find our own way.” Sheyenne and I turned to leave.