These days when revenge extends far beyond the grave, you want to keep your former clients happy.
Next morning, we received good news for a change. Although it wasn’t the solution to one of our pending cases, Sheyenne was positively glowing as she waved a slip from her phone message pad. “Just got a call from the Unnatural Quarter Beautification Committee. Because of his renovations to the old Zombie Bathhouse, Lurrm has been named Amphibian of the Year. He’s getting an award and a certificate of appreciation.”
“That’s wonderful.” Robin brightened. “And he deserves it.”
I was happy for him, but also confused. “Why would the committee call here?”
“We’re the contact point on his business licenses and permits,” Robin explained. “Lurrm doesn’t like to talk on the phone, says his tympanic membranes aren’t what they used to be. And he thinks it makes Recompose a classier establishment if it has an unlisted phone number.”
“Isn’t that part of doing business?” I asked. “How do people make reservations?”
Robin shrugged. “I tried to convince him otherwise, but that ship has already sailed—and sunk. He can call out, but we can’t call in.”
I didn’t get it, but I wasn’t a crack businessman either; I just liked solving cases: that was what kept me ambulatory.
“Then how do we tell him about the award?” Sheyenne said.
Robin looked at me, and I could see the answer in her eyes even before she said, “Dan and I are going to deliver the news in person.”
<1#>
When Robin and I entered, the spa attendant Carrl was flipping through the pages of a fishing magazine. “Need towels? Change for the lockers?”
“We’re here to see Lurrm,” I said.
He let the two of us through the turnstiles, and we descended the dank stairs into the steamy lower levels. Our noses were assaulted by the smell of sulfurous vapors, a hint of rotting flesh, and a strong undertone of sewage so thick it actually left an aftertaste.
In one of the large family pools, several zombies were playing water polo with a detached eyeball, which disoriented the owner of the body part with the conflicting views as his eyeball shot back and forth, even though he squeezed his other eyelid shut.
Something oozed out from under the wooden door of the sauna, and I heard deep satisfied moans coming from the massage rooms. Just another day at Recompose.
Two gaunt older zombies sat in one of the steaming hot pools along with a sticklike, completely unwrapped Aztec mummy who was softening up and rehydrating. In one of the private VIP spawning pools, two giggling amphibious creatures were flirting and making extremely large eyes at each other.
A skittering movement on the floor caught my attention. C.H. hurried toward us on light fingertips. He waggled his fingers in greeting.
Robin said, “Talk to the hand.”
I bent down. “Can you take us to Lurrm? We’ve got good news for him.”
C.H. extended his index finger to point toward one of the offices, then scurried ahead of us as we followed. Inside his management office, Lurrm sat at his desk, still wearing his frock coat and tapping out answers to e-mail on his computer screen. C.H. got a running start and sprang up onto the desk, where he tapped his fingers impatiently.
Lurrm puffed out his rounded throat, obviously pleased to see us. “You came back for a soak? Ayup, we’re happy to have you!”
I let Robin do the honors. Smiling, she said, “We’re pleased to inform you that the UQ Beautification Committee has named you Amphibian of the Year. There’ll be a plaque, a ceremony, and you’ll get the recognition of your peers.”
“You’ve done a good thing with Recompose,” I said. “I’m glad to see that your efforts are being recognized.”
At first Lurrm was delighted, and he spun around in his chair like a kid on a playground. C.H. leaned to one side on his pinky so he could give an approving thumbs-up.
Then Lurrm began to dither. “Well, I really don’t deserve it. Perhaps the attention should go to someone else. I, um . . .” His tongue flicked in and out of his wide mouth. “I don’t really like the attention. I prefer to keep a low profile. Ayup.”
“With success comes exposure,” I said. “Don’t you want to expose yourself?”
His eyes flicked from side to side, as if to follow a zigzagging fly. “I, um, hadn’t thought it through. Can I send someone else to accept the award?”
Robin tried to sound reassuring. “No need to be shy. Dan and I would be happy to accept for you if you insist . . . but think about it.”
We were interrupted when the attendant bounded down the stairs to Lurrm’s office. Carrl sprang forward in great leaps, still clutching the fishing magazine in one soft hand. In a terrified voice, he belched out the name over and over again. “Lurrm! Lurrm! Lurrm! Lurrm! Lurrm! Lurrm! Lurrm!” He sounded like an annoying digital clock with a broken snooze button.
I put my hand on the holster of my .38. Lurrm sprang out of his desk chair. C.H. scuttled to hide behind a stack of papers.
“We’ve got company, Lurrm,” Carrl cried. “Gator-guys!”
We emerged from the office, ready to face the threatening alligator lieutenants/associates/escorts, but I didn’t see them. “Where are they?” I asked.
The attendant swiveled his round head to look at me. “Still trying to figure out the turnstile upstairs. We don’t have much time!”
I wondered how long the turnstiles would confound the dim reptilian brains. Soon enough we heard a loud crashing sound, and three gator-guys lumbered down the stairs. They stood in the steamy expanse of the bathhouse, either looking around for their intended victim or just taking in the sights.
Lurrm clutched his moist fingers together. “Bad news, ayup.”
I couldn’t understand what Ah’Chulhu would have to do with the former Zombie Bathhouse. “Have these guys been bothering you?”
“No, but they’re going to. I knew they’d come after me, apply pressure.” His throat bellowed out, then shrank back in. “But this is my battle.” He licked his wide lips, then extended his tongue to lick his nose, his forehead, and the top of his head. It was an odd nervous habit, but I couldn’t blame him.
“We can be of assistance,” Robin said. “You’re still our client.”
In the spawning pool, the two flirting amphibious creatures plunged under the surface to hide. The older zombies and the Aztec mummy were in such ecstasy soaking in the hot tub that they didn’t move a single stiff muscle.
Spotting Lurrm, the gator-guys stalked forward. All reptilians look alike to me, but I was pretty sure the three gator-guys were Larry, Moe, and Curly.
“Lurrm, Lurrm, Lurrm,” said the one I thought was Moe. “We’re disappointed in you.”
The frog demon was nervous. His nictitating membranes flickered shut, then open. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Too bad, because we do want trouble,” said Curly.
Larry said, “No, we don’t. That’s not what the boss told us. We want a . . . a . . . satisfactory resolution to the matter.”
I had to step in. “You memorized that, did you?”
“Yeah, that’s what the boss told us to say.”
“But can you spell it?” I asked.
The gator-guys looked confused. “Why would we have to spell it?”
“Because nothing’s legal unless it’s written down,” I said, glancing at Robin.
She picked up on my idea. “Indeed, a legally binding contract has to be written down, notarized, and ratified. Can you boys even sign your names?”
“My name is . . . X,” said Moe.
“So is mine,” echoed the other two.
“If Lurrm doesn’t wish to engage your services, then he is not required to do so,” Robin said.
“Our boss says that he’s required to accept,” said Curly. “We have to offer him protection.”
“Protection against what?” I asked. “I’m Lurrm’s detective. I can offer better protection.” I tried to loom as tall as I could, and zombies are generally good at looming. I kept my hand meaningfully on the butt of the pistol in its holster. “We don’t need you around here.”
Now Lurrm grew more bold. “You guys don’t frighten me. I’m free of all those underworld dealings, ayup. I’ve gone straight. Legitimate!”
“That’s not what the boss says,” Moe said.
“We’ve got you cornered,” I said to the gator-guys, taking a step closer to them. “You’d better get out while you still can.”
“Cornered.” The gator-guys looked at one another. “How do you have us cornered?”
“Can you find your way back to the front door by yourselves?” I was betting that their sense of direction was as good as it had been in the tunnels, and that I could count on the reduced intellectual capacity of their brains. “Or are you trapped and lost down here?”
More confused than before, Moe, Larry, and Curly looked panicked, and they drew together. “It’s a trap,” Larry said.
Curly clutched at his scaly throat. “Gotta get out of here. Can’t breathe. Claustrophobic.”
“Can you spell claustrophobic?” I asked.
This panicked them even more.
“You won’t get away with this!” Moe hissed.
“Carrl will show you out.” Lurrm nudged the frightened attendant closer to the gator-guys. “And tell Ah’Chulhu I’ve already got my security, ayup. I don’t need to pay for protection.”
Clutching his fishing magazine, Carrl bounded across the floor, and as the gator-guys hurried after him. They looked around in confusion, totally lost.
When the threatening reptiles were gone, Lurrm let out a long, shaky sigh and huddled on the damp bathhouse floor. C.H. scurried up, sprang onto Lurrm’s shoulder, and patted him consolingly.
“I was so scared I almost milted myself!” Lurrm shook his head from side to side. “See why I didn’t want to draw attention? I’m aboveboard now and aboveground. I want nothing to do with that life.”
“Ah’Chulhu seems to have his tentacles in a lot of different businesses,” I said.
“If Ah’Chulhu is harassing our clients, we’re going to take him down, Dan.” The anger was clear in Robin’s voice. “If we can prove he did anything illegal.”
“Nothing you can prove,” Lurrm said. “Believe me, you don’t want to go up against him, ayup.”
“We’re already on his radar,” I said. “I know about Ah’Chulhu’s past, but I don’t know about all of his present dealings. I’m inclined to do more digging.”
Despite C.H.’s consoling, Lurrm still trembled. “I’ve got to protect myself. I’m going to install a turnstile at every door—for extra security.”