Shadows of Valderia: An Urban Fantasy Detective Noir

“This is never gonna work.”

“It will, you just have to be confident.”

“Can’t we just go ‘ome? We can tell ‘er we tried…”

“Shh. Come on, Wally.”

Timmy and Wally strode towards the guard with their heads held high.

“Good evening squire,” Timmy said in his most well cultured voice. “My name is Geral Fontcroft and this is my compatriot Elliot Willingham, we’ve come today to…”

“Members only. Piss off.”

“Ohh… ummm… but…”

“Members. Only. Piss. Off.” The guard repeated, his voice a low growl, his eyes narrowing at them with a promise of immediate violence.

Timmy looked at Wally flabbergasted.

“Well… h-h-how does someone become a member?” Timmy asked, his voice quivering.

“Books are closed. Now piss off.” This time the guard took a menacing step towards them.

Wally was already backing off. He grabbed Timmy’s arm and dragged him away. The guard watched them disappear down the alleyway and then spat before returning to his vigil.

“I can’t believe that didn’t work!” Timmy said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Well we tried,” Wally said. “Let’s get back across the bridge, we could probably grab…”

“No.” Timmy said firmly.

“Come on Tim! You ‘eard ‘im, we ain’t getting in!”

“Yes we are!”

“‘Ow?”

Timmy furrowed his brow in thought.

“There must be another way in.”

Wally gave an exasperated huff and looked skyward.

“Please Wally, let’s just have a nose about and I promise if we don’t find anything we’ll give up and go back to the precinct.”

Wally looked at his friend and then relented with a sullen nod of his head.

“Yes! Come on, let’s check round the sides of the building, there must be another entrance somewhere.”

They took off, creeping around the building, hugging the shadows. It wasn’t a large building, but it was sandwiched in a row of other shop fronts and tenement buildings making it difficult to figure out where one ended and the other began. It took fifteen minutes of creeping for them to work their way around the block and to what they guessed was the backside of the building. Hunkered down behind a bush, they watched.

“What’re we waiting for?” Wally hissed to him.

“I don't know… something.”

“You know I used to think you was the smart one,” Wally muttered, only to be shushed by Timmy.

‘Look’ he mouthed pointing to some activity.

An open bed wagon had just pulled up to the back of the building. A shutter creaked open and someone greeted the driver.

“It’s a loading bay,” Timmy whispered. “That must be how they get goods into the card house.”

“So what?”

“That’s how we’re gonna sneak in.”

“Through the loading bay? There’s no way. They'll see us!”

Timmy chewed his lip and furrowed his brow as they watched men grunting and lifting heavy crates out of the wagon and passing them to white shirted waiters who disappeared back into the building. Wally was right. There was never a time the loading bay was empty. Someone would definitely see them.

“Maybe… maybe we can wait till they're nearly done and get in when the shutters are coming down?” Even as he said it, he knew it sounded like a stupid idea.

“What roll in underneath it?” Wally said incredulously.

“Yeah… no. That’s a stupid idea,” Timmy sighed. “I don’t know. We have to get in there Wally! This is our best chance! I just… I just need to think.”

Timmy squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his forehead. He opened them when he heard rustling next to him. Wally was pulling off his jacket, a cigarette clamped between his teeth.

“This isn’t time for a smoke!” Timmy hissed at him.

“Take your jacket off,” Wally mumbled to him.

“What?”

“Take your jacket off and follow my lead.”

Timmy yanked his jacket off and then looked at Wally expectantly. Wally watched the activity on the loading bay and when there was a moment when the bay was empty, he scampered out of the bush and across the road, Timmy lumbering along behind him. Instead of going for the loading bay, Wally made his way to the corner of the building. As they ran he lit his smoke with impressive dexterity and then threw himself against the corner of the building, leaning against it like he had been there for hours chatting and smoking. Breathing deeply, Timmy followed suit but tried to hide around the corner. Wally grabbed his arm and pulled him in front of him.

“Act casual,” he muttered to Timmy as he blew out a thick cloud of smoke.

“Right.”

“Say something.”

“Like what?”

Wally burst out laughing and slapped him on the shoulder. Timmy looked back at him utterly confused.

“Wally, they’re going to see…”

“Oi!”

The blood drained from Timmy’s face. Wally looked around and hid the smoke behind his back.

“Can’t you see the delivery has come in!” A man in a black jacket shouted at them from the bay.

“We’re on break!” Wally called back to him holding up his smoke.

“I don’t care. Get up here now and grab a crate!”

Wally muttered under his breath, took a deep drag on his smoke and then flicked it away. Timmy couldn’t believe it. He was struggling to find a way to sneak in and Wally had found a way to get them invited! A lifetime of being berated for slacking off had empowered Wally with an aura that just screamed ‘I’m trying get away with doing as little as possible.’ It was like a smokescreen. No one would expect him to be a copper, just some punk trying to sneak an extra smoke break.

“Sorry sir,” Wally muttered as they walked past the glowering man.

“Sorry,” Timmy repeated.

“Grab a crate and don’t let me catch you two slacking again!”

“Yes sir.”

Obediently the two undercover coppers grabbed a crate of beer each from the wagon and walked into the club.

“You’re a genius,” Timmy hissed at Wally when they were away from the man.

“‘Bout time you realised,” Wally said without turning around.

Wally’s second genius stroke, to ditch their jackets, meant they blended in well with the other white shirted, black trousered waiters. They slipped into the card house completely unnoticed and after dumping their beer, Timmy nodded to the toilets. With a furtive look around, they dipped into toilets and, after ensuring they were empty, they had a chance to figure out their next move.

“What’s the plan?” Wally whispered.

“We need to find that fella in the cloak,” Timmy said.

“Right. Do you reckon he’s still got it on?”

“Why would he still have it on? He’s inside now.”

“So ‘ow are we gonna recognise him?”

Timmy thought about that for a moment.

“Well we’re looking for a HobGoblin, right?”

“Right.”

“So we just have a look about and see if there’s any HobGoblins out there.”

“Yeah okay,” Wally nodded his head enthusiastically.

Then they both stood in awkward silence for a moment.

“Should we go now?” Wally asked.

“Yeah.”

“Wait.”

“What?”

“It’s gonna look dead weird if we both come out the toilet together.”

“Why?”

“People might talk.”

“Wally, we don’t really work here.”

“I know… but still.”

“Fine, I’ll go first, then you follow a little while later.”

“Alright. I could do with a whizz anyhow.”

“Fine, but don’t be too long.”

“Gotcha.” Wally nodded and walked into one of the stalls.

“I thought you said you had to take a leak?”

“I do, but I like to sit down just in case,” Wally said as he closed the stall door.

“Just in case what?”

“Just.”

Timmy stood there nonplussed before shaking his head and making for the door. As he reached for the handle, the door burst open and another ape like heavy walked in. Timmy almost squeaked in surprise.

“Sorry,” he muttered and stepped aside, looking down at the floor.

The guard grunted and eyed him suspiciously before walking past him towards the urinal.

Timmy grabbed the door again and then froze when the man spoke.

“You not gonna wash your ‘ands?”

“What?”

“You ain’t washed your ‘ands,” the thug growled at him. “That’s un’ygienic.”

“Oh, ummm, I don’t need to,” Timmy said. “I didn’t do anything.”

“What you doing in the toilet then?” The thug’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. His expression was identical to the guard on the door, leaving Timmy to wander if they did some sort of special training for it.

“Oh umm… Nothing… I was just…”

“You new ‘ere?”

“Ummm yes…”

“And you're already skiving off?”

“What? I wasn’t.” Timmy’s whole mouth had gone dry and he felt sweat trickling down his sides.

“Well you best get back to it then.” The guard lost interest in Timmy. He turned around and began unbuckling his belt at the urinal.

“Yes sir.”

Timmy pushed the door open.

“‘Old on, what’s your name?”

“My name? Oh, ummm… it’s Wally.”

“Yeah that sounds about right,” the guard laughed as Timmy hurried out of the toilet.

His heart was hammering in his chest and his hands had gone so clammy they left a hand shaped mark on the metal of the door handle. The stifling atmosphere of the card house didn’t help. It was dark and thick with the fog of a dozen cigars. The whole place stunk of smoke and booze. Timmy shook his head and wiped the sweat from his face. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he pulled himself together. He had to find the HobGoblin. It wasn’t going to be easy. Card houses weren’t exactly places where people wanted to be seen. The only lights in the place were directly over the card tables, leaving the players as half formed shadows.

“Oi! Give us a refill!” A shadow barked, holding up an empty glass.

Timmy looked around and then realised he was talking to him.

“Yes sir,” he took the glass and then looked around. Where was the bar?

He started walking so as not to arouse suspicion. In the gloom of the place, it was hard to tell where he was. He spotted another white shirt in the darkness and followed it until he came up on the bar.

“I need a refill of this,” Timmy said to the bartender.

“What is it?”

“Oh. I don't know.”

The bartender looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You new?”

“Umm… yes. Sorry.” Timmy’s natural tendency towards awkwardness made it easy to believe he was an incompetent new start.

The bartender shook his head, raised the glass, and gave it a thoughtful sniff. With a nod of satisfaction, he poured something from a gold tinted bottle.

“Here and take this round to table 16.” The bartender plonked the drink down on a silver tray next to four other drinks and pushed it towards Timmy.

“Right. Yes. Okay. Where’s that again?”

“Where do they find these people?” the bartender muttered while shaking his head. “Over there, the table at the end.

“Okay. Yes. I can do that.” Timmy carefully lifted the tray, surprised at how heavy it was.

The tray rattled and almost tipped over as he tried to get his sweaty hand underneath it. The drink all slid to one side, threatening to send the whole tray flying. Frantically, Timmy fought to get it balanced and then offered a weak smile to the bartender who was shaking his head at him. Timmy turned carefully and walked away like a man carrying a bomb that was ready to go off. The tray rattled with every step he took. Sweat beaded his top lip as he carefully navigated the dark labyrinth of card tables. As he walked, he tried to steal furtive glances at all the punters. It was no good. He could only see about two tables in front of him and there was another section of non-card games on the other side of the room that he could barely make out. Where was Wally? They could cover more ground together. Preoccupied with his search, Timmy didn’t notice the bag down on the floor by one of the gambler’s stools. His foot became tangled in the loop and as he tried to take a step forward the bag came with. There was a horrifying second where his foot swung forwards and then froze as it caught the bag. He tried to step with his other leg and catch himself but it was too late. He stumbled and the heavy metal tray flew from his hand hitting a table and spilling drinks all over the gamblers. There was a roar from one of the men and the echoing clang of the tray as bedlam broke out.

“Oi! What was that for!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“I’m soaked!”

“Oi those are my coins!”

“No they’re not!”

“Get your grubby hands…”

Then a glass was smashed.

Timmy, now on all fours scrabbling to untangle himself from the treacherous bag, looked up to see two burly men swinging frying pan sized fists at each other while the hapless dealer tried to calm things down. Their brawl quickly spilled into another table that had a sizable pot built up. The sound of jangling coins was enough to spark immediate chaos in the rest of the gambling house. Some punters used it as a chance to grab fistfuls of falling coins, others surreptitiously snatched coins from their own tables and stuffed them into their pockets, leading to melees breaking out all over the card house.

Timmy whimpered and crawled under a table to stop himself being trampled on. Fists, feet, headbutts, and chairs were flying everywhere. He saw a man go down and get his face stepped on, while two more gamblers rolled across the floor biting and gouging at one another.

“Oh no. Oh no.” Timmy muttered to himself, looking for an escape route.

In his panic, he couldn’t even remember the layout of the card house. Where were the toilets? Where was the loading bay? Where was Wally? There was another series of smashing sounds and something wet splashed across Timmy’s shoes.

There was the sound of heavy boots thundering into the card house as more men joined the fray. Timmy peeked up from under the table and saw men being restrained, pushed up against walls, and slammed face first onto tables as the fire of the brawl was doused by the appearance of this crack squad of thugs.

“By order of the fucking Landlord!” one of the biggest men snarled as he held a man off his feet by his face.

At the mention of the Landlord’s name, civility descended upon the card house. Men dropped weapons and unclenched fists. They looked sheepishly at the floor. Timmy heard a muttered conversation before the man spoke again.

“Who started this?”

Without looking, Timmy knew every eye in the room was swivelling over to his section of the card house. They didn’t know why it started but they knew the two men responsible.

“He threw his drink at me!” Timmy heard one man yell.

“No I didn’t! He tried to nick me coins.”

“Drag ‘em both out of here and take some teeth,” Timmy heard the big man growl.

“No wait! Honestly it was a mistake!”

“We didn’t mean it! It was a accident! Don’t hurt me!”

Timmy squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the beating start prematurely.

“Not in here! I don’t wanna be cleaning up the blood stains. Drag ‘em out the back!”

“No wait!” Timmy didn’t make the conscious decision to intervene but when he opened his eyes he was standing up from under the table and staring at the big man. “It was me.”

“It was you what?”

“I started the fight… I umm, accidentally tripped and umm… spilled my tray over them.” Timmy reddened as he felt all eyes fall on him.

“And who are you?” the big man asked.

“Who are you?” the man in the black jacket who had shouted at them to help unload the wagon asked looking at him curiously. “What’s your name?”

Timmy opened his mouth to lie but quickly realised that his cover was probably blown to a million pieces by now.

“I’m Corporal Timothy Edgewater of the Verdalia police.”

Someone snorted and then laughter rang around the card house.

“Alright mate, and I’m an Elf!” someone shouted.

“I am!” Timmy insisted. “I’m here on a covert stakeout looking for a dangerous criminal.”

The big man looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Where’s your badge?” he asked.

“I… left it… across the road.”

Just then there was a commotion from behind them as another burly man burst out of the toilet holding a weakly protesting Wally.

“Found this one taking a crap,” he grunted.

“You coulda let me pull up me drawers first!” Wally growled, covering his unmentionables with one hand and pulling up his trousers with the other.

“He a copper too?” the big man asked and Timmy nodded.

The big man sighed and looked around the card house.

“Right grab these two little piggies, they're coming with us. The rest of you clean this place up and pray the Landlord doesn’t decide to make an example outta the lot of you!”

“Wot? Wait, where we going? Timmy?” Wally was grabbed under his shoulders and feet by two men and bundled out of the card house.

“Hold on you can’t…” Timmy didn’t finish his sentence as he was yanked up from behind and dragged out of the card house. “We’re police officers!” Timmy squealed. “You can’t do this! Find Sergeant Nairo! Call the Captain! Help us!”