The Quicksand Singularity ArQive: Array.init:0

A0T5.5 Clean House (Abridged)

"You wouldn't," the female said, "name's Esela, this is Gefnar. We're investigating a string of homicides in the province. This one popped up on our radar."

"String of homicides you say?" Ullifrikh responded, incredulously, "Læfeln, you heard about this?"

"No, sir," Læfeln answered.

"Gonna need to see some ID," Ullifrikh put.

Without offering resistance, the two suits sent their credentials directly to Ullifrikh's nueromesh computer, the details appearing on his retinal display. He'd've been suspicious, were it not for their tired, exasperated expressions.

"Monitoring our radio chatter, then?" Ullifrikh grumbled, satisfied they were GSIU. "How'd you get here so fast anyway?"

"Like I said," Esela responded, "we're investigating—"

"A string of homicides in the province," Ullifrikh interrupted, "heard ya the first time. Big province, though."

"Sure is," Gefnar agreed.

"We're staying at the Cozy Pines Inn," Esela said, irritably. "It's just up the road in—"

"Vølpenntvo," Ullifrikh interrupted.

"Great! You know where it is!" Esela exclaimed, exasperatedly. "Are we done!?"

"For now," Ullifrikh said.

"Do you mind showing us what happened?" Gefnar requested. "Need to confirm this isn't related."

"I got a choice?" Ullifrikh responded.

"No," Esela answered, bluntly.

"I'm not a tour guide," Ullifrikh retorted, stepping out of the way, "you want to see what happened to Old Man Jaafarek, place is all yours. Just mind your manners with Sawbones."

Without saying another word, the suits stepped past Ullifrikh and Læfeln, climbing the steps, and disappearing inside. Something about them made the hairs on Ullifrikh's neck stand up. It was too convenient that they were here. Too damn convenient. Even if they were staying in Vølpenntvo.

"Beginning to think you're right," he said to Læfeln, lighting another cigarette. "Something's not right with this. Not right at all."

"Word of advice," Læfeln said, walking away, "leave this one to the Guvs."

"How'd you know," Ullifrikh murmured to himself, as he looked up at the ruined rowhouse, "and how'd you get here so fast?"

Læfeln may have been right, but Ullifrikh hadn't been sheriff for the last twelve docades for nothing. Like an old dog, once he'd caught sent of something, he couldn't let it go. Not until he'd tracked down the whole den and turned it over. It was his nature. Fighting nature only left a man exhausted and defeated.

Lighting another cigarette, Ullifrikh decided he ought pay Old Man Jaafarek's favourite dealer a visit. If anyone would have sold the eccentric collector a death warrant, it would be Smugtub Voldir—Yaanis-5's infamous tradesman of suspiciously obtained, questionably legal curios from The Way's least pleasant rat holes.

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Talvo_03.meme

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Only a crater remained. Smugtub Voldir's stash house was gone, ship and all. Soot-stained, bare, blasted bedrock in shades of pitch punctuated with chunks of debris like glitter on black paper was all that remained of it. Inside the crater, a trickle of water from the nearby river had formed a trail of ice down which a thin rivulet flowed to the bottom where a frozen pond had gathered.