Demon Lost

Page 7

Skipping into the dark, cluttered and stinking attic later, I turned to my smaller Thifilatha. You should have heard the squeaking and shrieking as tiny feet scrabbled across boards and stored items, making a hasty retreat from the worst danger they'd ever smelled in their short lives. I have no idea where they went and I had no care to know—I just knew they wouldn't be back until I moved out. This boded well for the restaurant downstairs—I saw it was closed on my way in.
Skipping back to my room, I went to check out the bathroom. I wasn't satisfied with the cleanliness of it, so I went in search of cleaning supplies. Except for the cracked and peeling floor tiles, it was as clean as I could make it when I finished.
Then I skipped into the closed restaurant. I found the reason for the closure—the clerk knew very well they had rats—the writ of closure was lying on the bar, citing vermin and unsanitary facilities as the reasons. It gave three moon-turns for the problems to be addressed before the license reapplication process would be forced. A moon-turn remained before it was completely condemned and additional fees would have to be paid to apply for a license from scratch. Squaring my shoulders, I began to clean. Now that the rats were gone, things should be simple.
"Edan, I am giving a small salary increase," Addah said, pushing a comp-vid across his desk toward his second-born. "Your pastry is quite good and your salads please the guests."
"Thank you," Edan ducked his head respectfully. The salary increase worried Edan, though. What might Aldah do if he learned of it? Was this just a game Addah played, attempting to pit his children against one another? Edan had checked employment listings only that morning—a new restaurant was opening and every shift and position was available. He intended to apply on his afternoon break.
"You want what?" The desk clerk, whom I learned was also the owner, stared at me in shock.
"Only a few fittings and fixtures. It should be inexpensive—I can do the work. The rest of the restaurant is clean."
"But I will have to call the inspectors and hire a cook."
"You have a cook," I said. "You only need two assistants."
"You—cook?" The man almost hooted. Briefly, I considered slapping him before coming to my senses.
"It costs nothing to bring the inspector back. All we have to do is repair the sink."
"Fine. Repair the sink. Then prepare a meal for me. I will decide if you can cook." The man was short, although taller than I, with graying dark hair, a thin moustache and narrow brown eyes. He looked much like the rats I'd chased from his inn.
Good, inexpensive fare was my goal—the inn didn't draw the customer base to support expensive dishes. I used fowl, pork and beef to prepare three dishes. I'd spent my own money on the meat, too. Rat-face, whose name was Neidles, approached the food with trepidation, although his nose might have twitched a time or two. He tasted the pork dish first. I'd wrapped the loin around a stuffing and then surrounded that with a crust before baking. It was moist, succulent and exactly the kind of fare that would appeal to the locals.
Neidles didn't say anything, chewing and swallowing before going to the fowl. The fowl was prepared with a simple sauce and potatoes on the side. It would go well with a good green salad, but I didn't want to push it. The beef I'd sliced thin, breaded and quick-fried before sliding the medallions over a light sauce. All dishes were inexpensive to make. Neidles paused to go back and take a second bite of the pork dish, then back to the chicken before moving on to the beef. I think his knees gave way on the beef dish. He was moaning in pleasure by that time.
"Will you call the inspector?" I asked.
He couldn't speak, his mouth was full. He nodded enthusiastically instead.
"Good. Let me know when you're done; I'll clean up and we'll discuss assistants."
Three six-days later, we were open for business. The inn's guests were the first to arrive—they could smell the food on their way in and out. Once they got a taste, word spread quickly. I had two assistants, Harne and Nari, who thought to be lazy at first. I disabused them of that notion.
"You will not leave a mess," I snapped at Harne. "Laziness will not feed your customers or keep a kitchen clean. The inspector passed us, but he will be back, you can place money on that bet," I untied his apron. "Change your apron daily. More often if it becomes soiled. You lure your customers with your sanitary practices as well as the taste of your food. We will have both in this kitchen."
Nari was better. She watched me closely whenever I prepared anything, then did her best to copy it. Harne, after learning we would not tolerate his reluctance to work, (and after I threatened to let him go) poured himself into the work. He cleaned. He chopped and sliced. He stirred, sifted and rolled. And once he'd gotten a taste of the pastry, he focused on that.
Neidles had to hire additional help after another three six-days. And that's when I started seeing reports of missing children. Mostly it was young girls, ages nine to seventeen, but occasional boys would disappear, ages twelve to twenty. Grithis was a large city, boasting more than seven million in the city and surrounding boroughs. A missing child here or there was to be expected, but these were disappearing frequently in twos and threes. Children who went out to play together never returned. I became worried when the numbers neared fifty. Someone or something was preying on the children of Grithis.
Neidles came in on off-day, which was First-Day for all of us. I intended to do a bit of sleuthing into the mystery of missing children. Neidles wanted to make sure he was wringing as much of a percentage from the wait staff as he could.
"Neidles, you employed them, you go over the figures with them," I snapped when he hauled out his comp-vid to go over all four employees' tip records. He backed away from me; I had no patience with him right then.
"I can fire you," he said.
"Go ahead. Find someone else who'll cook and clean for a pittance." I was making little from working as a master cook in his small restaurant. I controlled the recipes. I oversaw the purchases of meat and vegetables. All the receipts and records were dutifully turned over to Neidles at the end of every six-day. "I'll go get my things now. I'm sure someone else will hire me and I won't have to clean," I shot over my shoulder as I walked out.
"No, no, you do not have to clean now," he was beside me suddenly. "I will hire someone else."
"Good. I have plans for today," I said, trying to walk away from him.
"With a man?" He sounded petulant.
"No. I intend to enjoy the day," I said and left him standing in the entryway. I'd cleaned that, too, found a rug in the attic to put along with other, small bric-a-brac to dress up the place. Neidles only had to count the money. His inn was filling up more often than not, after my arrival. If he'd pay to have new tile laid in his bathrooms, it would be even better. I didn't mind the work, but it was becoming overwhelming with the demands of the kitchen. At least it helped take my mind off the troubles I'd left behind. I was too tired to let my thoughts chase each other at night, now.
I found two things when I did my sleuthing—one, the places where the children were disappearing weren't far from the inn, and two, the heavy-fisted guest was there ahead of me, poking around.
"I'm surprised to see you here," he said as I stared at the small alley where three eleven-year-old girls had disappeared.
"Same here," I nodded.
"You're not from here, are you?" he asked.
"No."
"Where from, then?"
"I was born on Tulgalan," I replied. I didn't see that it hurt anything.
"Before you accuse me of having anything to do with those disappearances, they started before I arrived; the local officials were afraid to report it. Now, rumors are flying so they have to give out the numbers," heavy fist said.
"Why would they do that?" I asked quizzically, staring into his light-brown eyes.
"Grithis is a commonwealth and not under the Prime Minister's thumb. There are six commonwealths left on Bardelus, running their own private government. Like a separate country, you might say. Grithis has been corrupt for a very long time. You saw the state of the inn when we moved in. I thank you for the cleaning and the food in the restaurant. I haven't eaten that well in a very long time. Plovel," he held out his hand as he introduced himself.
"Reah," I couldn't help smiling as I took his hand.
"Well, Reah, I would very much like to get to the root of these disappearances, but I keep running into tall and sturdy walls."
"It worries me," I said. "Do you think it is slavery or sex rings taking them? Have any traces been found at all?"
"Not much," he replied. "Come over here. The locals botched the scene when they investigated. If you can call what they did an investigation," Plovel muttered. He was right—they'd walked right through the area numerous times, destroying any evidence that might be had. The crime scene was next to a brick building that showed signs of aging. Mortar was missing between bricks. I knelt to examine a brick that appeared loose. It came out in my hand.
"What have we here?" Plovel knelt next to me and peered inside the hole. A tiny doll, a child's cheap metal ring and string jewelry were all inside.
"This was their hiding place," I sighed. The neighborhood was poor and indicative of the toys the girls left behind. "Did anybody see anything?"
"A woman across the street says she saw four girls playing here before the disappearances were reported, but we've determined she was mistaken—only three were taken."
"Did she give descriptions?" I asked.
"I have those in my room," Plovel said. "It sounds as if you've done this sort of thing before."
"I may have, once," I hedged. Plovel would probably know it anyway. He seemed quite shrewd. "Who sent you?" I asked.
"I work in a special unit for the Prime Minister. The same thing happened in two other commonwealths before hitting this one. The PM wants this investigated and the perpetrators stopped before they attack United Bardelus."