“Where are we going?” Shel asked quietly after a few moments.

Wolfe exhaled and tried to relax his grip on the steering wheel, then reached into his pocket and pushed the piece of paper to Shel. “I need to get Guinevere off my back, so we’re gonna go handle her ‘associates’ rat problem. Put that address into your phone and get me directions.”

Shel nodded and pulled her phone out, putting the directions in.

The residential neighborhoods in Noimore were really hit and miss, some filled with huge, ornate houses with giant gardens, and some filled with hovels or giant subsidized apartment complexes for the poor. But the neighborhood Shel’s phone took them to was in between. It was an older neighborhood of large brick and wood houses that mostly appeared to be slowly losing to entropy.

As they drove, Shel pointed to a pile of garbage on the side of the road with a man sleeping on it and laughed. “Heh, check that out.”

Wolfe grunted out a single laugh.

“Ever just drive around looking at how disgusting Noimore is?” Shel asked.

“Not really—I’m usually driving somewhere and have a goal. Can’t just look around.”

“You should. In its own weird and gross way it’s kinda pretty. Like that,” Shel said, pointing at an entire squad of pigeons fighting over a discarded pizza box with the uneaten crusts spilling out.

Wolfe drove by slowly, enjoying the idiot pigeons.

As he drove, Shel continued to point things out to him. There wasn’t much that was exciting, but a woman dressed oddly, a man with a funny sign asking for cash, and even half a couch—just a couch torn in half—thrown to the side of the road all made for inane talk.

Wolfe found himself enjoying it. Despite his occasional rapport with Big Man Grimm, and a few benders and other types of ‘nights out with the boys,’ he had spent most of the last twenty years lonely, and he found himself enjoying his enforced partner far more than he thought he would enjoy one.

By the time Wolfe pulled into the driveway at their destination, next to a beat-up old Volkswagen that would have been out of style in the eighties, he was in a far better mood.

Ms. Greenwald’s house was on par with the houses around it, but larger. It had a brick lower half of the first story, and then a dark wooden second half of the first story and entire second story. The front was ‘plants gone wild,’ roses bushes and hedges raging out of control. But for the most part, the house had a relatively opulent look to it, worn down by time.

Wolfe knocked on the big, dark, wood door with the metal knocker hanging from it.

The door opened and an old lady, probably nearly seventy and using a cane, stared up at him from a diminutive five-foot height. “Who’re you hooligans?”

Guinevere and her fucking assignments. I swear she finds all the least likeable asshats in the entire city.

The woman’s white hair was so frizzy it looked like she had practically tried for afro, but it was thinning notably. Her brown eyes were intelligent, however, and flicked easily across Wolfe and Shel, taking them in. But her mouth was set in a sneer that proclaimed her contempt to the world.

“Sorry to bother you Ms. Greenwall. We’re here about the rats,” Shel offered before Wolfe could speak. “Guinevere said we were to help you, but her son is also missing, so…”

“The idiot or the dwarf?” Ms. Greenwall asked, and Wolfe couldn’t help a smile. “Also, call me Juliet. Never liked my damn last name. Should’ve gotten married just to change the stupid thing.”

“Thaddeus Junior,” Shel said.

Juliet appeared barely mollified. “Hmph. The idiot. Well, it’s about time someone got here, even if her dumb kid is missing. Follow me. The problem is this way.”

She turned and limped into the house with all the speed of maimed turtle, but still called out, “Hurry up! No lollygagging!”

Wolfe, torn between amusement at the caustic old biddy and his remaining irritation over his menial tasks, entered the house. As soon as he did, he got the smells of death. And ass. Wolfe glanced over at Juliet. She isn’t so old she should smell like this or leave a smell like it around. The place looks clean and well-kept as well.

Juliet slowly led them out of the front room, a geriatric hellscape of floral print and Ansel Adams—even hard candy in a bowl. Then through a hall with pictures of numerous award ceremonies but no family members, and into a large kitchen. “This way! This way!”

The smell kept getting worse as they went.

She walked over to a door in the back of the kitchen and rapped on it with her cane. “Problem is through here. Handle it better than the last people Guinevere sent, they were all idiots.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Shel said.

“Juliet!” the old biddy said and whacked Shel on her calf.

Shel gave a startled yelp and reached down to rub her leg.

Wolfe was torn between irritation and laughing at the situation. Lady is crazier than a soup sandwich.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“I’ll look the situation over and see what I can do, but I’m not promising anything,” Wolfe said.

The lady thwapped Wolfe in his ankle.

“Son of an Infernal!” Don’t kill the old lady. Don’t kill the old lady, Wolfe repeated to himself as a mantra.

She went to thwap him again and Wolfe caught the cane. He looked her dead in the eye and spat out, “Stop.”

Shel stepped in and gently took the cane from Wolfe’s hands. “Of course, Juliet. Guinevere wouldn’t have asked us if she didn’t think we can handle it. We will handle it.”

Juliet “Hmph. I guess I have no choice but to trust you. The last people she sent only made things worse. You guys had better handle it, though, or Guinevere will hear my opinion in no uncertain terms! I’ll be in the living room.”

Juliet said and walked away, her cane an odd punctuating thump each time.

Wolfe opened the door and then pulled back, almost gagging. Shel turned to the side, almost green, and did gag. Then she reached over and flipped the switch by the door. Light flooded the entire basement as multiple floodlight-type things turned on. The basement was huge, some old bomb-shelter type thing. But that just made the horror of the situation worse.

Rats covered the floor. The entire floor, squirming and wriggling over each other. Wolfe could immediately see why. There were two bodies chained to chairs in the room, now half eaten, their remaining rotten flesh liquified by decay, rat saliva, and the insufficiently cooled basement. At least the mystery of the death smell was solved.

Ta-da! It was actual dead people. For my next trick I’ll shoot someone.

“They made me hold two cobra thugs in the basement!” Juliet yelled from the other room. “And then they forgot about them! And then the rats got in! It’s not my fault—I was barely a part of this!”

Wolfe wondered which fuck nugget enforcer had been originally been in charge of this cluster fuck.

His eyes were drawn to small rat traps and empty poison boxes around the floor. Or which idiot enforcers just let it get worse. There were hundreds and hundreds of rats, and such small-scale solutions likely only killed off the most idiotic of the rats. Wolfe resolved to find out who had screwed the pooch on this situation and throw them a beating.

Later though. I have too much shit to do.

Wolfe pulled his deck and then brough Cereboo out. The puppy woofed and jumped on him, but then wrinkled all three sets of noses. The left head sneezed hard, blowing snot onto Wolfe which fortunately dissipated.

“Hey boy! Glad to see you too, sorry to pull you into this. Don’t let any rats past this door.”

With that, Wolfe walked down the stairs, taking in the rest of the basement as he did. He saw an entire lab down here—skeletons, gurneys, a medical table, bone saws, a computer… a bunch of stuff.

Shel followed him down, her hand covering her mouth and still half-gagging.

“So, what do we do?” she asked.

Wolfe hefted his gun, glancing at the limited bullet he had left. Then he thought about his deck. Could I just summon a creature and tell it to go to town on rodent ass? Would it even succeed? How the fuck long would it take?

Wolfe glanced up and met Shel’s eyes. “I have no fucking idea what to do.”

Shel’s eyes widened. “Really? You don’t have a plan? You always have a plan.”

“Girl, I’m standing in a basement full of corpses and rats. Clearly I don’t have all the answers in life.”

Shel laughed once and smiled at him.

Wolfe contemplated calling an exterminator, but the dead bodies would get the cops called so fast his head would spin. He couldn’t help but figure that Guinevere had given him the assignment because she hated him. Why, he didn’t know, but she’d always seemed to have it out for him.

Juliet stuck her head back around the basement door, over Cereboo. “Have you started yet?!”

Wolfe couldn’t help but think it was just a matter of time until he snapped and killed her.

Shel must have sensed his deep irritation because she turned up to her and forced a smile despite being green around the gills. “We’re going over our options.”

Wolfe glared up at the old lady. “We’ll tell you when we’re done. Keep to yourself until then.”

“I’ve worked for the Grimm family for thirty years,” she said, poking her cane at Wolfe over Cereboo’s shoulder like Crochety Old Lady were her legal first, middle, and last name. “If I wanted, I could call in favors and have you two dealt with!”

Cereboo barked and Juliet shrieked and actually whacked the companion card with her cane. Cereboo woofed again from three heads, and Juliet backed up shrieking curses. It was Wolfe’s turn to laugh, and he called up, “Good boy!”

After Wolfe stopped chortling, Shel turned to him. “What if just pour a ton of bleach and ammonia down here.”

“I’m not physically cleaning this place no matter what the old woman is threatening. She’s full of crap anyway—in the twenty years I’ve worked for the Grimm family I’ve barely heard of her. But even if she wasn’t, I’d let them put a bullet in the back of my head before I pick up a damn scrub brush and try and fix this crap.”

“So dramatic,” Shel said with a roll of her eyes and a smile. “But I wasn’t talking about cleaning the place.”

“Then why?” Wolfe asked.

“When you mix ammonia and bleach, you make chlorine gas. It’s deadly—burns your lungs and stuff. If we poured it all over the floor, I’m sure it’d kill the rats… but then we’d have hundreds of rat corpses here.”

“Where’d you learn that?” Wolfe asked, vaguely impressed.

“Chemistry class and History class. The ones I took getting a high school diploma that everyone can get and isn’t that impressive.”

Wolfe scoffed at her. “You’re becoming a regular smartass.”

“I learned from the best.”

Wolfe laughed. Girl had a point. “How dangerous is this gas?”

Shel pushed her tongue against the inside of her cheek for half a second, then said, “Fairly dangerous. People die from it from time to time when cleaning their house. I think Juliet would need to live elsewhere for a week or so, and then the basement would need to be very thoroughly cleaned, but the pests will be dead.”

“Fine. I’ll get the chemicals. You deal with the old lady.”

“That’s fine,” Shel said, smiling a brilliant smile at Wolfe again. “Despite the whole cane thing, and general attitude, I think she just wants company.”

Shel walked back up the stairs quickly. Cereboo woofed quietly and licked her repetitively as she passed. Juliet was just behind Wolfe’s companion again.

“We have a plan,” Shel said, her voice filled with cheer. “We’ll be taking you to a hotel for a week or so. We’ll make sure it’s an excellent one, so you can think of it as taking a vacation. When you get back, everything will be fixed.”

“No one better steal my stuff,” Juliet said. “I was an orthodontic surgeon! I’m friends with the Grimm family. Did dentist work and rearranged corpses for them. They owe me a ton of favors for making’ it look like specific men turned up dead. Seriously, you better not steal my stuff!”

Shel took her elbow and led her back into the main portion of the large house. “No need to worry. Guinevere made it very clear that you were a dear friend.”

“She did?”

“Oh, yes. We know what’ll happen to us if we take your stuff, no need to worry. We just want to make sure your basement is clear.”

“Good… good. That’s what I want to hear.”

Shel led her to the kitchen, and Wolfe followed. When she arrived, she guided Juliet to a chair and then asked, “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, please. Hmm. I was skeptical at first, but it seems Guinevere picked well this time. You should have been the first ones she sent.”

Wolfe caught Shel’s eye and motioned her over with a tilt of his head. She jumped to his side without hesitation.

“What’re you doing?” he hissed. “Leave crotchety-klaus alone—she doesn’t need to like us for this to work.”

“Didn’t you tell me just a day ago how we should make sure we make nice with people, so they’ll think of us and have our back?”

Wolfe laughed to hear his lessons taken seriously—and shoved back in his face. “I guess I did. Point made. Nevermind me, you keep doing what you’re doing.”