Richard parked across the street from the building that housed Tranquility Base. He had arrived early, so he could scope out the place, maybe even talk to some of their neighbors. He also had time to place a phone call, now that his contact was going on duty.

“Tucson police,” the voice answered. “Sergeant Reynolds speaking.”

“Hi, Terry,” Richard piped up.

“Hey!” Terry exclaimed. “How’s my favorite little brother?”

Richard tried to hold back his discomfort. “Oh, you know, the usual…out here on the mean streets of the city.”

“Yeah, we heard about your encounter with Tucson Sam,” Terry commiserated. “It gave us all a good laugh, but we’re proud of you! We thought you conducted yourself very well.”

“I’ll learn poise if it kills me, I guess,” Richard managed to reply.

“You do that,” Terry joked. “So what’s on your mind? I thought your last case was wrapped up.”

“It is,” Richard concurred. “I’m on a new one. Do you have anything on a Jaden Donnelly? He was found dead in an alleyway last night.”

“Let me check.” Both were silent as the phone connection filled with the sound of frantic typing. “Yeah, here he is. We picked him up; he’s at the coroner’s office, but that’s the most recent update. I’ll add a note to contact you when we have something. That work for you?”

“Sounds great,” he agreed.

“And we might have something else for you later. A case we don’t have the resources to pursue. The usual deal. I assume you’re interested?”

“Always,” Richard choked out, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“That’s the attitude! OK, gotta go.”

“Bye—” Richard started, but Terry had already hung up.

He sighed and took another look at the building. It was the usual nondescript two-story tilt-up, with peeling paint and a single entrance in front with glass double doors. There were two unusual features noticeable from this angle. One was a title splashed along the left half of the building: “Whispering Saddleback Calvary Sojourners”, whatever that meant. The other was an attached private parking lot, a rarity for this part of town. Most lots were owned by the city and metered to within an inch of their lives, in a desperate attempt to drum up revenue. This only caused most people to fight for the few free spots on the side of the street, like he had. And to think the city actually wondered why it didn’t have more tourists.

He got out of his car and walked around the side of the building. What he found there belied the rustic facade — a sprawling multi-level courtyard, interspersed with small gardens and a relatively large amphitheater-like structure in the middle. The clash was more jarring than a genuinely beautiful woman at a sci-fi convention. Perhaps the landlord had spent all the maintenance money on this.

“’Ello, sir!” a voice rang out. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

Richard whirled around to find himself staring at a scraggly derelict. Immediately he noticed a few key details. This man, though leather-skinned and wild-haired, wore clean clothes. He appeared to be clean himself; the expected ripe stench, normally thick enough to obscure vision, didn’t radiate for several feet around him. And his piercing gaze seemed to beam with intensity — a far cry from the usual dead look.

“I take it you live around here?” Richard asked.

“And work. I’m employed by the local church. You saw the sign, I assume?”

Richard turned around to take another look at the loquacious convoy of words marching across half the building’s width. “Oh, that’s the name of a church. I guess that makes as much sense as anything.”

The itinerant managed a dignified shuffle and a regal bow. “Eustace Abernathy, at your service!”

Richard smirked. “Pretty pretentious name for a bum.”

“I beg your pardon, good sir!” Eustace shrilled. “I’m a vagabond, not a bum. I work for my sustenance; I don’t beg for it.” He shook his head disapprovingly as he contemplated Richard. “It’s common for religious pilgrims in the Orient to live in poverty. I’m just bringing a touch of class to the Occident.”

Richard stared at Eustace blankly. “‘Occidental’ means ‘western’, just as ‘Oriental’ means ‘eastern’,” he explained.

“Oh…I should have guessed,” Richard stammered. “You are certainly well-spoken for a…vagabond.”

“My poverty has no relation to my intelligence and education!” Eustace asserted. “I have my bachelor’s degree in philosophy, from a prominent midwestern university. But soft! It is not comfortable to stand here. What say we take a seat in this lovely garden?” He motioned towards the courtyard.

“Fine by me,” Richard agreed as they found a bench. “I came here to scope out the place. I’m a private detective.”

“Indeed,” Eustace acknowledged. “The uniformly bland tan color of your clothes should have been a dead giveaway. The same with your car.” He peered at it more closely. “Is that an old Chrysler LeBaron?”

“Almost,” Richard informed. “It’s a 1982 Dodge 400. Sort of a relative, but a lot less common.”

Eustace clucked his tongue. “We all have to start somewhere, I guess.”

“Parts for it are cheap and readily available. It fits into my budget…which isn’t much.”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

A door behind them opened; they heard the sounds of people leaving. Eustace turned to look, then spun back quickly. “Oooh…don’t make eye contact. Just let them leave.”

“Who are they?” Richard asked.

“Not so loud!” Eustace shushed. “You don’t want to attract their attention. Wait until they reach the parking lot, then you can look.”

Several tense moments passed. “OK, now,” Eustace assured.

Richard twisted to see a comical collection of dorky guys that outnumbered incredibly plain women by at least five to one. He managed to stifle a guffaw. “Who are they?” he asked.

“That’s the singles ministry,” Eustace whispered. “They can’t find a mate on their own, so they finally turned to the church. But that doesn’t address the crux of the problem.” He sighed. “Some people just shouldn’t breed; we’re all the richer for it.”

“I’m starting to believe you really do have a degree in philosophy,” Richard laughed. “I guess it makes sense you come from a stuffy private school.”

Eustace shuffled uncomfortably. “No…a state school. Ohio State, to be specific. But still. The point is, I’m not an idiot.”

“It seems like you could be doing better for yourself, if you were so smart,” Richard observed.

“A degree in philosophy doesn’t exactly open doors to lucrative jobs,” Eustace informed. “I don’t really want to be a lawyer…or an MBA…or, God help us all, an art critic. But philosophy majors also end up in seminaries. And here I am, working for a church.”

“Doing what, exactly?” Richard asked.

“Oh, you know, this and that,” Eustace shared. “Handyman. Parking lot usher. Night watchman. And occasionally, freewheeling philosophical discussions with the clergy.”

“Hey, great!” Richard chimed. “I have some questions about that.”

“Be careful what you ask for,” Eustace chuckled. “I’m so good at it, some of the priests have lost the faith.”

“No, not that,” Richard clarified. “Night watchman. I’m meeting with some of the tenants in the building very soon.”

Eustace seemed crestfallen. “Oh. OK. Well, if you ever want to discuss philosophy, think of me.”

“I expect you’d be way out of my league,” Richard admitted. “But I’ll keep it in mind. Can you tell me anything about Harmony?”

Eustace shivered. “Them? Ugh. I gotta say, I’m glad someone’s finally investigating them.”

“No, not as such,” Richard explained. “I’m working for them. I’m investigating the death of one of their members.”

“Only one?” Eustace quipped. “The way they go looking for trouble, I’m surprised they’re not being constantly slaughtered.”

“How so?” Richard asked. “What do they get up to?”

Eustace demurred. “I’m afraid my information requires the remuneration of convertible currency. I’m not thrilled to ask for that, but the circumstances of my poverty dictate it.”

“What, now?” Richard asked, confused.

“I would like to get paid.”

“Oh…right.” Richard reached for his wallet. “Fair enough. How much do you want?”

“Give what you can,” Eustace replied sanguinely. “If you don’t think you received good value, I’ll make myself available for the imparting of additional information.”

“So you’ll tell me more later,” Richard summarized.

“That’s what I just said,” Eustace bristled.

“I can’t afford much…my career isn’t going all that well…but how about this.” Richard removed a twenty dollar bill and pushed it into Eustace’s hand.

Eustace was taken aback. “Well, thank you, kind sir! I was hoping for a fiver, but this…this is truly generous!”

“I wish I had known,” Richard pined, crestfallen. “I’m not yet sleeping in my office, but that seems to be imminent.”

“If it makes you feel any better, for this, you get the deluxe package! I’ll tell you everything I know, plus I’ll stay alert for new information, and be sure to keep you posted.”

“I guess that’s something,” Richard laughed. “So what do you know about Harmony?”

Eustace looked unsettled and leaned towards Richard. Richard did likewise.

“They’re a scary bunch,” Eustace related. “And I don’t just mean the trouble they get themselves into. I mean…they’re personally scary.”

“How so?” Richard looked worried. He thought of his initial impression of Kelly, and now wished he had said no. But poverty had a way of compromising common sense.

“I see them come and go all the time,” Eustace shared. “I try to talk to them, to make eye contact. But they hardly say a word, and act like I’m not there. The look in their eyes is what really gets me. With most people, I can see some sign of life. For instance, you seem downtrodden, but I spy evidence of an indomitable will.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Richard chuckled. “I wondered what it was that kept me going.”

“But with them,” Eustace continued, “I see…nothing. No sign of humanity. Only…an appetite.” He paused for a moment. “They may be the single most obvious group of sociopaths I’ve ever encountered.”

“Really?” Richard was taken aback. “Seems strange for a group dedicated to social justice.”

“They’re not like the agitators of more civilized times,” Eustace hissed. “Back then, the cause was paramount. These days, the fighting itself is what they care about. Want to prove that to yourself? When you talk to them, find out what their cause is, and then, what they’re willing to do to achieve it. You’ll find their goals muddled, and their actions uniformly violent.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Richard noted. “How are they with the other tenants in the building? Just as remote?”

“Mostly,” Eustace related. “The only time we really see them is at the coffee stand on the first floor. They’re regular customers, but they get really upset if their order is wrong.”

Richard stared into the distance. “Huh. Good to know. I’ll be on my guard.” He turned back to Eustace. “Anything else you can think of? It’s almost time for me to meet them.”

“Just one other thing,” Eustace shared. “I thought they were mostly a spoiled bunch of rich kids, but I’m pretty sure one of them lives there.”

“Which one?”

“I’m not sure; I’ve only seen him at night. Thin build, medium height. Not sure if that’s enough to go on.”

Richard took a deep breath. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful.” He stood up. “And I’ll try to think of something philosophical to discuss the next time I’m here.”

Eustace gestured with raised hands, palms up. “I look forward to that!”

Richard began to walk away, then stopped and turned back, a smirk on his face. “It just occurred to me…it would make more sense if your name was Johnny.”

Eustace blanched slightly. “Why would you say that?”

Richard smiled. “Just a character on an old TV show. Johnny the shoeshine boy, from ‘Police Squad’. He seemed to know everything going on in the neighborhood.”

Eustace demurred. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that program.”

“Not a big deal,” Richard assured. “Just a random thought. Have a good day, and thanks again.”

“You too, kind sir,” Eustace replied as Richard walked into the building. His eyes continued to track Richard for several seconds before he finally got up and walked back to the parking lot.