The plastic sign that swayed over the door of the “billiards and poker supplier” had a rather busty mythological harpy with a pool cue in one hand and a poker hand in the other. A wink and smirk were the final touches of class. Absent from the sign was the name of the business, so I invented my own: The Harpy’s Secret.

I walked in and found every poker and billiard table turned over. Many had their felt torn off or cut down the center.

There were a surprising amount of broken beer and liquor bottles for a “supply store.” But probably the right amount for a gambling front.

A lone man who looked like he ran a gambling hall in the 1800s was so busy trying to sweep up the glass he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone.

I cleared my throat and startled him.

“Ah, jeez. Can’t you see we’re closed.”

“Sign said open.”

He shook his head. “Well, we ain’t. Go find a game somewhere else.”

“I’m not looking for a game. I’m looking for a kid.”

He swore and then pointed a handgun at me.

“I ain’t dealing with this shit again.”

I put my hands up and calmly said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ya, well, the last people who came around looking for the kid did this to my place.”

Keeping my hands up and my sarcasm set to zero, I said, “I have no interest in hurting you or your place. Just tell me what you know, and I’ll be on my way.”

“What are you a cop?”

“Nope.”

He put the gun down. “We were about halfway through the third shifters making their rounds…”

I attempted to translate in my head. People got off third shift and came here to gamble.

“And then these two guys comes in I’d never seen before. Nothing unusual. I get new customers now and then. But these two, they don’t sit down at any of the tables. They meet with one of my regulars.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Who?”

“Hey pal, no names.”

“Fine.”

“So then my regular stops his game. Doesn’t do a thing about all his winnings on the table, and he just leaves with the two guys.”

“The two guys you’d never be able to recognize.”

“Not in a million years. But that’s not all…” I was surprised he kept talking. “About a half hour later, this goon squad comes in. Must have been fifty of them.”

And tomorrow it would be five hundred. I divided that number by ten to get a better guess at how many people were actually here. But I kept that approximation to myself.

“Fifty people made this mess?”

“Na, nobody did this.”

“Right”— they absolutely did this—“What did they want?”

“Said they were looking for a kid. Nobody knew what they were talking about, but they wouldn’t leave until people started saying things.”

“Anyone say something that made them go away?”

“Someone at my regulars table squawked about the guy who left his winnings on the table earlier. Said they over heard the guy he left with insisting they needed to get to his cabin right away.”

“Do you know where that is?”

“Buddy, I don’t know where here is.”

I could tell he was lying and just stared him down.

“But I’ve got an address.”

He spat it out quick and would not be repeating it.

Then added before going back to his sweeping, “Anyone asks, you didn’t get it from me.”

“Never even heard of this place,” I said.

As the door was closing behind me, he said, “Keep it that way.”

Bernie and I headed out of town in the direction of the cabin. A good three hours out of town from our current location.

I phoned Igraine and told her the details, hoping she’d heard something on the news about it. Or could grab some other vital piece of information that could help us.

She asked, “How far behind are you?”

The roads were open now. I had a chance to make up for the time lost to the standstill on the sixway. “They left about an hour ago.”

“Ok, I’ll meet you there.”

“There’s no point.”

“I can’t stay here and keep listening to the radio. Besides, if she’s there, then I can use this spell.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I suspected someone had swindled her.

“What makes you think she’s there?”

“I don’t know, but you can’t stop me from going.”

“I’m not going to wait for you when I get there.”

“Assuming you get there before me, what are you planning on doing?”

“I’m not sure, but I have been told that I am a natural at making situations inconvenient for people, so I’ll probably lean into that intuition.”

“Should we call the police?”

“Ahh… funny thing about the police.”

“What’s that?”

“They know who I am.”

“And that’s not a good thing?”

“Let me put it this way. If they find out I’m involved, they’ll be more difficult than helpful.”

She grumbled before hanging up. “Ugh, why couldn’t her grandmother have hired someone useful.”

A few minutes later, I wondered if Avalon had told Igraine who’d hired me.