Harry and Toi – Harry

Harry and Toi

Harry

* * *

I stepped out of the booth that let me talk to anyone in the Thirty Aions by speaking to the air like a lunatic. No one heard Toi call me Daddy, I thought. I was still red in the face, though. For the first time, I was glad Abram was no longer on Noir.

Sally at the front desk was almost as bad. She did notice my face and smirked. She must have heard it. I gave her my best smile as I showed her the manicure on my middle finger. As I stepped onto the street, the reappearing front door of the Chapterhouse cut off her laughter.

The rain cooled my cheeks, thankfully.

Turning up my collar, I trudged down to the taxi stand at the end of the block. I had a good lead on the whereabouts of my missing person, and I meant to clear this case before my daughter arrived in four days.

* * *

Happy Town was not the fun-time, ha-ha neighborhood the name implied. The habitual sarcasm of this berg explained the appellation. Drugs that tended to have permanent effects and the kind of prostitution Madame Josie had outlawed in her establishment were the chief sources of amusement. It was neck deep in gangs whose shaky peace was the only reason it hadn’t burned to the ground long ago.

But hey, the rents were cheap.

When my first inquiries into Darla Merkelsen’s disappearance pointed to Happy Town, I figured she’d either been rendered mindless by taking something she shouldn’t have, was now the property of some pimp, or had simply been killed for wandering down the wrong street after dark.

My cynicism had taken a blow after my daughter arrived in my life. I couldn’t help but think of a fifteen-year-old Toi alone in Happy Town. I was worried about this kid, Darla, in a way that made my sleep uneasy.

Eight days of searching and discreet questions in the right ears had all but eliminated those three possibilities but had strongly suggested a fourth. Miss Merkelsen was apparently shacked up with a lover.

After two days of surveillance, I was sure I knew where.

* * *

The door that opened onto the roof gave with a hideously loud squeal as it did so. A whacking great crack of thunder masked it, so it did not create a stealth problem for my intended spying tonight.

I set up a small awning to shield my equipment from the worst of the wet and got the imager lined up with the right window across the street.

Third from the left, top floor; it had no curtain and opened into a truly depressing one-room hovel that was currently the residence of one Darla Merkelsen and boyfriend.

I hadn’t managed a good look at the guy yet. I hoped to get some decent shots of him and the missing girl together, so I could ID him. That info, the photos, and the address would be enough for her parents. They had enough pull in this town that getting their daughter out of here and back home would be a walk in the park. I shuddered to think what they’d do to the poor bastard who had seduced Darla away from home. None of my business, of course.

If all went well, I’d have my money and be free of commitments with days to spare before Toi’s arrival.

* * *

The rule of thumb for a gig like this is that the worse the weather, the longer I’d have to be out in it. I figured it would be hours before the lovers made an appearance.

Much to my surprise, therefore, they came home barely twenty minutes after I had set up. I hadn’t even lit my third smoke, yet. My mickey of innard warmer was still unopened.

Thinking I’d be able to spend most of the evening with Mæve now, I focused the imager at the window and zoomed in good and tight.

Speaking of tight, Darla looked a lot older than her fifteen years in that dress she was almost wearing. I started recording; video in high-def, and images once per second.

By his clothing, the boyfriend was a Morg, the gang that had the few blocks this building was in under its thumb. I had guessed Darla’s darling would be banging for the Morgs, considering where the apartment was. A good shot of his mug and I’d have his name and history in no time.

I wondered if he knew whose daughter he was diddling. Not likely, I decided. Once daddy dearest had the images I was recording, his lifespan would be measured in hours.

Wherever they had been, it seemed to have put them both in an amorous mood. Loverboy had Darla on her knees as soon as the door closed.

She fairly tore his pants open to get at his dick and had it in her mouth like she hadn’t eaten in days. He wasn’t all that big our hero, so the fact Darla swallowed his pride whole wasn’t all that impressive.

Gentleman that he was, he kept his hands to himself for a full twenty seconds before grabbing fistsful of hair and jackhammering her mouth. I let the imager run for a while, lighting up a smoke and taking the first pull from my hipflask.

I figured Loverboy would finish right there, but he further demonstrated his chivalrous nature by stopping the blowjob and helping his paramour to her feet. Laying her down on that godawful couch, which I sincerely hoped was cleaner than it looked, he lifted her dress, parted her legs—clearly showing a lack of panties and a grassless front yard—and returned the favour.

I wished I had a good distance mic, then. Not that I needed audio, but judging by her thrashings, she was evidently a screamer when aroused. In better weather, I probably would have heard something even without technological enhancement.

A few minutes of this and the girl went limp, caressing the shoulders of her lover, who rose to his knees and gently penetrated his amoré.

Thirty pistoning seconds later it was over.

I packed up, I realized I didn’t actually need to find out who was banging Darla to get my fee. I could offer to do so, if her parents wanted me to track him down, for an additional fee, of course. I still had days before my daughter arrived and I hated not being busy. I decided to flash his face at the Chapterhouse to see if they knew him before I went to see the Merkelsen’s tomorrow.

* * *

As I taxied back to my office, evidence safely stowed in my valise, I thought about the encounter I had just witnessed.

Again, my mind drifted to my daughter. What would my reaction have been to finding her in flagrante delicto with a lover? Would I have been cool with it? I’d have liked to think so. I certainly wouldn’t have gone homicidal on the poor bastard nailing her, like Darla’s daddy would almost certainly do.

I suffered a momentary twinge of conscience. Should I let my clients know what went on? If I took another day, I could get less graphic evidence or even hide Loverboy’s existence. Let Darla explain why she was in Happy Town.

No point in involving the Herms; no laws had been broken and only a fool would buy that Darla was unwilling, especially after seeing what I had. Besides, I knew they’d already told Darla’s parents it wasn’t any business of theirs where their daughter was, not without some evidence of foul play.

She was only fifteen. Sex was one thing, but a live-in boyfriend was pushing it, I thought.

Had she had a normal adolescence, Toi would have had her cherry popped by fifteen; I certainly had. Would I have been okay with my minor daughter living with a lover?

I would have been against that, were Darla my offspring. Especially if they were living in Happy Town. What would I say? What would I do?

Fuck. What was I going to do here?

—Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, October 2026

© Gideon Jagged
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