Mark Del Franco - Undone Deeds

“Oh.” Yeah, the Murdocks hated me. I understood their feelings. It didn’t matter that I didn’t kill their father. It didn’t matter that I had been young and their mother initiated our relationship. From the outside, my actions appeared intentional. Despite my innocence, their parents were dead, and I was an easy scapegoat.

We stopped in front of a building with three arches capped with large granite blocks. Warm blue neon glowed from inside a bar called Fathom, and the faint sound of a bass line thumped at my ears. “They need to be trained, Leo. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

He nodded. “Anything I recommend is assumed to be coming from you. If you can think of a way around that, let me know.”

I opened the door, and the music became louder, with a lush, low energy. Down the center of the main room, a long pool of water was lit from below. The effect threw undulating shadows across the ceiling. Merrow women lounged in the water in small groups or leaned against the sides to talk to other customers. They weren’t a floor show.

Water fey preferred little to no clothing, which invited trouble for them, even in the Weird. The Tangle provided a refuge from stares and hassle. Outside, in the real world, they had to rely on police or the Guild or the Consortium for protection. In the Tangle, if someone bothered them, they could use their full strength to fight, and no law enforcement was around to stop them.

The air hung thick with the tang of the ocean. We endured hard stares as we lingered at the door to adjust to the dimmer light. Getting checked out was standard op whenever you trod on a subculture’s turf. The stares gave notice that any games would be met with resistance. If you came to laugh or gawk or get your kink on, you’d be shown the door faster than a fist could fly.

We made our way around the pool to a low table surrounded by plants and curtains. Melusine Blanc reclined on a pillowed lounge. She wore a loose robe of soft blue cotton and nothing on her bare feet. Her long, thick hair draped in intricate knots behind her. She smiled up at us as we took seats opposite, her sharp teeth dull in the dim light.

Melusine wasn’t a merrow. Some say she came from Germany or France, but that didn’t mean she had any inclination toward the Consortium. One could be Teutonic and not be aligned. She was a solitary water fey, her skin like translucent porcelain, her legs longer in proportion to her body than a human’s were. She had a compelling attraction, her features exaggerated and narrow, offset by deep, blue eyes. I could imagine a sailor or two crashing against the rocks for her.

Decades ago, she had gained respect among the solitaries of Boston with her tough nature, and her selection as the representative of the solitaries on the Guild board had become routine. Her independence from both the Guild and the Consortium gave her power over both groups at times, but more often she struggled to defend her positions alone.

When Eorla set up her independent court and invited the solitaries to join, everyone expected Melusine to resist. She didn’t. Instead, she welcomed Eorla and deferred to her at almost every turn. In fact, when she learned of the dead merrow in the harbor, Melusine sent word that she would help in any way she could.

She extended a languid hand. “Connor Grey. At last, we meet.”

“My pleasure. This is Leonard Murdock. He’s a detective lieutenant with the Boston police.” We took seats opposite her, low divans that prevented us from sitting up. Murdock perched on the edge of the cushion, intent on not falling back in a sprawl.

Melusine rolled onto her side and gestured at the table. Serving trays loaded with oysters, clams, and shellfish crowded the table. “It’s a terrible cliché in merfolk restaurants, but the raw bar here is quite amazing.”

“No, thanks. We were wondering if you could help us with something,” I said.

She slurped a raw oyster. “Of course. The dead merrow’s name was Wessa, from a pod off the coast of Norway. She migrated south to the English Channel with some of her sisters about a decade ago and worked for the Consortium on and off since then. Sea surveillance, if that wasn’t obvious.”

Murdock and I exchanged surprised looks. “How did you know why we were here?”

Amused, Melusine pursed her lips as she picked through the shrimp. “Is it that surprising? You were both seen when the body was recovered. You and I, Connor Grey, have never spoken, and I get word from Eorla that it might be wise for us to meet.”

“Why didn’t you go to the police with the information?” Murdock asked.

Melusine leaned back among the cushions. “Why would I? Wessa was a Consortium agent. As soon as that became known, any local investigation would have been suspended.”

“What was she doing for the Consortium?” I asked.

She toyed with her hair. “Could be anything. I haven’t been inclined to find out.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because it doesn’t concern me as far as I can see. Look, Connor—may I call you, Connor?—solitaries work for the Consortium and the Guild. They all have their reasons, and I’m sure Wessa had good ones, for her anyway. How someone chooses to navigate between the Guild and the Consortium is their business. It’s a difficult strategy to play in the best of times, and these are not the best of times.”

“I thought you were a Guild director,” said Murdock. “It doesn’t bother you that one of your people was working for the other side and was murdered?”

Melusine swiveled on the lounge in order to lean closer to Murdock. “You mistake my role, Detective. A Guild director attempts to safeguard the people she’s chosen to represent. I do not answer to Maeve any more than Eorla Elvendottir does. The side I concern myself with is that of the solitaries. Whom they chose to ally themselves with is their own affair. I try to ensure that neither monarchy takes advantage in the process.”

“A woman’s dead. That feels like an extreme form of being taking advantage of to me,” Murdock said.

His annoyance didn’t bother her. She reached over and collected more shellfish. “Don’t mistake my pragmatism with callousness, Detective. I’m not indifferent. An investigation will be done. The difference is that neither of us will be privy to it. Now, that might bother you, but it does not bother me. Who does the job is irrelevant to me. You sure you won’t have something to eat? These oysters are from Wellfleet.”

At that point, I couldn’t resist. Wellfleet oysters were among the best in the world. Living near the clam beds on the cape was one of the advantages of life in Boston. I put a dash of hot sauce on the nearest shucked one and ate it. I held the bottle out to Murdock, but he shook his head.

I tossed the empty shell into a bowl provided for discards. “Does Eorla have anything to do with your lack of interest?”

“Why would she?” she asked.

“Well, she’s moved into your territory. Solitaries are looking to her for leadership,” I said.

Melusine watched the other patrons splashing in the pool. “Anyone who protects us is an ally, Connor. I do my part, and Eorla does hers. We’re not competitors.”

I wiped my hands on a cloth napkin. “Sorry. I had to ask.”

She smiled as we stood. “No offense taken. Say hello to Bastian for me.”

I laughed and shook her hand. “I’m glad we met.”

Outside, full dark had come down on the Tangle. Murdock and I didn’t speak until we were a block away. “That is one smart lady,” I said.

“Well, talking to Bastian Frye is our next logical step,” he said.

“‘Our’?” I asked.

“It’s my case until it’s not,” he said. He withdrew his phone from his pocket and read the screen. Smiling, he put it away. “That didn’t take long. Janey texted me that the Consortium picked up the merrow’s body.”