Weirder Shadows Over Innsmouth

My man was living up to his name, shivering like it was snowing out. Maybe it wasn’t just the cold and maybe the beer and the fug hadn’t done enough to warm him. I’d already given him some money, but I dragged my coat from the chair beside me. It had had its day. “Here, keep this. You need it more than I do.” If this panned out the way I hoped, I’d be picking up a dozen new coats before this affair was closed. Maybe even get myself a slick suit.

He struggled into the coat like it was something alien, but grinned a crack-toothed grin. You could have got two of him inside it. “Thanks, Nick,” he muttered. Then he was gone.

I was left to chew over what he’d told me. Innsmouth. Meant nothing to me. So it was library time, for a bit of research.

* * *

It took some digging out. I spend half my life glued to old newspapers: the good ladies at the library are getting used to me. I think they find me kinda romantic. Must be my old-fashioned charm. Whatever, they came up trumps on Innsmouth. And I had my connection.

Years ago, way back in the winter of 1927–28, it seems that the Government had investigated some pretty weird goings-on in the port, following complaints about demon worship and likewise subversive cults. The Feds had gone as far as to blow up or burn down whole parts of the town. There had been a lot of arrests. One report referred to a submarine diving down into the deep waters off the port to a reef known as Devil’s Reef, where something had been torpedoed. There had obviously been some sort of lunatic cult based around the area. And it seemed like overkill for bootlegging. Whatever they had really been up to would probably remain a mystery, but the Government had obviously taken it seriously enough to send in their heavies.

It had been a long time ago and I couldn’t find out anything more, but maybe there was still life left in the place and Stefan Zeitsheim wanted a piece of the action.

Evening was drawing on. Time to look up the errant sailor. In spite of my instructions, I didn’t plan on killing him. I reckoned he’d be worth more alive.

* * *

I knew where to find the warehouse Shivers had told me about. I parked a few blocks away, checked my Beretta and used the thickening shadows to mask my approach. Shivers wouldn’t be far away. He’d see me when others wouldn’t.

I was within a hundred yards of the building, when I heard a commotion up ahead. And I knew in my guts it was going to be bad news. I wasn’t wrong.

There was a mob. These streets were usually dead at this time of the day. Something had stirred them up, like a kicked hornets’ nest. They were crowding round the sidewalk, opposite the warehouse.

I moved in, looking down.

“Hey, Nick,” breathed a voice beside me. Another of the local dropouts.

“What gives?”

“It’s Shivers. Some punk shot him.”

I started muscling people aside. Sure enough, Shivers was sprawled across the edge of the sidewalk. I bent down to him. He was alive, but only just. His face was grey, his expression a mixture of agony and disbelief. I felt his chest. It was a mess.

Only one bullet, but it had done the job. I felt the fury rising up in me, but fought it down.

“A car,” he breathed through teeth clenched on pain. “The gun… silencer. Jeeze, I’m so cold, Nick. So cold.”

I pulled the coat tighter around him. The coat, goddam it. My coat. He was wearing the coat I’d given him. The bullet had been meant for me.

“Who did this, Shivers?”

He managed only half a word before he died. But it was enough. Suit. It had been some guy in a suit. It figured. The Feds had warned me off. They really had meant business.

“Cops are on the way,” someone above me said. I got up and stood aside. In a minute or two I’d slipped to the back of the crowd. No one paid me any attention, all eyes on the curled-up form of Shivers.

I made my way along the street and crossed it where I thought I’d be least noticed. I guessed the Feds would have gone, thinking they’d taken me out of the picture. It was the one advantage I had on them. I was going to find Zeitsheim before they did, so help me.

At the far end of the warehouse there was an alley running alongside it. The light was fading away, but I could just about see enough to ease my way down it. It suited me. I flattened against the wall and moved forward by inches. Shivers would have known exactly where Zeitsheim was holed up inside, but now I was going to have to flush him out. I had a feeling it was going to be damn tough. My quarry had already shown his credentials in the hide-and-seek stakes.

I was about halfway down the alley when I noticed the breeze. Nothing unusual about a breeze, especially in these city canyons. They come and go. But there was something about this breeze that made my skin crawl, like it was the breath of some huge beast, crouched back there in the darkness.