The Night Beat

kind to the poor, or something.”
    “Anyone can come to the Estates,” Freddy intoned. “We are an open community.”
    “You help write their ad copy?”
    “No. Jerry used to say that all the time. He thought it was funny, I suppose.”
    I considered this. “Or, the Prince’s side infiltrated up here a lot longer ago than we’re thinking.”
    “If his father’s on the Prince’s side, that would make sense,” Jack said.
    “Not all rich folks have sold their souls for their money,” Sexy Cindy mentioned. “Just a lot of them.”
    We continued on, thankfully meeting no other vehicles. No one other than Bill the Realtor seemed to be out, at least not on or around this tiny stretch of road. We hit the first real street of the Estates and turned off the workman’s road. I couldn’t speak for the others, but I felt relieved.
    We meandered through the humongous and ritzy neighborhood, but we remained the only living things so doing. We were still pretty far from the Little Church, but even if the majority were up there, surely someone other than Bill didn’t attend services. “Is this normal for a Sunday morning?”
    Jack nodded. “Pretty much. The religious are all in church. The drunks and stoners are sleeping it off. The non-religious are sleeping or prepping to watch whatever sporting event’s on TV. Most Saturday night perps are behind bars. And so on.”
    “Even hookers take Sunday morning off,” Sexy Cindy added.
    “It is the day of rest,” Freddy added.
    “Then,” Ralph said tensely, “why is that guy not resting?”
    I looked where his nose was pointing. Sure enough, there was someone in a copse of trees that stood between two of the lower level estates. He almost looked like a gardener, or a zookeeper, since he was dressed in what looked like a khaki shorts jumpsuit and hiking boots. Only there was no truck or equipment nearby and Ralph and I were the only wild animals in the immediate vicinity.
    Jack stopped the car and I got out, Ralph scrambling after me so quickly he sort of fell out of the car. He managed to recover so that he landed on his paws, not his snout, but it was a close thing. I chose to pretend I hadn’t seen it, though I did hear Jack chuckling.
    We got nearer to the man, whose back was to us. I wasn’t sure that he’d heard us arrive, which was sort of odd. Then again, we hadn’t shut my door and I could barely hear the S-Class’ engine running and I had werewolf hearing. I resolved to find a way to insist on our keeping this car, or getting our own.
    We got closer. Whatever this guy was doing, he was intent on it. He also wasn’t likely to be good-looking, at least if his backside was any indication. He had skinny legs under a rather hefty body. Light blond hair. I stared at it. The hairstyle had a certain…ancient look to it.
    I looked at Ralph out of the corner of my eye. His fur was up. Good.
    I cleared my throat loudly and the man spun around. It was nice to be right.
    “Nero! My favorite lunatic. What’re you up to, big guy?”

Chapter 49
     
    Nero’s shifty blue eyes did their look frantically for escape thing. Ralph was growling, however, in a way that indicated Nero running would be a bad idea for Nero and a fun idea for Ralph.
    Nero was many things, but monumentally stupid wasn’t one of them. He gave me what I assumed he thought was a beguiling smile. “Ah, Victoria, isn’t it?”
    “That’s right. Agent Wolfe, Major, Necropolis Enforcement to you, however.” He really was dressed like a zookeeper. I found myself wondering why. “Just what are you doing, Nero?”
    “Ah, public service,” he answered brightly. “Foliage control.”
    I looked around. “I see no weeds that need whacking.”
    Ralph’s growl went up, but he didn’t say anything. I figured he was staying undercover, which, considering where we were, was probably smart.
    “Err, ah, well,” Nero said, clearly stalling. “I’ve cleared most of it already.”
    “Into what?” Nero stood there without an answer and I took a deep breath. A lot of smells mingled together -- exhaust, earth, foliage, garbage, and the like. But one smell stood out. Interestingly, it wasn’t the smell of sulfur or Hellfire. I smiled a very unfriendly smile. “You know what I think you’re doing, Nero?”
    “No. What?” he asked nervously.
    “I think you’re planting maggots. In fact, I’d guess you’re planting all kinds of larvae. Bet they mature quickly, too.”
    His eyes got more