Ilysveil: Den of Delirium
by J. H. Zech
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Table of Contents parts: 1, 2, 3 |
part 2
It wasn’t too hard to find, not so subtly disguised sandwiched between a liquor store and a brothel, and the building’s size being several times that of the liquor store didn’t help either. That the police hadn’t discovered this place, although a sign in Centrosian hieroglyphic characters reading “Tobacco House” all but said that this was an opium den, was unbelievable. Or, more likely, they had been paid off. Of course, if it were found in an official investigation that the Ilysveilan government had had a hand in dealing the opium, a bribe wouldn’t be enough to patch things over.
Unlike the previous den, the trapezoidal, slanted tiled roof looked new, and whatever magitech charms they had stuck on the sliding door masked the smell, and Tanisse was grateful for that. She slid the door open and crossed into the lobby.
The inside was cleaner than she’d expected, and charms had been placed along the entrances to the corridors that led inside, so the smell was fragrant in a chemical sort of way even here. A young receptionist lady, a dragonborn, wearing a green uniform greeted her. “Welcome.”
This place felt much too fancy for a den, though perhaps that was part of its plan to take customers from the nearby dens by giving itself an air of legitimacy.
“Hello, I’m Tanisse Windham. I’m a secretary of Simon Phansby, and I’ve been looking all over for him. Do you know where he might be?”
The polite smile of the receptionist turned awkward, and her red ears drooped. “Er, there have been many humans lately, so I’m afraid I don’t recall every single one.” She was a bad liar, and she seemed to have been caught off guard by the question. Which meant she had seen Simon but had some reason to keep quiet, though since she hadn’t been expecting the question, she hadn’t been involved in whatever was going on. Most likely, the owner was involved, and she didn’t want to draw any ire.
“I’d like to talk to the owner,” Tanisse said, not giving any ground.
The receptionist seemed thankful for an opportunity to pass the buck, and she said, “Right away,” as she hurried into the back.
A stout old dragonborn with a long white beard tied at the end limped out from the back with a cane. He furrowed his brow, making chasms of the wrinkles on his forehead. “I’m the owner, Jian. You’re looking for Simon Phansby?”
“Yes, I heard he’d been here.”
“Now, I wonder who you heard that from.” He had a sharp look in his reptilian yellow eye that told Tanisse that he already knew the answer. “Indeed, he visited me two days ago, though I haven’t seen him since.”
“What was he here for?”
“He wanted to secure a contract to become the exclusive opium supplier for this den.” Jian scoffed. “I told him I’d think about it just to get him out of here for now. I do have existing contracts to honor. He didn’t seem like the sort of fellow to back down easily, so I’d have thought he’d back by now, but he hasn’t shown up. That’s all. Now, if you’re done, please leave.”
Jian was suspiciously hurrying along the conversation. Just what was he hiding? “Is it alright if I have a look around? Maybe he left some clues.”
“I told you, he’s not here.” Jian blocked the corridor.
“If he’s not here, you have nothing to hide then,” Tanisse said.
“Please leave.”
“The Ilysveilan Trading Company has a monopoly on the opium trade in Centrosis. It’d be quite unfortunate for your business if your supply of opium suddenly dried up, wouldn’t it?” Playing hardball was always the most exhilarating part of negotiations, and she hadn’t a lick of remorse for doing it to someone profiting off of opium addictions.
Jian grit his teeth and clenched his fists. A human would’ve been red-faced with anger by now, but due to the dragonborns’ partially cold-blooded physiology, the old man’s face was as pale as ever. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m giving you a choice.”
“Beimi, go with her. Make sure she doesn’t disturb the customers,” Jian growled. He stormed off into his office.
The receptionist sighed. “Right this way.”
Tanisse inspected each room one at a time, and just as it looked in the lobby, it was a lot cleaner here than in Madam Ningli’s den. The magitech lanterns lighting up the room had a warmer, yellowish-white tint to them, as opposed to the red of dying embers in the other den. That made it easier to identify everyone in the room at a glance. They came to the last room, and she had still seen no trace of Simon. Perhaps he really had left.
A gnarly smell assaulted her nose. She didn’t see anything immediately that would give off such a stench, but something had to be here. As she walked around the room, the smell grew stronger as she approached the couch. There was a gap between the back of the couch and the wall, whereas all the other room had the couches against the wall. Tanisse peered over the gap and gasped.
Beimi joined her and looked down. She screamed. It was Simon, his white shirt drenched in blood and a dagger shoved up through his heart.
* * *
After calming Beimi down, Tanisse informed Jian of what she found and sent a telegram back to the branch office. Chief Schuster’s reply read, “Find the culprit. Don’t tell the police until we’ve figured everything out and have a narrative.” Not even a word of condolence or comfort. Not that she needed any from the Chief. She thought ill of Simon and was not exactly distraught at his death, but she wasn’t used to seeing dead bodies, and the sight of one weighed on her, even if she hadn’t vocalized it as strongly as Beimi. She would ask the Chief for a raise after this. Distracting herself with a reward would help make this bearable.
With that, she turned her attention to Jian, who was crossing his arms, presumably. She couldn’t tell for sure when he linked his arms together under his loose robes’ sleeves.
“I’m telling you, I didn’t know anything about that! I’m just as surprised as you are,” he protested.
“If that’s true, why were you in such a hurry to have me leave?”
“That’s irrelevant. It has nothing to do with his murder. Besides, would I hide his body in my own establishment? What kind of fool do you take me for?”
Jian had a point. If he had been the murderer, he would have wanted to dispose of the body somewhere far from here so that suspicion wouldn’t fall on him were it discovered. The question now was motive. Who had a reason to kill Simon? Matthew immediately came to mind, but Simon was the type of person who would have many enemies. Jian could be one of them for reasons he hadn’t disclosed yet.
“Did Simon come in here together with anyone or meet with anyone else while he was here?”
“I don’t recall him bringing anyone,” Jian said.
Beimi squeaked, “Well, um... I don’t know about meeting anyone, but he did argue with an elf while he was in the lobby.”
“Do you know the name of this elf?” Tanisse asked.
“N-not his full name, but I heard the man who died call him Dainritter.”
“Did you say Dainritter?”
Beimi nodded.
The list of suspects was growing. This wouldn’t be a simple matter. Tanisse went over to the counter and sent a telegram to the office.
The situation is complicated. Could you send Wudao to help? And please have him bring a private coroner.
A reply came quickly: “I’ll send him over immediately.”
About half an hour later, Wudao rushed over with a young human woman holding a big black bag.
“Hello, I’m a nurse from the clinic at the Ilysveilan zone,” she said.
Wudao bowed. “My apologies, Ms. Windham. The coroner was not available, so she’s the best I could find on such short notice. But she should be sufficiently capable of an examination.”
“It’s alright. Have her perform the examination. I have some inquiries to make in the meantime.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Wudao motioned the nurse to follow. “Right this way.” He disappeared into the corridor leading to the back.
Tanisse sent a telegram to Dainritter’s office asking if he knew Simon Phansby. She didn’t want to believe he was the culprit, but his reaction would illuminate something either way.
A reply didn’t come immediately. Perhaps Dainritter was out, or, just maybe, he had something to hide. The nurse emerged from the back.
“I’ve finished the examination.”
“What did you find out?”
“The cause of death was exsanguination from the stab wound to the heart. He has no other major injuries. There’s a few scratches, but I’m not sure if those came from a struggle or if he got them while he was being moved.”
“The time of death?” Tanisse asked.
“Roughly two days ago. Unfortunately, it’s been too long to say around what time.” The nurse sighed. “I always knew this was going to happen someday. I just didn’t think it’d be me examining his body.”
“What do you mean?”
“Simon was well-known in the office. Infamous in fact. He was the greediest bastard in the company. I don’t know the details, but he had some strong-arm sales and negotiation tactics. Down at the clinic, we’ve had to treat some dragonborn community leaders who overdosed on opium, courtesy of Simon aggressively pushing the stuff on the leaders so the rest of the community would follow.”
“Regardless, he was a member of the company.” Wudao rejoined them. “Though he may not have been well-liked, we must find the culprit, or the other employees won’t feel safe, and morale will plummet.”
Tanisse called over Jian and asked, “What’s your alibi for two days ago after Simon showed up?”
“I was in my office. Alone.”
“You can go from your office to the back room where the body was without passing through the lobby, correct?”
“W-well, yes.”
“Then, that means no one can corroborate your alibi.”
“Now, just a second here! Dozens of people went into the corridor after Simon came. Beimi doesn’t watch the back. And the people in the rooms wouldn’t be in their right minds. Anyone could have gone in the back without being noticed,” Jian protested stomping his foot.
He had a point. She needed more information about what was going on between Simon and the parties involved.
The telegraph on the front counter dotted out a message. It was from Dainritter:
Let’s talk about this matter quietly at the café. I’ll be there by five.
“I’ll be heading out,” Tanisse said. “Wudao, you and the nurse transport the body back to the morgue in the Ilysveilan zone.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Wudao replied.
“In the meantime, leave the room untouched,” she impressed upon Jian. “It’s in both of our best interests if we reach the truth of this matter without police involvement.”
Tanisse walked out and joined the flow of the crowd in the main street, heading for the café. After popping out of the crowd later, she arrived in front of a charming little café right outside the Ilysveilan zone. The windows had wooden shutters and the walls were of a classic red brick, a traditional Western café.
The bell chimed as she entered. Dainritter was already sitting at a table in a corner. To her surprise, the café master was not a human but a dragonborn, and several of the customers were also dragonborns and centaurs. Ilysveilan culture had started to take root outside the Ilysveilan zone, just as the company wished. She ordered some coffee.
Dainritter looked up and told her to come over with his eyes. She took a seat across from him.
“Tell me what you know about Simon Phansby,” Tanisse said.
“A true scoundrel if I ever saw one,” said Dainritter without any hesitation.
“What do you mean by that? I’m surprised that you’re that familiar with him at all,” asked Tanisse, taken aback by Dainritter’s unusual directness in his language.
“He’s willing to use underhanded tactics to score contracts over his competitors.”
“Aren’t all merchants like that?”
Dainritter bristled at the accusation. “I’ll admit we merchants don’t hesitate to exploit someone’s gap in knowledge, but Simon was another level. Back when he worked in the general goods division last year, he asked to meet before we delivered our bids for a silverware contract and spiked my tea. Unbelievable. Of course, he got the contract since I was snoozing away, and he was the only bidder left.”
“Sounds to me like that’d be a strong motive to murder him,” Tanisse said.
“I’m not so naïve as to say something that would only cast suspicion upon myself. There’s more to the story. I wasn’t the only merchant he took out that way. And it wasn’t just the merchants that suffered at his hands. The silverware vendor only had a rudimentary understanding of the Ilysveilan tongue. They could read well enough not to accept prices too low, but Simon snuck a quality control clause in there that effectively meant he could reject silverware for being of too low quality and force new shipments. He kept all the silverware he supposedly rejected and was selling them back in Ilysveil anyway while forcing unpaid shipments from the vendor. Needless to say, that vendor went bankrupt. I’m not Simon’s first enemy, nor his last.”
“I understand that, but what were you doing meeting Simon at the den two days ago?”
“Oh, that. I heard Simon was fixing to buy a den for himself. He’d vertically integrate with his own stream of opium supply and undercut the other dens. I was there to warn the owner about Simon’s tendencies, though I didn’t think I’d run into him directly right then. My concern came too late, though. He was already hinting at cutting off the supply of opium to that den if the owner didn’t want to sell.”
If Dainritter had heard of it, then Madam Ningli had also likely known. If Simon owned his own den, the nearby dens would go out of business. Bankruptcy would be enough of a motive to kill. Jian’s motive had become clearer too, with Simon’s threats to put him out of business, and she understood why he had been so hesitant to talk about Simon.
* * *
Copyright © 2021 by J. H. Zech
