Joe Avery
by Charles C. Cole
Sometimes reason and logic are the best tools. After a small-time detective assists a supernatural client, big-city faery folk line up at his door. Everyone is watching, including the highest authorities from both worlds.
Chapter 14: Joe Avery Meets the King’s Men
Take it from me: the omnipresent “men in black” of urban legend are real, but they aren’t what you think, at least not in my part of the city. I’ve recently earned a reputation as a “fixer” for our community’s exotic population. Whether you’re a gnome or a troll or a sentient tree, I’m here to help with your problem.
This wasn’t my original business plan; no, this offbeat enterprise began as a viral word-of-mouth campaign through a formerly homeless genie to any folktale creature who cared to listen. After twenty hard years struggling in the trenches, I was suddenly an overnight success. I was a civic-minded underdog whose clients were from the previously ignored fringe element.
It was not a total surprise that some of my fellow mortals, a small minority, considered me a traitor to the human tribe. I didn’t, however, expect bureaucratic interference from the very faery world I was defending.
Operating out of sight and provoked by my “irrational” altruism for the “others” among us was a no-nonsense sect of elves who had somehow appointed themselves as the sacred keepers of supernatural law and order. In other eras, in other places, we’d call them the secret police. My activities were being documented and reported to certain shadowy authorities.
Calendula, my half-rosebush receptionist, was the first to notice the extra attention we were getting. She’d stopped at the local bagel joint for my daily breakfast of two extra-large black coffees. A pair of suspicious characters in dark fedoras, sunglasses, and black trench coats observed her movements from across the street, noteworthy because it was a hot day when most reasonable citizens were removing layers, not adding them. At our streetside entrance, Calendula spied two more, one slightly taller and one slightly rounder, standing about a nonfunctional phone booth, looking as out of place as a red star on the American flag.
After she dropped off my liquid motivation, Calendula suddenly closed the blinds.
“Do I look THAT hung over?” I asked.
“Joe, is helping exotics against the law?”
“Not yet. Why?”
“I think we’re being watched.”
“Maybe shy would-be clients not ready to take the plunge.”
“They feel official, not personal: they’re taking notes.”
“A new assignment for our own protection? I can ask a friend at the precinct. Last I heard, the Mayor’s Liaison for Nonhuman Exotics, Philbert Brighton, was more than willing to let us do his dirty work, while he hobnobs with the accepted artisans and the rich eccentrics.”
“Just look. Please!”
I grabbed our binoculars from my desk drawer. “Tall skinny dudes with pasty serious faces, pronounced chins, long pointy ears: royal elves.”
“Elves?! What would elves want with us?” asked Calendula.
“A piece of the action, maybe.”
“I’ve never known an elf to care about anyone but another elf. They’re a pretty paranoid bunch. They probably think we’re talking about them.”
“Aren’t we?” I joked.
“You know what I mean.”
“Like the rest of us, they currently enjoy the freedom of unencumbered travel. Maybe it’s a stretch goal: they’re out mingling with the masses, getting to know the city, seeing the sights.”
“Our office?!” Calendula gasped.
“That’s what happens when you break new ground. To some, you’re a trailblazer. To others, a pariah. Either way, you’re on somebody’s radar.”
“I’m going to soak my feet before we open; it’ll help my anxiety.”
“I’ll talk with them,” I offered. “It’s early. We’ve got time.”
“Really?!” Calendula had a way of making me feel like a bigger hero than I was.
“If I’m delayed, open up without me. You’re more of a morning person than I am anyway.”
I took a couple of quick gulps of the still-hot coffee and slipped out through the back alley. I clipped a small communication device around my left ear. “Joe to Princess One, come in.”
“Got your back,” replied Tina, a faery and former client with a gift for reconnaissance. “What’s the plan?”
“Quick wake-up jog through the park. Two birds with one stone.”
“I hate human expressions.”
“Let me know if our friends follow. Don’t let me lose them.”
“Quick question: Don’t most humans wear less while exercising?”
I was dressed office-casual. “Fine. Not that an elf will know the difference.” I removed my button-down shirt and threw it onto the bottom of the fire escape. Off we went. It was one of those rare days where it actually paid to be out of shape: the elves kept up without breaking a sweat.
Eventually, I found a familiar rock wall and leaned against it to catch my breath, not entirely pretense. Seeing movement out of the corner of my eyes, I slipped around to the far side. My companions closed in.
I heard shouting and continued back around. The tree, another former client, had grabbed them by the ankles and was holding them upside down.
I gathered their hats from the ground. “Hello!” I said. “Looking for me?”
“You’re making a mistake,” said one. The others remained silent.
“You in charge?”
“We’re not doing anything wrong.”
“On the contrary, you’re being a public nuisance. You could fall out of that tree and hurt a human walking underneath. That wouldn’t be good at all. Shall I tell my buddy, the Mayor’s Liaison for Nonhuman Exotics?”
“We don’t care about humans,” said my new friend.
“But you care about exotics.”
“Of course.”
“So do I.”
“Why?” asked the elf.
“Because it makes me feel good to make a difference when nobody else will.”
“The Elf King will assist all who kneel before him and pledge loyalty.”
“For some, that might be too steep a price. Tell him I said so.”
I returned to Calendula. There was a line of patrons in the hall. I walked by them and opened the office door.
“Wait your turn, human!” mumbled someone behind me. “Joe Avery believes in fairness.”
I spun around to a sea of the city’s newest needy class. I had no idea who’d spoken.
“I’m Joe,” I said, “and, yes, I do.”
Copyright © 2022 by Charles C. Cole
