TANSTAV part 2

Chapter One cont.

My new client was a troll.  He stood about 8 feet tall, average for his species, and had fur the color and thickness of granite.  He also had big orange eyes, a bulbous nose, and a craggy mouth surrounded by a thick beard. The troll was wearing, oddly enough, a business suit that contrasted with his rugged appearance.  Also odd for his species, as they are normally imperturbable, gentle giants, he was agitated.  The troll was breathing loud and fast, leaving me to conclude that he had run here, and his ham-like hands were trembling so hard that he either had arthritis, or was terrified out of his wits.

"Meester Vormvood?" he asked in a deep, gravelly voice, made all the thicker by his accent.  I gave a curt nod; I was feeling rather annoyed by the fact that I needed a new door, thanks to him.

"Oh, thank heavens!  I am deeply in need of your help!  It is a disaster of vich I am speaking!"  By now, he had punched several holes in my ceiling by throwing his hands up in the air. 

"Whoa, hey, relax!" I cried, jumping up onto my desk and catching them before they could do any more damage. 

"How about you sit down, please," I said in near-perfect Jotun (the language of trolls; I'd taken a course in high school, and I was pretty good, though my voice is nowhere near deep enough to fully imitate the guttural rumblings that a troll can reach), "and tell me what's troubling you."

The troll looked rather startled.  After all, gargoyles typically do not speak Jotun.  But he sat down (the chair creaked ominously under his weight), and presented the case, speaking his own language, now that he knew I could understand it.

"My name is Sigurd Jorgensen, and this morning, as of 8:30 a.m, my brother-in-law vanished from outside his home, and has not been seen since.  Apparently he went out to get the morning's newspaper, and never came back in.  All they found of him was this-" Mr. Jorgensen reached into his pocket, and produced a slipper the size of two large watermelons, the kind that would only fit on the foot of a fully-grown troll.  I deduced that the pocket, which did not look large enough to accommodate such a slipper, had to be one of those new expensive, expands-from-the-inside-can-hold-a-car models that I will never be able to afford, which is a shame, because they are totally awesome. 

"It was found lying on the sidewalk, right next to the newspaper."  The troll sniffled, and blew his nose loudly.  I was surprised that he should have such tender feelings for a relative by marriage.  I have one sister-in-law and two brethren-in-law, and they are all complete pains in the neck.  But maybe his family was more connected, and more affectionate, than mine.  Not that that would be much of an effort.

"May I come inspect the scene of the crime?" I asked.  "There may be some clues there." 

"Of course, Mr. Wormwood!" cried Mr. Jorgensen.  You could tell he had been waiting for me to ask.  I was getting up, when my phone began ringing.  I could tell it was somebody important, because it made the loud, obnoxious sound of somebody blowing a raspberry.  With a sigh, I stretched out a claw and picked it up off the desk.

"Hello?" 

"Wormwood!  Get down here!  It's an emergency!"

"Good to hear from you too, Chief," I sniped.  Don't get me wrong; I'm sure Chief Ishida is a wonderful person, really deep down.  After all, he is married, and has three kids.  But he's always seemed to me to be a bit, well, neurotic.  Obsessed with success, workaholic, virtually no sense of humor.  Know what I mean?

"Don't you use that tone with me!" Ishida bellowed.  I imagined his face turning bright red, and then exploding.  It's never actually done that, but thinking about it cheered me up to no end.

"Can't it wait?  I have a client, and-"

"NO!!  There's been an explosion in eastern Idaho, and I want you to go with a team and find out what happened!"

I groaned.  Eastern Idaho today meant sunshine, which hurts my eyes, and also teleporting, which causes major nausea in me.

"On my way, boss," I muttered, and then hung up.

"Sorry," I told Mr. Jorgensen in Jotun, "but I have to go.  Emergency case.  Please leave your address, and the address of your brother-in-law, and I'll be over as soon as I can."

He looked disappointed, but did as I requested.  Then he left.

With a sigh, I looked up at the shattered remains of my door, splintered top of my doorway, and gaping holes in the ceiling.  I could see that I needed to make the door bigger, and wondered how much all of this was going to cost me.  Well, no time to think about that now.  I picked up my desk, moved it in front of the doorway to discourage burglars, and then flew out the window (remembering to open it first).