Helmut Saves the World
Matt Sheehan
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Carina Press
Date of Publication: 3/10/14
eISBN: 9781426898020
Number of pages: 120.
Word Count: 31000
Book Description:
My name is Helmut Haase and I'm one half of the Fog City Detective Agency--specifically, the half that pays all the bills. My partner, Shamus O'Sheehan, mostly drinks beer and naps. I keep him around because he's my friend, but also because he's a Druid. I'm just a detective, and there are plenty of those in Wudong, the Confederacy of Hesperia. There's not another Druid for miles.
We had it pretty good until the day we met Alek Pallas. He hired us to track down a thieving employee, and even though something was off, his big fat check was too much to pass up. But the man we found wasn't what we were led to believe, and neither was Alek.
I'm talking shape-shifters, fallen angels and a conspiracy involving the vicious Cretan Empire. At least we didn't die. Hope that doesn't ruin the story.
Why am I telling you all this? Someday I'd like some credit for saving the world. Maybe not the entire world, and maybe not alone, but I still deserve a medal. And perhaps a cash prize.
Chapter 1
I don’t smoke, drink or do drugs. Not because my
body is a temple or any of that nonsense. It’s because in my line of work I
never know when I will have to throw hands, and being inebriated would slow my
reflexes; not to the point where I would lose the fight—I’m very good—but it
would be very unprofessional to have to go to work with a black eye or split
lip. I do have my vices however, primarily the long-legged and shapely variety.
I don’t tend to have a type as much as a numerical range starting at 9.5 and
ending at 10. I will consider a nine if she has a spectacular personality and
can cook.
How rude, I haven’t even
introduced myself. My name is Helmut Haase, and I am part owner of the locally
famous Fog City Detective Agency. I am the half that does all the legwork and
pays all the bills. Shamus O’Sheagan, my business partner, mostly drinks beer
and naps. I keep him around because he’s my best friend and he happens to have
a far different skill set that isn’t so common on this side of the pond. Shamus
spent his early years training to be a Druid, and due to his natural affinity
for all that mystical nonsense, was being groomed for a leadership position.
I’m sure they weren’t happy when I snuck him out in the dead of night and we
hopped a steamship to the States.
Back home on the Emerald Isle,
adoptive in my case and Sha’s by birth, everyone and their cousin seems to at
least know a guy who works for a Druid. However, here in the Confederated
States of Hespera, the idea of a Druid is akin to that of a mermaid or unicorn.
Hesperians have little history, the western hemisphere of the “new world” only
having been colonized a few hundred years ago, but what they lack in shared
culture has been made up for with progress and innovation. This is where the
industrial revolution started after all. So in a new land with a booming
economy, we fill a niche that no one else can.
Shamus and I work in an old
remodeled fire station in Wudong, overlooking the bay. We got it from the city
for a song after finding the mayor’s daughter. Turns out she wasn’t exactly
kidnapped, and the mayor and city council felt it better that the true details
of the case never surfaced. We kept our mouths shut and scored ourselves a
sweet pad. The area is mostly industrial and pretty quiet at night. Shamus was
happy about the old gnarled oak tree at the back of the property. He actually
lives in the upstairs apartment, although he usually sleeps in the tree.
I, on the other hand, after
scraping by and living with Shamus in a less-than-stellar abode our first few
years in town, have chosen to live a more upscale lifestyle in the Gaoshan
district. The view from my balcony in and of itself is worth the king’s ransom
I pay each month. On the right I get an incredible view of the bay, at least in
the afternoon in between the fog rolling out and back in again. To the left I
can see most of Independence Street, or Suicide Hill as it’s known locally, and
its iconic tower at the very top.
Skateboarders came up with the
street’s nickname and it stuck. The thinking was a person had to be suicidal to
ride down a hill that steep. One of the cafes I like there has outside seating,
and I’ve spent many a morning sipping cappuccino and watching brave young souls
egging each other on at the top—and being carted away by paramedics at the
bottom.
When we first started our little
venture, we took whatever case we could get and charged on the low side of
market rates. Over time our reputation grew and so did our fees. We became
known for solving cases that others had taken a shot at and failed. After we
broke a few high-profile cases early in our career, the cops began quietly
coming to us when they were stuck. We even did some pro bono work for the poor
and downtrodden for the good publicity. Now we have a commercial, and the
ladies have told me I look quite dashing in it. Shamus even combed his hair
before filming, and for that I am thankful. We don’t take the freebie cases
anymore unless Shamus is feeling charitable. I never feel charitable.
I’m in charge of doing all of the
real work that is required to run a detective business. I meet and greet the
clients, do all the classic detective work and knock heads when necessary…and
sometimes when not. Truth be told, I would do the head-knocking for free. You
wouldn’t begrudge a talented artist painting a masterpiece would you? It’s not
my fault that my great talent involves blood and concussions. Shamus has
referred to my style as a ballet of violence. I think it’s kind of catchy.
I would say 90 percent of the
time I don’t even need the little Eirishman. But, when leads dry up,
Shamus can look at tea leaves or talk to birds and all of the sudden we’re back
on track. Sounds simple right? Alas, it’s not. Shamus is hard to motivate.
We’ve made enough money the last few years that he could live his simple
existence up in his room for the rest of his life. He’s perfectly happy
drinking beer with Willie the Wonder Dog and reading books all day. Yes, the
dog drinks beer too. He also eats my shoes if they are left lying around and pees
on my car tires. The dog, not Shamus…unless he’s really drunk.
I have different persuasive
tactics that I have used over the years. Guilt works, but it’s not my favorite.
Outright begging is a last resort used only in emergencies. Not because it’s
ineffective, but because it’s unseemly. There is one sure thing, but she is
unfortunately not under my control. More about that later.
Why am I telling you all this? So
someday I can receive some credit for saving the world. Maybe not the entire
world, and maybe not all by myself, but I still deserve a medal and some
official recognition. And perhaps a cash prize.
About the Author:
Moody and sarcastic at the best of times, the author should not be conversed with prior to his morning cup of coffee. He excels at sitting with his feet up and drinking coffee or beer while reading, but has yet to find someone willing to pay for that service. He has always been, and will always be, his mother’s favorite child. Has been known to dangle participles. Dreams of someday moving to a deserted island that supports coffee beans and hop vines.
@shamusshlomo
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