Private Detective
Private Detective.
Disclaimer.
The Discworld and all its regular characters and places therein belong to a Literary Genius by the name of Terry Pratchett. I don't, nor do I claim to, own any of them. I just borrowed them for a while and promise to put them back safe and sound when I've finished. As for payment for this story, I wish!!
Private Detective.
Down on the Ankh basin, where the waters of the River Ankh flows in from the sea before quickly wishing that it hadn't, a thick grey fog rolled slowly over the area like a shroud, just one with patches of green and yellow in it. A closer inspection would have revealed a few more colours in various hues, but no one was quite 'that' brave. From the dockyard came a deep, almost mournful bellowing sound that drifted out over the gently lapping water.
"Sorry!" Came a voice from out of the multi-coloured haze. "Anchovies! They do it to me every time."
Welcome to the Discworld. Drifting slowly through the Cosmos on the backs of four giant Elephants which, themselves, stand atop the shell of the huge Star turtle, the Great A'tuine as they join him on his never ending journey across the Multiverse.
And now, Hallowed reader, join me as we rise above Great A'tuine, glide gracefully past two of the massive Mastodons on his meteor-pocked back, plunge headlong through the Rimfalls like a Stellar Log flume to rise in a majestic arc high above the blue-green panorama that is the Disc. From here, right in the center of the Disc, we can see the ten mile high spire of Cori Celeste, where can be found the mighty halls of Dunmanifestin, home of the Gods. But that is a destination for another story. For now, we bank sharply to Portside (that's to the right for you and me) and dive, dive until we skim the waters of the Endless Sea and speed along, past the Ankh basin and its Anchovy-fuelled foghorn and follow the depressed and heavily sedated waters of the River Ankh to our ultimate destination.
The sprawling Metropolis of Ankh Morpork.
If ever there was a bigger hive of villainy and deceit, it would have already appeared in a science fiction movie. One with a big bad guy all dressed in black, who breathes like a sixty a day smoker out for a jog and talks through an empty vase, a movie where the innocent looking good guy always wears white clothes that never stains and has a silly name like Cloudjumper or Windrunner. But it hasn't. For this is Ankh Morpork, the biggest and best argument against Multiculturalism in the history of arguments. Ankh Morpork, prided upon by the ruling class, preyed upon by all the rest. The shining jewel of the Morpork Plains.
Just don't ask where the glowing shine comes from.
No, really. Don't.
Yet, here in the wonder of modern civilisation (1), tragedy is never far away. Even here, on the good side of the river (2). Here, Hallowed reader, is where our story truly begins.
The call had come to Pseudopolis Yard of a foul murder in the heart of Ankh Town, the rather upper-class portion of the city. Indeed, many of the more well to do citizens of Ankh Morpork had houses in Ankh Town, including one very irate Commander.
"CARROT!!" Shouted Vimes, his face turning from red to purple as his fingers flexed with murderous intent of their own.
Captain Carrot's shoulder appeared from inside a side room, followed not long afterwards by his rather handsome head and face. Everything about Carrot screamed vitality. "Outside, in the yard, in five sir." Said Carrot in a voice that couldn't spell 'excitement', let alone be infused by it.
"Make it three!" Replied Vimes in a growl. "And bring Cheerie. And Angua. Oh, and have Detritus and his Troll recruits ready on call!"
From the tea room downstairs came a loud 'CLANG'. Both Vimes and Carrot reacted together.
"NO SALUTING WITH YOUR HELMET ON!!"
From the tea room downstairs came the sound of a loud 'CRUNCH'.
Vimes raised his eyes to the ceiling. "It's a wonder he's not give himself a concussion yet." He said to no one in particular as he swept up his helmet and night-stick and stalked out the door. He took the stairs two at a time as he hurried down them and, as he was passing, stuck his head in the tea room. "Get your recruits ready to leave as soon as you're called. And bring your crossbow."
Sergeant Detritus, the Watch's very first troll and now leader of the Troll Recruitment drive, was about to salute but suddenly stopped. "But you said I weren't to use dat fing cos it a menace to society sir?"
"Yes, well..," said Vimes, both flustered and trying to think on his feet, "don't do what I said and just do what I say. Alright?" He was about to turn away when he suddenly turned back to Detritus. "AND DON'T… salute. I swear you're gonna knock yourself into next week if you carry on." With that, he turned and stormed outside.
In the middle of the yard, a horse was already waiting patiently with the Watch's cart being hooked up behind it. The day became noticeably brighter, which was a sure sign that Captain Carrot's gleaming breastplate was somewhere near by. Sure enough, he came around the corner closely followed by two Watch'women'.
With long flowing blonde hair and legs that went on forever, Sergeant Angua was the Watch's worst kept secret. Everyone knew that the Watch had a Werewolf in its ranks and the criminal population (3) were not very happy about it. Using sniffer dogs that could tell you where a suspect had gone was one thing, but using one that could tell you what the suspect looked like, was dressed in and what he'd had for lunch was quite another. She was also dating Captain Carrot and to describe them as 'The Golden Couple' would raise Gold's ego to new heights of insufferability. Even some of the Gods were jealous.
Behind Angua came Corporal Cheerie Littlebottom (pronounced Sherry). Although not the first Dwarf to join the Watch, Cheerie was the Watch's very first Crime Scene Investigator. What she could do with a chemical potion or a fine powder would have any self respecting Wizard and Witch running screaming for the hills. She had even given her art a name, Dwarvish of course. She called it Fourentzicz. However, she was the first Dwarf in the Watch to overtly declare her feminism(4), though she did still hold to certain Dwarf customs. Her leather battle skirt could turn aside any arrow or sword thrust and she did still wear iron boots, just ones with a four inch heel.
Commander Vimes waved them over irritably. "Alright, here's the brief so pay attention. At sometime between ten and midday today, Squire Osgood was murdered in his own house in Ankh Town. Right in the middle of my own bloody neighbourhood for Gods sake. We need to get down there and make our presence felt. I want this done by the numbers. This will be a high profile case and I don't want any mistakes, understand?"
"Yes sir!" Replied the three Watchmen.
"Right, let's get down there before…!"
Carrot interrupted. "We already have some men on the scene, sir."
"What? Damn that was fast. Who..?" Vimes' face suddenly looked crestfallen. "Oh no, no no no." He said, shaking his head.
Carrot nodded solemnly. "Yes sir, Corporal Nobbs and Sergeant Colon."
(1) It's a wonder any of them survive it.
(2) Across the Multiverse, the saying is 'On the good side of the tracks', meaning a moral boundary that is both solid and immovable, such as railway tracks. In the case of the River Ankh, river and tracks are pretty much the same thing, one being as solid and immovable as the other.
(3) Which happened to be 'most' of the population.
(4) Which had raised a few heads in the Dwarf community, some of them to just over four feet.