Chapter 4: Bessy's Milk Bar

“Hit me again, Bessy,” Leviathan said, sliding his clear glass mug across the wooden bar to the lady standing behind it. Half troll and half dwarf, she was about the size of a large gargoyle with flaming red hair and a fair gray complexion.

“You’ve already had two, Jones. I ought to cut you off.” She said, scooping up his oversized mug and rinsing it in the sink.

“Oh, come on, Bess… you don’t know the day I’ve had.”

“That’s what they all say,” she replied, shaking her head. “And I suppose you’ll be telling me you don’t have any cash next, eh?”

He looked all around, like he hadn’t heard that last bit, and tapped his thick fingers on the bar.

“Right,” she said. “I’ll throw it on your tab, Jones… but so help me, you better pay up soon.”

“Bess, Bess… my main lady Bessy. You know me! I’ll get you paid… eventually.”

“You’re a real piece of work, Leviathan Jones. You know that?”

“I’ve been called much worse,” he replied. She slid him a fresh mug of ice-cold chocolate milk and turned her attention to other customers. It was just how he liked it, with the thick foam at the top — the kind that left the best milk mustaches. He took a big swig and cherished the sweet creamy liquid. “Ahhh, that’s the good stuff.”

He watched Bessy cater to the needs of all the patrons around the bar. The clientele who frequented the Milky Maiden were not your run of the mill Caveumbrians. Those folks tended to stay out of the Mole District and got their fix at the Dairy Fairy, an upscale milk bar chain that had several spots around town. Personally, he thought that joint was overrated, too expensive and the milk was watered down.

He took another sip of his milk and wiped his top lip with the back of his arm. Most of his fellow patrons were dwarves and trolls, with a few orcs thrown in. There was one other goyle in the bar, but he kept to himself in the dark corner near the jukebox.

He leaned over to the dwarf on his left and said, “crazy night, huh?”

The dwarf looked up from his mug and stared at Leviathan with empty eyes. He grunted and shrugged his shoulders before turning his gaze back to his nearly empty drink.

Not much of a talker, Leviathan thought. He had already tried to engage one or two others earlier, but neither wanted to talk to him either. Luck isn’t on my side today, I guess.

A troll the size of a small mountain flopped down on the barstool next to him. The first thing Leviathan noticed was the smell coming off of him, which was somewhere between a manure factory and rotten eggs. He swallowed hard, forcing down the gag reflex that hit him suddenly.

“Hope you’ve had a better day than me,” he said, leaning forward and looking over his right shoulder at the new patron.

The troll tensed and turned his head slowly towards Leviathan. “Highly doubt it,” he said, his voice immensely deep and boomy.

“Ah, sorry to hear that. The name’s Jones. Leviathan Jones. And you are?”

“I know who you are, Detective,” the troll spat. “You put my cousin Johnny in the clink.”

Leviathan raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, nodding. _I really should start using a fake name for these encounters. _“I’m sure I had a perfectly good reason.”

The troll curled his lip up on one side and showed his yellow teeth. “Best hope I never catch you alone in the alley.”

“Noted,” Leviathan said. Bessy came and gave the man a drink in a to-go cup and made a joke to ease the tension. The troll paid and left the bar without another word, which Leviathan was thankful for. His body ached enough from Buggsy’s crew, he didn’t need another fight today.* *

“You on a big case, Jones?” Betsy asked, wiping the bar with a wet rag after he left.

“You could say that,” he replied. “You heard about the stone that was stolen from the Rifflebum estate?”

“Rifflebum?” She said, tilting her head and squinting her eyes. “Rifflebum…that name does sound familiar.”

“One of the oldest gnome families in Caveumbria,” Levi said mimicking Mrs. Rifflebum’s voice.

“Wait a minute! Rifflebum, as in George Rifflebum, the inventor of the eternal flame?” Betsy asked.

“That’s the one, his oldest living relative had some sort of precious jewel stolen from the estate. It’s worth more than a third of Caveumbria, according to her.”

“Surely it’ll turn up, eh?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure, Bess. A stone that rare isn’t something one can just spend on the street. The person who took it has deeper reasons than wanting to get rich quickly. I can promise you that.”

“Well, if I know anything about you, Leviathan Jones, it’s your ability to solve even the toughest case.” Bessy leaned over the bar and flashed him a reassuring smile.

“Appreciate the vote of confidence, Bess, but I don’t have any leads. No clue where to start. On top of that, I’m broke and got Buggsy’s thugs on my tail. I might have to skip town if I can’t get this one figured out.”

“Last time we spoke you said things were looking up. What happened?”

“They were, until the cases dried up, Bess. I don’t know what happened. For a while that ad you helped me put together for the Daily Times worked wonders. Then… well, nothing. Until now, that is.”

“You behind on paying, Buggsy?”

“I… uh… well, I’m caught up at the moment, but if I don’t solve this one soon, I’ll be in trouble.”

“That’s never stopped you before, Jones! Cheer up, I’m sure a lead will fall in your lap soon. Maybe add it, “It always does!””

“I sure hope so,” he said, draining his mug of cold milk. “Have a good night, Bessy. I appreciate you more than you could know.”

He spun around on his barstool, intending to hop down and head back up the long steep hill toward home. He needed sleep. He couldn’t think straight with all the pain he was in… and the chocolate milk going to his head. A good night of sleep and then he’d hit streets looking for leads.

That’s when a beautiful young Goyle lady in a shiny black dress *literally *fell into his lap.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She said as he helped her back to her feet. “I’m just so clumsy.”

“Not a problem, ma’am,” he said. “Are you alright?”

“Me? Oh, I’ll be fine,” she replied, clearly embarrassed. “I’m just glad you were there to break my fall, mister…?”

“Jones,” He replied, sticking out a thick hand for a shake. “Leviathan Jones, Private Detective.”

“Oh!” She exclaimed, “You’re just the man I was looking for.”

“You don’t say, doll?”

“I do. My name is Delilah Brown and I know who stole the Rifflebum stone.”