Shopping Trip: A Sean Houston Story
Where Sean stops by his local 7/11
The air was brisk, a spring morning in Plunkett East, the locals’ name for the neighborhood of convenience stores, coffee shops, and affordable apartment housing for singles, new renters, and down on their luck detectives.
Well, just one detective.
Decked out in a black hoodie with the name of a brewery, an old baseball cap for the Washington Nationals, and jeans shredded from years of wear and distress, Sean winced as the clouds moved and uncovered the sun. He loudly cleared his throat.
Sean walked to the 7/11 on the corner near his apartment, his hand instinctively going for a pack of cigarettes that wasn’t in his hoodie. He smoked the last one before he wen to sleep at 4 AM and was grinding his teeth as he walked. Passersby waved to him and Sean did his best to return the acknowledgment.
The bell over the door let out a shrill jingle, the twenty something employee behind the counter looked up from his Nintendo Switch. His name tag read “Criss”.
“Mornin’, lemme know if you need help.” Back to his game.
Sean stopped. He was struck by inspiration.
“Hey, I need to speak with your manager. Nothing bad, just had some questions for him.”
Criss rolled his eyes, his shoulders slumped. He put down the Switch and walked to the back of the 7/11, Sean right behind him. Criss knocked on the door before calling out.
“Mr. Gabinsky? Some guy has questions for you.”
“I’m a detective, it’s regarding a case.”
There was a shuffle of paperwork then the door opened. In the doorway stood a man on the shorter side, with a large belly, bald scalp with a ring of brown hair around the sides and back of his scalp, a well trimmed mustache, wearing a short sleeved white button up and gray slacks, a bright red tie neatly tied. He look at Criss, then Sean, his eyes grew wide with recognition.
“Ah, Sean!” His voice giving a midwestern accent. “Come on in, why don’cha? Thanks Criss, don’t forget to price tag the new Hostess display.” Criss returned a noncommital grunt as he left.
Sean entered the office, noting the immaculate order and cleanliness, how everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. Gabinksy closed the door and turned to face Sean.
“So, Mr. Detective, what is it I can do ya for?”
Sean cocked an eyebrow.
“Really laying on the accent, aren’t you Krebble?”
Gabinsky’s scalp was shiny with sweat. He wiped the sweat away with a dingy looking handkerchief.
“Why, ah, what’re you talkin’ aboot, ah, bud?”
Sean walked over to the chair by the wall, flopped into it, smirking. The chair let out a loud squeak in protest of any weight placed upon it.
“Now you’re going Canadian. Drop the glamour Krebble, it’s fine, I’m not investigating you. I just had some questons about the Fey.”
The man known as Gabinsky emitted a swirl of gray fog. The fog dissipated as quickly as it formed and when it was gone Sean was facing a three foot tall, gray skinned, large eared Goblin. The Goblin, Krebble, wore the same outfit, but smaller. He loosened his tie, the voice now more gravely and reminiscent of Brooklyn, New York.
“Why you bustin’ my balls, Houston? I got a shipment of a new Mountain Dew comin’ today and I gotta get the display up. The kid’s good with the register, but sucks at everything else!”
Sean scratched his thumb with his index fingernail. He ran his tongue over the back of his teeth. Work came first, then he can give into the cravings.
“You know, Krebble, I came in here to buy cigarettes, but as I entered I realized you can help with a case I’m working on. You know what reminded me?” The Goblin shrugged, now back behind his desk, standing on the swivel chair. “How in stock everything is. Most 7/11s aren’t run with the efficiency of the Fey, and it makes for better business. Can’t sell what’s not in stock, right?”
Krebble smiled, showing many jagged, yellow teeth.
“It’s my pride and joy! I love selling people crap they don’t need, just like how I keep a clean store! Fey make deals and keep a clean house better’n anybody!”
Sean nodded. He opened his phone and scrolled through the pictures he took of the crime scene for the case he was working on. He rose from the chair, another squeak of protest at having to change position. Sean strolled towards the back of Krebble’s desk, choosing his words carefully.
“Two days ago, I receive a phone call from a new client. They say their husband went missing. But the husband’s belongings are still in his home. No clothes packed, no note left, no signs of a struggle.”
Sean placed the phone on the desk, the screen showing a pristine bedroom. Krebble peered at the photo, then looked at Sean, only his eyes moving. Sean continued.
“The client said, and I quote, ‘It looked like he cleaned up before he vanished.’. That’s odd, if you’re going to leave to clean up. Not the left behind stuff, you can buy whatever you need.”
Krebble swiped through the photos, his gray finger moving with an unhuman grace and poise. His large yellow eyes flitted back and forth between Sean and the phone screen.
“So I think, ‘Who cleans their place to a pristine look before vanishing? Or at all?’ I mean, humans aren’t terribly clean. Even if we really work at it there’s always little imperfections. But it struck me, walking into this crisp, clean, convenience store, that Fey Realm residents love a clean space.”
Krebbles ears drooped, he leaned back in the chair, comically small in the chair built for humans.
“I don’t like where you’re going, Houston. I didn’t do nothin’ with that guy!”
Sean tilted his head, ran his tongue over the back of his teeth. He really wanted a cigarette.
“I never said you did, Krebble. In fact, I never specified any Fey involvement, just mentioning a coincidence. Not much to go off of in the detective world. But you spoke up before I finished my piece. Maybe because you heard something; you probably hear things at your weekly gatherings with other local Goblins, all Fey-adjacent I believe.”
Krebble scrambled onto the table, ears now raised in anger, a finger pointed at Sean.
“Watch it, Houston! Not all Fey folk kidnap humans! Just because a deal gets made, it don’t mean-” Krebble froze, realizing what he had let slip. Sean stood up.
Sean raised his eyebrows. H nodded slowly as he placed his phone back in his hoodie pocket.
“A deal was made? Well, Krebble, we both know Fey deals are untouchable contracts, and if I know there’s a deal, then I guess I want to know why the deal was made. It could lead me to this very rich man and his very rich wife.
With a payday from them, I could buy so many more things in this particular 7/11. Any chance you can help me help you, Krebble?”
Krebble wiped his head with the handkerchief again, grimacing and groaning.
“If they know it was me, I’m done for Houston. No protections will-”
“They won’t find out.” Sean leaned on the desk, staring deep into Krebble’s large eyes. “I’m not saying shit, I just need a lead. C’mon man, I’m dying here. Cut me a break and I shop here twice a week.”
Krebble swallowed, nodded, then mumbled “The Fair Folk coffee shop. They got fairy circles in the back.” The air sparkled with silvery motes of light, the essence of a Fey deal forming. Sean spun around, threw open the door, shattering the seal that Krebble had activate anytime the door shut. The motes burst into soundless fireworks, Krebble fell back with a squeal of pain.
Sean turned back, just outside the office. “Sorry man, budget’s tight, can’t be shopping at 7/11 twice a week. Thanks for the tip I’ll still keep your name out of it.” As Sean walked to the door Krebble throw his glamour back on, stomping out of the office shouting.
“Yer banned, Mr. Houston! Banned for life! Criss, make sure that man never-err, he never, dangit!” He slammed the door to the office and Sean walks out the doors, making a note to buy cigarettes at the next closest 7/11.
“At least it’ll be a nice walk to ponder the plan.”