Warp Pipes to Nowhere - A Detective Shy Guy Mystery

Chapter 6

I left the docks behind me and walked through the arched doorway that separated them from the rest of the sewers. Gray bricks surrounded me. Gray bricks on the floor; gray bricks on the ceiling; gray bricks on the wall. Maybe I've stared at gray bricks too long, but I don't just see them as gray anymore. Each has their own personality, like they don't just exist in a wall, but they contribute to it – they hold it up. They keep this world and the one above it from crumbling into decay. Little overlooked warriors carrying the entire world on their backs. Or maybe they're just bricks and my mind will use any excuse to zone out during a boring stroll I've taken a thousand and one times.

I passed the set of war pipes leading to different towns and kingdoms on the Warp Pipe Highway. No scent of Princess Peach stirred my interest. Just the cold, which brought me back to my still damp coat. Peach must've finished her rounds. Either that or she gave up on anything that worked below sea level and found greener pastures and possibilities. The drip of a leaky pipe forever out of reach kept my stride in time.

I made it back to my office – which doubled as my apartment. The pebbled glass window still read: Shy Guy Detective Agency in a golden arch. It was locked, just as I left it. There was no mail on the floor when I opened my front door. No voicemails left on the machine. No damsels or crime bosses looking for answers, sitting at my desk.

I took a seat on the other side of my desk, the customer side, and kicked my feet up. Tiredness finally caught up. My arms ached. My legs were sore already, which meant tomorrow would be fun. I scanned around my room for a bottle of anything, and found it just out of reach. I contemplated getting up fo a sip but couldn't muster it. Instead I took of my mask, and let it fall to the floor with a heavy thud.

I wouldn't call it fresh, but the air felt nice on my bare face for once. Made me think of spending the weekend at the Bubblaine Inn, just soaking up the rays, holding one of those three-paneled mirrors. Perhaps an umbrella nearby and an ice-cold drink within striking distance.

I sighed, and let those thoughts sink well below the surface of my daydreams. I was about as far away from a vacation as a guy could get.

Rolling off the seat, I picked up the mask, refastened it and went for that drink. It was a tall bottle of Shells Rum, Blue label. It was nearly empty. So near to empty that I figured I'd empty it in one pull. I tossed the bottle in the trash with a clang and proceeded to my closet.

I changed quickly, tossed my damp cloak into the drier and grabbed another identical camel cloak. I then took hold of a fresh gray flannel hat and my only other camel-colored overcoat. I've got a mirror but I don't bother using it. I know what I look like, especially in my go-to outfit. I walked right past it, fished my keys out of my pocket, opened the door, closed it behind me, locked it and headed toward the surface.

Sunlight hit me like a POW block. Even behind the mask I needed some time to adjust to the relentless sunshine and blue skies. You could spend a lifetime waiting for a cloud in Toad Town that was unaccompanied by a Lakitu. I hopped off the warp pipe I road up here, cursed softly about the sunshine and headed to Tender T.'s for another drink and even more gossip.

Tender T. was about my height – typical of a Toad. But unlike most happy-go-lucky Toads, his demeane was dark and his clothing choice was always dark. He even had a tattoo on his bicep that just said "Dark." Including punctuation. His bar was a haven for me. Inside you wouldn't know that Toad Town and the surrounding Mushoom Kingdom was incapable of any weather that wasn't seventy-five and smiling.

I walked a few blocks away from my warp pipe home, treading cobblestone from the Toad Town Square and heading toward the docks. Rumor is that Tender T. got his eye patch while working long trips on a pirate ship between Toad Town and Rogue Port. I didn't buy it. But I loved his Triple-Shroom beer and the talk that went on in the place. After a few minutes squeezing between Toads doing their day to day shopping, and a lenghty list of unremarkable characters, I made it to Tender T.'s door.

The building was brick, painted black. The windows were glass but covered with dark-stained wooden planks. If the sign above wasn't so pristine, you'd be forgiven for thinking this place was out of business. The door was a deep red burgundy. I pushed it open and let the darkness swallow me whole.

My eyes took a few seconds to adjust. Nobody paid me any mind. Directly in front of me was a long brick bar that touched each end of the rectangular floor plan, the bricks the same color as the gray sewer bricks. It had a deep purple bar top. Between me and the, pushed up against the windows and generally scattered around were tables the same color as the bar top. Small flames stood idly on the table tops, giving the faces surrounding them a sinister look. I counted five Goombas, two ​​Chargin' Chucks and a couple of Boos. No Toads, no Yoshis, no plumbers. A Shy Guy wearing a sombrero was playing a twelve-string guitar in the corner. He was singing about love. His robe was red and his voice was devastating.

I took a seat at the bar and waited. Conversation at the bar went on without notice of me. A Dry Bones speaking to a Toad, saying something about investment opportunities.

"What'll you–" Tender T. stopped shining the black glass in his hand and looked me in the eye.

"Guy!" he said, with enough gusto that the entire bar looked over. I cocked my head, trying to push off the feeling of having a spotlight and a target both glued to my back. The Shy Guy in red stopped playing. And then after nothing happened, he resumed, along with the rest of the conversation.

"Sorry, pal," Tender T. said in a whisper, "been a while. Kappy was just telling me about the run-in you had with the Skates. Exciting stuff. Look at you now, huh? Really finally making a name for yourself in this world of ours. First is on me."

He turned around and grabbed a bottle and a small shot glass from behind him and placed it in front of me. I put my hand out just as he was getting ready to pour, flicked my thumb and lifted it twice.

"The only Shy Guy I know with top-shelf taste. Fine. But no more freebies." Tender T. replaced the bottle of Geen label and poured me a shot of Blue. I took it down slowly, savoring the roasted, grassy flavor. My insides caught fire and then cooled quickly.

"So what'll it be, Guy? I know you're not here just for a drink and a catch up."