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“I shall. Chester has your PI license ready for you, by the way. You need to sign some papers, but he’ll bring them to your place tonight. The license is active as of this morning, though.”
“What’s the point in me signing the papers, then?”
“They’re for your firearm. You’re legal to purchase, you just can’t have loaded weapons until you sign. You’re already in the system.”
Ah. Right. The anonymous in Dragon Heights couldn’t have a firearm without the appropriate forms. “Where’s a good gun shop, then? I can try out a weapon while you’re forced to slave away at work.”
“Try the gun shop in Pearl,” Doug suggested. “They’re having a sale, and they have a good selection. A lot of law enforcement like their offerings, too.”
“There are two local gun manufacturers you might like,” Erik informed me. “The weapons are pricy because they aren’t mass produced, but you’ll like their safety systems, they’re solid, and they’re reliable. This place does have a testing range for people buying firearms, and they only allow blanks in their range, so you can test fire the weapons before you buy.”
“Take me to this gun shop,” I ordered. “Also, the Ramonses have my kitten and bird, so if you want to pet them, you’re going to have to hunt them, take them into custody, and give them a hard time.”
“Do you think you’ll get your kitten and bird back?”
“I better. They’ll live to regret it if I don’t.”
TWENTY-ONE
Were the iron dragons the gossips of Dragon Heights?
Monday, April 27, 2167
The Pearl Ward
Dragon Heights, Wyoming
Erik dropped me off in front of a quaint gun shop that had once been a townhome. According to the sign on the door, all purchases were registered and verified in both the local and federal systems, including serial numbers on firearms and the type of ammunition purchased. Barrel markers were likewise registered, which would help law enforcement identify if a weapon had been used as part of a crime.
I stepped inside, wondering how much of a hassle the shop employees would give me for being anonymous. A gun owner’s paradise waited for me, and a variety of gun safes lined the entry as a reminder of how people needed to take care with their firearms. As I would need a safe and an ammunition locker, I started there. On the far end of the shop was a hallway with several doorways and a flight of steps heading to the upper floor.
It took less than five minutes to come to the conclusion that if I wanted to protect my weapons from dragons and their kin, I would need to invest five thousand dollars in the safe and locker.
Heaving a sigh, I headed for the counter, where an older man in a suit worked at checking over his wares. “Good afternoon. I’m going to need my licenses to purchase a firearm and ammunition verified before I buy a safe, locker, and weapon. I’m going to skip the ammunition until I have the safe and locker installed at home.”
The man, with graying hair and dark eyes, glanced up from his work. “I know of you. Where is your carbunclo?”
Why did everyone expect me to have Garnet with me? “Garnet and Tourmaline are on a play date with Mr. and Mrs. Ramons at the moment. They’re shopping for a new table. They decided an outing with a pair of grouchy dragons was more interesting than running errands with me, not that I can blame them.”
“Tourmaline?”
“My hummingbird familiar. A true creation from the last rain,” I explained. “You have the advantage.”
“I am Alastair Duman. I am an iron dragon. Why are you seeking a firearm?”
“I’ve been granted a private investigator license and a license to carry. As I otherwise have the general offensive abilities of a wet noodle, carrying a firearm is wise. I can qualify if you’d like, although I’m a bit rusty.”
“I’ll have you do a few rounds to see what I’m working with. Just give me a few minutes to look you up in the system and evaluate your rating level. Do you have a preference for firearm?”
“I’m open to exploration. I have significant experience with mid-sized handguns. I’ve used automatics, but I have a preference for semi-autos. A derringer might be wise as a second weapon. I’ve used them before but not frequently. I’m not certain what my license here allows.”
Alastair grunted, headed for his computer, and tapped at the keyboard. “Ah. Your registration is already in the system. Excellent. Yes, I can sell you a standard firearm and a derringer. I can also sell you ammunition, but there’s a flag stating you need to sign paperwork before loading your firearm with lethal ammunition outside of a range or evaluation. I assume that’s why you’re hesitant about purchasing ammunition?”
“That’s correct, plus I won’t have ammo in my home without the safe and locker installed.”
“I can have those delivered tomorrow morning, and I can send you home with a locking case sufficient for protecting your firearms until their arrival. We have a model of locker that’s portable that’d suffice as a temporary until your secured locker arrives.”
What was a little extra spent for the sake of safety? Rather than sigh and betray my reluctance to spend even more money, I said, “That works. I’ll need a way to transport a firearm and ammunition later, so that will be convenient. Should we start with the evaluation?”