by Glen Cook
He put the report down, looked at me like he was making up his mind whether to kick my butt or not. Not won the toss.
“You got a good rep, Garrett. Why I picked you. I’ll take a chance.”
I waited. He brooded. The dwarf bartender waited at the door, maybe to see if the boss would need help. There wasn’t much tension, though. I didn’t feel threatened.
“I ain’t got much here, Garrett. We ain’t got much. But we’re like family. We take care of each other on account of we’re all we’ve got. This here is like the last ledge before the fall into the pit.”
I couldn’t argue that. I kept my opinion to myself. My old mom used to suggest strongly that I just might learn something if I could manage to keep my mouth shut long enough to listen. Mom was right, but I didn’t get the message for years—and I still forget it far too often.
“Somebody works for me comes to me with their trouble, usually I try to lend a hand. If I can. I do that, maybe they give me a little help when I need it. Right?”
“Makes sense.” Only in the real world it doesn’t work that way very often. “One of your people wants Barking Dog watched?”
He eyed me, still taking my measure. “You’re a cynic. You don’t believe in much. Especially not people. Maybe that’s a good thing in your line, kind of folks you probably have to deal with.”
“Yeah.” I was proud of me. I kept a straight face.
He glanced at the dwarf, got a response I didn’t catch.
“All right. Here’s the way it is, Garrett. Amato’s kid works for me. When he got himself tossed in the Al-Khar, she—”
“He’s got a daughter?” You’ve heard that one about knocking a guy over with a feather? That feather would have smashed me like a bug.
“Yeah. This Amato, he’s a loony. But harmless. You know that. I know that. Only he’s got a habit of naming names. She’s scared maybe he named the wrong one, some Hill-type asshole what don’t got a sense of humor. Maybe the old man is about to get his ass in deep shit. Girl’s a little light-headed herself, if you get my drift. But she’s family here, and when my people worry, I try to fix it so they don’t. So what I want from you is you should keep an eye on the old nut, let me know if he’s about to step in it so I can yank him out of the way before he gets run over. Understand?”
Yes. And no. Barking Dog with a daughter? How did he ever manage that? “A bit hard to buy.”
“Yeah? Something about it you don’t like? You just say you’re out. I’ll get somebody else. I picked you on account of they say you’re almost honest. But I can live without you.”
“It’s just a big chunk to swallow. You don’t know Barking Dog. You did, you’d know why. I can’t figure him for having a kid.”
“Crunch. Tell Sas to bring us a couple of beers.”
The dwarf left. We didn’t talk. After a while a woman came with two beers, light for me and dark for Hullar. I’d seen her with the gamine, muttering with the musicians. I hadn’t noticed then, but up close the resemblance to Amato was there. She even had those spooky eyes that looked like they were seeing things hidden from the rest of us. She pretended not to study me while I pretended not to study her.
“Thanks, Sas.”
“Sure, Bish.” She left.
“Sure looks like him,” I admitted.
“There you go. Any problems now?”
“Not really.” I wondered if she’d studied me because the dwarf had told her who I was. Probably. Maybe he’d sent her back more to give her a look than to give me one. “This supposed to be a secret?”
“Secret?”
“I’ll tell my partner, of course. He won’t kick it around. But is it supposed to be a secret from the rest of the world?”
“Probably wouldn’t hurt. The guy maybe does have an enemy or three.”
“Suppose he catches on that I’m watching? Am I allowed to tell him why?”
“I don’t figure that would do Sas no good. Look, I know this ain’t in your usual line. Pretty tame, you being used to mixing it up with sorcerers and gangsters and Hill folk, but it means something to us. You don’t got to make a career out of it. I ain’t paying that much. But we’d all appreciate it if you’d let us in on it should he get his ass into something he can’t handle. Right?”
I rose. “Good enough.” I believed him because I wanted to believe him. You don’t much see people do nice things for people. “One of your girls said your musicians are having problems.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. Tooken care of.” For a moment he looked like the evil thing I’d pictured him to be. “Or will be, real soon. How about you take my mug back out to Crunch?”
I took both mugs.
24
The dwarf grunted when I made my delivery. For an old guy—especially for an old dwarf—Crunch was astonishingly polite.
As I headed for the street, I glanced at the bandbox. And almost tripped over my feet.
A man had joined the musicians. He was one guy I’d hoped I wouldn’t ever see again. He stared at me. I stared back.
He had nothing on me in height and only a little in weight, but size didn’t make this man. He reeked menace the way Barking Dog Amato reeked uninspired personal hygiene. He scared you just by being around, even when he smiled. His name was Crask. He was one of Chodo Contague’s top cats. He hurt people for a living. He enjoyed his work.
I realized I’d stopped to stare. He kept staring too. Each of us was wondering what the hell the other was doing there. When my brain unfroze again I had no trouble figuring him. He was there because of the battered musicians.
Old Licks didn’t have a license from the outfit. Him and his buddies would be in deep shit if Crask caught up. Especially deep for picking on musicians in the Tenderloin. The Tenderloin was Chodo’s. Even the King doesn’t mess around down there.
I almost made it to the door before I got stunned again.
The girl blew in as I reached for the latch. I dodged, gaped. For all she reacted, I was a ghost.
She was the one those villains had dragged out of Morley’s place. The one Morley claimed was the kingpin’s daughter. I turned, stared, maybe panted some, as she strode toward Crunch.
Crask’s face went as cold as death. My heart jumped. But it wasn’t me he was watching.
The girl glanced his way, stopped, made a little sound of surprise, whirled, and sprinted for the street. She ricocheted off me as she went. I purred. Whip me, beat me . . .
Crask came pounding up behind me as I stepped into the rain to watch her fly away. He halted beside me. “What the hell was that?” I asked.
“What you doing here, Garrett?” He sounded suspicious. Nasty suspicious. Like getting-ready-to-break-arms-and-legs suspicious.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were too big-time for legwork.”
“She come here to meet you?”
“Huh?” That was a surprise notion. “Uh-uh. No touch. I’ll break things.” Crask was scary, but I wasn’t afraid of him in any head-butting contest. I figured our chances were equal if we got to prancing around pounding on each other. He was scary because he was a killer and a smart one. If he decided to send you over, you might as well start counting your beads.
“You stay away, Garrett. Or they’ll find parts of you all over town.”
“I didn’t know you had a woman. Who is she?” Fact was, I thought he and his sidekick Sadler had a thing.
“Huh?”
“I’m going to tell you this once, Crask. I don’t know the girl. I have seen her before. Once. She walked into Morley Dotes’s place night before last. Two minutes later a bunch of guys roared in and tried to kidnap her. Me and Morley and Saucerhead showed them what we think of guys who pick up their girls the rough way. She disappeared before we finished. Beginning and end of story. Now it’s your go. Who is she? How come you got your balls in an uproar?”
“You don’t need to know.” The girl was out of sight now. Crask frowned after her, as much puzzled as ang
ry. He’d bought my story, probably because I’d not lied to him much in the past. “What was she doing at Dotes’s place?”
“You got me. Never said a word. Just came in looking scared, sat by herself, then three guys blew in and dragged her out.”
He grunted. “I didn’t know about that. Thanks, Garrett. I’ll give you one back. Tell Tharpe it ain’t going to be healthy hanging around with those guys trying to mess with the musicians.”
“I was going to suggest that anyway after I saw you in there.” I started moving, planning to put some distance between us before it occurred to him to bring up old business.
“Garrett.”
Damn. “What?”
“You see the girl around again, pass the word. We’d like to know.”
“Sure. But why? Who is she?”
“Just do it.” He went inside without turning his back.
I hustled away, breathing hard. It had been an encounter I’d dreaded more than necessary. Maybe. Maybe the street in front of Hullar’s place didn’t strike him as the best stage for my demise.
25
Peace and harmony broke out all over. I had nothing to do but loaf, deliver the occasional report to Hullar, and keep an eye on Dean’s crowd whenever he had them over for one of his rehab parties. You wouldn’t believe how rowdy old men can get.
There weren’t any cats around, and except for his barbs about me not working, Dean wasn’t a nuisance. The Dead Man went to sleep, visions of Glory Mooncalled dancing in his head. Saucerhead resigned from the musician-organizing racket just before Morley reported that he was no longer obliged to endure the custom of that human smudgepot Licks. I got out and visited, bought a few rounds for friends, reforged contacts, even dropped by the brewery and spent a few days checking employee theft for Weider. As always, he wanted me to take the job full-time. As always, I couldn’t overcome my horror of holding down a real job.
Nobody’s life stays on that high and relaxed a level. Especially not mine. The gods have a special Garrett harassment squad dedicated solely to my persecution.
So I should have known the good times were over the morning I went out to run and found that the rains had returned.
I was in my office busting my skull trying to fake up numbers that would impress the tax thugs with the depths of my destitution. Somebody hammered on the door. I groaned. It was nearly suppertime and Dean was fixing a standing rib roast that would be bloody rare and would melt in my mouth, with all the extras. Smelling the odors from the kitchen had me drooling already.
Dean asked, “Shall I ignore it?”
“No. It’s probably Saucerhead.” Tharpe had been around a lot lately. His flame had walked. His luck hadn’t been good since. “There enough to feed him too?”
“Barely.” Saucerhead does put it away. “There won’t be anything left over.”
I shrugged. “I’ll get even with him someday.”
“You just want to get away from what you’re doing.” He tottered down the hall to the accompaniment of renewed pounding. Somebody was awfully anxious.
Dean was right. I did want to get away. I hate the whole idea of taxes. What have I ever gotten from the Crown? A pack and a collection of weapons and a five-year adventure in the war zone. I had to give back the pack and weapons. They just wanted to rip me off so they could give some other kid a chance to see the acne on the ass of the world.
I got out of having to be creative, but, all things considered, I’d rather I’d stayed with the taxes.
It wasn’t Saucerhead. It was a guy I’d hoped never to see again, Captain Block. Dean showed Block into my office. Block looked frazzled.
I couldn’t help myself. “Now what?”
Block planted his behind, settled his elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands. “Same as before. You’ll have to see it.”
“Look, I bailed you out once. Isn’t that enough? Dean’s cooking supper. It’ll be ready in half an hour.”
“So he told me. Also told me you were busy doing taxes.”
“Yeah.”
“You wouldn’t be the kind of guy who’d forget to report a fat cash payment from the Watch, would you?”
Damned right I would be. “Why?”
“One mission of the Watch is to investigate alleged tax fraud. We don’t do much of that, but when there’s a report, we have to act to cover our butts.”
“I’ll find my hat. How far do we have to go?”
“Not far.” He smiled weakly. “I knew I could count on you. And I’m sure your purse won’t get hurt this time, either.”
No happiness came through his smile. He looked more stressed than last time. What had him by the short hairs now?
Something that would be politically painful, surely. By getting out, tapping the wind of rumor whispering through the streets, I knew Block had turned catching old bug-breath into a big score. Suddenly there was a lot of stuff going on in the shadows. Prince Rupert was getting behind Westman Block. Block had hidden irons in the fire. It all had the knights of the street feeling nervous.
I made sure I was equipped for trouble, just because of the company I’d be keeping. Trouble followed Block.
We talked about the Cantard as we walked. Glory Mooncalled had abandoned his effort to capture Quarache but had hamstrung the Venageti ability to project their power far into the desert. I’d also been on the mark about the Marines getting the job of retaking Full Harbor. That operation had begun. I had mixed feelings. They brag that when they turn you into a Marine they make you a Marine forever.
The more we talked, the more I realized that Block was thoroughly spooked. Whatever his problem, it was going to be something I wouldn’t like.
26
Now I was spooked.
“Identical,” I said, staring at the gutted, naked girl. She hung in an alleyway behind abandoned tenements on the near south side. Those tenements had been occupied by ratmen squatters until a few hours ago. They were long gone now.
In the rain and poor light the dead girl was a ringer for the one Block had shown me in the Bustee. “This can’t be, Block. I got them.” I had to believe I’d gotten them. I’m not made to shake off killing the wrong villains.
Block wasn’t so scared for his behind that he couldn’t see what was bothering me. “You got the right guy, Garrett. Don’t doubt that for a minute. After we got the Prince’s go-ahead, we took that place apart. You wouldn’t believe what we found. They’d been in there a long time. They kept pieces of all their victims. There were bodies in the cellar, girls, but not the type. My guess is they used them for practice before they went after the real thing.”
I stared at the new corpse, listened to the flies sing. “There was one thing . . . ” I told him about that missing clothing and knives. I’d discovered that Morley hadn’t taken away any souvenirs. I didn’t mention Morley’s name. It wouldn’t appeal to Block.
“You didn’t mention any of this before.”
“I thought everything was wrapped up before. But—”
“Yeah. But. Elvis!”
A nondescript Watchman hurried over. “Captain?”
“Show Mr. Garrett what you found.”
Elvis had a folded scrap of paper tucked into a pocket inside his rain cape. Inside it were three green butterflies. I shivered as though the rain had turned to sleet. “How long since the last murder?”
“Twelve days. This one was right on schedule.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” I’d been confident he would. I don’t know why I asked. Maybe I hoped he’d show me I was wrong.
“The killer is dead but the killing goes on. How can that be, Garrett?” Now I understood why Block was so rattled. This wasn’t just a matter of his career being in jeopardy.
“I don’t know. What happened to the old man’s body?”
“It was cremated. I saw them both go into the ovens.”
“What did you do with the old man from the Bustee? Did you get anything out of him?”
Block l
ooked embarrassed. “He died.”
“Huh?”
“We tried too hard. Gave him too much of everything. He overdid himself to death.”
I just shook my head. It could only happen around me. “You recheck the Hamilton place since you found this?”
“Got the report before I came after you. Nothing there. No connection.”
“What about the coach?”
“Hasn’t moved. The wheels are chained so it can’t be. And the horses were sold. They didn’t belong there. They were squatters too.”
“Know who this girl is yet?”
“No. But it won’t be long before we do. She’ll be somebody.”
He meant she’d be related to somebody. None of the dead girls had been important in their own right yet, but they’d all come off the Hill. “If the pattern holds.” I was scared and confused. I told Block I was scared and confused and didn’t know what to do now, except, “We’d better talk it over with the Dead Man before we do anything. He did interview all those people.”
Block brightened. “Yeah. If there’s anything to start on, he ought to have it.”
I recalled my roast. That wonderful, expensive roast that had had me drooling for hours.
I wasn’t hungry anymore.
“It probably don’t mean a thing now,” I said, “but did you ever find out who we caught?”
“The old guy?”
No, dipshit. The lead horse in the team in . . . “Yes.”
Block glanced around, then whispered, “Idraca Matiston.”
“Whoa! Scares me. Who the hell is . . . was . . . Idraca Matiston.”
“Keep it down, will you?”
“Somebody, I take it, that was enough of a somebody that you don’t want word getting around.”
Whisper. “Idraca Matiston, Viscount Nettles. Lady Hamilton’s lover. Had a bit of a bizarre reputation to begin, which is why we wrapped it fast and quiet and other quarters let it out he’d passed on from complications. He was in and out of the Hamilton house all the time and nobody thought anything of it because he’d always been. Now I know what I know, I’d go back and take a closer look at Lady Hamilton’s mishap if the Prince would let me.”