by Glen Cook
40
“The man’s damned clever.”
I bounced high enough to bruise my skull on low-flying clouds.
“I mean, using the truth to tell lies that way.” Crask had appeared out of nowhere, behind me.
I barked, “Why the hell you got to do that?”
He grinned. “Because it’s fun watching you jump.” He meant it. He would keep trying to make me jump till the day he really did greet me with a knife.
“What do you want?” My mood wasn’t what it had been.
“It’s not what I want, Garrett. It’s never that. It’s what Chodo wants. You know that. I’m just an errand boy.”
Right. And a saber-toothed tiger is just a pussycat. “I’ll play. What does the kingpin want?” I tried to keep one eye on Barking Dog. Amato was into a foaming-mouth frenzy now, excoriating and denouncing everyone and everything and drawing one of the best crowds of his career. But I couldn’t keep my mind on him with Crask so near.
Crask said, “Chodo wants to talk about the girl.”
“The girl?”
“Don’t get cute. She’s his kid. It ain’t right she’s down to the Tenderloin, whatever she’s doing there. That don’t look good. That can’t get out.”
“You don’t like it, tell her to knock it off.”
“There you go again. Cute. You know it ain’t that simple, Garrett.”
“Sure. It isn’t like she was some kid off the street, just slap her around, maybe kick in a few ribs when she don’t do right.”
“You got a problem with your mouth, Garrett. I been telling Chodo for a long time you got a problem with your mouth. For a while there he couldn’t see that. But he’s maybe seeing things clearer these days. You’ll maybe want to keep a lid on the wise-guy stuff when you see him.”
I always had . . . See him? I hadn’t planned to see that old coot ever again. I told Crask that.
“We’re all entitled to our opinions, and maybe even our little dreams, I reckon. But sometimes they got to change, Garrett.”
I glanced around. Crask wasn’t alone. Naturally. He’d brought enough help to carry off three or four uncooperative characters my size. “I suppose you have a point.” I stood, indicated he should lead the way.
I considered taking a powder. Barking Dog’s crowd might have made escape possible. But I had a feeling I wasn’t in danger. Yet. Had I reached the head of the kingpin’s list, they’d have just hit me. Killing was a businesslike business with Chodo and his main men. They didn’t waste time tormenting their victims—unless there was a big public-relations dividend to be gained from killing somebody an inch at a time.
“Pity to miss the rest of this.” I nodded at Barking Dog.
“Yeah. Old goof’s on a roll. But business is business. Let’s go.”
Our immediate destination stood at the curb on the far side of the Chancery. It was a big black coach similar to the one the old butterfly man had ridden. Chodo Contague’s personal coach.
“How many of these does he have?” It hadn’t been that long since I’d fallen out of a similar one scant seconds before it became a lunch bucket for a thunder-lizard taller than most three-story houses.
“This is a new one.”
“I figured.” Since it looked and smelled new. You can’t fool us trained investigators.
That other, earlier ride had sprung from a misunderstanding that had irked me at the time. So much so that I’d decided to whack Chodo before he came after me again. I’d joined forces with this very Crask to see the job done.
But Chodo was still alive, still in charge.
I couldn’t figure it.
Crask is smart but he isn’t much of a talker. It’s a long haul from the skirts of the Hill out to Chodo’s estate. You have plenty of time to consider the meaning of life. If you’re traveling with a Crask and a couple other stiffs who lack even the redeeming value of having brains, you tend to drift away into philosophy. There’s only so much amusement to be had from farting contests and exchanges of grotesque misinformation about female anatomy.
Try as I might, I couldn’t get anything better going. All I got out of Crask was an indefinite impression that there was more going on than he cared to tell me.
Which made perfect sense if he planned to break my neck. You don’t tell the pig ahead of time that it’s come the day for making bacon. All I had going was the dubious comfort I could take from knowing that Crask had no cause to go to all this trouble just to ice me.
I hadn’t seen Chodo’s place since the night Winger and I broke in planning to hasten Chodo’s journey to the promised land. Nothing appeared changed except that the damage had been repaired and a fresh herd of small thunder-lizards had been brought in to patrol the grounds and graze on intruders. “Just like old times,” I muttered.
“We’ve added a twist or two,” Crask informed me, grinning evilly, like he hoped I’d think he was bluffing and would have a go at sneaking in. That would appeal to his selective sense of humor.
41
Like old times. Chodo greeted his company in the pool room.
It was called that because there was a huge indoor bath in there. I’ve seen smaller oceans. The bath was heated. Usually—though this time was an exception—the poolside was decorated by a small herd of unclothed beauties, there just to lend that final touch of decadence.
While we waited, I asked, “Where are the honeys? I miss them.”
“You would. Chodo didn’t want them around while his daughter was staying here. He never got around to bringing them back.”
What did that mean? That the daughter wasn’t staying here anymore?
Patience, Garrett. All will come clear.
The man himself arrived, looking little changed. He was in his wheelchair with a heavy blanket wrapped around his lap and covering his legs. Hands like tallow claws lay folded upon his lap. I couldn’t see his face. His head had fallen forward. It swayed back and forth.
Sadler stopped him at the far end of the pool, fiddled with his chair, tilted him back so his head stayed level. I’d never seen Chodo in anything approaching good health, but now he seemed way worse than ever before. He looked like somebody had poisoned him with arsenic, then he’d suffered severe anemia till the vampires got him. His skin was almost translucent.
He was dressed and groomed as though for dinner with the King—and that only made the sight of him more horrible.
I started forward. Crask caught my arm. “From here, Garrett.”
Sadler bent to Chodo’s right ear. “Mr. Garrett is here, sir.” He spoke softly. I barely heard him.
Nothing shifted in Chodo’s eyes. I saw no light of recognition. I saw no evidence that he could see at all. His eyes didn’t move and didn’t focus.
Sadler leaned forward as though to let Chodo speak into his ear. He listened, then straightened. “He wants to know about his daughter.” No pretense about her now. “Whatever you know. All your speculations.”
“I already told you—”
“He wants to hear it. With everything you left out.”
Bullpucky. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to notice. Maybe they didn’t care if I did. Chodo’s lips hadn’t moved. He hadn’t done anything but drool.
I flashed back to the night we tried to scribble the end of his story. We—Crask, Sadler, Winger, and I—had had him cornered, along with a witch he’d been chasing. The witch did get herself elevated to a higher plane before Winger and I cut out, but she’d made a final gesture before checkout. She’d given Chodo a fist in the face. She’d been wearing a poison ring filled with snake venom.
So. Rather than killing Chodo, the venom had induced a stroke.
How nice for Crask and Sadler. They must have thought themselves beloved of the gods when that happened. Their original plan had been to do Chodo and grab control of the outfit before anyone realized what was happening. That was the historically preferred solution to the problem of the transition of power in the underworld. But it meant a long shake-out peri
od while potential challengers were eliminated.
This way there was no problem with the succession. Chodo was alive. They could pretend he was still in charge while they gathered the reins slowly.
It was grotesque.
I played along.
Not playing along would be a capital crime, I suspected.
Much of the time I function well in tight situations. I didn’t betray my thoughts. I pursued a conversation with Chodo, through Sadler, as though I sensed nothing unusual.
I gave them a thorough briefing on the serial killer and young women frequenting the Tenderloin. Sometimes it’s best you don’t shield people from the truth.
“Seen her lately?” Sadler asked.
“Not since that day at Hullar’s.”
“You didn’t try to trace her?”
“Why? No. I lost interest once I knew who she was.”
“You’re not as dumb as you look,” Crask observed.
“Like you. Protective coloration.”
Sadler gave me the fish-eye. “You would’ve known who she was after seeing her at Dotes’s place.”
“Speaking of Morley, the reason I asked him to contact you is the girl might know something that would help stop this killer. And I didn’t figure hunting her up personally would—”
Sadler cut in, “You said the killer was dead.” He was determined to trip me up.
“Maybe. We hope. But he’s been dead before. The killings didn’t stop.”
“You don’t think they’re going to?”
“The ritual knives disappeared. A Watchman who was around the corpse and who had access to the knives has disappeared. That may not mean anything, but why take chances? I’ve identified two women who fit the victim profile. I’ll see them covered like a blanket.” Did I sound like I was making sense?
Sadler bent, stayed bent a long time, though Chodo’s lips never moved. “Yes, sir. I’ll tell him that, sir.” He straightened. “Chodo says he has a job for you, Garrett. He wants you to find his daughter. He wants you to bring her home.”
“The resources he has, he can’t find her?”
“Not without everybody knowing he’s looking.”
Crask said, “He can’t go looking himself, Garrett. That would be like admitting he can’t control his own family.”
Yeah. And folks might even wonder why she’d run away. “I see.” I turned away, pretended to pace, finally stopped. “I can handle it. But I could use a little something to get started with. I mean, I don’t even know her name, let alone anything about her.”
“Belinda,” Crask said, “She won’t be using it.”
Teach your mama to suck eggs, boy. “Belinda? You’re kidding. Nobody’s named Belinda anymore.”
“After Chodo’s old granny.” The man didn’t crack a smile. “She raised him up until he was old enough to run the streets.”
Crask had a faraway look. I hoped he didn’t wax nostalgic about the old days. Chodo had a decade on him, so they couldn’t have run the bricks at the same time, but Crask and Sadler, like most of Chodo’s inside boys, had come into the business from the streets, with time out for special education at Crown expense, in the University of the Cantard.
“I can handle it,” I said again. I seldom demur when dealing with the kingpin face-to-face. A weakness of mine, being fond of breathing.
Sadler leaned down as though startled, listened. “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it, sir.” He straightened. “I’ve been instructed to advance you a hundred marks against your fees and expenses.”
Maybe it was the season, all these people throwing money my way. “I’m on the job,” I said. “Only I hope I don’t have to walk ten miles home.” Hint, hint. But I wouldn’t press the issue. I wanted out of there bad. Soon. Before there was anything more.
42
I thought a lot during the ride home, concluded that finding beautiful Miss Belinda Contague might not be healthy.
Crask and Sadler might consider me disposable once they had her in hand, under control.
My disposability probably had plenty to do with why they had chosen this particular investigator to investigate. There was one fine chance they figured I knew too much already. In fact, just to be optimistic, I was going to count on that.
So the one thing I had going for me was the fact that I hadn’t found the girl yet. As long as she stayed unfound, things would stay just dandy for me.
The more I thought, the more I was convinced I had to simplify my life. I didn’t have enough eyes to watch all the directions I needed to watch.
Night fell before I got home. With the darkness came rain, surprising me I don’t know why. Wasn’t like it was something new.
I headed up the front steps wondering how I could find Belinda Contague without seeming to find her, before I weaseled out of my troubles with Crask and Sadler.
“Where have you been?” Dean demanded before the door opened wide enough to admit me.
“What are you, my mother? You think it’s any of your business, you drop in while I’m explaining to His Nibs.” I could maybe drop a few housekeeping hints while I was at that. Anything to get a little cleaning done in there without having to do it myself.
Dean read me like a book. He was old and slow but far from senile. He harrumphed, headed for the kitchen, but halted as he came abreast of my office doorway. “I nearly forgot. You have a guest. In the small front room.”
“Oh?” A new cat, big enough to rip my leg off? Or Barking Dog on a midnight mission? . . . No. Amato would be across the way swapping insanities with the Dead Man. Evangelists?
Only one way to find out.
I opened the door.
Time passed. I finally came around when the woman cracked, “You like what you see? Or are you just a mouth breather?”
“Sorry. You weren’t what I was expecting.”
“Then put your eyes back in their sockets, Jocko. Why surprised?”
“Your father just drafted me to find you, Belinda. In his usual smooth-talking way, he offered me the job without giving me any chance to turn him down.”
That shut her up. She stared.
“His driver just now dropped me off.” 1 stared back. I liked what I saw. She didn’t hurt the eyes at all. She still preferred black. She still looked good in black. “You look marvelous in black. Not many women wear it so well.” She would look good in—or out of—anything. She had what it took, though I got the impression she was used to hiding it.
For the moment the cat had her tongue.
I wondered where Dean had the beast hidden.
Belinda didn’t match the victim profile tonight. Her hair was short, black as a raven’s wing, made more remarkable by the pallor of her skin and the brightness of her lip rouge. I wondered if the pale skin was a family look, if she would resemble her father in a few years. She looked pretty much the way she had at Morley’s place and not much the way she had at Hullar’s. At Hullar’s, probably wearing a wig, she’d fit the profile perfectly.
They’re a protean breed, women.
Oh, I love them, I do, I do, however they disguise themselves.
Belinda rose like she meant to make a run for it. “My father? My father is—”
“Your father is in less than total control of his faculties. His lieutenants—who hijacked me and dragged me out to the estate—made a big show of it being his idea. Oh. Excuse me. I’m Garrett. Dean said you wanted to see me. I’m glad, too. I’ve wanted to meet you since that night at the Joy House.”
She looked puzzled. “The Joy House?” She edged sideways. She’d changed her mind about wanting to see me.
“Weeks back. In the Safety Zone? You ran in and stole my heart. Then some brunos tried to steal you. Remember? Big black coach. Old boy with green eyes and butterflies on his breath? Your basic every-night weird kidnapping upset when the gallant knight of the streets rescued the distressed damsel?”
“You’ve been dieting. You were four inches taller and sixty pounds heavier then.”
&n
bsp; “Ha. Ha. That was Saucerhead. He used to be my buddy. He helped me a little. My heart was broken when you didn’t stick around long enough to say thanks.”
“Thanks, Garrett. You’re blocking the doorway.”
“No shit? You’re quick. I told Saucerhead you’d be quick. I told everyone you’d be sharp. Is that a problem? Me not moving? I thought you wanted to see me.”
“That was before you told me you work for the ugly twins.”
“Did I say that? I didn’t say that. I couldn’t have said that. I have a long-standing reputation for refusing to work for them or your father—though I might let one or the other labor under the misapprehension.” I tried my famous boyish grin, guaranteed to set any girl’s little heart going pitty-pat.
“Stow the bullshit, Garrett. Let me out of here.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re not dragging me off to the uglies.”
“No way. Why would I do that? My life wouldn’t be worth two coppers if I did.”
“Mine either. Mine especially. I don’t really know about yours. Let me out of here.”
“Not till I hear why you came.”
“Doesn’t matter now. You aren’t the guy I need.”
“Because I know Crask and Sadler?” I shrugged as though trying to shake off a broken heart. “Can’t win them all. But you are the girl I need. I’ve been looking for you for weeks.”
“Why?”
“It’s about the people that tried to snatch you. You’re their only target that got away.”
She got real pale. That wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. She asked, “What do you mean?”
“You’ve heard rumors about the killer who strings girls up and guts them?”
“I’ve heard talk. I didn’t pay much attention.”
“That’s funny. I would’ve paid a lot of attention after somebody almost dragged me off.”
“Was that them?” She was grim, suddenly. Hard, like her father.
“Yes.”
“Oh.” In a small voice. An I feel foolish voice.
“You and me, we’re the only ones who ever saw him face-to-face and lived.” She didn’t really need to remember Saucerhead, did she? “And I only saw him for a second. You must’ve had more to do with him and his boys. You were running from them when you showed up at Morley’s.”