Deadly Quicksilver Lies gf-7

by Glen Cook

  Saucerhead grinned. He is one great huge goof. I love him in a brotherly way. I noticed he was missing another tooth.

  Chastity said, "I was checking up on you."

  "Don't believe anything these guys tell you. Especially Morley. Can't tell the truth when a lie will do. Just ask his wife or any of his seventeen demented children."

  Morley showed me a bunch of pointy teeth. He looked pleased. Saucerhead's grin got bigger. He had teeth like yellow and green spades.

  I figured it was time to check my shoes, see what I'd stepped in because my feet were whizzing past pretty close to my mouth.

  Unlikely as it seemed, folks had been saying nice things. I sat down. "Puddle! I need some apple juice. Shoeleather leaves a bad taste in your mouth."

  Dotes and Tharpe kept smirking. Spud brought me my drink, like to dumped it all over me. The kid couldn't keep his eyes off the lady doctor. I couldn't fault his taste. She sure looked good.

  I told her, "You didn't answer my question."

  "Why I'm here? Mr. Tharpe suggested we eat here before we go to the hospital."

  "We? The Bledsoe?" Mr. Tharpe hated the Bledsoe with a blind passion. Mr. Tharpe was poor. Mr. Tharpe had been born in the Bledsoe and had been forced to rely upon its medical care all his life, excepting during his years in military service, when he had discovered what real doctoring could be. I could not imagine Saucerhead going near the place voluntarily.

  A lot of people will suffer almost anything before letting themselves be committed to the Bledsoe. Many see it as the last gate to death.

  "I'm bodyguarding her," Saucerhead told me.

  "What? I thought... "

  "I saw your friend." Chastity smiled. My best pals snickered.

  "My friend? I'm beginning to wonder. She didn't want the job?"

  "Sent her on to me," Tharpe told me.

  That deserved some thought.

  Morley asked, "Where are your buddies, Garrett?"

  "Home minding the Goddamn Parrot. Slow roasting it, I hope. Why?"

  "There's a story going around about the three of you trying to rob some nancys out in the West End."

  I frowned. Strange that should be out already. "I was trying to get a line on Emerald. I never pushed that hard." I told the story.

  Morley soon developed a deep frown. He let me talk, but when I finished he asked, "You're sure it was an old copy of one of the volumes of No Ravens Went Hungry?"

  "It was The Raging Blades. You know something I don't?"

  "Do you know the story?"

  "I read the book."

  "That doesn't surprise me." He grinned. He recalled my troubles with Linda Lee. "Since you've read it, you know what happens at the end. Eagle is in his eighties, still hale except that he's going blind. The women start pushing him around, probably getting even for the way he always treated them. He gets pissed off, grabs a couple of slaves, takes the treasure he's stolen over the past seventy years, and heads for the boondocks. A few days later, he comes home alone and empty-handed and never says a word about what happened to the slaves or the treasure."

  "So?"

  "So Eagle's treasure is one of the big prizes treasure hunters yak up when they get together. One of their myths says the earliest version of No Ravens Went Hungry contains all the clues you need to find it. The copyists supposedly actually found the treasure, after they produced maybe five copies of each volume, but they murdered each other before they dug it up." Morley touched the highlights of a tale of greed and double-dealing worthy of Eagle himself.

  Tell the truth, Morley's story sounded like one of those worth the paper it was written on. If he hadn't had a certain familiar gleam in his eye, I would have ignored everything he said. But that gleam was there. I knew his gold sniffer had been excited. He believed. He was thinking of paying Wixon and White a visit that had nothing to do with mine.

  "The second volume?" I asked, hoping to cool him down. "Why that one? It wasn't until the end of the third that Eagle buried the treasure."

  Morley shrugged, smiled. Poor dumb Garrett couldn't see the obvious. Chastity gave us a funny look. She knew something was going on but wasn't sure what it was. Morley said, "You could be right," which I assume he said to confuse everybody.

  He knew something he didn't want to tell. Like everyone lately. I shrugged and said, "I'm going to visit Maggie's house. Want to come along?" His gold sniffer would respond to that, too.

  He said, "Why not?"

  Saucerhead got it, too. He gave me a dubious look but asked no questions. No need letting Chastity in on everything. Especially since she had friends in the Guard.

  She knew we were closing her out. She didn't like it, but she had a strong notion she wouldn't want to know anyway.

  I asked her, "You familiar with Grange Cleaver? He ever hang out at the Bledsoe?"

  "I've seen him. More lately than in the past. He seems to be living in the city, now. He's Board. Board are in and out all the time. The rest of us only pay attention if they start throwing their weight around."

  "I see. What's he do there?"

  "I don't know. I'm a ward physician. I don't fly that high."

  Morley was ready to go. He asked, "What's he look like these days? He used to play around with disguises. Only his closest friends knew what he looked like."

  Perplexed, Chastity said, "How would a disguise do him any good? There aren't many men that short."

  "He wasn't always a man," Morley told her. "He could be a dwarf if he wanted."

  "Or an elf?" I suggested.

  "Never was an elf that ugly, Garrett!" Morley snapped. "Not that lived long enough to get out of diapers."

  I thought about the prince at the warehouse. Effeminate but not ugly. Just an unlucky gal fate stuck with the wrong plumbing. "Could you describe him, Chastity? I mean, besides as short."

  She did her best.

  "Good enough for me. That's the guy, Morley."

  Morley grunted irritably. Chastity looked perplexed again. "I'll explain later," I promised. I wondered what it was between Dotes and the Rainmaker.

  Morley did have his share of feuds. I stayed out of them. And I figured it was just as well I didn't know their details. I hoped he would explain if I needed to know.

  I would keep my eyes open, though. He'd been known to wait a bit too long in the past.

  "You going or not?" he grumped.

  "I'll catch up with you later," I told Chastity.

  "Promises, promises."

  Saucerhead gave me a look that told me, yes, he would look out for her. I wouldn't suggest it because it was a big sore spot with him. Once upon a time, I asked him to guard a woman and he didn't come through. She died. He slaughtered a whole herd of villains and came within an inch of death himself, but all he saw was that he'd failed. There was no talking him out of thinking that.

  Chastity was as safe as it was possible for her to be.

  38

  "Hey, Garrett! How about you do away with the goofy grin and the glassy eyes long enough to let me in on the plan?"

  "Jealous." I wrestled with the grin, got the best of it. "We're going to take what I call the Dotes Approach." We were nearing the Hill. Soon we would be on patrolled streets. I had to get my grin under control, stop daydreaming about remarkable blondes. The thugs up there had no patience with happy outsiders.

  "The Dotes Approach? Dare I ask?"

  "You ought to know. You invented it. Straight ahead and damn the witnesses—we'll just bust in."

  "One time. During a thunderstorm in the middle of the night. Talk about exaggeration."

  I didn't grace his protest with a reply. I told him, "There's an alleyway runs behind those places. Used for deliveries and by the ratmen who haul the trash away."

  "Haul the trash away?"

  "A novel concept, I admit. But it's true. This alley is cleaner than the street out front. I never saw anything like it."

  "Almost unpatriotic, what?"

  "Un-Karentine, certainly. High weird
ness."

  "A conspiracy."

  He was needling me, probably because I was running the inside track with Chastity.

  "That thing about a wife and kids wasn't playing fair." He glanced back casually.

  "Sure it was. You're just sore because you didn't try the gag first. They still back there?"

  "Stipulated. Maybe. She is worth a trick or two. They're still there. A whole parade of potential witnesses. This one is a first-class lady, Garrett. Don't mess up the way you did with Tinnie and Maya." Before I could object, he added, "You do attract it, don't you?"

  "What?"

  "You said it. High weirdness."

  "I can't argue with that. Though this one is only weird because it doesn't make sense, not because I've got guys walking through the sky or refusing to stop committing murder just because we've killed and cremated them. I haven't seen any shapechangers and nobody is going around biting anybody's neck."

  "There is an occult angle of some kind."

  "I think it was planted by Cleaver. I think Cleaver has the girl. The occult crap is to throw Maggie off the trail."

  "You going ahead anyway?"

  I'd been considering. "For now. For them back there. Might be interesting to see who does what once they figure out what we're doing." We were on the Hill now, strutting like we were honest. Act like you belong, who notices you? Even on the Hill there's plenty of legitimate traffic. The local guardians didn't dare roust everybody. I remarked, "Someday these clowns will recall their training and set up checkpoints and start issuing passes."

  Morley snorted. "Never happen." He didn't think much of the Hill brunos. "People who live here won't tolerate the inconvenience."

  "Probably right." That's the problem with public safety. It is so damned inconvenient.

  "You counting on those people back there being as crooked as you are? That would be as bad a bet as counting on everyone to be honest."

  "Crooked?" I protested, but I knew what he meant.

  "You know what I mean. One might be secret police." The secret police were a new problem for TunFaire's underworld. Always flexible, though, Morley seemed to be having no trouble adapting.

  "Might be." But I didn't believe that and doubted that he did. The Guard were less shy than these people. Even Relway's spies.

  Morley did have to say, "Winger could have that kind of connection."

  Damn! "Yeah. If there's a profit in it." I wondered. Could Winger turn up the closest thing she had to a friend, just for money? Scary. I couldn't answer that one.

  I said, "You gave me some advice one time: never get involved with a woman crazier than I am."

  "And I was right. Wasn't I?"

  "Yeah. Oh, yeah."

  We turned into the alley that passed behind Maggie Jenn's place. Luck had given us clear sailing so far. Not one patrol even came into sight. We were as good as ghosts in the official eye.

  "Be careful with Winger, Garrett. She is crazier than you." He stared down that improbably clean alleyway. "Though not by much. It isn't closed off. Anyone could walk in here," He sneered, unable to believe the arrogant confidence that showed. Nobody lives so high on the Hill that they're immune. Even the great witches and wizards, the stormwardens and firelords, who set counts and dukes to shaking in their boots, get ripped off.

  "I'll worry about Winger later. Right now we need to do a B and E before our fans show. Up there." I indicated a wrought iron balcony that existed as a drop point for garbage. The ratmen ran their waste wagons in underneath and household staff dumped away. Similar balconies ornamented the rough stonework all along the alley.

  "Except for the clean, they didn't do much to put on the dog back here, did they?" Morley asked.

  "You want they should've done fancy masonry for the likes of us?"

  Sneering, Morley darted forward, found handholds in the rough stonework, scrambled up, did a job on the flimsy door, then hung over the rail to help me up. The balcony creaked ominously. I flailed my way aboard. An instant later, Morley and I were inside. We peeked out an archer's slit of a window, looking for witnesses. It was a minute before any of our tails entered the alley.

  Morley chuckled.

  I sighed. "Only Winger."

  "Where does she get those clothes?"

  "If I knew, I'd strangle the seamstresses. That stuff has got to be against divine law if nothing else."

  "We're inside. What do we look for?"

  "Hell, I don't know. Anything. Things keep happening that don't make sense, since I'm only supposed to be looking for a missing girl. I shouldn't be up to my mammaries in maneating pirates. I'm pretty sure that finding Emerald isn't the main reason Maggie hired me."

  "Huh?"

  "You recall I got into this because Winger wanted me to keep tabs on Maggie. She thought Maggie wanted me to waste somebody."

  "And now you're thinking maybe Winger was right, that the whole point might have been to get you butting heads with the Rainmaker."

  "Could be. I thought I might find a clue here."

  "So let's dig. Before Winger figures out what happened and walks through the wall."

  "Absolutely. But first let's see who else takes a chance on the alley."

  The whole parade passed by before it was over. Morley got a good look at them.

  "That one," I said. "That's the pro."

  "I see it. I smell it. He's a major player."

  "Who is he?"

  "That's the rub." Morley looked worried. "I don't know him."

  I worried, too. I could figure Winger was working for Winger and anybody else she could get to pay her. The fierce pirate had to be on Cleaver's payroll. But what about this slick pro?

  They did seem to be aware of one another.

  Their sneakery caught some squinty eyes. Guard thugs began to appear. Even Winger cleared out rather than tempt those clowns too much.

  "Quit your snickering and get to work," Morley advised. "The guys with the squashed noses won't hang around forever."

  We started right there in that very room.

  39

  We had been whispering. Soon I wondered why. We found no trace of Maggie or her marvelous staff.

  I thought it but Morley voiced it first. "People don't live here, Garrett. They haven't for years." Not one room that I hadn't visited earlier wasn't in mothballs and choked with dust. I kept hacking and honking.

  "Yeah. It's a stage set they used to play out a drama for me."

  "Make a guess. Why?"

  "That's what I'm here to find out, if Winger wasn't right the first time."

  Over and over, all we found was more of the same old dusty rooms filled with covered furniture.

  "Some nice antiques here," Morley noted. He pretended indifference, but I sensed his disappointment. He could find no wealth that was easily portable. He was trying to think of ways to get the furniture out.

  In time, because we had time to look, we did find an upper-story bedroom that had seen use but which I hadn't visited before. Morley opined, "This was occupied by a woman with no compulsion to clean up after herself."

  And nobody to clean up for her, apparently. Remnants of old meals provided spawning grounds for blue fur.

  Morley said, "My guess is this stuff dates from before your visit. Let's check this room carefully."

  I grunted. What genius.

  A minute later: "Garrett."

  "Uhm?"

  "Check this out."

  "This" was a shocker. "This" was a woman's wig. "This" was a wild shock of tangly red hair so much like Maggie Jenn's that, in an instant, I was mug to ugly mug with a horrible suspicion.

  "What's that?" Morley asked.

  "What?"

  "That noise. Like somebody goosed you with a hot poker."

  "I tried to picture Maggie without hair." I lifted that wig like it was an enemy's severed head.

  "Out with it. Out with it."

  "Know what's the matter? Here's a hint. You take a wig like this wig and grab the Rainmaker and stuff his
head into said wig, you'd have a dead ringer for the little sweetheart who hired me to find her kid—assuming you dressed her girlie style. A dead ringer for a sweetheart who all but point-blank invited me up here for... "

  Morley grinned. Then he snickered. Then he burst out laughing. "Oh! Oh! That would have made the Garrett story to top all Garrett stories. People would have forgotten the old lady and the cat like this." He snapped his fingers. He started grinning again. "I'll bet you Winger knew. I'll just bet she did. At least she suspected. Maybe that's what she wanted to find out. Send in Garrett. He has a way with redheads. He'll go for it if you drop one in his lap." He was breaking up now, the little shit. "Oh, Garrett, she just rose way up in my estimation. That's a slicking I wouldn't have thought of."

  "You have a tendency to think too complicated," I protested. "Winger don't think that way." I went on, arguing, I don't know with whom. My voice rose and rose as I imagined the myriad piratical horrors that might have befallen me simply because of my connoissieur's appreciation of the opposite sex. Just because Maggie Jenn, who had heated me to a rolling boil, might have been wearing a wig.

  I glared at that wig. The fury of my gaze changed nothing. It remained a perfect match for Maggie's hair.

  "You get it?" Morley asked, like it hadn't been my idea in the first place. "Grange Cleaver put on a wig and fooled you one thousand percent." His leer set my cheeks ablaze.

  "Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. Let's say he did. Just for now, let's say he's the Maggie Jenn who hired me. Let's ignore the fact that that makes things make even less sense than before. Cleaver wouldn't aim a dagger at himself. So let's look for the bottom line. Let's figure out what my employer really wanted, whoever he, she, or it was."

  "Don't be so touchy, Garrett." He kept fighting the giggles.

  "The question, Morley. The question. I got paid a nice advance. Why?"

  "You could always assume you were supposed to do what you were hired to do. Find the girl. When you think about this mess, Maggie Jenn not really being Maggie Jenn makes sense."

  "Huh?"

  "Look. If she was Cleaver in disguise, then there'd be no conflicts in what us old experts told you about the woman."