"This horse belonged to Idwal the Harpist,” Gwenllian attested. “And so did that saddle. How did they end up here?"
"That's something that the lord Roger will have to explain,” I said, glancing at his ashen countenance. “Meanwhile, he can replace your uncle in the castle dungeon. He'll be charged with murder, theft, and the willful manipulation of a vulnerable woman."
"It's not I who manipulated a woman,” howled Roger, “but that devil of a harpist. When he stayed with us last year, he left more than the sound of his music in the air. As a result of his visit, my daughter was with child. I had to send her to Normandy to give birth in order to avoid disgrace. Idwal deserved to die!"
"And you sought to take full advantage of his death,” I noted. “In killing him, you not only wreaked your revenge—you saw the chance to ensnare Owain ap Meurig by hiding that harp in his stables."
* * * *
Gwenllian was mystified. As we rode back to Usk, I made sure that she and I stayed at the rear so that the soldiers couldn't ogle her and so that I could give her an account of what had happened.
"I first began to suspect the lord Roger,” I said, solemnly, “when he told me how much he admired Idwal's playing. Yet he didn't invite the harpist back to his house, even though Idwal would pass his door on the way to Monmouth. That struck me as odd. There had to be a reason why he didn't offer hospitality to Idwal. He's now told us what it was. Knowing exactly when the man would depart from your house, the lord Roger lay in wait for Idwal and struck him down."
'Then he blamed it on Uncle Owain."
"I fear that he did, Gwenllian."
She was dismayed. “Are you telling me that Angharad was his confederate?” she asked querulously. “I know that the poor woman has lost her wits, but I didn't think she'd forgotten the difference between right and wrong."
"Angharad is free from any blame. She had a dream and much of it foreshadowed the heinous crime. When she recalled it to me, however,” I went on, “she admitted that she only saw the figures in dim outline. Angharad knew that Idwal was the victim because she saw the harp. She assumed that your uncle was the killer because the man in her dream resembled him. When she took her story to Roger de Brionne, he couldn't believe his good fortune. He plied her with wine and put flesh on the bare bones of her dream."
"How did she know that the harp was hidden in our stables?"
"Because that's where the lord Roger had it placed,” I explained, “and where he convinced Angharad that it would be. Her dream was real, but it was peopled by the lord Roger, whispering in the ear of a woman affected by strong drink. I can vouch for its strength,” I added, “for he offered some to me. When I found a flask of it at Angharad's hovel, I knew who her benefactor was."
"Poor woman!” she cried. “He practised upon her."
"The full truth will emerge at the trial—the full truth about the murder, that is.” When I turned to look at her, she dropped her head guiltily to her chest. “There's something you held back from me, isn't there?” I probed. “It's to do with the night when Idwal tapped on your chamber door in search of your favour."
"I'd rather not speak about it."
"It's a shame that it must be acknowledged, Gwenllian. It may be habitual among the Welsh but it's wrong and I've preached against it many times. Tell me the truth, child."
"No, no,” she whispered. “I dare not."
"Then let me put the words into your mouth,” I said, recalling that moment when I passed by her and felt that peculiar sensation. “You didn't open the door to Idwal that night for one simple reason. Someone was already sharing your bed."
Her face turned white and she brought her hand up to her mouth to smother a cry. Owain ap Meurig would be released from custody but, in truth, he was no innocent man. Roger de Brionne had exploited the weakness of the Madwoman of Usk and implicated her in a murder plot. Owain had seduced his niece and turned her into his mistress. Both men would answer for their sins before God. I was once again honoured to be chosen as the instrument of His divine purpose.
©2009 by Edward Marston
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Black Mask: SILVERFISH by S. J. Rozan
One of the genre's most celebrated authors—an Edgar, Anthony, Shamus, and Macavity award winner for her novels and an Edgar winner for Best Short Story—S. J. Rozan came to fiction writing only after a successful career as an architect. At the same time this issue goes on sale, her publisher, St. Martin's Press, will release a new novel in her popular Bill Smith/Lydia Chin series, The Shanghai Moon. It's the first installment in the series since 2002's Winter and Night.
"What kind of a fish is that, anyway?"
"What?"
"A silverfish. Is it, like, all silvery?"
Silverfish blew out a breath and tried to be patient. You had to be patient with Lady Mary. “Not a fish. It's a bug."
Lady Mary giggled. “You call yourself after a bug?” She checked her lipgloss once more and snapped her mirror away. “Must be a pretty bug."
"It's ugly. Lots of legs and it slithers."
"Then why—"
"'Cause of my hair."
Lady Mary didn't say anything but Silverfish watched her blue eyes fill with doubt. Well, good. Silver-fish's natural hair was brown, just like Lady Mary's. She wore it short, spiked, and silver, but that was a choice, not something you're stuck with and have to do your best about, like name yourself after. Silverfish had come into the life three years ago, at the same age Lady Mary was now, but she knew for a fact she'd never been as naive, as just plain street-dumb, as this kid. If Lady Mary didn't wise up and stop believing everything people told her, she'd never survive.
Though if she stayed with that damn pimp of hers, she might not survive anyway.
"Your pimp calls himself after a bug, too,” she pointed out as she and Lady Mary left the gas-station bathroom. “A disgusting one. Ick."
Lady Mary giggled again. “I know. And it's so funny, because of how he hates dirt so much. I kinda think he should call himself, like, Clorox or something."
All the girls in this part of town knew that: how Roach made his girls shower the minute they came in from the stroll, and he was always making them scrub the bathroom and the kitchen—even though he wouldn't eat anywhere but his own place—and wash their clothes and dry-clean them. And he didn't pay for it, either. Funny he ever laid a finger on them, if he thought they were so disgustingly dirty. Funny he was even in this business.
Roach was Lady Mary's big mistake. He picked her up just a week after she hit the streets. That was before Silverfish knew her, or she'd have brought her right away to Jacky-boy. If you had to have a pimp—and in this dump of a town you did; it was too dangerous to work alone when you were young and skinny like Silverfish and Lady Mary—but if you had to, Jacky-boy was all right. He liked his girls to stay clean, too, but he wasn't loony-tunes about it, and anyway it was mostly so johns wouldn't be grossed out. The apartment was okay, a two-bedroom with just three girls to a room, each with a real bed, and they had video games, a DVD player, and an account at the pizza place and the Chinese, where they could order whatever they wanted and Jacky-boy covered it. He didn't go through your stuff and he didn't make you work when you were sick and he never raised a hand to you.
Not like Roach. Roach owned his girls in a different way. He wanted to know everything about them, where they went, who they talked to. He pawed through their purses sometimes, their closets, just to see. And Roach smacked his girls around. When Lady Mary first came on the scene, Silverfish thought that even small and eager to please like she was, it could only be a matter of time. And she was right: A month ago Lady Mary showed up on the corner with thick, heavy makeup around her eye that hid the bruise but not the swelling. It had happened another time since then, too. And it would keep happening, Silverfish knew. She thought about this as Lady Mary sashayed away. It would keep happening, and Lady Mary would stop giggling and get all hard on the inside. And all Silverfish could t
hink to do was stand there and watch.
* * * *
After the gas-station bathroom, Silverfish didn't see Lady Mary again for three days. When she did, it wasn't good.
"Tell me some wackjob john did that to you."
Lady Mary just shrugged, not meeting Silverfish's gaze.
"It was Roach, right?"
Another shrug.
"How you gonna work, your lip all split like that?"
"Some guys like that."
"Yeah, and you don't want to go with those guys. They just want to give you more. What did you do?"
In a tiny voice: “Gave him lip. So he gave me a lip. See?” Lady Mary tried a giggle but it fell down and died.
"You? You don't give anybody lip."
"I don't know. I laughed, he wasn't feeling funny. I don't know."
"Okay, don't tell me, see if I care. Oh, hey, girl! You're not crying, are you?"
"Me? No, just something in my eye,” said Lady Mary, all sniffly.
"Come here.” Silverfish pulled Lady Mary close to her and hugged her.
"I don't know what I did wrong, Fish. I never do with Roach. I try to do everything he says. I do everything he tells the other girls, too. But sometimes he just hauls off—I guess I laugh too much, he doesn't think I take him serious. But then he makes a joke and I don't know if it's okay to laugh and he thinks I'm all, like, stuck-up. I don't know. I don't know."
"Okay. Hey. Stop! Don't get all hysterical or I'm gonna have to slap you myself."
Lady Mary looked up in genuine fear. “You would?"
"No, of course I wouldn't. Damn, girl, he's making a basket case out of you."
"No. I just need to figure out what I'm supposed to do. That's all. Just figure it out. Listen, I gotta get going. If I don't turn lots of tricks tonight I'm screwed.” The giggle suddenly bubbled up; it made Silverfish smile. Lady Mary said, “And I guess if I do, I'm screwed too, huh?"
* * * *
Sometimes Silverfish wondered why she was mostly right about stuff she wouldn't mind if she was wrong about. She'd been right about Roach beating up on Lady Mary sooner or later, and the next time she saw Lady Mary it proved she was right about tricks who like messed-up girls.
"It was a john,” Lady Mary said fast before Silverfish could start. “Asshole. Said he could tell I was his kind of girl because I liked it the same way he did. I told him I didn't like it and he asked then how come I was working with a face like that, and he liked it even better when the girl pretended she hated it.” Lady Mary lisped this out; the john had done a job on her. “Paid good, though."
"I can't believe Roach is making you work like that. Couple of times that happened to me, Jacky-boy said take a day off, take a rest."
"Roach likes it. Says I'm too small and skinny to be worth much but if I have, like, a specialty, I'm worth a lot more."
"You're kidding. He wants jerks to do that to you? Jacky-boy would kill anyone he found doing something like that to one of his girls."
"Yeah?” Lady Mary looked wistful. “I think if Roach caught him he'd just charge him double."
* * * *
Silverfish didn't have a good night. The weather was rainy, not one of those cold nights where you'd give anything for indoor work, but rainy enough so most johns stayed home. Silverfish never got that. It was all about their cars or a mildewy room at the River Motel, not like they were doing it on the sidewalk, so why these jerks disappeared when it rained she never knew. But johns were a mystery to her anyway. She was glad they existed, sure. After her mom shacked up with that hundredth bastard boyfriend, the one she picked up in the 7-11, and Silverfish had to get out, how else was she going to make a living? But as long as the world was full of women like her mom, why did any man, anywhere, ever have to pay for it?
And then there were idiots like her last trick tonight. She thought about him while the sky faded to gray and she walked slowly home. This guy, how stupid was he? What was funny, he even knew how stupid he was, and he kept talking about it with himself. First thing, after they got past the price and all that, him still leaning out his car window: “So, sweetheart, you clean?"
"Just took a shower, hon. You're my first tonight.” She said it even though it was a lie and even though she knew that wasn't what he meant. But she was feeling cross and cranky and wanted to jerk this guy around a little, make him say it.
"Yeah, that's nice, but what I mean, you got a certificate?"
"What kind?"
"Jesus, girlie! You have AIDS, or what?"
"Oh, that.” Like she was bored, she dug in her purse, pulled out an HIV test card dated four months ago, showing she was negative. Silverfish got tested every six months, and she made the johns use condoms if she could. So her card was real. But the john said, “How do I know that's real?"
"Beats me. It is, though."
"I'm supposed to believe that because a whore tells me?"
"You're not supposed to do anything you don't want to.” She started to walk away.
"Hey! C'mon back. I didn't mean anything by it. I'll take your word for it. You look honest. C'mon, you and me, let's go park someplace."
So she got in, and they parked, and he had no imagination so it was a pretty easy trick, and now she was walking home, thinking about how even though her card was real she had no way to prove it to him, and he knew that, and he didn't want to take a whore's word for it but in the end he did because he said she looked honest. Herself, she'd have thought the silver hair might be a tip-off that some things about her might not be on the up-and-up. But it wasn't about how she looked, silver or honest or anything else. It was about him wanting to get laid. So he believed what worked for him.
She narrowed her eyes when that thought came to her. He believed what worked for him.
* * * *
A couple of days later she asked Jacky-boy if he'd have taken Lady Mary on if he'd seen her before Roach.
"Well, sure.” Jacky-boy leaned forward on the sofa and helped himself to a slice from the pizza she and Rainbow had ordered. Silverfish was annoyed because the slice was off her half, the anchovy half, but she didn't say anything. Rainbow winked at Silverfish and reached for a pepper slice. She was resourceful, Rainbow. When she found out Jacky-boy hated peppers she started always getting peppers on her half, in case he showed up while they were eating. Silverfish had considered adopting that strategy, but she didn't particularly like peppers herself.
"And if she was on her own now?” Silverfish persisted.
"I guess,” Jacky-boy said. “She's little and she's cute, except if she keeps getting beat up on like she is, she's not gonna be cute long. But Fish, honey, I know you're not asking me to mess with Roach? He's a shit and I'd love to see him go down, but I'm not in that business."
"But if Roach threw her out?"
"Can't see that."
"But if he did?"
Jacky-boy wiped sauce off his mouth. “You have enough school to know about ‘hypothetical'? That a word you ever heard?"
Silverfish shook her head.
"Hypothetical's when you're talking about something but it's never gonna happen. Like, you know, snow in July, that's hypothetical. So, in the hypothetical situation where Roach throws her out and doesn't change his freakin’ mind the next day, I'd take her on. Rainbow, pass me a Coke."
* * * *
"Hey, Rainbow,” Silverfish said, casual, one morning a few days later, both of them just coming in, no one else home yet, “how come you don't get tested? You and Danielle and Flash?” That wasn't her real question, but sometimes you don't start with your real question.
"What kind of tested?"
"HIV, girl."
"'Cause suppose you got HIV and you know it? What you gonna do?"
"I dunno. Get medicine, I guess."
Rainbow stared. “Fish, I never knew you was dumb. They got no medicine for that. You get it, you're good for a while, years maybe, but then you die. If you know it or you don't know it, it's the same thing."
"But what do you do if a trick asks? I got a card from the clinic says I'm clean, but what do you do? Don't they ask you?"
Rainbow snorted. “Yeah, and just you try asking them one time."
"Yeah, but still. You can't show you're clean, maybe they decide to go with someone else. You lose the trick."
"Jacky-boy give me a card. Danielle and Flash, too. Look just exactly like that one you got, but didn't nobody have to pull blood out my arm for it."
"A fake?"
"Hell-O, Fish. Welcome to the world, baby girl."
"You know where he got it?"
"What? The card? Some guy he know downtown."
"You know the guy's name?"
"Uh-uh.” Rainbow eyed Silverfish, interested in this sudden new direction. “How come?"
"Well, I got a problem. See, I lost mine."
"So? Tell Jacky-boy. He get you one of these."
Silverfish shook her head. “It's, like, the fourth thing I lost. After my cell phone, and my driver's license, and a little pin he gave me. I don't want him to get all pissed."
"Oh.” Rainbow nodded slowly. Because Jacky-boy was so hard to rile, when he finally got mad at a girl he really went off. There was always the danger he'd kick her right out. They all knew that and they were all afraid of it. The time Silverfish lost the cell phone, Jacky-boy blew up at her. All the girls were there when it happened and they all remembered. Being thrown out by your pimp, being damaged goods working these streets unprotected or going with whatever bottom-feeder would take you on after that, was a bleak prospect none of them wanted to face. So Rainbow could be counted on to be sympathetic if Silverfish's big fear was of getting on Jacky-boy's bad side.
"I'm gonna go get tested again,” Silverfish said, “but the clinic says they got a waiting list, a month.” That wasn't true; for an HIV test the walk-in clinic would take you anytime. But Rainbow wouldn't know that.
Rainbow, always resourceful, said, “I see what I can find out for you."
Silverfish had never had a driver's license and Jacky-boy never gave her a little pin. But Rainbow wouldn't know that, either.
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