by Glen Cook
Peters did so. The others watched with varying expressions, mostly in the frown range.
“Thank you for coming.” As if they’d had any choice. “We have a problem.” He reached out. I put his will in his hand. He’d let me read it while we waited. It was an invitation to mayhem, incredibly naive.
“My will. You know the details. I’ve hit you over the head with them often enough. They seem to have created the problem. Therefore.”
A candle sat on the table before him. He shoved the end of the will into the flame, held it till it caught, laid it on the table, and let it burn.
I watched them watch it. They were shocked. They may have been disappointed or outraged. But they didn’t move, didn’t protest, didn’t fall down and confess.
“That instrument has been a murder weapon, sure as any blade. But I won’t make a speech. There’s the fact. Motive has been eliminated. The will has been abrogated. I’ll write a new one in a few days.”
He looked them in the eye, one by one. Nobody shied away. Everybody looked baffled and dismayed.
Dellwood said, “Sir, I don’t understand.”
“I certainly hope you don’t. Those of you who don’t, be patient. It will become clear. First, though, I want to introduce the man next to me. His name is Garrett. Mr. Garrett is an investigative specialist, amongst other talents. I employed Mr. Garret to find out who’s been stealing from me. His efforts have been quite to my satisfaction so far.”
The old boy was a chess player.
“Mr. Garrett found evidence of more heinous crimes. He’s convinced me that some of you have been killing your comrades to gain a larger share of my legacy.”
“Sir!” Dellwood protested. The others stirred, looked at each other.
“Mr. Garrett was a scout during his service, Dellwood. He tracked today’s poacher back to our stable.”
He wasn’t maundering or speaking imprecisely. He wanted them to think I’d done just that, not lost the trail in the fields. He wanted somebody to feel pressed.
“Mr. Garrett has an excellent reputation for handling these things. I’ve asked him to find the killer. He’s agreed. I have every confidence in his ability. I tell you all this by way of letting you know where you stand. If you’re innocent, I want you to cooperate with him. The sooner it’s wrapped up the better. If you’re guilty, maybe you ought to put on your running shoes. Be advised that I shall hunt you as implacably as the hounds of hell. You’ve betrayed my trust. You have done me a hurt I can’t forgive. I’m going to have your head and heart when I find you.”
I didn’t look at him, though it was hard not to. The old devil had gone farther than I’d expected.
By burning the will he’d eliminated the threat to the innocent. Nobody stood to gain now. If he died intestate, the estate could go to the Crown, which meant everyone lost. Even the poisoner ought to want to keep him alive till he wrote a new will.
A clever man, General Stantnor. But he’d left me swinging in the breeze.
“You understand your positions,” he said. “Mr. Garrett. Ask what questions you like.”
Chain said, “Sir—”
“No, Sergeant Chain. Mr. Garrett will ask. You’re not to speak unless spoken to. We’ll stay here till Mr. Garrett is satisfied.”
I said, “Mr. Garrett doesn’t think he can stay awake that long.”
I’m not the kind of guy who can pull all the suspects together and expose a villain by weaving a web of clever questions. My style is bull in the china shop. It’s jump in the pond and thrash till the frogs start jumping. I wished I had the Dead Man handy. One of his more useful talents is an ability to read minds. He could settle this in minutes.
I still entertained the possibility of an outside force with motives unfathomable. The arguments against these people being involved had to be answered before I could discard that possibility.
They looked at me, waiting. The General turned his gaze on me as though to say, show us the old Garrett razzle-dazzle, boy.
“Anybody want to confess? Save us time and let us get to bed?”
Nobody volunteered. Surprise, surprise. “I was afraid you’d be that way.”
Chain cracked, “I swiped a piece of rock candy from my sister when I was nine.”
“There’s a start. A criminal mastermind in the budding. I don’t think we need to go back quite that far, though. Let’s confine ourselves to this morning. What did you do today, Sergeant Chain? Account for your time and movements. Tell us who you saw doing what, and who saw you doing what you were doing.” This would get tedious before we finished nine stories. But it might do the job. Each story would add a color to the portrait of the morning. Every tale told true would leave our villain less room to hide.
Chain got pissed. But before he could do more than grumble, Stantnor said, “I demand cooperation, Chain. Do exactly as Mr. Garrett says. Answer his questions without reservation. Or get off the estate. Followed by the knowledge that you’ve made yourself the prime suspect.”
Chain swallowed his protests. He didn’t look at me like a guy who wanted to become my drinking buddy.
I said, “Try to attach times to the major events of your day.”
“I don’t pay no attention to what time it is. I’m too busy doing what I got to do. I mean, I do as much as I can. Ain’t possible to get done everything that needs doing.”
“Thanks to our killer, who keeps taking away pairs of hands. Estimates will do. Once we’ve heard from everybody, it should be pretty clear who did what where and when. Go ahead. Just ramble along. Take all the time you need. You can’t go into too much detail.”
Clever, clever Garrett sets himself up for an excruciating night. It took Chain forty-five minutes to tell me he hadn’t done anything interesting and that, between breakfast and lunch, he’d seen only five other members of the household. Excepting Dellwood and Peters, those had been on the patrol.
“Anybody disagree?” I asked. “Anybody want to call him a liar?”
Nobody volunteered.
“All right. Snake. You’re uncomfortable here. How about we get you off the hook? Go ahead.”
Snake’s story wasn’t any more interesting than Chain’s. He’d seen nobody in anything but innocent circumstances. Dellwood before they’d ridden out. The other hunters during the hunt. Peters when he’d come out with me. Then he’d gone back to his stables to get away. “I don’t like people that much anymore,” he confessed. “I ain’t comfortable around them. Can I go now, General?”
The old man had begun to doze, apparently. But he was alert enough. “You aren’t concerned about what somebody might say if you’re not here?”
“No sir. I ain’t got nothing to hide. And I’m getting awful uncomfortable.” He looked like he was about to suffer a panic attack.
The General looked at me. I shrugged.
Stantnor handed me the key. “Up to you.”
I unlocked the door, held it for Snake. “Good night.”
As he passed me he whispered, “You come out when you’re done. Maybe I can guess who done Hawkes.”
It didn’t seem a good time to get hardassed. I just added him to a lengthening list of things to do while everybody slept. I closed the door, turned, glanced around, wondered if anyone had overheard. Their faces revealed nothing. But it had been a loud whisper.
I took Wayne next. He was a bust. Cook would’ve talked all night and next day if I hadn’t gotten her to edit some. She’d seen everybody and they’d seen her.
Four down. Three hours gone. Five to go. A pattern had begun to develop. A trivial one, but a pattern. Dellwood had been seen too often to have had time for a ride in the country.
I hadn’t thought him much likelier than Cook, anyway.
I had Peters go next. He resented having to be a suspect but he did what he had to do. The General seemed to be dozing again, but that meant nothing.
Peters didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.
He’d barely finished when J
ennifer came to life. “Mr. Garrett. If that isn’t a false name, too. How about me next? This’s really wearing me down.”
“Welcome to the club. Go ahead.”
She hadn’t done a damned thing all morning. She’d sat in her room knitting. Dellwood could attest to that. He’d found her there when he’d brought the news about Hawkes.
Fine.
“Can I go? I’m tired and I have a splitting headache.”
I could empathize. I was developing one myself. It was part of an oncoming cold that seemed to be a legacy of the weather. “Not yet. Bear with me I’ll try to hurry it along. Anyone want to go next?”
No volunteers. I picked Tyler. He didn’t bother to conceal his resentment as he described the events of his morning. They were dull. They dovetailed. They didn’t point a finger. He added another Dellwood sighting to the list. “Kaid?” I said. “How about you?” Another dull tale, mostly to do with the patrol. The idea wasn’t working out. Only Dellwood and Cook—ninety percent—were out of the noose. “Dellwood, it’s probably a waste of time but go ahead.”
His report was only slightly less detailed than Cook’s. He didn’t put me on anybody’s trail. Most everyone had had time to go do it to Hawkes. Well, you can’t leave the stones unturned. “Thank you all for your patience and cooperation. I’ll talk to you again, for as long as it takes. No killer is invulnerable. If you think of anything, let me know. I’ll hold your name in confidence. You can go.”
They headed for the door in a pack, forgetting that I had the key. Jennifer remembered first. She hollered for it, as ladylike as a wolverine in a bad temper. I tossed it to her. “One thing, folks. I’ve seen another woman around the house.” I described her. “I want to know who she is. Secret or not.”
Mostly they gave me baffled looks. A couple looked like they wondered about my sanity. They all went out except for Dellwood, who brought the key to the writing table. “I’ll put the General to bed now, sir. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t if he doesn’t.”
“Go, Garrett,” the old man said, proving he hadn’t been asleep. “I’m not alert enough to continue. See me after breakfast.”
“Yes sir.” I got up and went out. It was after midnight. I was tired. Should I grab a few hours? Sleeping would be a real problem now the old man had made me a target.
No. Snake first. The way things were going, he probably didn’t have anything I could use. On the other hand, he might. If he did I might not have to worry about getting the ax in my sleep anymore.
I headed down the hall. And got distracted immediately.
I spotted that woman again. She was on the balcony across from the head of the General’s hall. My balcony. I froze, watched her just sort of drift along in a daydream. She didn’t notice me. I darted to the stair leading to the fifth floor, stole to the east wing, crept down to the balcony below.
All for nothing. She was gone.
I’d have to trap her if I wanted to talk to her.
I wanted to.
The mind plays games. She was getting a grip on that part of me inexplicably immune to Jennifer’s fetching charms.
17
As long as my room was just down the hall, I figured it would be wise to stop for some extra equipment. A sap and a sheath knife might not be enough if tonight’s party got somebody excited.
The bit of paper between the door and the doorframe was the way I’d left it. But it was a decoy, meant to flutter down and catch the eye. The real telltale was a hair I’d left leaning against the door two inches in from the handle side frame. It couldn’t be replaced by somebody who stayed inside.
The hair was out of place.
Go on in? Or just walk away? I presumed somebody was waiting. There hadn’t been time for a comprehensive search since the adjournment.
I considered getting comfortable and waiting them out. But every minute I wasted was a minute longer before I heard from Snake.
How about we just surprise the surprise party?
I got a shield off the wall, a mace, dug my key out, turned it in the lock, kicked the door in hard enough to mash anybody waiting behind it, went in with the shield up to take the blow of somebody against the wall on the other side.
Nobody. And it was dark in there. Someone had snuffed the lamp again.
I backed into the hall fast, not wanting to stand there in silhouette. A man with a crossbow could fix me up good.
Someone came toward the doorway, just far enough to be seen. “It’s me.” Morley Dotes.
I glanced along the hall. Nobody. I went inside.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I shucked the shield and felt around for a lamp.
“Curiosity. Thought I’d see what was happening.”
I got the lamp going and the door shut. “You just walked in?”
“Anybody could. They don’t lock the doors.”
“How’d you find my suite?”
He tapped his nose. “Followed my honker. We elves have a good sense of smell. Your suite is so heavy with the stink of meateater, it’s easy to pick out.”
He was putting me on. “You’re here. What do I do with you?”
“Any developments?”
“Yeah. There’s another dead one. While I was in town this morning. So tonight the old man calls a meeting, tells everybody who I am and says I’m going to nail hides to the wall. Meantime, he burns his will. Anything from town?”
“Saucerhead made some rounds. Didn’t find much. Some of those medals, you know how many they handed out? Every hock shop in town has a bucket full. The only ones worth anything are the silver ones. People on the Hill are worried about their silver supply.”
The Hill is TunFaire’s heart. All the biggies live there, including a gaggle of witches and wizards and whatnot who have to have their silver if they want to stay in business. Silver is to sorcery as wood is to fire. Since Glory Mooncalled whipped up on everybody in the Cantard, prices have soared.
But that was of no concern now. “What about the candlesticks and stuff?”
“He found a couple of things. Maybe. The people who had them didn’t remember where they got them. Literally. You know Saucerhead. He can be convincing.”
Like a landslide. You didn’t talk when he said talk, chances were you would real quick. “Great. There’s a dead end.”
“He’s going to try again tomorrow. Pity your thief didn’t take something special so somebody would remember him.”
“Thoughtless of him. Look. I’ve got an appointment with a man who says he knows the killer. Maybe. I’d like to see him before he changes his mind about talking.”
“Lead on, noble knight.” Morley rags me about being romantic and sentimental. He has his moments himself—like turning up here. He’d never admit he was concerned about me swimming in a school of sharks. He’d just claim he was curious.
“This is a real haunted house,” he muttered as we stole downstairs. “How can they stand it?”
“Maybe they’re right when they say there’s no place like home. Maybe you don’t notice after a while.”
“Who’s the brunette I spotted when everybody charged out of the hall across the way?”
“That’s the daughter, Jennifer. A dead loss, near as I can tell.”
“Maybe you don’t have what it takes.”
“Maybe not. But I think it’s bad chemistry.” We hit the bottom of the stairs. Nobody was around. We headed for the back door. There was a sliver of moon out, just enough to keep me from stumbling over things. Morley had no trouble. His kind can see inside a coffin.
“At least it’s straightforward. No dead gods. No vampires. No killer ogres. Just greedy people.”
I thought about the woman in white and hoped she wasn’t supernatural. I didn’t know how to deal with spooks.
Morley grabbed me. “Somebody moving over there.”
I didn’t see anything.
Somebody tripped over something.
“Heard us,” Morley said. He took o
ff.
I went to the stable, called, “Snake? Where you at? It’s Garrett.”
No answer. I stuck my head inside. I didn’t see anything. The horses were restless, muttering in their sleep. I decided to circle around outside before I risked the inside.
Wavering light spilled between boards on the north end, near the west corner. It was feeble, like the light of a single guttering candle. There was a narrow door. I’d found Snake’s hideout. “Snake? You there? It’s Garrett.”
Snake didn’t answer.
I opened the door.
Snake wouldn’t be answering anybody in this world again. Somebody had stuck a knife in him.
It wasn’t a good job. The thrust had gone in on the wrong side of his breastbone, piercing a lung. The tip of the dagger had lodged in his spine.
Morley materialized. “Lost him.” He looked at Snake. “Amateur work.” Always a student, Morley. And always a critic.
“Pros make mistakes if they’re in a hurry with somebody tough. This guy was a commando, way I hear. Be hard to take him clean.”
“Maybe.” Dotes dropped to his haunches, toyed with a cord twisted around Snake’s neck. The killer had finished it the hard way. “Interesting.”
I’d started looking for physical evidence. A killer in a hurry could have dropped something. “What’s that?”
“This is a Kef sidhe strangler’s cord.”
“A what?” I squatted beside him.
“Kef sidhe. They have strict religious injunctions against spilling blood. They think if you spill blood, the murdered man’s spirit can’t pass on till he’s been avenged. So they kill without spilling blood because murder is part of their religion, too. Using the cord is an art with them.”
I looked at the cord. It wasn’t just a piece of rope.
Morley said, “The master assassin makes his own cords. Making your own is the final rite of passage to master status. Look. The knot is like a hangman’s knot, except the noose is round so it can be drawn with the hands pulling apart. These knots in the cord aren’t really knots, they’re braided over cork cones. They work like barbs on an arrowhead. The cord can be pulled through the knot in only one direction.”