Dragons Luck gm-2

by Robert Asprin

  “But how could anybody think that?” he said, genuinely stunned.

  “Well, let’s see. Word is that you’ve been flexing your muscles at the conclave. ‘Don’t get me annoyed. I play for keeps.’ Sound familiar?” Valerie said, looking at him hard. “It’s also common knowledge that you and Slim went sideways to each other the other night. Then you take off from the conclave tonight, saying there’s something you have to take care of, and then are asking around on the street about where Slim is. You tell me what that sounds like.”

  “This just keeps getting better,” Griffen said, putting a hand over his face. “What’s next? A visit from the cops?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” his sister said, sweetly.

  “Nobody’s saying anything to the cops. Everybody at the conclave and on the street is afraid of you. They think you’ll go after them next if they cross you.”

  Forty-four

  If one wants information about a crime, instead of reading about it in the newspapers, it’s better to go directly to a cop. Lucky for Griffen, Harrison’s suspension had ended, and he was back on duty. He’d be the ideal source.

  Griffen considered calling Harrison on his cell phone but decided against it. Doing that would call too much attention to himself and his interest in the case. This would be particularly bad if he was, indeed, a suspect. Instead, Griffen did what all good predators do. He staked out a water hole.

  He knew Padre, the bartender at Yo Mama’s Bar and Grill, where Harrison often went to indulge in their hamburgers or have a few beers. That let him drop in casually and, if Harrison was not there, to hang out for a bit chatting with Padre without it being obvious that he was looking for the detective.

  As might be expected, much of the conversation in the bar centered around Slim’s death. Everyone knew everyone else in the Quarter, if only on sight or to nod to in passing. While New Orleans had a bad reputation for murders, that was mostly in the outlying areas and usually involved the drug gangs fighting it out over territory and supply lines. A murder in the Quarter itself, particularly one involving a local, was rare, and therefore prime conversation material.

  No one seemed to have much detailed information other than that Slim had been found on the Moonwalk, the stretch of pedestrian sidewalk that ran along the Mississippi from the French Quarter to the Aquarium of the Americas. There were a few tasteless jokes about someone really not liking street entertainers, but no real facts. Everyone seemed to like Slim, at least in hindsight, and no one had any ideas about who would have wanted to kill him.

  Griffen was about to give up on his mission, at least for the night, when Harrison walked in.

  The burly plainclothes detective always had the vague look of a biker to him, but tonight he was looking exceptionally haggard and unshaven.

  Griffen waved him over, mentally rehearsing various ways to bring up the subject of Slim’s death. He needn’t have bothered.

  “What a night,” the detective growled, sliding into the booth and waving for a beer. “As if the Halloween craziness wasn’t enough, we’ve got to deal with a dead street entertainer… without scaring the tourists, of course.”

  “Yeah. I heard about Slim,” Griffen said, waving to add a drink for himself to the beer Padre was bringing over. “What happened there, anyway?”

  “Still trying to figure it out,” the detective said. “As far as we know, Slim was clean. No dealing or hustling, didn’t drink all that much, no history of brawling. A couple of women he was dating casually, but no live-in girlfriend to get jealous or mad at him. He just worked hard at earning a living as a street entertainer, and that seemed to take up most of his time. Hell, McCandles, you knew him. He was about as harmless and inoffensive as they come.”

  Griffen thought briefly about Slim’s temper when it came to animal control, but kept it to himself.

  “How was he killed?” he asked instead.

  “Stabbed through the heart,” Harrison said. “No signs of a struggle or fight. Like someone he knew and trusted walked up and nailed him.”

  “Or someone he wouldn’t suspect,” Griffen said, thoughtfully. “Street entertainers work up close. It might have been someone who he thought was going to give him a tip.”

  “Maybe.” The detective frowned. “Even there, the problem is still motive. Tourists and college kids come down here to get drunk and sometimes get into a fight in the process. They don’t usually walk around killing street entertainers.”

  “Even if they did, a knife is kind of up close and personal,” Griffen said. “You’d think they’d use a gun or something… except, maybe, for the noise.”

  “That’s the real kicker,” Harrison said, leaning in close. “It wasn’t a knife.”

  “It wasn’t?” Griffen said. “Then what was he stabbed with?”

  “According to the coroner, something wooden,” the detective said. “Maybe I’m letting the whole Halloween thing get to me, but it’s like someone put a wooden stake into his heart.”

  Griffen gaped at him.

  “A wooden stake? But that doesn’t make any sense,” he managed. “Slim did an Uncle Sam mime routine. Nothing to do with vampires. If someone went wacko and decided to hunt vampires, you’d think they’d go after a goth or something.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Harrison said. “What’s more, whoever did it took the weapon with them… or threw it in the river. The way I understand the stake in the heart thing is that you’re supposed to leave the stake in. If you take it out, the vampire comes back to life.”

  Griffen shook his head.

  “Beats the hell out of me,” he said. “I’m glad it’s your problem and not mine.”

  “Actually, I was hoping you might give me a hand,” Harrison said with a wolfish smile. “You live here in the Quarter and know a lot of these weird groups. I’d appreciate it if you kept your ears open and let me know if you hear anything they aren’t telling the cops… which is almost anything.”

  “I can do that.” Griffen shrugged. “But outside of the wooden-stake thing, you don’t have any leads at all?”

  “Just one,” Harrison said. “I’ve heard there’s some kind of weird occult meeting in town and that Slim was somehow involved with it. Even heard he got into it with someone there. I’m going to try to run that down and see if there’s any connection.”

  Griffen’s stomach tightened. He definitely hadn’t needed to hear that.

  “I suppose it’s a place to start,” he said, just to say something.

  “It makes as much sense as any other theory I’ve got,” the detective said, standing up and tossing some money on the table for his beer. “I’ll have to move fast, though. They’ll probably be leaving town at the end of the weekend.”

  Griffen’s mind was racing as he waved good-bye. Harrison would be moving fast, so he would have to move faster. Somehow, he had to get to the bottom of this mess before the detective discovered his own involvement with the conclave and started asking some uncomfortable questions about why he had withheld that particular tidbit of information.

  Forty-five

  Griffen was heading up St. Peter toward Bourbon Street when he was hoo-rawed.

  “Yo! Grifter! Wait up!”

  Turning, he saw Jerome jogging toward him. He waited until his friend caught up with him and slowed to a stop.

  “What’s up, Jer?” he said. “I’m kind of in a hurry here.”

  “Just a second while I catch my breath,” Jerome said, breathing hard. “I’ve been lookin’ for you all night. You know your cell phone’s turned off? Anyway, man, you got problems.”

  “You heard, huh?” Griffen said, rolling his eyes.

  “About Slim? Sure did,” Jerome said. “Do you know it’s goin’ around that you’re the one who hit him? Either that, or that you ordered it done?”

  Griffen heaved a sigh.

  “Yeah. Val told me. It gets worse. I just talked to Harrison. He’s gotten wind of the conclave and is going to be checking it out.”r />
  Briefly, he filled Jerome in on what Harrison had told him, including the fact that, so far, the detective did not know that Griffen was involved with the conclave.

  “Shit,” Jerome said, shaking his head. “So now what are we gonna do?”

  “ ‘We’?” Griffen said, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t see where any of this affects our gambling operation, Jer. I got myself into this mess. I figure I’ve got to find my own way back out.”

  “Hold on there, Grifter,” Jerome said, drawing himself erect. “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye on this whole conclave thing, but you’re still the main dragon down here. What affects you affects all of us, starting with me. There’s no way I’m gonna stand around with my hands in my pockets while all this is goin’ down. So let’s put our heads together and try to figure this thing out.”

  “Thanks, Jerome,” Griffen said. “I really appreciate that.”

  “So, like I said before, what are we gonna do?”

  “Well, I hadn’t been thinking in terms of we,” Griffen said. “I was going to head over to the conclave and let them know what’s going on… including the fact that Harrison’s going to be nosing around. I’m thinking of suggesting that they cancel the scheduled meetings tomorrow. There’s not that much slated, anyway. Mostly, people are going to be gearing up for the masquerade ball.”

  “I’m not sure that’s such a hot idea,” Jerome said carefully. “If Harrison spots you there, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

  “Well, I am sure it’s not a hot idea”—Griffen grimaced—“but it can’t be helped. I’ve got to let them know what’s coming down the pike at them, and there’s no other way. At first I thought of sending them a note, but then I realized it’s not something I want to put down on paper.”

  “You got that right,” Jerome said with a brief grin. “You know, don’t you, that a lot of them will already be thinking that you’re at the bottom of the trouble with Slim.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Griffen said. “What I’m going to do is flat out tell them that I had nothing to do with it. There’s no way to prove that right now, so they’ll just have to either believe me or not. It’s still early, so I’m going to try to catch some of the attendees in the hotel lobby bar, then check a few of the other clubs they’ve been hanging at. I’ll leave it to the ones I catch to spread the word to the others.”

  Jerome looked around.

  “Like you said, it’s still early. Let’s talk this out a little over a drink before you stick your neck out. I think there’s a bar around here somewhere.”

  That got a laugh out of Griffen. One was never far from a bar in the French Quarter.

  They stepped into one of the quieter bars available and ordered a round, carefully choosing seats well away from the other customers and the bartender.

  “So, what have you got on your mind?” Griffen asked, settling in and taking a sip from his drink. “And can you keep it short? I really have to get over to the conclave.”

  “That’s what I what to talk about,” Jerome said. “You’re so wrapped up in that conclave you aren’t thinking.”

  “C’mon, Jer. I thought we were past that.”

  “I’m not talking about business,” Jerome said, shaking his head. “I’m talkin’ about what’s goin’ on now. Something smells about the whole deal.”

  “What do you mean?” Griffen said, cocking his head to one side.

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout,” Jerome pressed. “You got so much shit goin’ on, you don’t have time to think. Well, take a few minutes here and think. You think it’s a coincidence, Slim getting killed so soon after you went head-to-head with him? While you’re in the middle of tryin’ to moderate that conclave?”

  “Well, what else could it be?” Griffen said.

  “It could be that someone’s tryin’ to set you up,” Jerome said, pointedly. “If it isn’t a frame for a murder rap, then at the very least someone’s out to embarrass you big-time.”

  “I think you’re stretching a bit to think that,” Griffen said, skeptically.

  “Well, I think you’re stretchin’ if you don’t think that,” Jerome shot back. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is to think about it and watch your back. If I’m wrong and it is all just coincidence, there’s no harm done. But if I’m right, and you keep trying to wave it all off as coincidence, you could really get blindsided.”

  Griffen started to speak, then hesitated. Taking another sip from his drink, he stared at the wall for a long minute.

  “All right,” he said at last. “I’ll consider it seriously. My first question would be who would want to set me up? I’m getting along well with everyone at the conclave… well, nearly everyone.”

  “All it takes is one,” Jerome warned. “Besides, it doesn’t necessarily have to be someone from the conclave. You’re not only a dragon, you’re the head dragon in this area. That makes you a target. Every time you take a breath, you’re gonna upset somebody… and they’re going to keep coming after you until you stop breathing. Get used to it.”

  “Do you have anyone specifically in mind?” Griffen said.

  “Haven’t gotten that far,” Jerome admitted. “Didn’t you and Val go sideways to a couple of Melinda’s boys a while back?”

  “Yeah, but we haven’t seen or heard from them since,” Griffen said, then hesitated. “Did I mention to you that George is back in town?”

  “The one who tried to kill you a couple months ago?” Jerome said, sitting up straight. “He’s in town, and you didn’t let us know?”

  “I think it was more that he was testing me than trying to kill me,” Griffen said. “And as far as him being in town, he says he’s just here on vacation. As a matter of fact, he’s Valerie’s date for the masquerade.”

  “Uh-huh,” Jerome said. “You’ve got a known supernatural hit man in town, someone from the conclave turns up dead, and you think it’s a coincidence?”

  “He only acts when someone is paying him,” Griffen pointed out. “Which would still leave us looking for someone with a motive. Heck, I’d be more likely to suspect Flynn than George.”

  “Flynn? West Coast big-time dragon Flynn? He’s in town?”

  “Yeah. I met him a couple of weeks ago, and he’s been giving me advice on how to run the conclave,” Griffen said. “Why? Do you know him?”

  “Never met him, but I’ve heard he’s a major power player,” Jerome said. “He’s not one I’d figure to be giving out free advice.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been talking to Mai,” Griffen said with a laugh.

  “Heard about him long time before I met Mai,” Jerome said. “If she doesn’t trust him, I’d say she’s with the majority. Anybody else in town you haven’t told me about?”

  “That’s it. But I take your point.” Griffen finished his drink.

  “I’ll go pass the word on to the conclave. You see if you can round up Val and Mai and meet me back at my place. Maybe between us we can sort this thing out.”

  “Half a good plan,” Jerome said. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll tag along while you pass the word, then we’ll find the women. The more I think about it, the more it occurs to me that you should have someone covering your back for a while.”

  “Hey, Mai. C’mon in. I was just about to call you.”

  Valerie stepped back from her apartment door to let her friend in.

  “Griffen just buzzed me to let me know he was calling a war council,” Mai said, entering the apartment and flopping down on the sofa. “I thought it might be a good idea if we talked first.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Val said. “Do you think there’s anything to the idea that he’s being set up?”

  “I really don’t know… but there’s always the possibility,” Mai said. “One thing I am sure of is that it’s time we put a few more cards on the table.”

  “You mean…”

  “I mean we’ve got to tell him about Lizzy,” Mai said. “If we’re going to sort this mes
s out, he’s got to have all the pieces. That means letting him know who the players in town are.”

  “You think she’s behind the setup… if there is one?” Val asked with a frown.

  “Not really,” Mai admitted. “But as crazy as she is, we can’t rule her out completely.”

  “Big Brother is going to freak,” Valerie said, shaking her head. “From what he said when he called, Jerome is already giving him grief about not sharing the information that Flynn and George are in town. When he finds out that we’ve been holding out on him as well, he’s going to blow his stack.”

  “Can’t be helped.” Mai sighed. “Now he needs to know. We’ll just have to tell him that we thought it would distract him from the conclave and decided to handle it ourselves.”

  “He’s going to love that,” Val said with a grimace. “What about the other thing?”

  “Which other thing?” Mai said.

  Val pulled herself up to her full height and patted her stomach.

  The two women looked at each other for a long moment, then as one shook their heads.

  “I don’t think so. Not now,” Valerie said. “Lizzy is my problem. So is this.” She touched her belly.

  “One crisis at a time,” Mai agreed.

  Forty-six

  Even though it was late, the hotel lobby bar was still open. During its stay, the conclave had spent enough time and money in the bar to convince the management to schedule extra help to keep it open as long as they had customers, and tonight looked to be a banner ring.

  Griffen had come and gone, and now a goodly percentage of the attendees had gravitated to the bar both to absorb and discuss the news he had brought.

  “I don’t like it,” Tail declared, glaring into his drink.

  “The whole situation abounds with things not to like,” Margie said, cocking her head at him. “Which thing in particular don’t you like, Tail?”

  Surprisingly enough, of all the tactics the organizers had scheduled in an effort to get the various groups at the conclave to interact, the one that seemed to have been the most effective was the unscheduled poker game. Since that game, the participants had tended to hang and drink together, preferring each other’s company to that of their own specific group.