by Glen Cook
Sometimes you guess right and sometimes you don't. I don't a lot more than I do.
When I hit the ground floor, I'd convinced myself I should've known better. The blonde really was prettier. Moreover, she had a lonely, ethereal quality Jennifer couldn't mimic.
Not that I knew much about Jennifer. I'd been on the job a day and hadn't gotten close to anybody but Cook, and her not close enough. Chances were I wasn't going to get close to anybody. These weren't the kind of people who would let you.
The case looked stranger by the minute. At least it was more low-key than the bloody whirlwinds that had swept me up lately.
Peters met me at the foot of the stair. "You wanted something?"
"The wave? I wasn't waving at you. The blonde was on the balcony under you. She ducked out when I pointed."
He looked at me like he wondered if he'd brought in the wrong man. I figured I'd better distract him. "I have a question for you. Completely hypothetical. If you were to kill somebody here and wanted to get rid of the body, where would be the best place on the property?"
His look got stranger. "Garrett... You're getting weird. Or maybe you got weird since you left the Marines. What do you want to know something like that for?"
"Just tell me. Asking questions is what I do. They don't have to make sense to you. Hell, they don't always make sense to me. But they're the tools I use."
"Can you give me a hint? If I was going to bury somebody... " A little light went on inside. He thought I was looking for a place somebody might cache the General's goodies. "It would depend on the circumstances. How much time I had. How good a job I wanted to do. Hell, if I had time, I'd put the body ten feet down where nobody would have any reason to dig. If I was in a big hurry I wouldn't do it here at all. I'd take it up the road to the marsh, tie it to a couple of rocks and throw it in."
"What marsh?"
"On down the road, the other side of the rise out front. Look out the front door, past the cemetery. You can see the tops of the trees. It's about a hundred-acre swamp. There's been talk about draining it because of the smell. Old Melchior, who owns the land, won't hear of it. Take a look sometime. It'll bring back memories."
"I will. Let's feed our faces before Cook forgets us."
She was delivering the final load when Peters and I arrived. She looked at me like I'd betrayed her by not showing up to help. Some people. Whatever you do, they expect you to do it forever.
It was a meal like last night's. No conversation except grumbles about how they might find the poacher and what they could do with him afterward. Nobody seemed suspicious of the circumstances.
Could that be? Somebody was picking them off and they didn't realize it?
Maybe it was their background, all those years in the war zone. When my company went in, there were two hundred of us, officers, sergeants, and men, who had trained together and been hammered into a single unit. Two years later there were eighteen originals left. Guys went down. After a while you accepted that. After a while you accepted the fact that your turn was coming. You went on and stayed alive as long as you could. You become completely fatalistic.
I asked, "Who took care of the stables today?"
They all looked at me like they'd just noticed me.
Peters said, "Nobody. Snake was on patrol." He wanted to ask why I wanted to know. So did the others. But they just looked at me.
My glance crossed Jennifer's. She was thawing. She smiled faintly. With promise.
Dellwood said, "I spoke to the General. He'll see you after we eat."
"Good. Thanks. I was wondering if you'd remembered."
All those eyes turned on me again. They wondered what business I had with the old man. I wondered what their theories were about my presence. It was obvious Peters hadn't spread the word.
I asked, "What do you guys do for entertainment? This place is pretty bleak." I'd forgotten to smuggle in some beer. Maybe tomorrow.
Chain growled, "Got no time for entertainment. Too much work to do. And the General won't hire anybody on. Which reminds me, troops. We got to cover for Hawkes. Which means we have to let something else go to hell."
Wayne said, "The whole place is falling apart. Even with us hopping like the one-legged whore the day the fleet pulled in. Dellwood, you got to try to get through to him."
"I'll try." Dellwood didn't sound optimistic.
They went on, now the ball was rolling. I learned more than I wanted to know about how and where the place was falling apart, what had been allowed to slide too long and what had to be done right now to stave off disaster.
Tyler said, "I say we worry about that damned poacher in our spare time. And say the hell with trying to catch the others. The General don't come out no more. How's he going to know we're not wasting time looking for them? They want a few deer, I say let them have them. We need to keep this place from falling apart."
That debate raged a while.
Jennifer contributed not a word. She seemed more interested in me. My fatal charm. My curse. Or maybe she just wondered how I'd gotten those old boys so animated.
15
I helped Cook clear away. Dellwood helped me help. He didn't seem inclined to let me out of his sight. Cook was as tight-lipped as she claimed with a third party present.
Dellwood wanted to talk. He started as soon as we left the kitchen. "I hope you have some progress to report. It would be a good time to give the General an emotional lift."
"How come?"
"He had a good day today. He's been alert. His mind has had a keen edge. He managed to eat his lunch without help. Your presence seems to have motivated him. It would be nice if you could give him something to keep him feeling positive."
"I don't know." What I had to tell the General wasn't positive. "I'll try not to bring him down."
We were watched going up. This time I wasn't wrong about it being Jennifer. A strange woman. Pity. She was gorgeous.
I didn't get it. When was the last time a woman like that left me cold? I couldn't recall. Female is my favorite sport. Wasn't anything obviously wrong with her, either. Maybe it was bad chemistry. The opposite of lust at first sight.
"Who raised Jennifer?"
"Cook, mostly. And the staff."
"Oh. What became of them?"
"The General released them to make room for us. We should've been able to manage the place, putting the cropland out for rent. Hasn't worked out, though."
"He kept Cook. Why her?"
"She's a fixture. Been here forever. Raised him, too. And his father before him, and his father, too. He has his sentimental streak."
"That's nice." He hadn't been sentimental when he'd been my supreme commander. Of course, I hadn't gotten to know him.
"He takes care of his own." Dellwood opened the General's door, seated me in the room where I'd met the old man before. Old Kaid was stoking the fire. "Wait here. I'll have him out in a few minutes." The temperature was obscene.
"Sure. Thanks."
It was more than a few minutes but the old man was worth seeing when he came out. He had a smile on. His cheeks had gained some color. He waited till Dellwood and Kaid departed. "Good evening, Mr. Garrett. I take it you've made progress?"
"Progress, General, but I don't have any good news." Had his health improved because the poisoner had backed off with me around?
"Good news, bad news, better get on with it."
"I went into the city this morning. I put some acquaintances to work tracing the missing items through those people who deal in articles that stray from home. They're competent. If the thief disposed of anything through those channels, they'll find out and get a description of the seller. I do need instructions. Should they recover the articles? If they've been sold, you could be at the mercy of the new owners."
"Very good, sir. Very good. Yes. By all means. I want to recover whatever I can. I expect you'll have problems getting them back from someone who's taken a fancy to them." He smiled.
"You seem in good spi
rits, sir."
"I am. I am indeed. I haven't felt this well in months. Maybe years. Not your doing but it did start after your arrival. You're good luck. If I keep improving at this rate, I'll be dancing within the month."
"I hope so, sir. Sir, that brings me to the bad news. But first a confession. I didn't come out here just to unmask a thief."
"Ah?" There was a sparkle in his eye.
"Yes sir. Sergeant Peters believes someone is poisoning you slowly. He wanted me to find out who. If it's being done at all."
"And? You've found something?" He seemed troubled now.
"No sir. Nothing like that."
That pleased him.
"On the other hand, there's no negative evidence. And one has to wonder about your recovery. It pleases me but I'm suspicious by nature.'
"And this is your bad news?"
"No sir. That's nastier. More pervasive, if you will."
"Go on. I'm not one to slay the bearer of ill tidings or to ignore them because they aren't what I want to hear."
"Let me preface this by saying I'd like to read your will."
He frowned. "Peters asked for a copy. Was that your doing?"
"Yes."
"Go on."
"I'm afraid it may be written so as to encourage villainy." I was starting to sound pompous. But it was hard to be one of the boys with General Stantnor. "If the number of heirs decreases, does the take for the survivors increase?"
He gave me the fish-eye.
"I gather half goes to Jennifer and the rest to everyone else. Sixteen people originally. After this morning, only eight. Meaning the take for survivors has doubled."
He looked at me hard. I thought he might throw me out, earlier protests to the contrary. "Support your suspicions, Mr. Garrett."
"I don't think the four men who left you could have. One, maybe. Two at the most. But people aren't built to walk away from so much money. Four?"
"I can see that. Maybe. What else?"
"Whoever put the arrow into Hawkes set it up ahead of time. The deer was too long dead to be a fresh kill. The sniper rode away on a horse. Would a peasant who has to poach have a horse? And the horseman headed this way after the ambuscade. Though that's circumstantial. I lost the trail part way here."
He was quiet for a long time. His color deserted him. I pitied him then.
"On a more personal level, two attempts have been made on my life since I've been here. I don't know by who."
He looked at me but didn't say anything.
"Unearthing that wasn't part of my brief. But I thought you should know what I think is happening. Should I pursue it?"
"Yes!" He paused. "It doesn't add up. Theft that's almost petty. Someone possibly trying to poison me. Someone trying to kill everyone else."
"That's true. I can't make it add up."
"I don't want to believe you, Mr. Garrett. I know those men better than that... Two attempts on your life?"
I told him about them.
He nodded. "I don't suppose you... No. I believe you. Get Dellwood."
I rose. "A question first, General?"
"Go ahead."
"Could an outsider be responsible? Do you have enemies vicious enough to try to set your house against itself?"
"I have enemies. A man my age, who's been what I've been? Of course I have enemies. But I don't think any of them would try for the pain in something like this... There'd still have to be an inside man, wouldn't there?"
I nodded, opened the door. Dellwood was in the hall a decorous distance away. "The boss wants you."
16
I'll say this for that old man: He took the bull by the horns. I didn't think he was doing the smart thing, but it was his house, his life, his sanity, and his choice to take the risk.
He had Dellwood bring everybody in and get them seated. He had me stand beside him, facing them. They looked at him and me and wondered while Peters and Chain looked for Snake. Kaid tossed logs on the bonfire. I sweated.
Nobody said a word.
Then Jennifer tried. She barely got her mouth open. The General said, "Wait." One word, softly, that stung like a whip's bite.
Snake ambled in with Chain and Peters. He'd tried to clean himself up. He hadn't done a great job but passed inspection well enough to be given a seat. Stantnor said, "Close the door, Peters. Lock it. Thank you. Hand me the key, please."
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.