by Alex Bledsoe
He went paler than he already was. “Now, come on, Eddie; that has nothing to do with this.”
“I need in, Russ.”
“I can’t.”
I shrugged. “Then I can’t be responsible for who finds out about Elaine.”
Russell sighed. “If I lose my job, I’m moving in with you and Liz.” He opened the door behind him, quickly shoved me through and then slammed it shut.
Gary Bunson’s office was to the right, across from the two cells. Only one cell door was closed, and the other deputy, Pete, stood in front of it. He frowned when he saw me. I went into Gary’s office.
Gary sat behind his desk, his feet propped up. He had his normal wide-eyed, vaguely panicked expression, the one that showed up any time he had to actually do his job. He wore his real uniform, too, down to the medals for longevity on his chest. They were the only ones he was ever likely to win.
And he wasn’t alone. Daniel Argoset stood at the window looking out at the crowd. He was also in full gear, resplendent and yet somehow immature, like a very solemn boy dressed in an adult’s work clothes. Maybe that’s why he pushed so hard to be taken seriously. He looked surprised when he saw me. “Mr. LaCrosse.”
I ignored him. I put my hands on the desk and leaned over it. “I need to talk to you,” I said to Gary, trying to impress him with my urgency and seriousness. “About this hanging.”
He looked at me, then at Argoset, then back to me. “Uh . . . what about it?”
“I don’t think you have the right guy.”
“I’m pretty sure we do,” Argoset said.
I kept my eyes on Gary. “Then let me talk to him.”
“Why?” Argoset asked.
“Yeah, why?” Gary repeated. Sweat beaded on his upper lip.
It was clear who was in charge, so I turned to Argoset. “Because it may all be a frame.”
Argoset smiled patiently, condescendingly. My fist ached for his teeth. He said, “Mr. LaCrosse, I handled this situation, not Magistrate Bunson. He approached us; we didn’t go after him. The man confessed.”
“Then it won’t hurt to let me talk to him.”
Argoset’s eyes narrowed. “I’m curious why you want to.”
“Because he might have done it for reasons other than guilt. Maybe because someone threatened his family if he didn’t.”
“And who would do that?”
“Ever hear of Gordon Marantz?”
Gary sat up so quickly he nearly fell from his chair, and exclaimed, “What?”
Argoset looked dubious. “Why would Gordon Marantz even care?”
God damn, I was tired of talking. “Gary, I really need you to grow a pair right now and let me talk to this guy.”
Gary looked from me to Argoset. Argoset said, “It is your responsibility, Magistrate Bunson. You know my opinion.” He dramatically resumed looking out the window.
Gary sighed, turned deliberately away from me and pointed to the key where it hung from the wall. I took it and went down the hall to the closed cell. Pete looked at me suspiciously and put his hand on his sword hilt. “How’d you get that?” he said, nodding at the key.
Gary called wearily from his office, “It’s okay, Pete; he has my permission.”
Pete stepped aside; I opened the door and went into the cell. Sure enough, Buddy sat on the straw piled in the corner, his ankle chained to the wall. He had his knees drawn to his chin, and looked up at me with blank, glassy eyes. The window, high on the wall, let the noise of the taunting crowd into the room. Occasionally some produce made it through the bars and splattered on the floor.
“Buddy, you don’t have a lot of time left,” I said. I crouched beside him. “Tell me what happened, and I’ll see if I can’t get you out of this.”
“I killed that lady healer,” he said simply, with no inflection.
I shook him, hard. “Buddy, do you remember me? You helped me find the dragon people?”
He nodded slowly, like his joints were gummed up, and idly pushed some straw with his hand. “Sure, I remember you.”
“If someone threatened Bella Lou and the kids to get you to go along with this—”
He shook his head. “Ain’t like that. After you left, Bella Lou threw me out ’cause I’d lied to her. I didn’t know what to do. I went to that moon goddess hospital outside of town to get a love potion to make her want me again, and instead that woman told me to clean up, get a job and apologize.”
For the first time he looked directly at me. His eyes held nothing but despair. “A husband can’t apologize to his wife, it’s a sign of weakness, you know? So I waited until the healer left work, followed her and begged her. I’m a man, and I begged her, a woman. And she still said no.” He looked down again and moved his manacled foot a little. The chain rattled against the stone floor. “So I got angry.”
A big pit opened up inside me, and I felt nauseous. “You’re telling me nobody from Gordon Marantz got you to take the blame for killing Mother Bennings? That you really did kill her?”
“Gordon who?” he said, and I knew he was telling the truth. Bennings’ injuries made sense as well now. They weren’t the gleeful work of a sadistic torturer, but the reflexes of a weak, terrified man used to gutting animals.
All my weariness caught up with me and I sat down on the straw beside him. I leaned against the stone wall and closed my eyes. “You’re an idiot, Buddy.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“Your wife and kids are outside just below that window. They’ve got nowhere else to go, so they’re just sitting there, waiting for you to come out and die. People are screaming and throwing things at them.”
Tears glinted on his cheeks. “Don’t you think I know that?” he said, his voice cracking. “Don’t you think I hurt enough?”
I slapped him across the back of his head as hard as I could. It felt good to strike someone that deserved it. “No, Buddy, you don’t hurt enough. You’re a coward, a liar and a failure. The only thing left that you can do for anyone is go get hanged with a little bit of dignity.”
He wrapped his arms protectively around his head and whined like a child. “It’s because of you, you know! If you hadn’t showed up, none of this ever would’ve happened; Bella Lou would’ve never found out I was buying food in town and kicked me out.” He petulantly threw a handful of straw at me, then flinched as if expecting another slap. “It’s your fault! Your fault!”
I stood. I seemed to have grown heavier and older in the time I’d been in the cell. Another batch of straw hit my back as I opened the door. I locked it behind me, pushed past Pete and went back into Gary’s office. I put the key back on the hook and sat heavily in a chair across from him.
“What did you find out?” Argoset asked, still at the window.
Even speaking took effort. “Looks like you were right. Sorry about barging in and making a fuss.”
The crowd outside began another rude chant. “I’ll be glad when we get him hung,” Gary said.
“Hanged,” Argoset and I corrected in unison.
“Whatever. Then this crowd can go back to drinking.”
Argoset took his cloak from a peg on the wall. “Magistrate Bunson, if you no longer need me, I’m going to go back to the inn and get something to eat. If you see Marion, tell him to meet me there. I’ll return in time for the prisoner’s execution.” He nodded at me. “Mr. LaCrosse.” Then he left.
Gary produced a bottle from his desk and put a tankard in front of me. “You look awful.”
“Not a goddam word about the haircut, Gary. I mean it.”
“Okay, okay. Where have you been?”
“Hanging with Gordon Marantz.”
His eyes opened wide. “No shit? Where?”
I took a long drink of his ale. “The old Lizard’s Kiss. And I think I kind of pissed him off, so if you see any strange tough guys around over the next few weeks, I’d appreciate a tip-off.”
“Sure.”
I swallowed the rest of my drink in one g
ulp and pushed myself to my feet. “I’m going home,” I said, and before anyone could say or do something to change my mind, I went out the door.
chapter
TWENTY-TWO
M
rs. Talbot crouched on her porch, pouring some thick, vile concoction over a shivering dog. She held it firmly by the scruff, and it looked as miserable as I felt. She looked up as I approached, my boots scuffing in the dirt. “You look mangier than Filo here,” she said. “Maybe I should dip you, too.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Not going to the hanging?”
She cackled. “I’ve seen more hangings than you have titties. Can’t imagine this one will be too different.”
“Happen to know if Liz is upstairs?”
“Ain’t seen her.” The dog whined, and she smacked it with her free hand. “Pipe down, ya mutt.”
I nodded my thanks and ascended the stairs. I seemed to grow heavier with each step, so that by the time I reached our rooms I was exhausted. I went inside, closed the door and leaned back against it.
I looked around our simple yet somehow comfortable space. Golden morning light made it seem even homier. I found no note, but a last-minute delivery could have called Liz out of town and she might’ve left word with Angelina, just as I’d done. I was too tired to worry or think about it, just as I was too weary to deal with that damn horse Pansy. If she starved outside Long Billy’s, then so be it.
There was no need to rush after Candora; Buddy had done his job for him. So once he got his new people searching for the late, lamented and nonexistent Lumina, he’d come back to town and be easy to find. And before I finally faced him, I needed to be a lot sharper than I felt just then. I hit the mattress, and none of the raucous festivities that followed the execution penetrated my weariness. I was too tired to even dream.
I opened my eyes into the setting sun, winced and cursed. I cleaned up and dressed with great, sluggish effort. Liz was still not home, and that nagged at me, but it also meant I could put off the confrontation about the old man with the gloves. I’d had enough confrontation to hold me for a while, and this one could not end well.
I went to Angelina’s tavern and my office. The streets were mostly empty; the party had moved from the gallows oak into the town proper, dispersing among the various establishments. Far ahead, Buddy’s silhouetted body dangled from a branch, and a dog barked at it while it swayed in the wind. Someone, I assumed Bella Lou, sat beneath it with her back against the tree. I wondered where the kids were.
I had my hand on the tavern door when I stopped and looked back at the execution tableau. Just keep going, my rational self said. It’s not your problem. Don’t you have enough things to worry about? My other hand, in my pocket, tapped my last remaining silver coin.
Bella Lou was asleep against the tree. No one else came near. She was covered with vegetable matter, and flies swirled around her almost as much as they did around her late husband. A crow stood on the ground looking at her, debating whether she, too, was a corpse. It sailed away with a caw as I approached, and Bella Lou opened her eyes.
When she saw someone coming she drew the cloak around her and hunkered down, like an armadillo curling in on itself. “It’s okay, Bella Lou,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She recognized my voice, frowned at my new appearance and said, “It’s okay if you want to. I’m just waiting for the king’s soldiers to come take me away.”
I crouched beside her. “They’re not coming. The king doesn’t care about you. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s true. Things will go a lot easier when you understand that.”
She said nothing.
“Where are Toy and Stick?”
“They’re safe. They can take care of themselves.”
“Bella Lou, they’re kids.”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “We’ve always prepared them for the day when their parents would be taken away from them.”
I dug out the bag of money I’d taken from Frankie’s saddlebag. I’d finally found a use for it that wouldn’t make me nauseous. “Bella Lou, listen to me. I want you to take this, round up your kids and get a room somewhere. This will pay for it for at least a week. I know another woman who just lost her husband, who also has a bunch of kids to raise on her own. That’ll give me time to get in touch with her and make some arrangements.” I offered her the bag.
“I’m no one’s servant.”
“No, but do you think you could be someone’s friend?”
She said nothing for a long time. The dog returned, sniffing at her feet. I kicked at it, and it scampered off. Above us, the branch creaked as Buddy’s corpse slowly turned.
Finally she said, “I haven’t had a friend since I met Buddy. He said they could only hurt us.”
“He was wrong about a lot of things.”
She took the bag. “It may take a while, but I’ll pay you back.”
“I’m easy to find.”
There was nothing else to say. I made the long walk back down the street, ignoring the disapproving looks. It was bad form to consort with the family of the condemned. No one had the bad sense to say anything, though.
Inside the tavern, the regulars at the counter were augmented by people carousing after the hanging. These men and women could barely stand or speak, but they showed no sign of stopping. They were country folk determined to have great stories of summer debauchery to tell around the winter hearth. Callie and two emergency barmaids I didn’t know looked exhausted, having worked the hanging rush nonstop. It always amazed me that these young, vapid girls had the physical stamina I’d wished my infantry possessed back when I commanded troops. Angelina handled the bar with her usual cool efficiency.
The stools were all occupied, and I was about to go upstairs and wait in my office when a piece of biscuit bounced off my head. I looked up, and Angelina gestured with the rest of the biscuit toward the kitchen. We went past Rudy into the storeroom I’d used to spy on Marantz the day before.
She shut the door, which did little to cut the noise. Her work outfit, as always, emphasized her bare shoulders and exquisite cleavage. For not the first time I wondered what spark was actually missing between her and me, because I knew she’d be a wildcat in bed, and you couldn’t ask for a more loyal friend. But its absence was undeniable.
“Guess you weren’t able to help your friend,” she said. “They strung him up right on schedule.”
“Turns out he deserved it.”
“Then you probably feel pretty foolish.”
I nodded. “And that’s not the only reason.”
“That haircut will grow out.”
“Very funny. No, it’s something else.” I paused, knowing that if I said it aloud, it would have an independent reality outside my own head. “Liz lied to me.”
“Wow,” she said evenly. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
She ran a hand through her luxuriant hair and paced as much as the room allowed. Finally she said, “Eddie, I don’t know what to say. It doesn’t sound like her at all, but you wouldn’t make a mistake about something like that.”
“No. Have you seen her today?”
She shook her head. “I gave her your note yesterday at lunch. That was the last time.”
She stood quietly for another long moment. I leaned against the wall and watched a spider scuttle under a barrel. Finally she said, “There might be a good reason, you know.”
“I know.”
“I mean, you’d lie to her if you had a good reason, wouldn’t you?”
“No.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” She looked down, fingered the fringe along her sleeve and said, “She’s the best thing that ever happened to you, you know. I was skeptical of her at first, but she convinced me. She was good to you and brought you out of that stupid ‘I’m so tough’ act, and that was enough for me. If you’re right, it means she made a fool of us both.”
“If you want to look at it that way.�
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A firm hand knocked on the door. Callie opened it and presented me with a plate of eggs and biscuits. “Here you go, Mr. LaCrosse. Figured since you’d been asleep all day, you’d want breakfast.”
I took it with a smile, and a grateful nod to Angelina. “Thanks. Looks busy out there.”
Callie blew a strand of hair from her face. “You might say so. I can’t feel my ass from all the pinches and gropes. But the tips’ll pay me back for the money that no-account Tony ran off with, so it’s all fine with me.” She turned to go, then stopped. “Hey, someone went up to your office earlier today. Haven’t seen ’em come down, so they may still be there.”
I took a bite of the eggs, and at the first taste my appetite roared back full strength. I quickly shoveled more into my mouth, forgetting all the etiquette drilled into me as a boy. Between mouthfuls I said, “Let me guess: some old guy with big weird gloves on?”
“Actually, yeah,” she said, and went back into the tavern.
It took a moment for that to sink in. “Holy shit,” I said through another bite.
“What?” Angelina asked.
“Tell you later,” I said, and handed her the plate.
I rushed up the stairs, opened the door to my outer office and stared at the man curled up asleep on the visitor’s bench. It was indeed the man described by Mother Bennings, who I’d glimpsed with Liz the night of the fire. I stood very still; after everything that had happened, I half-expected him to fade into nothingness if I disturbed him.
He was old, all right, and had long white hair gathered in a ponytail. The ribbon holding it had loosened, so strands fell wispily about his face. He needed a shave, and his clothes were wrinkled like he’d slept in them several days running. His hands lay across his stomach and were covered in big gloves like mittens that seemed to be padded on the inside. Even in sleep his face creased into an expression of sadness and pain, and his snoring was mostly little whimpers, like he was about to cry. The room smelled faintly of burnt, rotted meat.
I shut the outer door with enough force to wake him up. He opened his eyes, squinted at me and raised a gloved hand to block the afternoon sun. “Mr. LaCrosse?”