by Glen Cook
“You’ll have to take that up with the resident haunt. I just found out I’m dying and you all are here to help me through it.”
“You look pretty healthy to me,” Alyx said, striking a little pose meant to test her hypothesis. To my destruction.
“Ladies, please. I’ve only got a few thousand heartbeats left. Don’t make me use them up in the next three minutes.”
Tinnie scowled at Alyx. Alyx remained oblivious. Maybe that was how she was getting by these days, by just not seeing anything she didn’t want to see.
Belinda made her appearance. She, too, had taken some trouble, though all that black still made her seem a gorgeous beast of prey. After a somewhat cool greeting for me she fell into conversation with Lieutenant Nagit, who had been worshipping Nicks from across the room... Where had she gotten to?
Gilbey edged close enough to observe, “You don’t appear to be in any immediate danger.”
“I’m having one of my good spells. Check me again after the ladies go home and I have nothing more to live for.”
That earned me a nail in the ribs from the handiest lady.
Once again I had to explain that I had no idea what was going on. Gilbey nodded but didn’t understand. “Should you go into remission Max wants you to oversee our interviews for replacement staff.”
“Huh?”
“He decided to fire everyone who had anything to do with the conspiracy. He wants to pick up some trustworthy replacements. To do that we’re going to have to go outside and take on people we don’t know. Max doesn’t want to get stung again. You’ll interview and you’ll background some of the candidates.”
All that time cruising on retainer was back to haunt me again. “How’d Skibber Kessel take it?” His nephew had been one of the villains in the stable, back at the start of it all.
“Thinks we let the boy off easy. Skibber is loyal and he hates politics. He hates anything that might interfere with his art.”
“Good for Skibber.” Most people should understand that brewmasters are genuine artists. The best brewmasters, anyway.
Dean showed Colonel Block into the room. At that point I discovered Morley missing. That made two of them, one of each persuasion, one of whom was a rake and a rogue and a ruffian. “Not in my house, you tailor’s dummy!”
“What?” Block had come over to offer his greetings. “If you’re as weak as rumor says, you shouldn’t be getting excited.”
I didn’t need to, anyway. Nicks came through the doorway lugging the Goddamn Parrot. Morley was right behind her but seemed chagrined. Was it possible his charm had failed him? I need to live forever because the wonders never cease.
Nicks had the oversize magpie perched on her left wrist. The bird basked in her attention. He didn’t say a thing. Was his behavior one of those projects that would preoccupy the Dead Man tonight?
I told Gilbey, “You tell Max to say when, I’ll be there. I don’t have anything else on my calendar.”
Gilbey glanced at Tinnie, sighed a little sigh to tell me I was hopeless, turned to accept a glass of wine from Dean.
Colonel Block told me, “We could always use your talents. Should you recover.”
“Righteousness don’t put food on the table. How’re my two favorite professional killers?”
“Not real good. They were in such bad shape we had to put them in the Bledsoe. Sadler died from his wounds. Crask passed, too, but he might have had some help.” Block looked Belinda’s way as he said that. “An interesting family. I’d like to get to know them better.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
Miss Contague and Lieutenant Nagit seemed to be hitting it off.
The Dead Man, I noted, was not a participant in anything. He seemed to be sleeping. But I’d been around him long enough to sense that he was anything but. Right now he was totally focused.
I said, “I’ll be upstairs if anyone needs me. A dying man has to get his rest.”
Once I reached my room I lay down on my back, tucked my hands behind my head, and began systematically reviewing every encounter I’d ever had with Marengo North English. And my memory is very good.
110
There are ratpeople in the neighborhood.
I jumped. I must have dozed off. I listened. His dinner party certainly hadn’t gotten rowdy. Too many people with too many agendas for everybody to relax and have fun — especially since everybody down there assumed that I’d had some sinister purpose for inviting them here. I was confident that not even Morley really believed that the whole thing wasn’t my idea.
I am unable to penetrate a rat mind with sufficient finesse to remain undetected but I do sense at least three such minds out there, all interested in this house. I assume them to belong to Pular Singe and her confederates in defying the ratkind Uncle.
Some ratfolk call bosses like Reliance Uncle, presumably because the bosses treat everyone like favorite nephews and nieces as long as they behave.
I did not ask the Dead Man why he figured Singe would have accomplices. That seemed self-evident. Somebody had to be helping her stay hidden, had to be bringing her food and news and warnings. Fenibro would head my initial list of suspects. But I suppose he would receive the same honor from Reliance and thus would never be trusted by anyone as smart as Singe.
It is time for you to stop sulking and rejoin our guests.
“Whose guests? This ain’t my shindig. Chuckles.”
Come down here, Garrett. Your presence is required.
Well, if he was going to get nasty about it.
I drifted into the Dead Man’s room as unobtrusively as a servant who didn’t consider himself one of the family. Things seemed to be going fine without me though the merrymaking hadn’t turned into a rowdy kegger. On the way I had tested my office door and found it locked. Dean could do good work when he wanted. Following the meal Dean had broken down his makeshift table and left folks free to circulate around the ground floor.
The Dead Man must be a better entertainer than I thought. Nobody had pulled out. Yet.
I stood back and observed, not without company for long. Tinnie wriggled herself in under her arm. “You all right now?”
“I needed to figure something out.”
“Did you?”
“No. But that’s probably because of my personal prejudices.”
Soon afterward Manvil Gilbey developed a strong need to get back to the Weider mansion, dragging two unhappy young women with him. Alyx and Nicks had flourished under the gallantries of Lieutenant Nagit and Morley Dotes. They weren’t quite ready for the game to stop. Even Belinda had received some intriguing attention, cautiously from Colonel Block and, much less cautiously, from the amazing Mr. Gilbey, whose inhibitions may have gotten a little assistance looking the other way. So the evening was not a complete disaster despite poor sick old Garrett not having come floating belly up. It could’ve gone on indefinitely had not the Dead Man lost interest.
Next day the whole lot would be wondering what the hell it had been all about. And their confusion would be all my fault. Of course.
I offered Nicks another opportunity to take the wonder buzzard home but she passed. Again. “But you can bring him over to visit,” she suggested with husking voice and smouldering eye and just a hint of a mocking smile because the good ship Tinnie Tate, away momentarily refreshing her teacup, was closing fast, under full-dress sail, cutlasses flashing like lightning.
Morley overheard the part where I offered the Goddamn Parrot. He took the opportunity to remind me that parrots often live longer than human beings do, a fact which amused him greatly.
“I can see it now,” I said. “Me and the crow in the clown suit still together fifty years from now, living it up in Heaven’s Gate.” By then the bird and my so-called friends ought to have made me crankier than Medford Shale on his blackest day. “And a certain contentious old woman would come around every day to bang on the bars of the gate just in case I started to get comfortable or showed signs of beginning to enjoy my
self.”
“You’d better not be talking about me, Garrett,” Tinnie declared. “I’m twenty-six, I like that just fine, and I’m never going to get any older.”
I was surprised she confessed she was that long in the tooth. Generally she admitted only to a half decade less. And pulled it off pretty well. “I’m glad to hear it. Maybe you’ll keep me young, too. Manvil, I need you to do something. Ask Max if he noticed anything unusual about North English when we saw him. Think about it yourself. Let me know right away if you think of anything.”
“What?...” Gilbey frowned suspiciously.
“It’s probably nothing. I’ve got a bee in my bonnet that’s driving me crazy. I’m eighty percent sure I’m wrong. But I’m just as sure that I shouldn’t be. I think that answer is in North English’s behavior, but the most unusual thing I can come up with myself is that he paid my fees without complaining. Ever.”
Still frowning, Gilbey nodded and resumed the difficult task of herding Alyx and Nicks toward the front door.
I turned to say good night to Lieutenant Nagit. “You overheard what I said. You’re around your boss all the time. You notice anything unusual about him lately?”
“I know where you’re going. And you’re way wrong.” But he frowned, a long way from convinced. There was something bothering him. He confessed, “He does seem to have developed a strong spiritual streak since he dodged the reaper.”
“I can see how that might happen. Is he more social now that he doesn’t have Montezuma to talk for him?”
“No. But I do see more of him because I have to.”
“Did you find Tollie? Did you identify that dead man?”
“No. And no. And good night.” Nagit went away not happy at all.
Then there was just Morley and Tinnie and Belinda. Belinda was surprised to find herself on the front stoop with me as her coach rolled up, almost as though someone had been reading minds. She offered me a darkly suspicious look.
I turned on the boyish charm. “You knew it would be dangerous when you came here. When you didn’t have to come.”
That touched her sense of humor. She flashed a quick smile, then swamped me in a brief, impulsive hug that left Tinnie tapping her toe.
“They go off together?” Morley asked as I closed the door.
“No. Nagit might be just smart enough not to swim with the sharks. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t volunteer to make sure Gilbey gets home safely, though.”
Garrett, it is time we moved to the final phase. To do so I must have Colonel Block removed from the premises.
“Damn! I almost forgot he was here.” The good Guardsman had been making himself small, perhaps hoping to find out what everyone was up to now. And my brilliant associate would be interested in what the Guard was up to. What Block himself might not know directly he could infer from experience and reference to other sources.
A modicum of respect at last. The colonel?
“I’m on it. What about Morley and Tinnie?”
Mr. Dotes’ special skills may prove useful. Pular Singe will not be the only observer in place though I have yet to detect any obvious watchers.
Of course. Brother Relway would have his eyes anywhere any pair of my guests crossed paths.
“Surely there’ll be no need for excitement.”
That will hinge upon how badly the interested parties wish to gain control of Pular Singe or Tama Montezuma. Ah. The ratgirl has summoned her courage and is approaching. I suggest you see her in the kitchen. I will ask Miss Tate and Mr. Dotes to remain out of sight here with me.
“What about Dean?”
He will have to answer the door. Singe might bolt if you do and she sees that your ill health has been exaggerated.
“You set this whole thing up just to pull her in?”
Not just. It was a tapestry. A work in progress. Pular Singe’s arrival is the final thread.
“You learn anything while you were slithering around inside their heads?” I can figure things out. I’m a skilled detective.
Enough.
“Meaning you’re not going to share.”
Not unless it becomes necessary. Singe is standing in front of the stoop. She will find enough nerve to knock. Establish yourself in the kitchen.
“How about the other watchers? Her showing up will excite them.”
Pular Singe is invisible. Go to the kitchen. Try to look sick. Dean! Answer the door.
Singe knocked as Dean and I passed one another in the hall, me wondering how much of that exchange Morley and Tinnie would recall later.
Not a word. They are enjoying a visit with Mister Big. Go to the kitchen.
111
I did my best to hunch over and look miserable as the sound of claws on wooden flooring rasped toward me. Dean was talking but the words coming out of his mouth definitely were not Deanish. Damn! That meant I would have to listen for a week while the old man pissed and moaned about the Dead Man taking control without asking.
I suggest you muster what charm you can, Garrett. This child is more difficult than I anticipated. I cannot examine her thoughts without alerting her to my interest.
I muttered, “I’m beginning to wonder just how much good you are. Seems everybody’s opaque to you lately.”
The kitchen door swung toward me. I sipped tea but thought about getting together with some beer. Dean said, “Here’s Mr. Garrett. Mr. Garrett, it’s long past time I retired. I’ll see you in the morning. Please remember to lock up.”
I grumbled something uncharitable, turned my head to look at Singe.
I did not see Singe. Not immediately. I saw a bent old woman bundled in layer upon layer of rags the way some street folk do. A huge, ugly hat that could only be of dwarfish provenance cast a shadow deep enough to leave her face indefinite. She must have bound her tail up behind her somehow because it wasn’t out where it could be seen. She leaned on a heavy cane, which went a long way toward disguising the strange way ratpeople walk.
“Very good. You amaze me yet again. You’re going to conquer the world. Tea? Something else? There’s beer.”
“You were expecting me?”
“I wasn’t. Until a few minutes ago. Take a seat.” Ratpeople can sit on their behinds although they find human furniture difficult. “Associates of mine wanted you to come see me.”
“You’re not dying? This is a trap?” Her Karentine seemed to be improving by the hour. She didn’t have much more accent than Winger now, though her sibilants still gave her difficulty.
“I’m not dying. Sorry to disappoint you. On the other hand, this isn’t a trap. You have my personal guarantee on that. Whatever anyone else might have had planned. That was a clever trick you pulled on us last week.”
“Maybe. But foolish.” Her “L” sounds still gave her trouble, too. “I did not think through the consequences. A common failing of my people.”
“A common failing of everybody’s people. Go ahead. Sit.”
She sat. I patted her hand, then poured her a cup of tea, pushed across the pot of honey. She showed manners enough not to gobble the stuff straight from the container. Her hand was unsteady as she drank her tea, which she found difficult with a human cup.
I felt a little guilty even though this encounter was not of my manufacture. She was smart enough to understand that her emotions had been manipulated, which meant that they were no secret to those who had manipulated her. Which, of course, she would find embarrassing. “Why did you want me here?”
I reminded her that this was not of my doing but then admitted, “Tama Montezuma. My associates believe you know where she’s hiding.”
Singe sighed. “Of course.”
I whispered, “Montezuma’s money means nothing to me. Except that I don’t want it to get back to the kind of people who would use it to finance cruelty toward those they hate.”
“I am afraid, you know. Very much afraid. I did not foresee the interest others would show in finding that woman. I thought that once she disappea
red they would forget about her.”
“Human people have very long memories, Singe. Particularly in regard to grudges. Which is a thought to keep in mind if you’re ever about to cross someone.”
“That is a thought to keep in mind even if you are going to cross a nonhuman. Reliance, I am told, has been very bitter about my show of independence.”
“I’ll warn him not to be unreasonable. Do you know where Tama Montezuma is hiding?”
She had to think about her answer. It took her several minutes to decide to trust me and nod. I didn’t become restless, waiting. Unlike other members of the household, I was willing to accept whatever decision Singe made.
I found it both amusing and a tad disturbing that the Dead Man couldn’t snoop around inside her head — at least not subtly, undetected. Maybe she could teach me the trick.
“Yes. I know where she is, Garrett.”
“Will you show me?”
“Am I wrong about you? Are you just after the money, too? Like your dark-elf friend up front?” She tapped her nose to tell me how she knew.
“Morley? He’s my friend. But you’re right. You have to keep an eye on him. He has his own agendas. He’s interested in Tama mainly because of the money. I’m interested because the things she did caused a lot of people to die. Some of them were people I was supposed to protect. I can’t let that go. Not even if I wanted to. Not even though I understand what made her do what she did.”
“She is very unhappy. She has not moved since she entered the place where she is hiding now. It was prepared ahead. She can stay there a long time. She cries a lot.”
“She sure can’t wander the streets. Somebody would recognize her before she walked two blocks.” I had trouble imagining Tama Montezuma in tears. They must be on her own behalf.
“She has disguises. But she is waiting for a time when she is mostly forgotten.” My look caused her to add, “She talks to herself. Out loud. I found a way to get close enough to listen. That is where I have been hiding most of the time.”
“Fenibro and Reliance himself came here looking for you. Several times. They’ve been at The Palms nagging Morley, too.”