Deadly Quicksilver Lies (28 page)

Linda Lee asked, “What about
The Raging Blades?
We’ve never had a first of that one.”

“Because I saw a copy the other day. Somewhere where it shouldn’t have been. But I didn’t realize that until today. Then I thought I could solve your troubles.”

I’d begun developing troubles of my own. Linda Lee wouldn’t stay still. I couldn’t stay focused. She was too close and too warm and had begun purring like she really appreciated my thinking of her.

“You just come on down here, Jack! I’ll show you. You wouldn’t believe me, but I’ll show you.”

A voice muttered, “I wouldn’t believe you if you told me the sky was up, old woman.”

“You fell asleep. You go ahead and lie, but we all know you fell asleep at your post and let an outsider get in. You’re too old.”

I hated that woman’s voice almost as much as I hated the voice of the Goddamn Parrot despite having heard it only a few times. Those few were a few too many. It was nails on slate, whined through the nose, always complaining.

“Talking about old, you been dead three years but too damned stupid to realize it. Still got people to make miserable, too.” Old Jack didn’t care if he hurt her feelings, but it wasn’t likely he would. She was two-thirds deaf.

“You were sound asleep when I came to get you.”

“I was resting my eyes, you impossible hag.” Clump! Old Jack collapsed. His fingers weren’t too nimble anymore. When he got in a hurry, he sometimes failed to get his wooden leg strapped on right.

I gave Linda Lee a peck on the forehead. “I’d better run.”

“Later.” She winked fetchingly. I’ve always had a soft spot for women who wink. “Promise,” she breathed, then went to help Old Jack. She ignored the old woman, who didn’t miss the attention. She was doing just fine carrying two sides of an argument herself.

I ducked out of sight. The old man hadn’t seen me, so he started spouting off about frustrated old maids who imagine men lurking behind every stack.

61

A long, hard day, and not yet done. I had aches where plenty of people don’t have places. I’d walked too many miles and had been thumped too many times. Hell, this was like the bad old days when the Dead Man made sure I got no rest at all.

I told myself I would make one last stop, then I would hang it up for the day. Then I groaned. I recalled my arrangement with Morley.

Not Winger on top of everything else. Why had I done that?

Good soldier, I soldiered on.

I wondered what bean-brained civilian had come up with that one. Every soldier I ever knew never moved a muscle unless that was the final option.

I sensed trouble long before I hove in sight of Wixon and White. That end of town was silent with the silence that bubbles around immediate, terrible violence.

The moment passed. The ghouls were gathering when I reached the storefront, panting over the bloody wreckage.

One look and I knew smart money would choose putting one set of toes in front of the other and repeating the process briskly. In my case, while facing in a southeasterly direction. But I just had to take a fast look around the shop.

Colonel Block banished his henchmen with a wave. “Cheer up, Garrett. It’s all straightened out now.”

“Must be an echo in here.” Not to mention way too much sunlight. The stuff flooded in through an open, eastern window casement at gale force. It was way too early for any reasonable man to be upright. Block obviously wasn’t reasonable. Tell the truth, I wasn’t feeling real reasonable myself. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“Wasn’t my idea, Garrett. You enjoy your accommodations?”

I’d spent a too-short night on a straw pallet in a stinking cell in the Al-Khar, charged with being a possible witness. “The fleas and lice and bedbugs enjoyed my visit.” They should feel right at home. Block was a dirty dog.

“This is where you tell me why my men found you right in the middle of another massacre.”

“Somebody yelled for help and your gang actually showed up. I was amazed.” The old Watch would have headed the other direction, just to make sure nobody got hurt that didn’t need hurting. “Thought you said it was all straightened out.”

“I meant I know you didn’t slice anybody into cold cuts. Witness says you showed after the screaming stopped. I want to know why what happened happened. And how come you were there.”

“Grange Cleaver.”

“That’s it?” He waited for me to say more. I didn’t. “I see no connection. Maybe you’ll enlighten me. Meantime, you should know it looks like some really nasty black magic did the killing.”

I nodded, but I didn’t believe it. “That’s what doesn’t make sense.” Someone made it look like magical murder. I was willing to bet Robin and Penny had kept their appointment with doom through the agency of a devil named Cleaver, once again trying to point a false finger at Marengo North English. Made me think Emerald Jenn was holed up with North English and Cleaver wanted to bust her loose.

“Why do I got a feeling you’re being too cooperative, Garrett?”

“What? Now what the hell do you want? I answer your questions, you get aggravated. I don’t answer them, you get aggravated. If I wanted aggravation, I’d stay home and argue with the Dead Man.”

“You’re answering questions, but I got a hunch you aren’t telling me what I want to know.”

I took a deep breath. We were about set for one of those ferocious head-butting sessions so gratifying to men of our respective professions. I exhaled...

An ugly little breed stormed in. He scowled at me like I had no right to be cluttering up Block’s office. I nodded. “Relway.” He didn’t respond.

“It’s started,” he told Block.

“Damn them.” Block lost all interest in bugs as small as me. Must be fatter victims available somewhere else. He glared at me, though. “The Call.” He stalked after his secret police chief, who was gone already. “Get out of here. And try not to stumble over any more bodies.”

Good advice all. Maybe he wasn’t a complete dunce.

What was that about The Call?

Didn’t take long to find out. I hit the street. Off east, looking like it might not be rooted far from my place, was a growing tree of smoke. I caught snatches of news from people rushing through the streets.

A bar brawl had turned into major racial trouble. Humans were going after centaurs. Apparently, it hadn’t gotten out of hand till somebody in The Call had served up an inflammatory diatribe and people had responded by firing the homes of centaur immigrants. Other species were becoming involved. There had been some kind of deadly guerrilla battle in the scaffolding festooning the Bledsoe. They were losing ground getting the hospital repaired.

The insanity had begun. I hoped Block and Relway could contain it. At least this time.

There would be other times. And they would get worse before they got better.

People were going to get polarized real soon now.

I walked carefully. And went about it visible to anyone who might have a tracking spell laid on me.

62

Slither and Ivy got on me the minute they let me in the house. “Guys. Guys! I want this kind of crap I can get married. I need food. I need sleep. I need a bath. I need that foul-mouth flamingo strangled so I can do the rest without getting so aggravated I have to kill somebody.” The bird must have saved up for my homecoming.

I got some money from the Dead Man’s room, studied him suspiciously before I left. Was that a restrained amusement I sensed there for just a second?

I sent Slither out for supplies. I told Ivy to let me have three hours of sleep. When he woke me up, I wanted food and bath water ready. Then I dragged me upstairs and splashed me into my bed. The Dead Man could get the bugs out later. I lay there tossing and turning and listening to the Goddamn Parrot cackle for half a sentence, then it was time to get up.

Ivy did his part like that was all he had to live for. I rose on time. I scrubbed up in my ten-gallon copper tub. Downstairs, I found a classic breakfast waiting. Ivy was as drunk as a skunk, the Goddamn Parrot on his shoulder. The bird wasn’t talking. It needed its whole attention just to hang on. Its breath was worse than Ivy’s. Maybe Slither got him his own bottle. Good old Slither, looking out for everybody.

I stuffed myself, then told the boys, “I was going to run you guys off again today, but I don’t think I’m going to have time. Either of you has a good afternoon, I want you to get out and look for a place, find a job. I’m not going to take care of you forever.”

Slither nodded. Ivy said, “There’s some letters for you.”

“Letters?”

“We didn’t let nobody see you,” Slither explained. “Mainly on account of you wasn’t here. So some people wrote you letters. We put them on your desk.”

There were three letters. Two showed no indication whence they sprang. The other bore Morley’s chop. It was a nag about where the hell was I last night? He couldn’t waste all his valuable time playing my games if I wasn’t going to show up.

By now he would know why I hadn’t. Him and his thugs probably thought it was funny.

I opened a letter that purported to be from Maggie Jenn. She wanted to meet. Oh? Right. “Slither! You remember who brought these?”

The big man leaned through the doorway. “That one was brung by a lady. Cute little bug of a thing with red hair.”

Surprise, surprise. Bold little witch... Oh, horrible thought! What if this was the real Maggie Jenn, come in from her island hideout?

No. Because I didn’t want that.

“That one you done opened come from your friend with the funny ears.”

“Morley Dotes. I know.” I picked up the last one. “How about this?”

“One of them fellas that was here when I had my seizure brung that one.”

“One of those lunatics from the Call?”

“Them fellas what tried to push you around.”

That didn’t make sense. I supposed I’d have to open the letter to straighten it out.

It was from Emerald Jenn. She would talk to me if I would meet her at a certain estate south of TunFaire. I didn’t know the estate, but I did know the area. I’d met Eleanor out there. Folks down there were a lot like folks from the Hill — only way more reactionary. Their wealth consisted of land rather than treasure or power. A more smugly self-righteous, bigoted bunch would be hard to imagine.

Emerald Jenn’s suggested meeting place wasn’t far from the main estate of Marengo North English.

Interesting.

“How is your memory, Slither?”

“I’m pretty good today, Garrett.”

He didn’t sound good, but I had to take his word. “Need you to run over to Morley’s. Tell him I’m coming, he wants to get on with what we talked about last night. You manage that?”

He thought about it. “I can do it. You got it. Now?”

“Always a great time to start.”

“Pretty rough out there, Garrett. They’re killing each other in the streets.”

“Take Ivy, makes you feel better.”

“I was thinking about you.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Wise ass. Do I carry a sign only I can’t see? Garrett’s ego. Kick here.

I occupied the stoop in order to field marshal Slither’s departure. I checked the street, too. “I know how a horse apple feels,” I told Ivy, who was inside the doorway and had to have the allusion explained. “Flies?”

All my fans were back. Except for the fierce pirates. Grange Cleaver friends seemed scarce.

I predicted that, didn’t I?

I shrugged, went inside, and scribbled a note to Maggie Jenn. Ivy could give it to whomever came around to get my reply.

63

“Getting predictable in your old age,” I told Dotes, settling beside him on the exact set of steps where I’d guessed he would be waiting.

“Me? I’m here because I knew this is where you would come looking. I didn’t want you wasting time stumbling around looking for me.”

Invisible sign. Absolutely. “Can we take him?”

“He’s caught. Nobody is so lucky he gets out of what I have set.” He glanced left, at smoke rising in the distance. “Quiet out.” The street should have been busier.

All streets should have been busier. Slither was right. They were killing each other out here — though it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Block’s heavies were fast on their feet. And they had the army garrison to help discourage disorder.

Trouble never got a chance to grow up.

Too, word was out that Marengo North English didn’t approve. He said this wasn’t the time. The captains of many sister nut groups agreed. They asked for restraint now, promising license later.

“Interesting times,” I told Morley.

“It’s always something.” Like he hadn’t the least concern. “Well, here’s our guest.”

The clumsy guy smelled a rat. He was moving carefully. Trouble was, his sniffer wasn’t sensitive enough. It was too late by the time he got a good whiff.

Morley waved. “Come on over.”

The guy looked around. Just the way he moved you could tell he thought his luck was with him still. He was in it up to his chin but knew he always got out. So maybe this time he would fall up and blow away on the breeze. A regular dandelion seed.

Morley’s friends and relatives and employees closed a ring. Luck failed its compact with our man. Gravity didn’t reverse itself.

I thumbed a wood chip while Morley watched the man get a grip on his disappointment.

“Pull up a step, Ace,” I told him.

He did, but he had the fidgets. He kept looking for his lucky exit.

I told him, “I didn’t really want you. But I can’t get ahold of Winger.” Not that I’d tried.

“What? Who?”

“Your girlfriend. Big blond goof with no common sense, always has an angle, never tells the truth if a lie will do. Her.”

“Part of that fits everybody in this thing,” Morley said. “Even up on the Hill, they turned the truth to quicksilver.”

“Untruths, too.”

“Quicksilver lies. I like that.”

“Deadly quicksilver lies.” I spotted friend C. J. Carlyle. “Look who missed the slaughter at Maggie Jenn’s place.”

Our guest eyed us as though he was sure we were loony. Winger must have mentioned my stint in the Bledsoe. He never noticed C. J. I said, “No telling what story you got from Winger. She comes up with some tall ones. I’ve known her since she came to town. I don’t remember her ever telling the truth if there wasn’t a profit in it.”