by Glen Cook
30
I dropped out of the coach in front of my place and thought I’d keep dropping. “Getting too old for this,” I muttered. This thing had become too deadly. I barely had time for a cleanup and maybe an hour nap before I started tracking Jill down.
If I could decide where to start.
I was sure she hadn’t gone back to her apartment, though I’d check. She’d have more savvy.
Dean let me in. He fed me. I told him what had happened so my useless boarder could listen in. Dean was properly appalled, though he thought I’d exaggerated an incident into a whopper. Afterwards I went upstairs, stretched out, and continued to worry the problem I’d badgered all the way home.
Was I becoming identified with the kingpin?
People were getting killed and people were trying to kill me and all I could think about was the chance that my reputation for independence might be sullied.
That rat Dean let me snore for four hours. I yelled at him. He just smiled. I didn’t yell too much. Chances are his reasoning was sounder than mine. Rested I was less likely to do something stupidly fatal.
I jumped up, did a quick change and cleanup, a quicker meal, and hit the street. My first stop was Jill’s apartment. I had no problem getting inside. At first glance nothing had changed. But I felt a change. I looked around until I caught it.
The coin drawer was empty. Anybody could have gotten to that. But a battered old rag doll had disappeared too. I was willing to bet nobody but Hester Podegill would bother taking that.
So she’d risked coming back, if only for a moment. Just to grab a doll and some change? I didn’t think so, not the ice maiden. It felt like a by-product of a more desperate mission. So I tossed the place again. And I didn’t find another thing added or taken away.
I wasn’t pleased as I slipped out. There should have been something … I eyeballed the doorway across the hall.
Why not look?
The door swung quietly as I pushed it inward. Nobody stampeded over me. I went inside. And there it was, lying in plain sight on a small writing table.
Darling:
The key is safe. I have to disappear. They are getting desperate. Be careful. Love.
Marigold. Marigold? The handwriting matched that in a note written to me by one Hester Podegill. Did she have a different name for every person she knew? That would make her hard to find. No one would know who I was talking about.
She was an actress. Suppose she became a different person each time she donned a different name? She’d really be hard to find then.
I had to get to know who Jill had been before I looked for the Jill who existed now. That was a technique Pokey had used when he was after someone who was voluntarily missing. He talked to relatives, friends, enemies, neighbors, acquaintances, seducing them into talking however he had to, until he knew the missing person better than anyone else alive — until he was able to think like his quarry.
But that took time, and time was at a premium.
My best bet was Maya and the Doom. They were handy. And I owed Maya that apology.
I hit the street, troubled by a vague certainty that I’d overlooked something critical. But what? Nothing came. I moved slowly, checked my surroundings. Yep. The boys were out there.
They’d picked me up as I’d left my place. I’d spotted three of them coming over. They weren’t getting close. They didn’t seem inclined to get in the way. Nor did they work real hard at staying out of sight. I couldn’t get a close look but they didn’t have the lean, impoverished look I’d seen in my recent enemies.
If they were going to keep their distance I’d worry about them when the time came.
I was a block from the Doom’s lair when I realized those guys weren’t the only folks stalking me. The Sisters of Doom were on me, too.
People don’t pay enough attention to kids, especially youngish girls not showing colors. I didn’t get it until I realized I’d seen the same faces several times. Then I paid enough attention to pick out a couple I’d seen before.
Now what?
They closed in as I neared their hideout. I must have hurt Maya’s feelings more than I’d thought.
She always was touchy and unpredictable.
If there was a confrontation it would come off better in the open, where I’d have some choice about which way I’d run.
I sat down on a tenement stoop.
That threw them, which was the plan. I expected them to get Maya and she’d come explain what a horse’s ass I am.
It didn’t work that way.
After a few minutes the girls understood that I was calling. They moved in. Some electric sense of trouble flooded the street. Everybody who wasn’t part of it disappeared, though nobody ran and nobody hollered. The girls edged toward me with the group confidence of pack animals. I slid a hand into a pocket and toyed with one of Peridont’s gifts.
I picked a sixteen-year-old I recognized, looked her in the eye and said, “Maya is overreacting, Tey. Tell her to get her tail out here and talk before somebody gets hurt.”
The girls looked at each other, confused. But the one I’d spoken to didn’t let an antique baffle her with bullshit. “Where is she, Garrett? What did you do with her?”
The gang was in close now, feeling nastier. And those guys that I’d noticed before were moving in behind the girls. There were five of them and I knew two, Saucerhead Tharpe and a slugger named Col-train.
I got it.
Chodo was sure he’d need Jill’s knowledge before he could settle with the Master. He was just as sure that I’d be the guy to find her. So he’d gotten Morley to lay on a loose cover to make sure I stayed healthy and to keep him posted.
Morley is a friend, sort of. He’s a lot better friend when-you keep an eye on him. He works these deals with his conscience.
I watched those five drift in behind the girls. I chuckled.
“You think it’s funny, Garrett? You want to find out what we do with comedians? You want to see if you can laugh with your balls down your throat? What did you do with Maya?”
“I didn’t do anything with her, Tey. I haven’t seen her. That’s why I came here. I want to talk to her.”
“Don’t feed us a ration of shit, Garrett. The last time anybody saw Maya she was hanging out with you, with moon eyes as big as a cow.”
One of the little ones noticed my guardian angels. “Tey. We got company.” The girls all looked around. The level of hostility dropped dramatically. Five guys like those five guys are enough to dampen anybody’s belligerence.
“So,” I said, grinning. “Tey. Why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk like civilized people.” I patted the step.
Tey looked around. So did her friends. Those guys didn’t look like their consciences would bother them much if they stomped a bunch of girls. They looked like they ate kids for snacks.
Tey was one of Maya’s lieutenants. She fancied herself Maya’s successor. She was a nasty little thing, uglier than a boiled turnip, with manners that made Maya seem genteel. But she had brains. She understood talk as an alternative to more popular methods of resolving disputes. She sat. I said, “I get the impression you guys have misplaced Maya.”
“She never came home. Things she said made it sound like she had plans.”
“She was with me,” I admitted. “We wandered around trying to get a lead on some guys who killed a buddy of mine.” I outlined our evening. The mob listened like they wanted to catch me in a lie.
Tey said, “You don’t know Maya the way you think. You’ve got to take her seriously. She don’t say it unless she means it. You know what she’s done, don’t you?”
“She tried to follow those guys so she could show me what she could do on her own,” I said.
“Yeah. She gets dumb stubborn sometimes. What’re we going to do?”
“I’ll find her, Tey.”
“She belongs to the Doom, Garrett.”
“These guys play rough. This isn’t a turf rumble, bang a few heads
and it’s over. These guys tried to hit Chodo Contague. They used sorcery.”
She didn’t bat an eye. “Sorcerer bleeds same as anybody else.”
I looked at her hard. She wasn’t whistling in the dark.
“You recall a blonde gal used to belong to the Doom, used a lot of made-up names, told a lot of lies about herself to make herself look important?”
“Hester Podegill?”
“That’s one name she’s used. She may be a little crazy.”
“More than a little, Garrett. Sure, I remember her. Hester was her real name. She wanted to be crazy. She said when you’re crazy the truth is whatever you want it to be. She wanted what she remembered not to be true.”
I gave her the hard eye again. “You were close?”
“I was her only friend because I was the only one who listened. I was the only one who understood. I was the only one who knew what she had to forget.”
Sometimes you cross the river so fast you don’t get your toes wet getting to the other side. I flashed on all those lamps in Jill’s apartment. “She started the fire that killed her family.”
Tey nodded. “She dumped a gallon of oil on her stepfather when he was passed out drunk. She didn’t think what the fire could do. She just wanted to hurt him.”
If I’d killed my whole family I’d want to be somebody else, too. I’d want to be crazy. I might even want to be dead like them.
“What about her?” Tey asked.
“She’s the key in the mess Maya and I were snooping around.” I gave her more background. “She might be able to tell us something.” I spoke softly, not wanting word to get around that Garrett wasn’t the only one who might get a line on Jill Craight. For my sake and the Doom’s.
Like I said, Tey had a brain. I’d told her enough for her to put a lot more together. “You’re a snake, Garrett. A slick-talking snake. We’re going to turn you loose. But next time you see me I just might be Maya’s maid of honor.’’
I didn’t handle that well. She laughed at me. It wasn’t a pleasant laugh. She said, “I have some ideas where to look for Hester. I’ll let you know.”
I wanted to argue but it was too late. My convoy had decided I was safe and had faded. If I pressed I’d get the hostility perking again. So I sat quietly while the girls went off to do the hunting themselves.
I could think of nothing better to do so I went home, where Dean told me there had been no message and no visitors. I told him Maya might be in trouble. That upset him. He blamed me without saying a word. I asked if the Dead Man’s temper had improved. He told me the old sack of lard had gone back to sleep.
“Fine. If that’s the way he wants it, we’ll just leave him out of our lives. We won’t even bother him with the latest about Glory Mooncalled.”
I was bitter. I blamed me for Maya’s predicament, too. I had to take something out on somebody. The Dead Man could handle it.
31
I took a bath, changed again, ate, then for lack of any brilliant plan, walked up to the Tate family compound and had a big row with Tinnie. Then we made up.
Making up was so much fun we decided to do it twice.
It was getting dark by the time we finished making up for the third time and I started having trouble keeping my mind off business, so we had another little row to give us an excuse to make up again later. Then I headed out.
On the way I bumped into Tinnie’s uncle Willard and he kind of obliquely wondered when Tinnie and I would be setting the date. He had the same problem Dean had.
It was going to start with him, too?
How come there are so many people trying to get other people hitched? Maybe if they backed off and didn’t keep reminding a guy, he might drift into it before he sensed his danger.
Why was I so sour?
Because it had been such a nice afternoon. Because while I was playing, the bad guys were hard at work. Because a troubled kid that I liked was in it up to her ears and I hadn’t lifted a finger to do anything about it.
“Oh, boy. Here we go again.” I knew the signs. Out comes the squeaky old armor and the rusty old sword. Garrett was going to get all noble.
At least this time somebody would pay me for my trouble — though I wouldn’t exactly be doing what they were paying me to do.
But I never quite do what they want done. I do what I think needs doing. That is why not all of my former clients give me favorable references.
Not having any better idea what to do, I headed for the Old Shipway theater district. Who knew? I might stumble onto something blonde.
My convoy went with me. The faces changed periodically but there were never fewer than four men hovering around. It’s nice to know you’re loved.
I wondered why the Master’s gang hadn’t tried to pick me up again. Those I’d seen already had been too unskilled to notice I was traveling with protection.
I talked to everybody I knew in theater. They knew gorgeous blondes by the cartload, but none they could connect with any of the names I could tie to Jill. Since there was nothing about her that wasn’t shared by a platoon of others, my sources couldn’t help much. They were reduced to showing me the crop of blondes (some of them very) available, all of them squeezably lovely, and none of them Jill Craight.
Some of those lovelies were pleased to speculate on other lovelies not present, usually in less than flattering language, but that didn’t help. Some just purred and begged to be petted.
It’s a hard life.
Had I been in another mood it might have been a marvelous little treasure hunt. I made a mental note to cook a similar story someday and come wander through wonderland again, taking time to smell the flowers.
Where did they all come from? Where were they on my better days?
Sometime toward the end what was old news to everybody else caught up with me when I overheard a conversation among City Watch officers and their wives.
What the Watch is most famous for is its invisibility. TunFaire has one thousand men employed in the interest of public safety, but over the past century the Watch has become a place to hide freeloading nephews and other embarrassing relatives without recourse to the familial purse. These days ninety percent of those guys do their damnedest to stay out of harm’s way and not interfere with the disorderly progress of life. When they do try something, it’s invariably the wrong thing and they screw it up anyway.
The officers get to wear pretty uniforms and they like to show them off. The theater is a good place.
This bunch was grumbling about a crime so monstrous that popular outrage might get their butts kicked until they had to go out into the streets and do something. The consensus among the wives was that the Army ought to evict all the lower classes and nonhumans.
I wondered who they thought would cook for them and garden and do their laundry and make their cute little shoes and lovely gowns.
“What the hell was that all about?” I asked the guy who was squiring me from blonde to blonde at the Stratos.
“You haven’t heard?”
“Not yet.”
“Biggest mass murder in years, Garrett. A real massacre. It’s all over town. You had your head under a rock?”
“A sheet. Cut the editorializing. What happened?”
“In broad daylight this afternoon a bunch of gangsters busted into a Wharf Street flophouse down in the South End and killed everybody. Smallest number I’ve heard is twenty-two dead and half a dozen dragged away as prisoners. They’re saying Chodo Contague did it. Looks like we’re in for a gang war.”
I muttered, “When Chodo gets mad you don’t have any trouble understanding his message.” I wondered what Crask and Sadler were getting out of their prisoners. I’d hate to think they were ahead of me because they were less restrained in their methods.
What could I do? The one angle I had was Jill Craight. And that was turning up a big dead end.
Hell. Might as well go home, get in eight hours, and make an early start in the morning.
32
As Dean let me in he whispered, “There’s a young woman here who wants to talk to you about Maya.” His wrinkled nose told me what he thought of the visitor. And gave me a good idea who she was.
“Tey Koto?”
“She didn’t offer a name.”
Tey had gotten into the beer while Dean was away. “You got it whipped, you know that, Garrett?” She tried to pour beer down like she’d been drinking for twenty years, got some down the wrong pipe. She coughed foam all over the kitchen. Dean wasn’t pleased. I pounded her on the back.
And as though he’d been waiting for me to get home, someone started pounding on the front door.
“Damn it! Now what?” I stomped up the hall, took a peek. It wasn’t anybody I knew. He did have the rangy, weathered, impoverished look I associated with the Master’s gang. So Chodo hadn’t gotten them all.
I gave a look around to make sure he wasn’t part of a tribe, then eyeballed him to get an estimate of what he might do himself. He kept pounding away.
“Guess I’d better talk to you before Saucerhead eats you up.” Having a flight of guardian angels occasionally gets in the way.
I yanked the door open, grabbed him by the jacket, jerked him inside, and slammed him against the wall. He was astonished. “What?” I demanded.
He gobbled air and stammered.
I slammed him against the wall a couple more times. “Talk to me.”
“The Master... The Master...” He had a set speech to make me think my welcome had put him off his pace. He’d lost his lines.
Slam! “I can’t play all night, low grade. You got something to say, spit it out. I’m ticked off at you guys already. Try my patience and I’ll hurt you.”
In a semi-coherent babble he let me know that the Master felt the same about me and was going to allow me one chance to get out of his way and start minding my own business. Or else.
“Or else he’ll put a bug down my shirt? Come on. The creep has more nerve than brains. He’s dead meat. He’s got about as long as it takes Chodo Contague to find him. If you and your buddies have the sense of a goose you’ll dump him and run back where you came from.” I started muscling him out the door. “Tell your harebrained boss he is my business and I intend to mind it real close.”
