Death's Executioner

by Charlotte E. English

  A familiar, if ghostly, visage hung over him.

  ‘Finally,’ Tasha snapped. ‘You shouldn’t drink so much, Konrad.’

  ‘Why, because it’s harder to wake me at inappropriate hours of the morning? Did it occur to you that I might prefer to sleep?’

  ‘You are meant to sleep when the work is done.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘There’s more now.’

  Konrad sat up with a groan. ‘Would you mind turning off the winter routine? I cannot feel my feet.’

  Tasha’s incorporeal face stretched in a sadistic smile. ‘I will turn it off when you get up.’

  ‘I’m not getting up until you’ve turned it off.’

  ‘What if I told you I’ve found your murderer?’

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Impossible,’ said Konrad.

  ‘Fact.’

  ‘Well then, where is he?’

  Tasha rolled her eyes. ‘She is… not here.’

  Did Konrad imagine the abrupt shift from exasperation to shiftiness? Guilt, even. ‘Where is she, then?’ Konrad said. ‘For that matter, who is she?’ His thoughts flew back to Balandin’s description of an altercation in the street. Stout woman. Middle years. Was that who Tasha meant? But how could she possibly have found a woman so imperfectly described — and whose description she hadn’t even heard?

  ‘Fine,’ said Tasha. ‘I’ve found your murderess and also lost her, but you can get her back, can’t you? You’re the Malykant. You can walk faster than most men can run. There’s no getting away from you.’

  ‘You lost her.’

  ‘I spooked her,’ Tasha admitted. ‘She ran away.’

  ‘From where?’

  ‘She’s Verinka’s neighbour, who hated her, and she’s off her rocker if you hadn’t guessed that already. She bought the widow weed, and she used it, too.’

  ‘Slow down. How did you figure this out?’

  In the long-suffering tones of all-knowing youth, Tasha said: ‘The two of you were so set on the idea that some man must’ve sent my weed-buying woman, you didn’t even consider that she might have been acting of her own accord. Just because Verinka pointed the finger at her brother—’

  ‘She did,’ Konrad objected. ‘Quite clearly.’

  ‘The woman didn’t even know she was being poisoned. How was she supposed to know who did it?’

  Konrad opened his mouth, and shut it again, finding himself without argument. ‘Well, and?’

  ‘I went back and got some more details out of the woman who sold the jar of widow-weed. Not that she had much. But she remembered what one might call a distinguishing feature — a mole in a prominent place on the woman’s face. So then I asked myself: if this woman wanted to poison Verinka, she must’ve been acquainted with her, and how would she have been? This Verinka divided her time between her home and that stupid lunch-club, so it had to have been at the one place or the other. And if I was wrong about that, well, finding out more about her habits would help.

  ‘So I harassed all the neighbours until someone told me that Mrs. Usova, five doors up, was always sneering about Verinka for giving herself airs and being aloof and acting above her station with her wealthy brother and her suitors in fancy carriages — typical ill-natured stuff, one would think, only when I went to see her she matched the description, down to the mole and everything—’

  ‘Stout?’ asked Konrad. ‘Middle-aged, nondescript?’

  ‘Yes, and also well able to put on the kindly act, because she did that at first. Me being a sweet, appealing young lady, you understand.’

  Konrad had trouble picturing Tasha putting on any such act, but kept that to himself. ‘So, what then? You confronted her about it?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘You should’ve come to me, or the inspector. Preferably both.’

  ‘I know, but I got carried away. My first case! I solved it, me, while the two of you were trailing about after the brother and the suitor and who knows who else. I wanted to bring her in myself.’

  ‘I fail to see how she could have got away from you.’

  ‘She… locked me in her cellar,’ Tasha confessed. ‘My body’s still there.’

  Wearily, Konrad hauled himself out of bed. The bone-shattering cold had ebbed, thankfully, perhaps because Tasha was too busy talking to think about it. ‘You are certain of her guilt, yes?’

  ‘Quite. She had a lot to say about it, once suitably motivated. Sent Verinka little “gifts”, apparently, supposedly from her admirer, but nicely dosed.’

  ‘But why didn’t the inspector’s men catch on? They talked to all the neighbours, I thought.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? The woman’s full of all the usual neighbourhood gripes, admittedly with an extra layer or twelve of malice. Nobody would take it as reason for murder, not without the other information. And only I had that.’

  ‘Tasha, I respect your abilities, but are you certain? You are right: nobody could take all this as justification for murder.’

  ‘No one reasonable could, but in case you had not grasped the facts here, this woman is not reasonable.’

  ‘They did argue, once,’ Konrad said, and told her about his conversation with Balandin. ‘Perhaps their relationship was venomous on both sides.’

  ‘And what were you doing with that information? Sleeping on it?’

  ‘Some of us still require sleep, Tasha.’

  ‘How sad for you.’

  Konrad had by this time disappeared into his dressing-room, and saw no occasion to reply.

  The house of Verinka’s disgruntled neighbour proved to be very similar in character to Verinka’s own. Not just in the proportions and exterior décor, either; walking soft-footed through Mrs. Usova’s hallway, parlour and kitchen, Konrad felt as though he might have entered the wrong house by mistake. The two women had much the same taste in furnishings, a similar dislike of ornament, and as far as neatness and cleanliness went, Mrs. Usova differed only in being even more scrupulous about it than Verinka. The house was so clean, in fact, that it bordered upon sterile; any signs of ordinary inhabitation had been ruthlessly scrubbed and wiped and polished away.

  The stairs down to the cellar lay in a corner of the kitchen. Only a trapdoor led down, these houses being too modestly proportioned to permit of the space for stairs. Konrad, wondering why Tasha’s skills with inconvenient locks seemed to have deserted her, found the answer to this question in the large, solid oaken chest that had been dragged into place atop the door. Even if she had manoeuvred the lock — which she had, he discovered upon pulling away the chest — she could never have got the door open. Lamaeni or no, one of the few things Tasha lacked was sufficient brute strength to hurl chests through the air, especially when they were filled with something heavy… a stray thought had him browsing briefly through the contents.

  A thick glass jar occupied one corner, filled with a dried leaf of some kind. Konrad procured a bit, and wrapped it in his handkerchief. In case there was any doubt about Mrs. Usova’s guilt, it would be useful to be able to check the identity of the herb with Nanda. Nobody had an innocent explanation for harbouring so large a jar of reasonably fresh widow weed.

  ‘Tasha,’ he called, hauling open the trapdoor. A palpable darkness greeted him, unbroken by so much as a sliver of light. His own lantern could illuminate little but the top two stone steps leading down. ‘Tasha, hurry up or we’ll never catch her—’

  Tasha rose, corpse-like, from the darkness, her white face stark in the ghostly lamplight. She rose with a hoarse scream.

  Konrad screamed back.

  ‘Heh,’ she said, and clambered out. ‘Did you bring the snakies?’

  ‘That was horrible.’

  ‘We’re a lamaeni and a Malykant. One of us has to be horrible, and if you aren’t going to do it then it has to be me.’

  ‘I am going to do it,’ said Konrad grimly. ‘Just as soon as we find your kindly friend.’

  ‘The snakies?’ she prompted.

&nb
sp; ‘Say hello, serpents,’ Konrad called.

  Twin lights bloomed in the air over Tasha’s head: sickly white for Eetapi, a diseased green for Ootapi.

  ‘Ooh, that’s very horrible,’ said Tasha, and gave them a jaunty salute.

  We like her, Ootapi informed Konrad.

  Which he ignored. To Tasha he said, ‘Tell me at least that you fed off her. Sumptuously.’

  ‘I thought you disapproved of my doing that.’

  ‘On ordinary people innocent of murder, yes. In her case, draining her energy might slow her down.’

  Tasha patted her stomach, not that she used it for this particular kind of feasting but the gesture served. ‘She’s too stout to go far anyway,’ said Tasha.

  ‘Just because she’s— never mind. Serpents, spread out please. Any hint of her passage at all, you tell us.’

  Yes, Master.

  ‘As for you,’ said Konrad to Tasha, fixing her with a stern eye. ‘We’ll talk later about your chatting with the suspect without me, but did any part of this ill-executed conversation include some hint as to where she might run to?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  ‘She really just rambled about how horrible Verinka was, how unfair it was that she had all these rich friends and an admirer and so on, and how she’d got what she deserved now that she was dead.’

  ‘Charming woman.’

  ‘Accused her of being aloof, snobbish, too good for her company — I could go on. She never even invited her neighbours in for tea! Not even once! Not good enough for her, were we? No! Not when she had the likes of the Gentleman coming calling!’ Tasha put on a shrill voice, and shrieked the last few words.

  ‘Did she really say it like that?’

  ‘No, it was more just venomous. But I thought it sounded good that way. Also, I think she may have had a thing for the Gentleman in question. She did rather dwell on his finer points. And what did Verinka have that she did not? And so on.’

  Konrad had by this time paced his way back to the front door, Tasha trailing behind. He’d hoped for a quick response from the serpents, if she really hadn’t gone far. But there were only two of them, and there was only so far they could sense.

  He hesitated, genuinely at a loss. He knew nothing about the woman, and neither did Tasha, save that she had malice enough for twenty people and a vindictive nature. Where might she go? If she’d merely stumbled off through the streets and made a run for it, the serpents should have found her by now. If they hadn’t—

  Master. This way.

  You’ve found her? Konrad hurled himself out of Mrs. Usova’s house and took off down the street, following the beckoning sense of Ootapi.

  She went this way, Ootapi said, which meant no. But a trail to follow was better than nothing.

  Few streetlamps lit the narrow streets in this part of the city, and they were turned very low at this hour. Konrad plunged into thick darkness, only intermittently illuminated by a guttering glow. Twice he stumbled over uneven patches in the snow, swearing horribly the second time, and abandoning his ordinary sight. He let his spirit-sight swamp his vision, and the darkness leapt into shadows etched starkly against ghost-white. Ootapi, he called. You’ll have to guide us.

  Ootapi did not reply, but his ethereal coils blazed in Konrad’s altered vision, a beacon by which to navigate the winding, night-dark streets of Verinka’s neighbourhood. Her flight had taken her by a tortuous route, perhaps by design, perhaps out of panic. Konrad, with his lengthened, ground-eating stride, had covered at least a half-mile before he began to recognise his environs. Mrs. Usova was heading into the heart of the city.

  If anything, he might have expected her to flee the city altogether. A flight out into the Bones at this season bordered upon suicidal, however; if she had sense enough, even in her disordered state, to realise that, then perhaps she had some other means in mind of departure. A coach south. A sleigh north. But she was not bound for the north gate, it seemed, nor for any coaching-inn, for Ootapi passed three of the latter without pausing.

  They seemed to be bound unerringly for the police house, but that could not be—

  She is in there, said Ootapi, stopping at last.

  Before Konrad, Ekamet’s primary police house rose, tall and shadowed. Here? he demanded. She cannot be in there!

  Why not?

  No fugitive from justice would run to the police!

  Ootapi’s silence said enough. A lone light burned somewhere above. Konrad would have put money on its being Alexander’s office.

  Tasha caught up, panting for breath, and ran straight into the police headquarters without stopping.

  ‘Er,’ said Konrad, and hastened after her.

  Inside, he found only silence and darkness. The entrance hall, all white stone and carpets in the daylight, was a mass of shadows at this hour. He stood inside the door, listening, but heard nothing.

  Where in here, Ootapi?

  Left, answered the serpent. Down the corridor. On the right there is a door.

  There was. Konrad stopped, and put out an arm to hold Tasha back. He could not really suppose her to be in any danger from such a woman, but it did not pay to be careless. Or reckless, was that not what Nanda had called him?

  Tasha furiously shook her head, pointing at nothing in particular.

  He admonished her with a finger to his lips and a quelling frown, and softly went through the half-open door.

  And collided with a person barrelling out of it, who stopped with a shriek and stared up at him.

  ‘Are you the police?’ she said. ‘Finally! I wish to make a complaint. Your ward has invaded my home, and made such accusations against me as I can barely stand to repeat! She ought to be sent back to the streets, where she doubtless belongs—’ She broke off when Tasha herself appeared — in a flare of ghost-light provided by Ootapi.

  Tasha gave a ghastly grin.

  ‘This ward?’ said Konrad politely.

  Mrs. Usova faltered, but made a recover. ‘Yes, this one. She…’ Trailing off, she gazed doubtfully upon Tasha, who looked at that moment like anybody’s worst nightmare, and took a step back.

  ‘You shouldn’t have run,’ said Tasha. ‘And you really shouldn’t have thrown me into your cellar.’

  Konrad watched the woman’s face, marvelling. He had seen real fury there, and a deep fear, but only momentarily. Now she was transformed: a good, respectable woman, outraged and appalled by indecent treatment, seeking refuge with the police. As any good, respectable citizen would do.

  ‘I know you’ll help me,’ she said warmly to Konrad, somehow managing to seem both motherly and appalled in one.

  ‘He is not the police,’ said Tasha, with a relish he privately thought a fraction unseemly.

  Mrs. Usova at last paid him attention enough to realise that he was not quite the vision of a typical policeman. ‘Who are you, then?’ she said, her outrage melting into a heartrending vulnerability. Her lip trembled.

  ‘He’s—’ Tasha began, but Konrad clapped a hand over her mouth and another to the back of her head, bottling her up until she capitulated, and sagged in his grip.

  Carefully, Konrad released her.

  To his relief, she said nothing more.

  ‘Did you kill Verinka Tarasovna?’ he said to his quarry.

  ‘Of course I did not.’ Mrs. Usova gave a little laugh. ‘Why would I?’

  Tasha spoke up then. ‘That isn’t what you said before.’

  ‘Nonsense, child.’ Mrs. Usova directed a stern look at Tasha, who folded her arms and stared right back. ‘Children do have fevered imaginations, do they not?’ said Mrs. Usova to Konrad. ‘This one is clearly running wild, and ought to be contained. I came here to inform her superior—’

  ‘At this hour of the night?’

  She blinked in smiling incomprehension. ‘But of course. There must be someone here. People do not only need the police during the day, do they?’

  As if summoned by these words, Alexander appeared be
hind Konrad, heralded by his characteristic measured footsteps. ‘What is afoot down here— oh? Konrad?’

  ‘You think no one ever believes children,’ spat Tasha, and Konrad realised she was genuinely incensed. ‘But these two do. He’ll believe me.’

  ‘Tasha?’ said the inspector.

  ‘Your ward, sir—’ began Mrs. Usova.

  ‘She killed Verinka,’ said Tasha at the same time.

  Alexander blinked myopically at Tasha. ‘But what would she be doing here, then?’

  If Konrad had doubts left, they were banished by the gleam of triumph in Mrs. Usova’s eyes. ‘Dissembling,’ he said. ‘Playing a role. With great skill, I admit. An innocent person could have no qualms about entering the police house, hm?’

  ‘I am innocent,’ said Mrs. Usova, but something was slipping behind her façade. Konrad caught a glimpse of rage.

  He withdrew his handkerchief, the one with the widow-weed wrapped up in it, and gave it into the inspector’s hand. ‘I found this in a jar in her kitchen. In the chest there. If you test it, I am convinced you will discover it to be widow-weed, and any one of your men will soon discover the rest at Mrs. Usova’s house.’

  ‘It is a medicine,’ said the woman quickly. ‘I use it myself.’

  ‘It is a discredited medicine, rightly banned, and even if it were not you could hardly be in need of so large a supply.’ Konrad watched the woman’s face closely as he spoke; he needed to be certain of her guilt. ‘You bought the jar some five or six months ago from a women’s facility in the lower town. The woman who sold it to you will confirm the date.’

  ‘And that she sold you a full jar,’ Tasha put in, with a quick, questioning look at Konrad.

  Konrad nodded. ‘The one in your house is much depleted. What happened to it, if you have only been taking small, safe quantities yourself at intervals?’

  ‘I— I shared it with some other women of my acquaintance—’