16 NOV 1 8:45
Cold mountain water,
coming from below
Who are you to ask?
Who am I to know?
"STARS OVERHEAD"
The bar was dark, and stuffy after the cold outside air. The Pig and Whistle was only four blocks from the station and had been the local cop bar for as long as Stepovich had been around. He'd heard from Ed that once the bar had tried to foster a genteel tavern,inn atmosphere, but that the owner had given it up when a bunch of the guys got together and had a new signboard made for him. The antiqued board portrayed a pig in a blue uniform tooting on a silver whistle. The sign was gone now, but so was the attempt at atmosphere. The Pig and Whistle was what it was: a cop bar.
Tonight's crowd was typical. The clientele varied from off-duty patrolmen in worn sweat shirts and jeans to detectives in jackets and ties still. What didn't vary was the way, even here, no one was ever completely relaxed. Eyes moved constantly, men shifted every time the door opened. Most of the women were cops, or office personnel from the station. There were a scattering of cop groupies, uniformly scorned by the female officers. "like we can't get enough of each other all day," Stepovich muttered. "We got to hang around each other all night, too." He lifted his mug and drained it.
"Wha-?" Durand asked.
"Nothing," Stepovich told him.
Durand was holding a plastic sack of ice against his jaw and drinking cold beer. He still couldn't talk much. They'd moved to a table in the corner after the bartender had asked what happened to his face."I slammed his head in the car door by accident,"Stepovich had explained. "Radio squawked and he ducked to grab it just as 1 shut the door." The story was just weird enough to sound plausible. Something Ed had taught him a long time ago. "If you're going to tell a lie, tell a memorable one. Makes it easier to keep your story straight later." Which was great advice, coming from someone who almost never lied.Somlied. Someone who would never get himself into a fix like Stepovich was in now.
Stepovich held his empty mug up, nodded back to Lois when he was sure she'd seen he needed a refill."We should get something to eat soon," he told Durand. He could feel the beer warming his empty stomach, loosening him up.
"Uh-huh," Durand agreed. He lifted the ice pack away from his face, considered a moment then put it back. The damn kid just kept on looking at him, like that, with those eyes. Not pushing, not demandindemanding.Just, knowing that Stepovich already knew all the questions, and knew, too, that he owed Durand some answers.
He took a breath, wondering which was getting to him faster, the beer or the puppy-eyes. "Kid. Look.ThiLook. This happened. It's all like a chain, one little thing after another, none of it really bad, but it looks bad, if you don't know what happened."
"Uh-huh."
Witty conversationalist. Stepovich took a breath."You sure you feel okay? You maybe want to get something to eat, some soup or something? Talk later on?"
"Huh-uh."
Stepovich shifted, his belt creaking, his off-duty gun digging him, just a little, under the arm. He scratched at it, pulling the holster down a bit. "There was a knife, when we busted that gypsy. But I didn't turn it in with his other belongings. I… uh… it went down in the lining of my jacket. And… I had a feeling, Durand. I still do. I don't think the Gypsy we busted killed the liquor store clerk. I know you like him for Cynthia Kacmarcik's killing, but I don't think that's him either. But I do think he's a link. So I gotta find him,"
"Why?"
"To talk to him."
"No." Durand shifted his ice pack, spoke with effort. "Why you think he's a link?"
Stepovich scratched his nose. "I don't know.Mayknow.Maybe they're both gypsies. Mostly, I just got a feeling."
"Where's the knife now?"
Stepovich hesitated. "In a safe place." He prayed he wasn't lying. "I don't wanna, you know, well, if I can take care of this thing without it coming out that I was sloppy about booking the knife in, you know.I mknow.Iou know how it is. It's just better if you don't give them a reason to start checking you out,you know? I do good work, Durand. This was one little screw up, I don't think I should have to pay a big price for it, you know?"
Durand lifted his beer, sipped it carefully. He set it back on the table, sighed, and dropped the sack of melting ice next to it. "I'd feel better if the lab had a look at the knife," he said carefully.
Stepovich looked at him steadily. "The liquor-store guy was shot. And I had the knife when Cynthia Kacmarcik was killed. You know that."
Durand sniffed meditatively. He lifted his big eyes to meet Stepovich's, then looked past him. "Yeah. I know that."
SOMETIME
The candle burned down
from its place on the sill.
The curtains caught fire
but the house remained
Standing there still.
Turning around,
saw you looking at me
With tears running down
from the place where your
Eyes used to be.
"WALK THROUGH THE DOOR"
The nora touches the Fair lady on Her knee and says, "She has stopped spinning now."
"Oh, has she? Well, fetch her out then."The nora goes to the door, but finds it already open, and the woman comes forth. In her hands is a length of spun yarn. She goes up to the Fair Lady, who says, "I reached my hand for one who troubled me, and you chose to put yourself in my way, so I took you, instead. Then you contrived to weave, and thought to keep me away from you that way, but your spirit is no stronger than your flesh was. You had to stop at last, Cynthia Kacmarcik, and now we have you."
"When I was born," she says, "My name was Rozsa.BuRoustabout became ill as a babe, and would have died, so they gave me a new name and the illness could no longer find me."
The Fair Lady frowns, as if this disturbs Her. But the old woman says, "There is a tree of the world, and its leaves brush the moon, where King David plays the fiddle and the saints dance. You brought me here because I saw the tree, and knew who stood under it, sheltered from your hailstones, and because I stopped you when you would have cut it down. But, see, I have woven yarn from its twigs.Thtwigs. Thes blinded himself, but I have taken the veils away, and soon he will see. The Raven will be saved by the love with which you cursed him, and the Coachman has his horses. As for the Owl, there is this."
With that she throws the yarn into the fire, where it at once begins to burn, and the smoke, grey as a storm cloud,goes out the flue and into the world of men, and yet the yarn also stays in the fireplace, always burning, never burned.
The Fair Lady gnashes Her teeth as the nora and the liderc pounce on the old woman and drag her away. She doesn't resist.
THIRTEEN
What the Badger Said to the Raven,and the Owl Said to the Coachman
AUTUMN AFTERNOON
How can you have lived this long
And not give in to rage?
Don't you understand that
We've both outlived our age?
There is no final curtain;
This is not a stage.
Can you read what's written
On this blackened page?
"BLACKENED PAGE"
The Gypsy smelled herb tea and wondered ironically if "huh" could be some sort of magic word, because the old woman said it every time she turned a card over. She had shuffled and dealt them herself, ignoring him after he'd cut them as commanded, and then she'd laid them out on a bright red silk, patterned with designs that stirred up hints of old memories-old memories that wanted to drag him away, only now he wouldn't let them. An old woman had died to give him a chance to complete his task-not to allow him to ruminate on his past.
She quickly finished laying the cards out, her hands steady, the cards placed deliberately in a pattern the Gypsy almost recognized. Then she studied them fora long time, occasionally glancing up into the Gypsy's face as if to confirm or deny what the cards told her.
Eventually she gave a "hum mph," and made a move
as if to gather the deck up.
"Wait," he said.
She paused. "Yes, well?"
"Aren't you going to tell me what they mean?"
"Why? Would you believe them?"
"How did you know I was coming?"
She nodded slowly, then pulled one from beneath a small stack. It showed a man holding a globe in one hand and a staff in the other. "The Hermit," she said."Reversed. That's you, it seems, though I wouldn't have thought it."
"Why not?"
She ignored the question. "The key is The Emperor reversed, which I knew to begin with, and the Ace of Swords crosses it. The-"
"What does it mean?" he asked, becoming annoyed.
"Mean? The Ace of Swords? Look at it."
He shrugged and did so. A single sword pointing to the sky, a halo of leaves around it, and he suddenly thought of the knife that pressed against his hip. But it certainly couldn't be anything so simple.Hsimple. Hehis mouth to ask again, but she said, "It's the Tower that motivates you, that drives you, although whether you work to build it or tear it down I couldn't say. But I expect you work to destroy it, for the Wheel of Fortune reversed is what has brought you to this point."
The Gypsy felt his impatience growing. "And what is this point, then, old woman?"
She held up the next card, showing an old king standing on disks with stars, holding another star,while yet another rested on his crown. "This point is gathering power, little bird. Building forces, calling up an army. Or maybe it's getting others to do your work for you. Like me, little bird, and I don't like it,though there's nothing I can do about it now."
She said, "The ten of Pentacles tells me you may get what you think you want. But whether this next card refers to you or to all of those who try to help you, I couldn't guess." He looked at the next card,in which a man lay face down with ten swords sticking out of his back, and looked away again.
"Yes," she said, her words like whips. "That's the game you're playing, that's what you're courting,uttering in and out, cooing in everyone's ear. Think about it, since you've asked."
She sighed. "Yet, we have this for the environment, and it is hope, if nothing else." A beautiful woman drank from a cup, her eyes fixed on it as if in contemplation. "And your desire is Temperance,which gives me hope as well; it is more than I'd have thought of you.
"And you may wish for the nine of Cups, yet have the five of Cups to regret. The outcome. Hmmph.PeHmmph.Perhaps;ll escape."
She stopped, waiting.
The Gypsy stared at her. At last he said, "If any of this has any meaning, old woman, tell me now. I am older than you, and far more weary. I am living too many riddles to take any pleasure in hearing yet more from your lips. I don't know why I've been put on this path, but it isn't to serve your whims."
She stared back at him from behind eyes like velvet curtains, then she looked away and nodded. "Very well," she said. "Perhaps it will hinder more than help, but you have the right to know the little I can tell you.
"The Hermit reversed is someone on a path, seeking. He's looking for something. Does that make sense?"
"If I want it to," said the Gypsy.
"Yes," agreed Madam Moria. "Exactly. The Queen of Swords reversed is, huh, have you noticed that all of the women in this reading are reversed? You are either dealing with evil women, little Dove, or you have some attitudes-"
"Tell me about the Queen of Swords, old woman."
She glared at him for a moment, then said, "She is intelligent. She is perceptive. She is cruel. She reasons well. Her influence is all around you. Does that sound familiar? Have you a guess who it could be?"
"Save your irony, old woman. This card?"
"Yes. The Tower. The flash of truth or inspiratinspiration.Theall you've believed."
"It looks worse than that."
"It will feel worse than that when it happens."
"And the card with the wheel?"
"The Wheel of Fortune reversed is just past. You have been unable to effect the course of events, and you've been forced to wait. This is the passing."
"And this card, that you said meant the gathering of forces?"
"Call it the pivot point. How you will affect the events, obviously. Through the actions of others.Dothers.Doesartle you?"
"Go on."
"Temperance. You wish to bring the parts together that have been sundered. But this, too, I think you know already. The outcome, though, is split. You have two choices. One is pestilence, disease, the ten of Swords. The other are these three cards, the nine of Cups for wishes coming true, the five of Cups for sorrow, the Sun for escape and protection."
"So perhaps I will die, or perhaps I will escape, but I can't win?"
"So I read it. You may read it better if you can."
"The cards you use, they seem to be of many different styles."
"I use the cards that please me, some from one deck, some from others."
"Yes, I believe this."
Her eyes flashed. "It is not for you to judge me."
He laughed suddenly. "If I don't, young woman,who will?"
She frowned. "Young woman?"
"Older perhaps than the woman who was killed trying to help me, but younger than my brothers and I."
"You are more than you seem. I think…" Her voice trailed off and she frowned again.
"What do you think, young woman?"
Her lips twitched. "I think you are as much a fool as the Coachman, who sees the route, but not the ending. You push us all along a path that-"
He stood up, suddenly lost in a torment of fear,hope, and anger. "Coachman? What do you know of a Coachman?"
"I know he is a drunken fool," she snapped. "I sent him away so we could have some priv-"
"You sent him away?" cried the Gypsy.
For the first time, she seemed uncertain. "He had played his part in-"
"The Queen of Swords reasons well, you say, but what if her facts are wrong? What then for her powers? What damage will she do? Perhaps you are the Queen of Swords reversed, woman, and your arrogance will destroy us all."
"Perhaps the painful revelation is yours, and it is to happen now."
"I never wanted to be part-"
"Be still. Which of us did want to be part of it? You dare to accuse me of using people? Is your wit so keen that you can outguess Luci Herself? Is your Sight so great that you can see into Her heart? Are your hands so skilled that you can untangle every thread She weaves? Is your power so great that you can send Her away? What have you done, woman?"
She stared at him, puzzled and frightened. "Who are you?" she asked in a whisper.
"I? I am Csucskari the Gypsy. I am a T altos. I am the one who has sworn an oath against the Fair Lady and all Her works. I am the only hope we have against Her, poor though it be. You are an arrogant fool, old woman. You see the bottom of the stream so clearly,you forget there is water above it, and you'd let us drown in your pride, then curse us for being unable to breathe. Well, if you have such keen sight, use it now, while there may yet be time. Where is the Coachman?"
"I don't know," she whispered after a moment."My sister would know."
"Then ask her. Now."
She looked up at him, then looked away. She seemed to shrink into herself, then she sighed and stared down, absently, into her teacup. She stirred the leaves with one bony finger., and after a time she spoke.
NOVEMBER SIXTEENTH, 7:20 PM
Well, I left there running like a thousand
Devils were on my trail
Woah. lannan sidhe let me be.
"LANNAN SIDHE"
Ed reached for the remote control, turned the TV down three clicks before answering the phone.
"Ed?" demanded a voice before he could even say hello.
He sat up on the couch, trying to place the voice."Yes," he said guardedly.
"It's me. Tiffany Marie," she went on, and when he didn't answer right away, she added, "Say you don't know me, and I'll drag a nail down the side of that Caddy the next
time I see it parked in our loading zone."
"Tiffany Marie, no one could ever forget you, or that red hair. I'm just wondering why you're calling me."
"Look, Ed, this is important. Man, I think I knowhow important better than anyone else," she added,almost to herself, "I can't get Stepovich, his phone just rings, and maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to get him anyway. And Randy… Durand doesn't answer either, so I figured I'd better call you. It's about Mike's kid."
"What?" Ed was already sticking his feet back into his shoes. All the skin on his scalp was tingling, ancient hackles standing up as his cop sense sent alarms screaming.
"His girl, whatshername, Laurie? You know her?"
"I stood godfather to her," Ed answered grimly,but Tiffany Marie was still talking.
"She's in here. At least, I'm pretty sure it's her, I only met her those two times. Anyway, she's painted up like a whore, and she's with this older guy, this gypsy-looking guy, and he's like, all over her. Christ,Ed, she can't be more than fourteen, and this guy is really moving on her, and she's acting like, well, she's not exactly pushing him away. And the guy isn't some street kid, I mean, he's a corner musician or something. Hell, he's not only too old for her, he's too old for me. Look, Ed, I don't think she's made any really big mistakes yet, and maybe if someone like you gets down here-dammit, now there's a fight.Gofight.Gottah;"
"I'm coming," said Ed and hung up the phone as he reached for his jacket. Shit. Someone was putting little Laurie out on the streets? Where the hell was Mike, what was he thinking of to let his little girl run loose at this hour of the night? He picked up his Caddy keys off the coffee table, thought briefly of calling Jenny. Decided against it. She'd just get shrill and jump into the middle of it and make it messy. Well,it wasn't going to be messy. Good thing Tiffany Marie had called him. He'd make it fast and quiet.
The Gypsy Page 50
