The Holver Alley Crew

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  Verci thought about it. “We don’t have time for the kind of long con needed to get the goods. Plus we were never good at the long con.”

  “Short con to scout, set up the burgle?”

  “That’s about the size of it. You have an idea?”

  “The seeds of one,” Asti said. “Let me sleep on it.”

  “All right,” Verci said as he got to his feet and walked over to the edge of the building. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Give Raych my best,” Asti said. “Oh, and Verci?”

  “What?”

  “Bring some pie tomorrow.”

  Verci grinned. “Get your own pie-baking wife.”

  “Seems a waste, when you already have one.”

  “Shut it, brother,” Verci said with a smirk. “Good night.” He spotted a stable gutter and slid down to the street level.

  Asti took his time walking back to Kimber’s. The night was cool, but there were still plenty of people walking about, their ways lit by oil-burning street lamps. A block away he spotted the girl he had put on trailing Greenfield. She sat on the stoop of the brick tenement on the other side of the street, her wool hat held out as her eyes met every person who passed her. Asti couldn’t help but grin. She was good at this—she locked her gaze on every well-dressed person, gave them a look that filled them with sympathy, demanded they do something to help her. Asti watched several people throw copper and silver into her hat before he crossed over to her.

  “Mila, right?” he asked as he sat down on the stoop next to her.

  Mila scowled at him. “You’re going to skunk me,” she whispered.

  “Nothing could skunk you here, girl,” he said.

  “Creepy man who looks like a doxy boss would,” she said.

  “How do I look like a doxy boss?”

  “Because you’re sitting on a stoop with a poor, hungry-looking girl who looks just the right innocent age to be taken in and used by a doxy boss.”

  “You are a dark, twisted girl,” Asti said. “That’s good. That’s honest.”

  “What do you want, Mister Rynax?”

  “How’s Greenfield?”

  “He made it through today,” she said. “Spent a few hours standing on the edge of one of the river docks, looking like he might jump to the bottom.”

  “He didn’t jump, though.”

  “Good thing, too,” she said. “I can’t swim.” She picked up a rope that was sitting coiled next to her. “Stole this to pull him out if he went.”

  “You good with a rope?” Asti asked.

  “I do all right,” she said. “Was that all?” Mila was clearly annoyed at him spoiling her hatshake.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I want to ask you to do something. Hire you.”

  She gave him a hard, cold look. “I’m no doxy, Mister Rynax.”

  “No, no,” he said. “Nothing like that at all.”

  “Good. What, then? It’s not like you paid me to watch Greenfield.”

  “Well, this will make it up, then.”

  “How much are we talking about?”

  “Ten crowns.”

  Her eyes widened. “Is it illegal?”

  “Legally murky.”

  “But no whoring?”

  “No!” Why was her mind on doxies and whores tonight? Then he realized, for her, that was a last resort she could take to survive, and given the situation she was in, the stark reality loomed over her.

  “Then I’m in.”

  “Good,” he said. “Tomorrow, nine bells, North Seleth Inn. Stable.”

  “What about Greenfield?” she asked.

  “He made it through today. I’ll get Kimber to keep an eye on him.”

  “No, you owe me for Greenfield today,” she said.

  “Running out of coins,” Asti muttered. He dug into his pocket and threw a few ticks in her hat. “Find a decent flop to sleep in tonight, eh?”

  “All right,” she said. “Get out of here. Now.”

  He nodded and jogged across the street. He went back into Kimber’s, skipping the taproom and going back up to his room.

  Asti pulled off his boots and slid them under the bed, then stripped off the rest of his clothes. He stood up on the bed and turned down the lamp. Lying back down, he realized that while the bed was small and smelled musty, it was the most comfortable place he had slept in weeks.

  Chapter 5

  MORNING IN HAL AND LIAN’S house was more social than Verci wanted to deal with. All he wanted was to go down to the kitchen, have some tea and biscuits, and get out the door. Raych was even on board with this plan. Hal and Lian did not cooperate.

  “Verci, I’m telling you, there are some good opportunities if you just keep your eyes open,” Hal said. He was sitting a bit too close to Verci for Verci’s own personal comfort.

  “I know, Hal,” Verci said. “I know plenty about opportunity.”

  “Good, good,” Hal said. “Because you’ve got one staring you right in the face here and now. I know someone who knows someone who is looking for a man to supervise on the docks.”

  “Really?” Verci said as flatly as possible.

  “I know!” Hal looked triumphant. “A job like that is going to get snatched up but quick, unless you happen to know someone who knows someone, which I do. And thus you do. Good coin for this job, Verci Rynax.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, Hal.” Verci tried to stand up from the table and grab a biscuit from Lian’s tray, but Hal clapped him on the shoulder and pulled him down again.

  “Nonsense. You’re family. And, let’s face it, we can’t have you staying here indefinitely. Am I right?”

  “Too right, Hal.”

  “This is what I’m saying. So get a good, clean outfit on. One with a smart vest and coat. You have one?”

  “Not just now he doesn’t,” Raych said. “He should get one, though. Maybe head off right now and get one.”

  “Good idea, Raych.” Verci stood up from the table.

  “Nonsense, it would take too long. I have just the thing.”

  “Hal, no offense,” Verci said, “but you’ve got three inches over me. In most directions.”

  Hal laughed, patting his stomach. “Can’t help that. But Lian is terrific at fixing clothes. Right, dear?”

  “Absolutely,” Lian said.

  “That’s very kind of you,” Raych said. “But . . .”

  “But Asti and I have a different meeting this morning,” Verci said. “Different job.”

  Someone knocked on the front door. Lian went out to the parlor. Verci tried to leave the kitchen as well, but Hal got up, grasping Verci by both shoulders in an aggressively congenial manner.

  “A different job?” he asked. “That’s excellent. Where will that be?”

  “At, um . . .” Verci hesitated for a moment. Hal always threw him off his game, and Verci never could understand why. “At the customhouse. Over on Wheeler.”

  “Really?” Hal’s eyebrows went up. “That’s impressive, Verci. I have an old school friend who works over there. Yen Tolso?”

  “Tolso,” Verci said, nodding his head in an act of serious thought. “Don’t think that’s a name I know, but I can ask someone.”

  “Well,” Hal said, clapping Verci on the shoulder. “It’s a name you can drop if you need to.”

  “Thanks, Hal.” Verci edged toward the front door. “I really do need to get going.”

  “Verci, Raych?” Lian called as she came from the front door. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  Verci turned around and stopped short to avoid crashing into the man who walked into the parlor. He was an older man in a heavy suit, wearing spectacles.

  “Mister Rynax?” he asked. “Mister Verci Rynax?”

  “That’s right,” Verci said.

  �
��You are not an easy man to find, Mister Rynax. I took a chance that you might be at the home of your wife’s family.”

  “That was a successful chance, Mister . . .”

  “Of course,” the man continued, ignoring Verci, “it’s perfectly understandable, since your stated residence over the Greenfield locksmith shop no longer exists. Nonetheless, you have not been as easy to find as I would have liked.”

  “Sir,” Verci said forcefully, “who the blazes are you?”

  “Verci!” Lian squeaked.

  “Of course,” the man said. He bowed slightly, removing his hat. “Heston Chell, of Colevar and Associates. I have you at a disadvantage, of course.”

  “Quite,” Verci said. “I don’t have time for games, Mister Chell. Even from Colesky and whatever.” He pushed past the man and went to the front door.

  “Colevar and Associates. We represent the parties who have purchased your debt to Mister Spence.”

  Verci stopped cold in front of the door.

  “I wasn’t aware that Old . . . Mister Spence had sold the debt. When did that happen? And who did he sell it to?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss these matters, Mister Rynax. The debt is, of course, quite sizable. Given the rate of loan which Mister Spence made the deal at, the amount you owe is on the order of two thousand crowns.”

  “We made an arrangement to pay that at fifty crowns a month,” Raych said. “I know well enough to know that your client, whoever he is, cannot change that arrangement at his whim.”

  “Very true, Missus Rynax,” Chell said. “If you wish, you may continue to pay the debt at the agreed upon rate, for six years.”

  “Excuse me, Mister Chell,” Hal said, raising a finger up as he came into the room. “I couldn’t help but overhear. That would make thirty-six hundred crowns.”

  “Yes, if paid over six years,” Chell said. “If paid in full today, it would take two thousand. However, given the state of affairs, given the fact that your intended shop is now nearly an ashen pile of nothing . . .”

  “Watch it,” Verci snapped.

  “My apologies,” Chell said, holding up a hand as a peace offering. “Since your shop was so tragically lost, paying the debt in either a lump sum or monthly payments seems . . . unlikely at this point.”

  “Our payment isn’t due for fifteen days, Mister Chell,” Verci said. “You’ve got no claim to haul me to court yet.”

  Chell smiled, a chilling smile that gave Verci a shiver down his back. “Mister Rynax, you misunderstand. Neither I nor my client has any great urge to haul you to court, nor see you jailed for debt. You have been the unfortunate victim of cruel circumstance.”

  “That’s the truth,” Verci muttered.

  “We’ll make our payments, Mister Chell,” Raych said, her chin held up defiantly.

  “If you wish,” Chell said. “However, I’m authorized to remove your debt completely, in exchange for signing over the parcel of land that the shop once resided over.”

  Raych’s eyes went wide, a smile tugged at her lips.

  “I have the papers already drawn up, awaiting your signature, Mister Rynax.” He pulled a few pages from out of his coat pocket.

  “Verci!” Raych exclaimed. “This is perfect.”

  Too perfect. Too easy.

  Verci had spent a good portion of his life with his senses attuned to that little click, those almost imperceptible signs that a trap was about to be sprung. The hairs on the back of his neck would go up whenever his instincts were telling him that danger was right in front of him.

  Every hair on the back of his neck was up right now.

  “Well,” Verci said. “It does sound like you’re giving us a good offer, Mister Chell. I need to discuss it with my brother first.”

  Chell’s cold smile wavered, just for an instant, just the slightest twitch of the muscles on his face. “Yes, of course. He is your business partner, I understand, and he has every right to want some say in such a decision. This offer will stand until the fourteenth of Joram, when the first payment of fifty will be due.”

  Verci nodded. “Understandable.”

  “I’ll leave these papers with you.” Chell held out the pages, which Raych snatched away. Chell walked to the door, tipping his hat to the room again. “And I’ll be in touch.” As he was about to exit the house, he turned back. “Bear in mind, Mister Rynax, should one of those monthly payments be missed, my clients will press their claim and likely receive ownership of the landplot, and you and your brother would be jailed for debt. That would be a terrible shame, when it’s so easily avoidable.” He left the house.

  “Verci,” Raych hissed. “What’s the matter with you? That’s exactly what we need.”

  “I know it is.” Verci gently put his arm around his wife, leading her with him to the door, away from Hal and Lian. “Which sets my head buzzing. It’s too easy, too big for someone to just give away.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying it doesn’t match, Raych,” Verci said. He lowered his voice as he pretended to kiss her on the cheek. “Nobody does something for nothing. That plot of land, with nothing on it but an ashen heap, is worth maybe six hundred crowns. Someone bought the debt for a fair chunk more than that, and is then willing to give up years’ worth of interest to get that land.”

  Raych pulled back, looking at him hard in the eyes. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure, but it doesn’t sit right.”

  “Does it matter? What do you want to give Corsi? An indebted father, or a clean life?”

  “Clean life, no question there.” He still didn’t like how this felt. He tapped the pages in her hands. “Give me a few days to think on it, all right?”

  She nodded, giving a weak smile. “A few days, no more.”

  He kissed her for real. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “Time to go to work.”

  Verci walked out to Colt Road, heading toward Fawcett. Walking west through the neighborhood was always a depressing venture. Each block was more impoverished than the last. Each block, the street had more cracks and missing stones. Each block, the clothes were more patched and threadbare. More boys stared with lean and angry faces. More old men sat on the stoops of crowded tenements.

  “Verci, old hat!” Kel Essin was approaching, arms and smile both too wide for Verci’s sense of comfort. Verci didn’t see a blade, but he wasn’t going to let Essin embrace him.

  “Morning, Essin.”

  “We didn’t talk much last night.” Essin wrapped one arm around Verci, and brought his face in far too close for Verci’s comfort. Breath stank of cheap beer. “I guess the night got away from us.”

  “Must have.” Verci shrugged the man’s arm off. “Surprised to see you up and about this early.”

  “Dawn took me a bit by surprise,” Essin said. He lowered his voice, as if he were speaking in confidence. “Frankly, I was hopeful to find some company for my cot tonight. Figured there’d be easy pickings, you know, given how many slept in the street last night.”

  Verci did not want to hear more. He started down the street again. “I’m late.”

  “What for?”

  Verci cursed under his breath. He walked into that, no doubt. “I’ve heard there’s a clerk position available in one of the dockhouses. Off to make a good impression.”

  “A clerk job?” Essin burst with laughter. “Oh, blazes, Verci, I didn’t think you’d . . .” He trailed off, his eyes going wide. With an impish giggle, he slipped over to Verci. Verci had to admit, even leftover-drunk from a sleepless night, the man moved like a cat. “I get it, I do.” Essin tapped a finger on his nose.

  “You got me,” Verci said. Let Essin believe whatever he wanted. Two more steps away from the man, into the street.

  “Sure it’s a good scheme, old hat,” Essin said. “Keep your ea
rs up, all right?”

  “Always do,” Verci said. He took a few more steps away, letting a mulecart trundle between them. As soon as he was out of sight, he darted back and slipped into a side alley. He dashed to a low fence at the back of the alley, bounded over it, and cut through the adjoining back garden to reach the next street. He glanced around. Essin wasn’t in sight. Sighing with some relief, he made his way toward the river again.

  The North Seleth Inn was up on Fawcett, just a block away from the river docks. The smell from the river—tar, fish, and refuse—was strong without overpowering. The inn was fairly large, taking up half the block with a ceremonial stone wall surrounding the grounds. Verci didn’t know its history, but the building looked like something from the last century, during the Poasian Wars. Solid, heavy construction. A small fortification, ready to withstand attack. That was also when Seleth was a more prosperous neighborhood. Now it was struggling to hold its place on a greased slope: not as bad off as the slums of Benson Court to the west but losing more and more jobs and commerce to Keller Cove and eastern neighborhoods.

  Seleth didn’t even have organized street bosses or crime lords. Verci sometimes wondered how the Old Lady kept her place.

  Walking through the gateway of the North Seleth Inn, Verci saw more of how time had ravaged it. Cracks in the plaster that had decayed into chunks and holes. Shingles missing from the roof. An orange cat dozed on the walkway, ignoring the rats that scurried shamelessly past it.

  The stable was around the back of the inn. Verci was surprised that there was no one on the grounds to challenge or question him.

  The only person he saw at all was a thin, dark-haired girl who slouched by the door of the stable, her hair falling over her face.

  “I know you,” she said as he walked up.

  “You win, then,” Verci said. “I’ve no clue who you are.”

  “Mila,” she said. “You’re the other Mister Rynax.”

  “Meaning my brother is the first?” he asked.

  “I guess so,” she said. “Where is he?”

  “You’re expecting him here?”

  “Nine bells, stable of the North Seleth Inn.” She cocked her head in the direction of a high church tower, visible from two blocks away. “I’m a bit early.”