Red Iron Nights gf-6

by Glen Cook

  Then do as I tell you. I want to interview the bodyguards and the parents myself. Also those who found the corpses. Your men will canvass the neighborhoods where the women were found. Also the areas where they were seized. I doubt you will gain much cooperation, but cooperation is unnecessary. Even you Watchmen will have developed a rudimentary sense for when someone is not being forthcoming. Bring any such persons to me. I will open them up.

  I marveled. The Dead Man makes me look hyper. Usually I have to threaten mayhem just to get his attention when there's work to do. He was jumping into this one headlong. I hadn't agreed to do anything yet. His enthusiasm suggested a secret agenda. Or he knew something he wasn't sharing. I eyed him narrowly as he continued with Block, telling him what times he wanted whom to come be interviewed.

  Suspicion and paranoia become habits in this business. You take fits where you don't even trust yourself.

  When the Dead Man takes a notion to snooze, he can hang in there for months. And when he's awake, he can go around the clock for days. He had that in mind. Poor old Dean was going to die answering the door.

  Block had to borrow pen and paper to remember all his instructions. It took him half an hour to write them down. I paced and worried and wondered. Then the Dead Man dismissed the Watchman. I walked him to the front door.

  "You'll never regret this, Garrett. I guarantee. We clean this up, you got a free pass for life."

  "Sure." I know how long gratitude lasts. About as long as it takes for the bill to come due. Especially in TunFaire. The only guy I know who sticks to that kind of promise is Chodo Contague. He used to drive me crazy repaying imaginary debts.

  That gave me a shiver. Old Chodo always paid his debts. And he owed me a big one.

  I closed the door behind Block, put Chodo out of mind, went charging back to find out what the hell old Chuckles thought he was doing.

  12

  Not yet, Garrett. Dean! The Dead Man did not often extend his mindtouch beyond his room. That was a courtesy he extended us. Get rid of those harridans. Commend them to your nieces. We have a commission.

  "His nieces?" I hurried into his room. "You want to create monsters?" Dean had a platoon of spinster nieces, all front-runners for Miss Homely TunFaire. They drove him to despair. Which was why he had conscripted himself as a full-time member of my household. He couldn't take it anymore. "Can you imagine that pack in pursuit of a mission from God?"

  Dean has sense enough to avoid that eventuality. While we await him, I will tell you what to do. Backtrack from events at Mr. Dotes's place. But first bring Mr. Dotes and Mr. Tharpe to see me. We will want their help.

  " ‘We' might want it, but how are ‘we' going to afford it? My share of what I'm getting to watch Barking Dog won't—"

  Captain Block will assume expenses. You should pay closer attention. I quoted an exorbitant fee. He was desperate enough not to quibble.

  "If they're as scared as he puts on, they could put up enough from bribe money to pay anything."

  Exactly. We have been handed an unprecedented opportunity. Where he's concerned, money has no provenance. It's never dirty, only the people who handle it are. I intend to pursue it with vigor.

  With my vigor, he meant. "That's the reason you're jumping on this?" I didn't believe it.

  Let us say that I find my mind growing as flabby and slothful as you allowed your body to become. I must get into shape before it is too late. I am not yet prepared to slide into oblivion.

  Oblivion. I put that away where I could find it next time he started in on the condition of my immortal soul.

  What he said sounded good. I didn't believe it. And he knew that. But he didn't let me press. There is no time to waste. Get Mr. Tharpe and Mr. Dotes.

  Mr. Tharpe didn't want to get got. He'd gotten rid of Billie and had replaced her with a little blond who could have been her sister. The new hadn't worn off enough for him to see that. He wanted to stay home and play.

  "Anyway, it ain't even dark out yet, Garrett."

  "You only work at night now?"

  "Getting in the habit, doing these odd jobs for Licks."

  "So sunlight for me. Talk to the Dead Man. You don't want the work, no harm done. I'll get somebody else. Won't be as good, but I'll make do." Never hurts to butter him up.

  "What's shaking?"

  "A serial killer. A real psycho. His Nibs can fill you in. I don't know why he wants you. He just started spouting orders like a fountain."

  "Okay. I'll talk to him." He looked at his friend. She scorched me with a lethal stare.

  I said, "I got to see Morley," and got out of there before the woman carved their initials in my trunk.

  Morley's place was sparsely populated. It had just opened. His customers are like the stars, seldom seen before dark. Those in there then were early bats trying to get a jump on their competition.

  Nobody got excited when I walked in. Nobody knew me. The guy behind the counter was new. He was a skinny little half-elf like Morley, handsome as hell but barely old enough to think about taking advantage of that. He was trying to grow a mustache.

  It was catching. "I need to see Morley," I told him. "Name's Garrett. Tell him it is business and there's a shitpot in it."

  The kid looked me straight in the eye. "Morley? Who the hell is Morley? I don't know any Morley."

  One of those. "Kid, I'll take into account the fact that you're new. I'll take into account the fact that you're young and dumb, and figure you got to be a wiseass. When I'm done accounting, I just might pull you over the bar and pound away till Morley comes down to see about all the screaming. Get on the tube."

  The audience wasn't much, but it did exist. The kid thought he had to show me. Quick as an eyeblink he showed me a razor. Elves have a love affair with sharp steel, especially the young ones. He was so predictable I was there with my headknocker as fast as he was with the blade. I popped his knuckles. He yowled like a stomped cat. The razor flew down the counter. The audience gave us a hand. And a mountain of a man lumbered out of the kitchen.

  "Garrett. What you doing?" This was Sarge, another of Morley's old hands. He came out of the same production batch as Puddle.

  "I asked to see Morley. Kid pulled a razor."

  Sarge shook his head sadly. "What you want to go do that for, Spud? Man wants to see Morley, give Morley a howl. Morley wants to have him friends like this, that's his lookout."

  "Spud?" I asked. What kind of name was Spud? Not even a dwarf would tag his kid Spud.

  "What we call him, Garrett. Name's really Narcisio. Morley's nephew. His sister's kid. Got to be more than she could handle. Morley brought him down here so he could straighten him out."

  Meantime, the kid talked to the voice tube that connected to Morley's office.

  I shook my head. Morley Dotes going to set somebody's feet on the straight and narrow? Morley, whose real career is cutting throats and breaking bones and running an occasional con or even a straight ripoff if the stakes are big enough? My pal Morley?

  Sarge put on a big grin. "I know what you're thinking. But you know Morley."

  I knew Morley. He could believe mutually contradictory things at the same time, with religious fervor. His whole life was a tangle of contradictions. He lived them all with passion. He could sell you anything, because he believed every word he said when he said it. That was why he did well with the ladies. And no matter that he might take up a completely new passion five minutes hence. He was completely committed now.

  Morley had done some good where Spud was concerned. The kid wasn't happy about being shown up, but he put it away from him. He told me, "Morley will be down in a few minutes. You want something while you're waiting?"

  "Puddle still got his keg back there? Tap me one off it. He owes me a couple gallons."

  Sarge chuckled. "Whyn't you finish the whole thing? I love to watch him puff up like a big old toady frog when he comes in and finds out somebody's been at his keg."

  "I'll do my best. Company?" I jerked a t
humb skyward.

  "Yeah. His luck's coming back."

  "Glad somebody's is."

  Sarge chuckled again. "You shoulda married that Maya when she asked. She was all right." He patted Spud's shoulder, said, "You done all right. Just don't be so fast with that razor. Next guy might not be nice like Garrett." He headed for the kitchen. I wondered what he was doing back there. I wouldn't trust him anywhere near food in preparation. Not even the horse fodder they serve at Morley's place.

  I figured the kid's ego needed a boost so I sort of sideways apologized for being so hardass. The audience had lost interest, so he could halfway apologize too. "I only been here a couple days, Mr. Garrett." He recognized the name now. "Always somebody coming in here to pester my uncle. You looked like an unhappy husband."

  I laughed. "Not a husband, just unhappy." Morley isn't satisfied unless he's taking needless risks. Like refusing to fool around with a woman if she isn't married. He used to have a bad gambling problem too, but he got over that.

  Morley came downstairs looking smug. Without saying so, he wanted me to know his life was going great. Way better than mine. I couldn't argue. Lots of people's lives were going better than mine.

  "What's going on, Garrett?"

  "Need some privacy to talk."

  "You on a job?"

  "This time. Dead Man says we might need to subcontract. Also, he wants to pick your brain."

  "Take the table in the corner."

  I picked up the beer Spud had drawn off Puddle's keg. "You have so many of them up there you can't hide them all?" Usually we went to his office to discuss business.

  "No. Place is just a mess. Got a little carried away."

  That one he didn't make me believe. Maybe it wasn't a woman. Maybe they wanted me to think it was a woman because it had to do with his real business.

  I didn't ask. I just went to the table and sat, then told him what there was to tell. He listened well. He can do that when he wants.

  "You think there's a connection with what happened the other night?"

  "I don't know. The Dead Man thinks so. And he knows how to handicap."

  "Interesting."

  "You'd say something else if you'd seen that girl."

  "I expect so. I don't approve of killing people who don't ask for it. I mean, I find interesting the idea of taking money from the Watch for once, instead of seeing it go their way."

  I raised an eyebrow. It's one of my finest skills.

  He said, "That's the way it works, Garrett. I'm not under Chodo's protection. I don't want to be part of the outfit. There's always a price for independence."

  Made sense when I considered it. There were a thousand Watchmen and only a handful of guys in his bunch. As long as the Watch didn't get greedy, it would be easier for him to pay than fight. Not that he would like it. But he was very much the pragmatist.

  The Watch wouldn't bother Chodo, of course. A lot of people are beholden to him. And he wouldn't take kindly to any attempt to muscle his operations.

  Morley thought about what I'd told him. "Let me finish up upstairs. I'll walk over to your place with you."

  I watched him climb the stairs. What did he have going? He'd set it up so he'd be sure he was with me when I left. So I wouldn't hang around outside to see who left after he did? That didn't make sense. If I wanted to know, I could ask the Dead Man after Morley talked to him. If I let the Dead Man know I wanted him to peek.

  Ah, paranoia.

  13

  Saucerhead opened the door. "A butler," Morley cracked. "You're coming up in the world, Garrett."

  Saucerhead didn't crack a frown. "Who shall I say is calling, sir?" He filled the doorway. A charging bull couldn't have moved him. Morley didn't when he started inside.

  "Hey! What gives? Check it out, big guy. It's raining out here."

  I said, "I'm thinking about getting into the boat business. Might be the coming thing."

  Saucerhead cocked his big ugly phiz like he was listening. He was waiting for the Dead Man's go-ahead. Even on us. Which meant Old Bones had convinced him anything could happen. Saucerhead was the type to make damn sure it didn't while he was on the job.

  The Dead Man had him not trusting his own eyes? What was this? What did he suspect?

  Saucerhead finally grunted, stepped aside. Like he didn't think it was such a hot idea. Morley shot me a puzzled look, headed down the hall. He ducked into the Dead Man's room. "Garrett says there's something sinister about what happened at my place last night."

  For twenty minutes I felt like an orphan. "Five of them?" Morley said. "They're keeping a good wrap on it, then. I only heard about one, last month, down at the Landing."

  I jumped in. "That was the one before the one before the one they found this morning. This nut is on a shrinking time cycle. After the first one he waited six weeks. Then four weeks for the one in the Landing. Then three weeks, then a couple days over two weeks to get this last one."

  "Unless there's some in there we don't know about."

  "They'd be hard to miss, all of them strung up with their throats cut and the guts gone. And the Watch hasn't had any reports of daughters missing from the Hill."

  "The guy doing this has got to be doing some homework up front. He's not just hanging out on the corner waiting for the right rich girl. He's picking his targets and he's working several at the same time."

  "What makes you think that?"

  "He blew the snatch on Chodo's kid but grabbed another woman in time to have her hung up this morning."

  Crazy don't mean stupid, my old mom used to say. I've seen that proved often enough. The man doing this was doing a lot of planning. He'd be aware that his fun would cause a stir. He'd be real careful.

  "Morley, the guy made a real dumb move last night. Maybe double dumb. He did it in front of witnesses. And he went for Chodo's kid. He'd get less heat going after the King's sister."

  "You remember she was scared when she came in. I have a notion the snatch was blown once already and somebody was desperate to cover his tracks. Far as going after Chodo's kid... What you have to do with this character—and I can't myself—is put yourself inside his head. Try to think like he does. He's a genius and knows it. He's been messed up and playing out psychotic dramas since he was a kid and he keeps getting away with it. Maybe he doesn't quite see the rest of us as real anymore. Maybe we're just things, like the bugs and rats he started out on. Maybe he thinks there can't be any kickbacks as long as he's careful. In his mind Chodo might not be a worry any bigger than Dean is."

  I understood but wasn't sure Morley's ideas held any water. I didn't know what to think. TunFaire has killers by the battalion, but none like this. Muckers and coldblooded pros were the multiple murderers I knew. This monster was a hybrid, a mutant.

  "Last night is the only starting place we have," Morley said. "We have to talk to the girl."

  I made an ugly noise.

  "I know. Means the outfit gets in on the hunt."

  I was surprised they weren't already. I said so.

  Morley observed, "Means she didn't mention it when she got home. Maybe she was doing something her father wouldn't approve." He wore a frown, though, like he thought that couldn't be quite right.

  "Boyfriend?"

  "She's human."

  I backed off inside and considered, bitten by sudden suspicion. She'd run into Morley's place when she was in trouble. She'd shown no sign of knowing him, but... No. He wouldn't. His need to take risks wouldn't push him that far. Would it?

  The Dead Man intervened. Gentlemen, I sense the approach of persons I must interview. I will be at that all night. Garrett. I suggest you rest till morning. I may have suggestions for you then. Apparently he'd shuffled through Morley's head and had gotten what he wanted. If there'd been anything there.

  Sometimes that was arguable.

  I was wound up more than I realized. "I could start—" Like I was eager to get to work.

  If I calculate accurately, we have eleven or twelve da
ys before the killer acts again. That should be ample time. The wheels of the law and Mr. Contague's organization will grind every clue fine by then. There is no need to rush and risk doing ourselves harm.

  What? He was going to stamp his approval on my loafing? I'm no fool. I hustled Morley out the front door, brought in the couple I ran into there, introduced them to the Dead Man as the parents of the first victim, then headed upstairs.

  14

  As soon as I was flat on my back I thought of fifty things I should have discussed with Morley. Like did he have any idea who those brunos were who stormed into his place after Chodo's brat? He would have tried to find out. I knew him. After he'd brooded awhile he'd have decided that booting them around and chucking them out in the rain wasn't good enough. He'd want a whack at the guy who'd sent them.

  He might be miles ahead of me.

  I let my thoughts drift back to what had happened, went over it, seeking a clue.

  Nothing that special about the three men. If you had the money, you could recruit a thousand like them. Only thing remarkable was that they'd dared invade a place owned by Morley Dotes. Local professionals knew better. Those three hadn't had out-of-town accents. Therefore, they weren't professionals. Not streetside, anyhow. I didn't doubt they were professional thugs.

  Which led me off blue-skying. Who had thugs on staff who wouldn't get into the streets much? Only priests and people on the Hill. The priest angle was so juicy I set it aside to look at the other first.

  Off the Hill? A lunatic up there would be in a fine position to observe the movements of prospective victims. I tried to recall the appearance of the old geek with butterfly indigestion. That didn't match any Hill people I knew.

  What about the coach? I recalled it, though details were getting vague. Big, black, and fancy. A custom four-horse job. Silver brightwork. The killer had money.

  Couldn't be many coaches like it.

  I fought it for fifteen minutes but it was a struggle foredoomed. Eventually I swung my legs off the bed, got up, and hunked downstairs. So much for good intentions. I donned a cloak and, marvel of marvels, a hat. The hat was Dean's. I didn't think he'd miss it.