by Glen Cook
"Huh?"
Morley said, "I get it. I was wrong, Garrett. She's not the killer. She's your ghost. She didn't need secret passages to get in and out."
"Morley! Morley. You know damned well that's impossible. I told you about... " Some sense wormed through my confusion. There was a crowd here. Was I going to be dumb enough to tell them all I'd fooled around with a spook?
Was I dumb enough to believe it myself?
"She's the haunt," Doom agreed. "There's no doubt. That painting explains everything. She was murdered. And it was the culmination of a betrayal so immense, so foul, that she stayed here."
I had it. "Stantnor killed her. His first wife. The one he got rid of. Supposedly he bought her off and sent her away. He murdered her instead. Maybe there is a body in the cellar, Morley."
"No."
"Huh?"
That was Cook, getting up off the floor. "That's Missus Eleanor, Garrett."
"Jennifer's mother?"
"Yes." She moved to the table. She lifted the painting. She stared. I was sure she saw everything Snake Bradon put there, maybe stuff Morley and I missed. "So. He did it hisself. He's lived a lie all these years because he can't give up that alibi. It wasn't no fumble-fingered doctor at all. That lousy bastard."
"Wait a minute. Just wait a damned minute—"
"The story is there, Mr. Garrett," Doom said. "She was tortured and murdered. By an insane man."
"Why?" My voice was in what you'd call the plaintive range. I wasn't calming down any. I couldn't get last night out of my head. That hadn't been any spook... Well, if it was, it was the warmest-bodied, friskiest, most solid spook there ever was. "Doc, I need to talk to you in private. It's critical."
We went into the hallway. I told him. He went into one of his reflections. When he came out a week later, he said, "It begins to make sense. And the child? Jennifer? Did you sleep with her, too?"
Well, hell. They say confession is good for the soul. "Yes. But it was kind of her idea... . " Stop making excuses, Garrett.
He smiled. It wasn't a salacious grin; it was a eureka kind of grin. "It falls together. The old man, your principal, whose life she's been leeching slowly as she sets his feet upon the path to hell, is drained this morning. She'd have had to do that to assume solid form with you. Then the other—her own daughter?—wounds her by taking you to her bed. You, the focus she's chosen to justify. You've been tainted. That has to be punished." He got reflective again.
"That's crazy."
"We're not dealing with sane people. Living or dead. I thought you understood that."
"Knowing it and knowing it are two different things."
"We have to talk to the troll woman. It would be wise to know the circumstances of those days as well as possible before we take steps. This isn't a feeble haunt."
We went back inside. Doom asked Cook, "What reason would General Stantnor have had for doing what he did? From what Mr. Garrett tells me, she was frightened of everything, had almost no will of her own. It would take great evils to animate her to the point where we'd have the situation that exists here now."
"I don't tell no stories—"
"Cook. Can it!" I snapped. "We have the General nailed here. He murdered Eleanor, evidently in extremely traumatic fashion. Now she's getting even. That doesn't bother me too much. I kind of like the idea of retribution. But now she's started on Jennifer. I don't like that. So how about you just puke up some straight answers?"
Cook looked at Jennifer, who hadn't yet recovered.
"I kind of hinted at it but I guess not strong enough. The General... Well, he was obsessed with Missus Eleanor. Like I told you. But that never stopped him from rabbiting around hisself, tumbling every wench who'd hold still while he threw her on her back. He wasn't discreet about it, neither. Missus Eleanor, naive as she was, figured it out. I can't tell you what she felt for him. She wasn't never one to talk or show much. But she had to be his wife. She didn't have nowhere to go. Her parents was dead. The king was out to get her.
"She was hurt bad by the way he done. Real bad. Maybe, because she was the way she was, lots more hurt than a deceived wife ought to be. Anyway, she told him if he didn't straighten up, she'd see if what was good for the gander was good for the goose. She wouldn't never have done it. Not in a million years. She didn't have the nerve. But that didn't make him no never mind. He thought everybody worked inside like he did. He beat her half to death. Maybe would've killed her if I hadn't of got between them. Anyway, he just went crazy after that. Poor child. Only time she ever stood up to him... . "
I wanted to tell her to make the long story short, but it might not be smart to interrupt while she was puking her guts.
"Well, the poor child was pregnant with Miss Jennifer. She didn't know it yet. Naive child. Once she did figure it out, it was a day too late. I like to pounded his head for him but he wouldn't believe he was its dad. Not till she was gone. Him thinking that poor child was as loose as him! With who? I asked him. Was there anybody around the house? Hell, no. Not but him. And the child never went outdoors. Half the time she didn't even come out of her room. But try to convince a fool with logic.
"He put her through hell. Pure hell. Tormented her. Tortured her, I think. She had bruises all over. Trying to get her to tell him the name. I done what I could. That wasn't never enough. Only made him worse when I wasn't looking. And it got worse when the old General passed." She looked at me. There were tears in her eyes the size of larks' eggs. "I swear, though, I never thought he killed her. I never believed that even when there was some whispers. If I'd of known it then, I'd of plucked off his fingers and toes and arms like plucking feathers off a chicken. How could he of killed her?"
"I don't know, Cook. But I'm going to ask." I looked at Doctor Doom.
He asked, "You intend to confront him?"
"Oh, yes. I sure do." I grinned like a werewolf. "He hired me to unravel his troubles no matter how much he didn't like what he learned. I'm going to give him apoplexy."
"Take it easy," Morley said. "Don't get so upset you can't think straight."
Good advice. I've been known to gallop around like a beheaded chicken when I'm excited, doing more damage to myself than to the bad guys. "I've got it under control." I glanced at Jennifer. She'd begun to recover while Cook was talking. She looked a little goofy, still, as she stared at the portrait of her mother. She seemed amazed and puzzled. She mumbled, "That's my mother. That's the woman in the painting in father's bedroom."
I looked at Peters. "Why didn't you tell me that last night?"
"I didn't believe it. I guessed, but this painting doesn't look anything like that one. I thought I had to be wrong. That it was just a coincidence. Snake never saw her, anyway."
Cook said, "That's not true."
"That's right," I said. "He came from the estate, didn't he? I should have thought of that. Did he know her at all?"
Cook shook her head. "He never came in the house even back then. She never went out. But he would of seen her from a distance."
Peters just shook his head. "I didn't believe it."
I recalled him and Kaid arguing after Morley and I left. Now I knew why. They'd been trying to make up their minds. "What do we do about the ghost, Doctor?" At the moment I was on her side, despite what she'd done to Jennifer.
Not hard to understand. Last night she'd added adultery to the punishments visited upon Stantnor, twenty years after he'd convicted her. Then Jennifer and I had... But why shouldn't she consider Jennifer my victim, the way she'd been Stantnor's? Was there more to it than I knew? I supposed Doom could explain but I couldn't ask.
I shrugged. Go try to unravel motives and you'll drive yourself crazy. In my line you're better off dealing with results. That's much more straightforward.
Doom said, "She has to be laid to rest. Her staying here and walking the night... That's far more cruel. That's more punishment that's undeserved. She needs peace." He paused, apparently expecting comment. When he got none, he added,
"It's not my place to be judgmental. I suspect the man who killed her deserves all he's gotten and more. But my own ethics don't let me let the victimization go on."
He was starting to look like a right guy despite his clown show. Most of the time that's the code I follow myself. Most of the time. I've been known to get involved and consequently stumble into some home-grown justice sometimes. "I agree. Mostly. What next?"
Doom worked his ugly face into a smile. "I'm going to work a constraint on the shade that will keep it from draining any more substance off the living. The principal will begin to recover immediately. Once he regains some strength—this is just a suggestion—I'd like to call her up to confront him. A direct confrontation will leave her less reluctant to go to her rest, I think. And I have a feeling that an exorcism against a hostile shade would be very difficult here."
"Yeah." I reckoned he knew what he was talking about. And a confrontation sounded good to me.
"You can't do that," Jennifer protested. "That might kill him. He might have a stroke."
Nobody else much cared if he did. At the moment there was very little love for Stantnor around that place. Cook looked like she was considering ways she could help him across to the other shore. She'd raised him like her own but she was less than proud of him.
She said, "I got to get back to work. Lunch is going to be late as it is." She stomped out.
"Keep an eye on her, Sarge," I suggested. "She's pretty upset."
"Right."
40
Doom didnt need help doing his constraint thing. In fact, he wanted to be alone. "There are always risks in these things. I have a tendency to underestimate ghosts. It would be safer for everybody if you stayed away till I finish."
I said, "You heard him."
The party broke up. Nobody said much to anybody else. There was a lot of thinking going on.
Peters went to the kitchen to ride herd on Cook. Kaid went up to take care of the old man, probably with severely mixed feelings. I had them. It was hard to reconcile the General Stantnor of the Cantard War with the vicious monster we'd uncovered here.
Morley went outside to talk about old times with Dojango and his big green brothers. I took Jennifer up to her suite and put her back to bed, alone, to rest. She was badly shaken, seemed to want to curl up and make the world go away.
I didn't blame her. I'd be the same way if I found out my father murdered my mother.
I didn't tell her why she was in such bad shape physically. She had enough troubles. And I still wasn't sure I could accept that myself.
Nothing much to do till Doom was ready to go. I put my coat on and walked out to the Stantnor graveyard. I stared at Eleanor's marker awhile, trying to make peace with myself. It didn't work. I noticed a shovel leaning against the fence. Wayne had left it behind, as though he'd known there would be more graves to dig and why bother lugging tools back and forth? I found a spot and started digging, trying to lose myself preparing Chain's resting place.
That didn't work very well.
It especially didn't work when, after I was about three feet down, I noticed Eleanor by her tombstone, watching me. I stopped, tried to read something from features that were none too clear in daylight.
She'd been pretty substantial last night—because she'd sucked so much life out of Stantnor. Had she taken on substance at other times, to attack him by eliminating his servants? A ghost could make murder put of even apparently accidental deaths, by maddening a bull or maybe causing heart attacks. "I'm sorry, Eleanor. I never meant to hurt you."
She didn't say anything. She never did, except that once, when she found me outside Peters's room.
She seemed to gain substance. What was taking Doom so long? Was she giving him more trouble than he'd expected? I tried to think about that, the grave I was digging, lunch, the killer still to be caught, anything but the sad, futile, brief life this woman had lived.
It didn't work.
I sat on the edge of the grave, in the muck, and cried for her.
Then she was sitting opposite me wearing that look of concern, the same one she'd worn when she'd found me hurt. She didn't have enough substance not to be transparent. I told her, "I wish it could have been different for you. I wish you could've lived in my time. Or I in yours." And I meant it.
She reached out. Her touch was like the impact of falling swansdown. She smiled a weak, sad, forgiving smile. I tried to smile back but I couldn't.
There are evils in this world. It's the nature of things that there are, though it's a struggle accepting that. Because what Eleanor Stantnor had suffered, through no fault of her own, was an evil beyond ordinary evils. It was the kind of evil that goes beyond Man and rests squarely on the shoulders of the gods. It was the kind of evil that had left me an essentially godless man. I can't give allegiance to sky-beasts who'd let things like that happen to the undeserving.
General Stantnor would suffer in turn but the guilt wasn't all his. Nor did it belong to Eleanor's parents. Her mother had tried to protect her. Nor did it belong to the world as a whole. If there are gods at all, they deserved equal pain.
I looked up. Doom must have been finishing up, maybe getting an edge because she was distracted by me. She had little substance left. But she smiled as she faded. At me. Maybe the guy who had been best to her, ever. And you can guess how little that made me feel. I said, "Be at peace, Eleanor."
Then she was gone.
I dug some more, in a fury, like I was going to open a gate to hell and shove all the evils of the world down that hole. When I had a grave a foot deeper than necessary I came to my senses, sort of. I hoisted myself out and headed for the house. I had so much mud on me I feared somebody might mistake me for a draug.
41
I stopped and chatted with Dojango and the boys but my heart wasn't in it. I gave up after five minutes and headed for the house. Morley watched me go, worried. About the time I reached the head of the steps he said something to Dojango, trotted after me. Dojango sighed one of those sighs I recalled meant he felt immensely put upon, hitched up his pants, and started running down the drive.
What the hell?
I went inside. As I passed the dead Stantnors I told them what I thought of them and their ways and especially the last of their line. Morley caught up when I was halfway through. "Are you all right, Garrett?"
"No. I'm feeling about as bleak as I can and still be breathing. But I'll be all right. Just frustration over all the mindless wickedness in the world. I'll come back."
"Oh. Pure essence of Garrett. Wishing he was triplets so he could straighten up three times as many messes."
I smiled feebly. "Something like that."
"You can't take it all on your own shoulders."
You can't, no. But it's a hard lesson to learn. And knowing that doesn't keep it from getting to you.
A tremendous metallic crash came from the main hall, punctuated by a high-pitched scream like a rabbit's death cry. We charged through the doorway, bouncing off one another.
Kaid lay six feet from where Chain had died, smashed by a suit of armor. He wasn't dead. Not yet. He made me think of a smashed bug. His limbs still moved.
They stopped before we got the armor off him. The light went out of his eyes as I knelt beside him.
"And then there was one," Morley whispered.
"And I know which one, now." I hated myself. I should have known sooner. It was there to be had. Doctor Doom had been right. I'd looked at it from the wrong angle all along. But we all miss what we don't want to see. I'd just concentrated way too much on motive, blinded by the one motive I could see. Sometimes the motive doesn't make sense to anybody who isn't crazy.
"Yeah." Morley had it, too. Pretty obvious right now. But he didn't mention it. He said, "Can't do anything for him. Can't do anything about it this minute. You go get yourself cleaned up."
"Where's the point? I've got to dig another grave."
"That can wait. You need to get clean. I'll keep an eye on things."
Maybe he was right. Maybe he knew me too damned well. A bath probably wouldn't help, but it would be symbolic. I went to the kitchen. Cook and Peters had lunch almost ready. They hadn't heard the crash, amazingly. I didn't tell them what had happened. I just swiped all the hot water and headed for my suite. They didn't ask questions. I guess I looked too grim.
I didn't feel any better when I came back down, clean and changed. Some things won't wash off. "Anything?" I asked Morley.
He shook his head. "Except Doom wants to see you."
I went to the room where I'd left the Doctor. He had heard but still was startled when he looked at me. "You look bad."
I told him. He said, "I suspected it. I've done everything I can here, till we bring her up to face her husband."
I told him about my parting with Eleanor. He was a kind soul under that ugly exterior. "I know how you feel. I've been there a few times. Your business, mine, they have their painful sides. You'll get another chance to say good-bye."
"Let's do it."
"Not yet. You're not ready. You need to calm down. Your state is too emotional right now."
I started to argue.
"I don't tell you your business. You don't tell me mine. I'm not thinking about you. We can't operate properly if there's too much extraneous emotion. There'll be plenty involving the key characters."
He was right. I need to learn to separate myself more from my work. "All right. I'll get myself under control."
Morley stuck his head in. "Lunch. You'd better take time to have some, Garrett."
Great. Everybody was looking out for Garrett's mental welfare. I wanted to scream and holler and carry on. I said, "I'll be right there."
I guess I looked a little less ferocious now. Black Pete watched me gobble whatever it was I wasn't seeing or tasting. He asked, "Did something happen?"
"Yeah. Something did. A suit of armor jumped off the fourth floor and squashed Kaid. Dead."
