Whispering Nickel Idols (12 page)

“Could be. Life isn’t fair. You going to try Harvester Temisk now?”

“Yes.”

“Good luck. I’m headed home. Before one of those idiots burns the place down.” What suddenly made him want to get away fast?

Harvester Temisk hadn’t resurfaced. He had, however, begun to interest somebody besides me. A minor, dim thug named Welby Dell was asleep across the street from Temisk’s, in a spot well suited for lurking and watching. Dell was another associate of Teacher White’s. Being a thoughtful kind of guy, I toddled on without disturbing Welby’s nap.

I picked up a tail. He wasn’t anybody I knew. He didn’t care if I knew he was there. Meaning he was Relway Runner.

I changed course, headed for the Al-Khar, where I asked to see Colonel Block. Naturally, the ground level of the bureaucracy made that impossible. So I asked for Director Relway. With identical results.

I trudged on home. Smug. Block couldn’t accuse me of evading my civic duty. Dean was in the throes of creating chicken and dumplings. He can be a killer in the kitchen when he wants.

Melondie Kadare was on the table, still hungover, in a foul temper. Singe sulked because I’d taken off without getting John Stretch’s report. Her brother had gone and come and gone again in my absence.

Dean was in a good mood. “Mr. Mulclar will be here to fix the door tomorrow.”

“Good.” I settled down to eat. A kitten climbed my leg and set up shop in my lap. Others prowled the kitchen. Singe held one. It wore the smug look of master instead of pet.

“Dean, talk to me about Penny Dreadful and these cats.” He started to hem and haw.

“Dean, this is serious. People are getting busted up. They’re getting dead. The guys who keep trying to break our door down got into fights with Belinda’s people, Morley’s guys, and Relway’s gang. More than once. And when they aren’t picking fights they’re doing exterior renovations on the Bledsoe. What’s the connection there?”

Dean grimly said, “You’d better tell me the whole thing. I may have been too trusting.”

“You think so? That’s never happened before, has it?”

Singe said, “You do not have to be nasty, Garrett.”

I resisted a temptation to insist that I had the right. I related the highlights. “I don’t think the Watch has the whole gang. Colonel Block says there were ten guys in green and two more who were in charge. At the Bledsoe, though, I got the impression that there were more than that.”

Dean sucked in a gallon of air, set it free. “All I know is, those men serve A-Laf, some kind of masculine devil god. His cult has taken over in Ymber. It’s really aggressive and intolerant. The feminine cult of A-Lat was its big competitor. I told you what Penny had to say already.”

“And because she big-eye-orphaned you, you swallowed her story whole.”

“Admitted. Which doesn’t mean she was lying.”

“Don’t mean she was telling the truth, either. How do we get hold of her?”

Dean shrugged. “That’s up to her. I don’t think she’ll come back here. Not since she saw the Dead Man. That rattled her.”

“I’ll bet.” Hardly anybody wants to be around the Dead Man when he’s awake. If they know what he is. I have reservations myself. I continued. “Give me a guess about the connection with the Bledsoe. The Ugly Pants Gang is putting out a ton of money so they can put metal statues in the walls.”

Dean looked bewildered. “I don’t have any idea. This is the first I’ve heard.”

Singe brought me a cold mug of beer, reminding me that we had business of our own to attend.

She made sure surly little Melondie got a tiny cup to nurse, too. Always thoughtful, my pal Pular Singe. “So, darling junior junior partner. What do I need to know that nobody’s bothered to tell me yet?” Melondie Kadare piped, “You need to know that your goddamn superior friggin’ attitude needs a major adjustment, Biggie.”

“Ouch!”

Singe said, “She is giving you attitude because her tribe was most incompetent at gathering useful information. They were too busy stealing food, wine, beer, and small valuables to accomplish anything. “

That started Melondie on a classic rant. She sputtered and raved for eight or ten minutes. Her big problem was Singe’s being right. Her tribe had demonstrated a decided lack of discipline.

“Do you have any idea how the fires started?”

“No. I was outside.” She produced a fair picture of the encounter between the Ugly Pants crew and Playmate, Saucerhead Tharpe, and the drivers of sundry carriages. The good guys won by weight of numbers. Though Melondie thought the outlanders were sluggish, confused, and weak.

For no clear reason, and to his own astonishment, Dean announced, “It was dark, wasn’t it? ‘A-Lat’ means ‘Queen of the Night.’”

“Uh …” I mused. “I guess that’s handy to know.”

Not to be outdone, Singe promised, “John Stretch will have a better report once he gets his rats together.”

“That’s good,” I said. Not believing for an instant. The rats from Whitefield Hall couldn’t possibly remember details this long after having their brains scrambled by terror.

“It’s been a hard day,” I grumbled. “And it’s getting dangerous out there. I’d better not go drinking. So here’s my strategy. I’ll do my drinking and thinking here, after you all go to bed.”

Singe filled my mug. She refilled her own. Melondie tapped the rim of hers, an ivory thimble that came down to me from my mom.

23

Dean said, “It’s Colonel Block again.”

“Uhm?”

“At the door? You just told me to answer it? Remember?”

“Sir, I have no recollection of those events.” Making mock of a statement heard frequently in the High Court lately, as the Crown reluctantly prosecutes the most egregious disturbers of the peace involved in recent human rights rioting and minority persecution. The Crown Advocate’s usual attitude toward minorities is that they should expect to be treated like minorities. If they don’t like it, they shouldn’t come here in the first place.

Dean brought the Colonel to my office. I’d already settled in to sweet-talk Eleanor in fluent Drunkenese. I asked, “Don’t you ever take time off?”

Block isn’t married. He isn’t engaged. He isn’t the other kind, either. He has just one love. And she’s blind.

He romances her continuously, hoping she stays blind. He’ll be sorry someday.

“Uh …” It never occurred to him to step away and relax. “Go fishing.”

“I tried that once. I didn’t like it. But if you want to come along? …”

I flashed a yard of my most charming smile. “Point taken.” To go fishing you need to go out into the country. Where the wild bugs are, and the hungry critters, some of them as big as houses. I don’t go there, given a choice.

I did my time with the bloodsuckers and carnivores in the Corps. “You wanted to share something with me?”

“I was more hoping that you’d open up to me.”

“Naturally. You’re hoping I did Relway’s job for him and now, because I’m a civic-minded kind of guy, I’ll fill you in on anything that’s puzzling you. Like Relway don’t have a couple brigades of thugs to do his hoof work for him.”

“Good point, Garrett. But Deal isn’t on the inside. Deal somehow managed not to have even one friendly eye in the neighborhood when Belinda Contague held her summit at Whitefield Hall.”

I flashed another yard of charm. “I was you, I’d think about that. How could she flimflam the whole damned Watch? What did you do, all go roaring off to the far south side after a bunch of human rights nuts? Were there even any nuts down there?”

“An orchard full. They haven’t gone away. There was a bureaucratic screwup. The right hand didn’t keep the left posted. The people responsible have been reassigned to Bustee patrol.”

“And next time I visit the Al-Khar their identical twins will be sitting in their old seats.”

Block nodded, shrugged. “What can you do about human nature? We still have Watchmen willing to supplement their salaries by selling inside info or by doing favors.” He slumped like a jilted lover.

“That’s good. You can face the truth.”

“There’s a lot of wishful thinking at my shop. You’re right. But changes are coming.”

“I hope you’re right. Your guests in green say anything interesting yet?”

“Yeah. They’re gonna save the world from the Queen of Darkness.”

“Oh, goody! What’s that mean to us who aren’t religious wacks?”

“I don’t know. We’re looking for an expert on Ymberian cults. I want to know what’s really going on.”

That was why I admired Block. He understands that when people are involved, not much is what it seems at first glimpse. Though you never go wrong by suspecting the worst and working back.

Feeling generous, I talked about my thwarted visit to the Al-Khar. “They’re putting statues in the walls of the Bledsoe?”

“Not anymore. You’ve got most of them locked up.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I hope you’re just asking you. Because I have no idea.” I doubted the Green Pants guys really felt compelled to do charitable deeds. Old cynic, I. “I’m fishing. One must when dealing with you.”

“Here’s a notion. Assuming the Green Pants boys are religious gangsters, maybe the Bledsoe business has to do with their religion.”

Captain Block gaped. My leap of intuition stunned him. “I’ll be damned, Garrett. I take back everything I ever said about you. I bet
you
can find your toes without the Dead Man and Morley Dotes to show the way. You might even be able to count them without having to borrow an extra hand.”

“Oh! How sharper than a serpent’s tooth the cruel envy of a civil servant. Dean! We need a pot of tea.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll be going. I found out what I needed to know.”

That had a sinister edge. “Uhm?”

He didn’t explain. Which left my nerves with split ends. Which was his whole point.

“Here’s a thought, Garrett. Or two. Find Harvester Temisk before anyone else does. Then keep him away from the Combine.”

“Uhm?” You can count on Detective Garrett to spout argot and attitude and sparkling repartee.

“Deal has friends in low places. There’s a new trend in goombah thinking. They’re all asking, ‘Where’s Harvester Temisk?’ Even underbosses who aren’t sure who Temisk is are looking. They don’t want to get left behind. They haven’t done much yet because they’re all still nursing totally hairy hangovers.”

“They did party like it was their last shot before the Trumps of Doom.” I levered myself out of my chair, to take up guide duties so Block didn’t get lost on his way back to the door. He’s been known to do that. “Did you notice anyone watching the place when you got here? Besides Mrs. Cardonlos and the Watch goon squad operating out of her place?”

“Goon squad? You wound me, sir. The Watch employs only the cream of the cream of TunFaire’s most civic-minded subjects.” Denying nothing. “Tell you the truth, Garrett, I didn’t pay attention. That’s a luxury we’re starting to enjoy more.”

“What’s that?”

“Not having to give a damn who’s watching. Or why. Comes from knowing you’re doing such a good job your credit with the people who could fire you is inexhaustible.”

“Oh.” That was a message.

Somebody somewhere liked what the Watch was doing just fine.

“I’ll have the boys poke around under the stoops and in the breezeways.” I gave him a look at my raised eyebrow.

“All part of the service, Garrett. We maintain order and protect the public.” Out he went into the chaos of Macunado Street.

What had he come to find out? More disturbingly, what were the people behind him up to now that the war was over?

Soon after Block disappeared a stir passed through the neighborhood like an unexpected gust through a poplar grove. A dozen clean-cut men rousted out another dozen who looked much less obviously official.

Spider Webb was the only one I recognized.

I went back to my desk still wondering what Block had found out.

During my absence my teacup had been refilled. It must’ve been magic. I never heard a sound.

I picked up the egg-shaped stone one prime sample of rustic elegance had striven to sling through my skull. It didn’t feel as slick or greasy today. It felt warm, alive. Just holding it, fiddling with it, relaxed me. I slipped off into a nap.

24

When I wakened I ambled back into the kitchen in search of fuel.

Dean was darning socks and slow cooking a sauce involving tomatoes, spices, garlic, and shredded onions. He had an admirably large mug of wine in front of him, which was out of character. He splashed some into the sauce. Oh.

Singe had swilled enough beer to get silly. Time to order in a new backup keg. Melondie Kadare was in a state where she wasn’t much more than a sack of jelly, venting noises vaguely reminiscent of primitive language.

I said, “We need to lock Mel in a box until she dries out.”

Singe snickered. A sight to behold and a unique, gurgly sound to hear. She was feeling less pain than I’d first thought.

There were kittens all over. I couldn’t keep track. Dean said, “Get the front door. I’m too busy.”

His ears were sharper than mine. This guy must have mislaid his sledgehammer.

I was the only hind-legger able to navigate, so I snagged my mug and headed south. After a weary trek, o’er dale and under mountain, I positioned myself at my peephole.

One gorgeous, thoroughly frazzled, blue-eyed brunette had taken station on my stoop. I was surprised. I was more surprised to see that it was dark out. And still more surprised that she’d shown up without bodyguards or her ugly black coach. She wasn’t wearing her usual vampire wannabe look, either. She wasn’t stylish at all. She had gone lower-class, raggedy, housewifey instead of whorish.

I opened up. Eyeballing the darkness behind her, I observed, “A lot of work go into the new look?”

“Yes. You want to move so I can get in before somebody figures it out?”

I moved. Belinda got inside.

“You by yourself?” I was used to seeing her motate around with several shadows who resembled woolly mammoths operating on their hind legs.

“All by my lonesome. I don’t want anybody guessing I’m me. Not to mention that I lost my whole crew in the fire.”