Deadly Quicksilver Lies (34 page)

I tried not to disappoint him but kept it short and got out. He wasn’t much interested. Didn’t even ask much about the Tops. He was preoccupied with the racial strife.

I headed for home. I didn’t manage to leave the bird of doom behind. For no obvious reason, that breathing feather duster didn’t have much to say. Even while we’d been locked up he’d held it down most of the time.

Maybe he was sick. Maybe he had some terminal bird disease. I couldn’t be that lucky.

Dean didn’t respond when I pounded on my front door. Irked, I used my key, went in and stomped around hollering and cussing till I was convinced the old boy wasn’t there after all. There was no sign he’d come back.

Huh? How’d the bird get loose?

Add another puzzle. Why hadn’t Emerald taken advantage of my extended absence? The kitchen suggested that she had visited several times and was less than fanatical about order and cleanliness. But she hadn’t tried to bust out.

Strange.

Stranger still, T. G. Parrot went to his perch without a squawk.

That was more than strange. It was suspicious.

“Justina? I need to tell you something.” It wasn’t going to be easy.

She was seated on Dean’s bed. She looked at me without emotion but with what seemed too-knowing eyes.

Straight ahead seemed the best way. I told her.

She continued to look at me, apparently unsurprised.

But she did love her mother — despite knowing the truth about Maggie Jenn and Grange Cleaver. She broke.

I held her while the tears flowed. She accepted that but nothing more and never said a word, even while I led her to the front door and told her she was free to go.

“Chip off the old blockhead,” I muttered, a little put out, as I watched her fade into the crowds. “Oh, but she was beautiful, though.”

I was in no way pleased with the case. I don’t like unhappy endings even though they’re the most common kind. And I wasn’t certain that much had been settled or wrapped up.

78

I locked myself in. I didn’t answer the door. I just used the peephole whenever some sociopath compulsively exercised his knuckles. I argued with the Goddamn Parrot. That squawking squab was slower than normal but nailed me with the occasional zinger.

Suspiciouser and suspiciouser.

Ever bold in the face of despair, I sent a letter up the Hill. Never got so much as a “Drop dead!” back.

And I’d just about decided Chaz was the lady for me. Oh, well. Live and learn.

I asked Eleanor, “Don’t know what she’s missing, does she?” That killed the ache, boy.

I swear Eleanor sneered. I could about hear her whisper, “Maybe she does.”

I got the distinct feeling Eleanor thought it was time I stopped being stubborn about not apologizing to Tinnie Tate for whatever it was I didn’t know I did, or maybe never did.

“Or I could look Maya up. She looked good the other night. And she’s got her head on straight.” Eleanor’s smile threatened to become a grin.

I broke training once, allowed one special visitor inside. You couldn’t refuse the kingpin of crime. Belinda Contague spent an enigmatic half hour at my kitchen table. I didn’t disabuse her of her notion that, with the invaluable assistance of my acquaintance Morley Dotes, I’d engineered the fall of Grange Cleaver just for her. I guess for old time’s sake.

She’s one spooky black widow of a gal, bones of ice. Probably a real good idea she decided we should stay “just friends.” Anything else could turn fatal.

Belinda expressed herself the one way she knew well, learned at daddy Chodo’s knee. She gave me a little sack of gold. I passed it quickly into the Dead Man’s care.

The Rainmaker business had been profitable, anyway.

Days slipped away. I sneaked out on several little errands, each time discovering that I still had one watcher on me. Becky Frierka was determined to collect her dinner. I saw no evidence her mother discouraged her from dating older men.

Mostly I kept it up with the bird and Eleanor, then went to reading with a frown that threatened permanent headache. I began to think Dean wasn’t coming home and Winger might actually have the sense to stay away from me. Or maybe her luck had run out.

“It’s gotten awful damned quiet,” I told Eleanor. “Kind of like in those stories where some dope says, ‘It’s
too
quiet...’”

Someone knocked.

Starved for real conversation, I scurried toward the door. Hell, a night out with Becky didn’t sound that bad anymore.

I peeked. “Well!” Things were looking up. I yanked the door open. “Linda Lee Luther. You lovely thing. I was just thinking about you.”

She smiled uncertainly.

I grinned. “I’ve got something for you.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

“You’re way too young and beautiful to be so cynical.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Can’t possibly be mine. Come on in here. Got a story to tell you.”

Linda Lee came in but made sure that I saw she still had her cynical face on. And that after she’d come all the way down to see me.

The Goddamn Parrot let out a whoop. “Hey, mama! Shake it up!”

“Stifle it, catfood.” I closed the door to the small front room. “You interested in a new pet?” So happened I knew she had a cat.

“If I wanted one that talks, I’d pick up a sailor.”

“Marines are way more interesting.” I set us up in the kitchen, which was clean. Life had been that slow. I poured Linda Lee a brandy. She nursed that while I talked about the Rainmaker business.

One of Linda Lee’s less blatant charms is her ability to listen. She doesn’t interrupt and she does pay attention. She didn’t comment until I paused to freshen my beer and pour her a dribble more brandy. Then she cut right to it. “What did you find when you went back?”

“Wreckage. The Guard tore the Tops up. Sending a message to the Call. Most of the Venageti were still there. They didn’t know where to run. Guys like them could turn out to be another big headache. Come on to my office.”

She gave me a kind of puzzled look, like my office was the last place she expected to be lured. She stretched like a cat as she left her chair. Woo!

I got my breathing under control. “Plop it into that chair.” I squeezed around and into mine, dropped a hand down under my desk, dragged out one of those masterpieces that had been giving me wrinkles. “Look at this.”

“Oh, Garrett!” She squealed. She bounced up and down. She squealed some more, jiggling deliriously all the while. “You found it!” She dashed around the desk and hopped into my lap. “You great big wonderful hero.”

Who am I to complain? I had an idiot bird in the next room covering that. He went to carrying on like he was being murdered. I smirked and surrendered to Linda Lee’s excitement.

When she paused to catch her breath, I leaned down and coaxed another book out of hiding. “Apparently nobody who knew those were there survived the excitement at the Tops. None of the interested parties thought to check, either.” At least they hadn’t before the notion came to me.

“This is a true first, too! I’ve never seen a
Raging Blades
before. Where did they find it?”

“It’s the book Emerald stole from her mother. Her mother stole it from Firelord Direheart. No telling who he stole it from. The boys at Wixon and White got it away from Emerald somehow, but she complained to her pals in the Call. That wasn’t real bright, but how many kids her age, spoiled the way she was, have a full ration of sense?”

Linda Lee snuggled down and opened the book.

“Wish you’d treat me that tenderly,” I observed.

“Oh, no. I’m not going to be tender at all.” She purred and turned a page.

I stretched down and retrieved the third book of the trilogy.

“
The Battle-Storm!
Garrett! Nobody’s had a complete set for three hundred years.” She let
Raging Blades
fall into her lap and grabbed
Battle-Storm
. I leaned back, relaxed, felt smug.

I got so relaxed I almost dozed off while Linda Lee sighed over her treasures.

A squeal of fury ripped me out of a reverie wherein I stood idly by while my old pal Winger enjoyed her just deserts. “What?” Silly me, for a second I thought she’d stumbled onto the secret of Eagle’s treasure.

“This is a forgery! Garrett, look at this page. It shows a watermark that didn’t appear till two centuries after Eagle’s sagas were recorded.” She seemed totally deflated.

“You were floating a yard off the floor when you only thought you had your
Steel-Game
back. Now you’ve got two originals and a copy...”

“Grrr! Yeah, you’re right. But it really makes me mad. It isn’t really all a copy or forgery. Part is original. You see what they did? They took out some pages and replaced them with forgeries.”

I showed more interest then. I leaned over. She was examining the book I’d seen at Wixon and White, not, as I’d expected,
The Battle-Storm
. “Emerald’s book. Any idea how long ago it was altered?”

“The paper is old. It’s just not as old as it ought to be. And if you look really close at the ink, you can see it isn’t nearly as faded as it should be.”

“Never mind the paper, love. I wanted old paper I’d steal an old book somewhere and scrape some pages down.” Which is what master forgers do when a document has to look old.

“Oh. You’re right.” She studied the book some more. “I’d guess it was done quite recently. Somebody dismantled it, then put it back together with the new pages but couldn’t match the original thread. This looks like a standard bindery thread like what we use at the library.” She got after the other two books. “Damn! This
Battle-storm
isn’t even a first. It’s early, though. Maybe a student’s copy of the Weisdal Illumination. And look! Somebody’s tampered with
Steel-Game
, too. This whole signature is a replacement. They’re going to hang me out, Garrett. This book was all right before it was stolen.”

Interesting. It occurred to me to wonder if Emerald Jenn wasn’t just as clever and conniving as the woman who’d borne her. “You do have a copy, though. Don’t you? Squirreled away, just in case?”

Linda Lee scowled. “Maybe.”

“Of course you do. It might be interesting to compare texts.”

Up front the Goddamn Parrot started having a fit. Sounded like he was laughing.

Linda Lee hugged a book to her chest with one hand, gulped the rest of her brandy. “I need you to walk me back to the library.”

“Right now?” Boy, don’t whimper.

“There’s nobody there.” She took a big key out of a pocket in her skirt. “They’re gone for the weekend.”

My white knight side took over. “Of course I’ll go with you. People kill people because of these books.”

I locked my door, pranced down to the street. I waved to Mrs. Cardonlos. She hoisted her nose so fast she threw her neck out of joint. Then I stuck my tongue out at my own house.

I was sure the gesture wasn’t wasted.

79

Two days passed. I was distinctly distracted when I headed home. I entertained only one non-nostalgic thought during the walk home. Was I the only sucker who hadn’t known about the tampering with the books? Was that why nobody raced to the Tops after the Guard cleared out?

My door opened as I dug for my key. An old guy about as impressive as Ivy glared out at me. “About time you made an appearance. You turned this place into a shambles. The cupboards are bare. You didn’t leave me a groat to shop with.”

Beyond him, the Goddamn Parrot went to work on me, too.

“I had a feeling my luck wouldn’t last.”

“What?”

“You didn’t stay lost.” He’d aged, it seemed. Must have been rough work, keeping reality from setting in on the young couple. “You know where the money is.”

He didn’t like getting close to the Dead Man so he’d moped around hoping to con me. He didn’t say so, though. “And you let someone use my bed.”

“Couple of someones. And a good thing you took your time getting back. Your heart couldn’t have taken being around the last one. You going to let me get into my own house? It’s too early to be out here.” My master plan included half a dozen hours in my own bed. I’d had to vacate the library at that wormcatcher time of day when only abnormals like Dean are awake.

“Mr. Tharpe is here.”

“Saucerhead? Now?” Tharpe’s attitude is more flexible than mine, but he isn’t fond of getting out while there’s still dew in the shade.

“He arrived moments ago. Inasmuch as you were expected shortly, I settled him in the kitchen with a cup of tea.” Not to mention with most of the meager supplies I’d laid in recently, I discovered.

Saucerhead seldom lets a polite refusal get between him and a free meal.

I settled myself. Dean poured tea. I asked Tharpe, “What gives?”

“Message from Winger.”

“Really?”

“She needs some help.” He had trouble keeping a straight face.

“I can’t argue with that. What’s her problem? And why should I give a rat’s whisker?”

Tharpe snickered. “Her problem is she needs somebody to bail her out of the Al-Khar. Seems she got caught digging around inside a certain country home and couldn’t con the Guard into believing that she lived there. In fact, they were on the lookout for a big blonde who might be able to tell them something about what had happened there.”

“I love it. But how did you find out? You sound like Colonel Block.”

“Block came around to Morley’s place on account of he couldn’t find you here.”

“Why’d he want me?” I could guess. Some little question about events at the Tops.

“He said on account of Winger claimed you as her next of kin when they asked who to notify she was inside so she could make bail or get bribe money for the turnkeys or whatever.”

“I see.” Boy did I believe that.

“And I went up and seen her. She already got into it with some screw thought he ought to collect special favors. Broke his arm.”

“They charged her with anything?”

Tharpe shook his head. “Relway’s just trying to squeeze her about what went down. But you know Winger. She’s gonna be stubborn.”