Cruel Zinc Melodies

61

We decided that Barate Algarda and his daughter should follow the trail blazed by Rocky and the dwarves. They would go poke around the Faction clubhouse. They would evict the dwarves unless Rindt Grinblatt could show that he had done something especially useful.

They headed for the abandoned house, needing no guide. I stood around enjoying the fact that the snowfall consisted of fat, random globs that were not accumulating. If this kept up I shouldn’t have to do any shoveling.

Most excellent.

‘‘You have no idea how lucky you are,’’ Morley Dotes told me. As I considered Furious Tide of Light through the aforementioned random flakes.

‘‘Sir?’’

‘‘If Tinnie saw you come out of that shack, with that woman, with that look on your face . . .’’

‘‘That woman, with her father right there?’’

‘‘You honestly think that would make a difference?’’

‘‘Maybe.’’ If a brace of nuns had been in there, too. ‘‘She’s growing up. We both are.’’ Me whistling past the graveyard.

He gazed the direction I did. ‘‘Pity I’m single. Pity you’re not.’’

He must not have gotten the word. ‘‘You know who she is?’’

‘‘I’m sure you’re going to scare me off by telling me.’’

‘‘She goes by Furious Tide of Light.’’

It took a second. People off the Hill seldom cross his path as objects of amorous intent.

Him turning off the interest was like a lantern damping down. ‘‘You had to tell me.’’

‘‘You’re my bestest pal. I don’t want to see you turned into a big old hairy-ass hoppy toad.’’

‘‘You had to tell me. So. Why is a Hill-type bundle of heat getting heads-together with you?’’

‘‘She has a daughter. A teenager. One of the kids whose experiments blessed us with the giant bugs.’’ There weren’t any of those around right then. ‘‘She wants to make sure the kid is covered.’’

‘‘Typical.’’ He frowned at something behind me. I heard the measured clop-clop of a team approaching, along with the rattle of iron rims on cobblestones.

I turned mainly because Morley looked like he dearly hoped I wouldn’t.

I knew that big black coach. I’d ridden in it. I recognized the men up there on the driver’s seat. I didn’t know the footmen running at the corners but I knew their type. ‘‘Now, what would she be doing here?’’

‘‘She,’’ being Belinda Contague.

Belinda was not a complication I needed. Ever, anymore.

Belinda didn’t necessarily share my attitude.

It can be tough to argue with Miss Contague.

Morley isn’t often at a loss for words. He made an exception now. He stumbled around, hunting for a plausible answer. Failed. Decided to try the truth. ‘‘She’s my angel. She’s providing my financing.’’

‘‘You know what you’re doing?’’ Getting involved with the Contagues wouldn’t bolster his reputation. His places have always been neutral territory. Whoever you are, whatever your associations or alliances, you don’t have to worry about your back. Morley will watch it.

‘‘I hope so, Garrett. It’s supposed to be a straight-up deal. Front money for forty percent of the net. If word doesn’t get around I can keep it the way it’s always been.’’

He wasn’t convinced, though. He could see what I saw. Right here, right now, there were nine people who knew something was up. I could trust me not to speculate with my friends. But how about those footmen and the guys up on the coach? What about the dark lady herself?

How many times had Belinda tried to make it look like I’d sold out and was on the Outfit’s payroll?

Only plus I could see was, Belinda had no reason to cut Morley down. She saw a chance to get a piece of a lucrative business.

Hell, I could see a whole row of small businesses popping up if the World itself took off.

If, maybe, Heather Soames came up with some stage talent that wasn’t all amateur wannabe.

No point me going on at Morley about it. He’d still be busy debating with himself.

I couldn’t fathom his reasoning. Unless he was in truly bad odor with his debts everywhere else. He’d explain. Someday. Maybe.

Belinda Contague descended from the coach. She was beautiful, her skin pale as death, her lips painted scarlet, her hair uncovered, black and glossy as a raven’s wing. The rest couldn’t be cataloged because she was in winter dress. But, believe me, it was outstanding. I’d seen it all. And still regretted my weakness.

It gave her the idea she had a claim.

She beckoned.

I looked around to see who might watch me talking to the daughter of death.

Morley said, ‘‘You don’t have to tag along.’’

‘‘That summons included both of us. I’m on thin ice with her already. I’m not going to set her off. If she’s in one of her moods.’’

Belinda is crazy. Psycho killer crazy. Masking it with intelligence and beauty. In a rational world they’d keep her in a cage without a door. Instead, she’s the overlord of the syndicate that manages organized crime. She has at her disposal any tool needful to indulge any whim her madness tosses up.

‘‘What have I told you about avoiding women crazier than you are?’’

‘‘Hard to remember in the heat of the moment, sometimes.’’

‘‘But you’re unafraid. Fearless Garrett, champion of the disenfranchised and downtrodden.’’

‘‘That’s me. Absolutely. Lately having developed enough bruises to suspect there’s no need to push for another unnecessary round of hurt.’’ When it only takes a touch of manners to avoid the pain.

Morley gave me a look that told me I was so full of it my baby blues had just turned brown. But he didn’t pursue it. For now. We were too near the dire woman.

He was out in the wild and woolly himself, setting himself up to grab what might be the stinky end of a deal with the Outfit.

Belinda smiled. There might even have been some warmth behind the surface pretense. She’s always had a feeling for me. I’ve saved her from herself several times. Unfortunately, she isn’t the sort to let sentiment get in the way at throat-cutting time.

That’s part of what makes the woman scary. The fact that the machinery inside her noggin doesn’t work like anybody else’s. You never know what might set her off.

She uses that, of course. Like a sledgehammer.

And she has a few fears of her own. Especially Deal Relway. The Outfit has traditionally shaped law enforcement with carrot and stick. An incorruptible like the Director is one man. He could be removed if he became too obnoxious.

But Relway won’t let that happen.

Several dim candle baddies have gotten the Director stuck in their craws already. They all choked on him when they tried to swallow.

They overlooked the fact that he has a bigger gang and is as ruthless as any of them.

Civil and conversational, I asked, ‘‘What brings you to the wicked part of town?’’

‘‘Bad boys. You know how I love them.’’ She sneered at my queasy look. ‘‘Not to worry. You’re not on the spot. I came to look at my new investment.’’ She touched my arm in an intimate way. I managed not to flinch. ‘‘I’m looking for legitimate ventures.’’ Big smile. ‘‘This will be my first.’’

I didn’t disagree. But the Combine does have interests in a lot of legitimate businesses. They force their way into some. On the other hand, whatever he pretends to the world at large, Morley is not entirely legit. He wouldn’t keep the company he does if he were.

Belinda made me sweat with her too-friendly gestures on a public street. While Morley pointed out the place he had chosen and explained why it was perfect for serving the theater crowd. Then Belinda let me off the hook. ‘‘Just messing with you, sweetheart. I know Tinnie won the race.’’

‘‘Uh . . .’’ All right. That would work. For now.

‘‘I couldn’t live with myself if it turned out to be my fault all that planning went to waste.’’

‘‘Huh?’’ Conscience? Didn’t know she knew the word. Decided not to ask if she knew its meaning.

‘‘Not to worry, buddy. All you have to do is show up, on time, sober enough to stand, without a date.’’

My best pal looked at me like I’d sprouted a facial toadstool. A psychedelic toadstool, from the magnitude of his double take.

The beautiful woman unacquainted with mercy laughed. She headed for the place Morley had indicated. I retreated to the theater side of the street. Where I found Puddle and Morley’s other man considering their boss nervously. Puddle said, ‘‘I don’t like dis, Garrett. I don’ like it a’tall.’’

‘‘Got me a little less than excited, too, Puddle. Makes me wonder what’s happening inside his head.’’ But that wasn’t my problem. The World was. I needed to concentrate on that. I was making some headway. At last.