Old Tin Sorrows

22

It seemed I'd just drifted off when somebody started pounding on the door—though the light through the window said otherwise. I cursed whomever and rolled over. I'm not at my best when wakened prematurely.

In the process of rolling I cracked my eyes. What I saw didn't register. It was impossible. I wriggled into the down, the old hound searching for perfect comfort.

I sat up like I'd gotten a pin in the sitter.

The blonde smiled faintly as she drifted out my bedroom door. I didn't even yell, I just gaped.

She'd been sitting on the edge of the bed looking at me. She'd gotten in without getting carved up. I checked the booby trap. It sat there looking back, loaded and ready to splash blood over half a county if some villain should cooperate and trip it. Just sitting here waiting, boss.

And the door was open.

It hadn't worked.

That gave me the spine chills. Suppose it hadn't been my lovely midnight admirer? Suppose it had been somebody with a special gift? I imagined being stuck to the bed like a bug with a pin through him.

By the time I got through the supposes and lumbered out of the bedroom, the blonde was gone. Without having used the hall door, where some obnoxious fellow was pounding away, trying to get my attention. He'd gotten my goat already.

I collected my head-knocker and went to see who wanted me up at such an unreasonable hour—whatever hour it was.

"Dellwood. What's happened now?"

"Sir? Oh. Nothing's happened. You were supposed to see the General this morning, sir."

"Yeah. Sorry. I was too busy snoring to remember. Missed breakfast, didn't I? Hell. I needed to diet anyway. Give me ten minutes to get presentable."

He looked at me like he thought it might take me a year longer than that. "Yes sir. I'll meet you there, sir."

"Great."

I'm getting old. It took more than ten minutes. It was twenty before I started hoofing it across the loft to the old man's wing. I wondered about the blonde. I wondered about Morley. I wondered why I didn't just go home. These people were nuts. Whatever I did, I wasn't going to strike any blow for truth and justice. Ought to fade away and come back in a year, see how things stood then.

I was in a great mood.

Dellwood was waiting in the hallway outside the General's door. He let me in. The preliminaries followed routine. Dellwood went out. Kaid followed after making sure the fire was the size and heat of the one that's going to end the world. I sweated. The General suggested, "Sit down."

I sat. "Did Dellwood bring you up to date?"

"The events of the night? He did. Do you have any idea what happened? Or why?"

"Yes. Surprisingly." I told him about Snake's whisper, our date, how I'd found him. "Dellwood suggested the cord might have come from this room."

"Kef sidhe? Yes. I have one. Inherited from my grandfather. He collided with the cult around the turn of the century, when he was a young lieutenant sent to battle the crime rings on the waterfront. They were bad back then. One of the nonhuman crime lords had imported some sidhe killers. The cord should be there with the whips and such."

I checked. "Not here now." I wasn't racked with amazement. Neither was he. "Who could have gotten it?"

"Anyone. Anytime. I haven't paid attention to it in years."

"Who knew what it was?"

"Everybody's heard me maunder on about my grandfather's adventures. And about the adventures of every other Stantnor who ever was. Since my son's death there's been no future to look to. So I relive the glories of the past."

"I understand, sir. He was a good officer."

He brightened. "You served under him?"

Careful, Garrett. Or you'll spend your stay having the old boy bend your ear. "No sir. But I knew men who did. They spoke well of him. That says plenty." Considering how enlisted men discuss their officers.

"Indeed." He knew. He drifted off to another time, when everyone was happier—or at least he remembered them being happier. The mind is a great instrument for redesigning history.

He came back suddenly. Apparently the past wasn't all roses either. "A disastrous night. Talk to me about those dead men."

I gave him my theory about Snake having raised them.

"Possible," he said. "Entirely possible. Invisible Black was the sort of bitch who'd think it an amusing practical joke to arm an untutored Marine with the weapons to accomplish something like that."

The name meant nothing to me except that another sorceress had adopted a ridiculous handle. Her real name was probably Henrietta Sledge.

"Have you nothing positive to report, Mr. Garrett?"

"Not yet."

"Any suspects?"

"No sir. Everybody. I'm having trouble making sense of the situation. I don't know the people well enough yet."

He looked at me like he was thinking I should be living up to one of those Corps mottos like "The difficult we do immediately, the impossible takes a minute longer."

"What will you do now?"

"Poke around. Talk to people till I get hold of something. Shake it. I had one thought during the night. The man who's been picking the rest off could be one who apparently left you—if he thought he could turn up for the reading of your will."

"No sir. Each man executed an agreement when he joined me in retirement. To remain eligible he'd have to remain here."

I lost some respect for him there. He'd bribed them and indentured them so he wouldn't be alone. He was no philanthropist. His motives were completely selfish.

General Stantnor was a mask. Behind it was someone who wasn't very nice.

I wouldn't call it an epiphany but it was an intuition that felt true. This was a mean-spirited old man in a carefully crafted disguise.

I examined him more closely. His color wasn't good this morning. His respite was over. He was on the road to hell again.

I reminded myself it wasn't my place to judge.

Then I reminded myself that when I remind myself, what I'm doing is looking for justification.

Someone knocked. That saved me confusion and stole the General's opportunity to get righteous.

I'd sensed that coming.

"Enter."

Dellwood opened the door. "There's a Mr. Tharpe to see Mr. Garrett."

The General looked at me. I told him. "That's the man I had trying to trace certain items."

"Bring him up, Dellwood."

Dellwood closed the door. I asked, "Here?"

"Is he likely to report something you don't want me to hear?"

"No. It just seemed an inconvenience to you."

"Not at all."

Hell. He was fishing for entertainment again. He didn't care what Saucerhead had to tell me, much. He just didn't want to be alone.

"Mr. Garrett, could I impose on you to build the fire a little?"

Damn. I was hoping he wouldn't notice it was down to a volcanic level. I wondered if Kaid had a full-time job just hauling in fuel.

Saucerhead arrived lugging a bag. In his paw it seemed small. He hulks like a cave bear. Dellwood seemed a little intimidated. The old man was impressed. He cracked, "Cook sees him, she'll fall in love." That was the first I'd heard him try for humor. "That'll be all, Dellwood." Dellwood got out.

Saucerhead wiped his brow and said, "Why don't you open a goddamned window? Who's the old prune, Garrett?"

"The principal. Be nice."

"Right."

"What's up?" I was surprised he'd make a trip out, considering what he was getting paid.

"I maybe found some of the stuff." He dumped the sack on the writing table. Silver candlesticks. They wouldn't have been remarkable if silver hadn't become important lately.

"General?" I asked. "This your stuff?"

"Look on their bases. If they belong to the family, there'll be a seahorse chop beside the smith's."

I looked. Little sea critters. "We have a lead, looks like. What's the story, Saucerhead?"

Saucerhead has a kind of pipsqueak voice when he's just making conversation. Doesn't go with his size at all. He said, "I was jawing with some guys at Morley's last night, bitching about the job. Looked like it wasn't going anywhere. Talking about this and that, you know how it is. Then this one guy asks did I think there might be a reward for the stuff. I didn't know, you never told Morley if there was or not, so I said maybe and did he know something?"

"To make a long story short?"

"He knew some fences I didn't. Outside guys. So this morning I go to check them. First one I hit, he has the sticks. We talk a little, I threaten a little, he blusters a little, I make mention of how I know he don't have a connection with the kingpin and I happen to know Chodo personal, would he like me to arrange an introduction? All of a sudden he's eager to help. He loans me the sticks. I promise to bring them back."

Which meant he would and, if the General tried to grab them, Saucerhead would walk through him and the rest of the house. He keeps his promises.

"Got you. Can the fence finger the thief?"

"He don't know squat. Bought the stuff wholesale from somebody out in the country. He'll sell the wholesaler's name."

"Did you follow that, General?"

"I believe so. This dealer in stolen goods bought the candlesticks from another dealer closer to home, here. For a price he'll sell the man out."

"That's it."

"Go beat it out of him."

"It doesn't work that way, General. He offered a straight deal. We should follow through on those terms."

"Deal with criminals as though they were honorable men?"

"You have all your life, with those bandits off the Hill. But let's not argue. We have a lead. We could settle the theft problem today. Saucerhead. How much does he want?"

I was thinking long-term now. An unconnected fence? He'd need friends. He could be nurtured and stroked on the head and maybe become a good source someday. If he stayed alive. People aren't scared of fences the way they're scared of Morley Dotes or Chodo Contague.

Saucerhead named a price that was pleasantly low. "It's a bargain, General. Go with it. How much more are you willing to lose to avoid spending a few marks?"

"Collect from Dellwood. He handles the household monies."

That sounded like a cue for me to get away from a place where I was uncomfortable. "I'll take care of this, sir."

Maybe Stantnor sensed my discomfort. He didn't protest. But there was a glimmer of hurt in his eyes.

I'd never seen it in an old person before, but I'm not around them much. I'd seen it in children, the pain when an adult doesn't have time to be bothered with them.

That hit me in the spot where I think of myself as one of the good guys. Guilt. Its lack is something I envy Morley. Morley never feels guilty. Morley does what he wants or has to do and is puzzled by the behavior of those of us who had mothers. Where does it come from, that niggling little nasty?