Old Tin Sorrows

27

I walked straight through to the front of the house, past the dueling champions and all the dead Stantnors. I'd been in that stable longer than I'd thought. Saucerhead was way overdue unless I'd guessed badly about how long it would take to recruit a doctor and jump a couple of fences through hoops.

I stepped out the front door. My burns, not bad, made their presence felt. I hoped that doctor would have something for the sting.

Nothing in sight. "Saucerhead, what's holding you up? How long does it take to twist a guy's arm?"

A few raindrops hit the steps leading to the porch. I glanced at the sky. Old slabs of lead again. I wondered if the Stantnor place ever had any other kind. It was getting to me.

The wind was rising. That wouldn't do the firefighters any good. Maybe their best hope was that the rain wouldn't play around.

It did become a steady fall. Not quite a downpour, but it should help. I guess that took fifteen minutes to develop. The wind started gusting, throwing water onto the porch. I started to retreat. A coach came out of the rain.

That damned Saucerhead. Now it was a hired coach.

It pulled up. People tumbled out. Peters galloped up the steps, followed by a tall, distinguished character whom I presumed to be the doctor. A weasely little character followed him, then Saucerhead and Morley Dotes. I asked Morley, "Where the hell you been? I been trying to find you all morning."

He gave me a funny look. "Home taking care of business."

Saucerhead interrupted, "Let's do it, Garret. This here is Doc Stones." He indicated the weasely guy. Which goes to show you what it's worth, judging by appearances. "He'll get an arm and leg off you for this. That's your fence there. We got an agreement. No names."

"Fine with me. As long as he points a finger. Peters. Let's get upstairs."

Peters wore a puzzled look. "What's happening?"

"Somebody tried to burn the stable down. With me inside. Let's go. Doc, you got anything to take the sting out of burns?"

We moved inside as I asked. Saucerhead asked me, "You want to give him the other arm and leg?"

"What took you so damned long, anyway?" Peters led the way, headed for the stairs.

"Morley. He fooled around finding a doc he thought would look like a fence's partner."

That made sense. "Yeah. I guess I can appreciate that. Morley, I thought you were going to prowl around the house, do the stuff I don't have time to do because I've got to be on stage all the time."

He looked at me funny again, like I was maybe talking too much. So did Peters. Dotes said, "I did what I could, Garrett. But I have a business to run and not a whole lot of time to spend working on the cuff."

"But I heard you come in and go out a couple times."

He stopped. "I roamed around an hour after you hit the sack, didn't find squat, decided I better get back and see if Wedge had robbed me while my back was turned. I didn't go back to your room."

I shuddered. The old cold rats pranced up and down my back. "You didn't?"

"No."

"Oh, my. But I'd swear I even saw you once."

"It wasn't me."

I was sure. I'd gotten up to use the chamberpot. I'd even grumbled a hello and gotten something growled in return. I told him that.

"It wasn't me, Garrett. I went home." Dotes said it in a flat, disturbed voice.

"I'll take your word for it." My voice was just as flat. "So who was it?"

"Shape-changer?"

I'd run into one of those before. I didn't want to do that again. "How? Changers have to kill the people they mimic. Then they absorb their souls, or whatever. And even then they can't always fool people who knew them."

"Yes. And this one had me pat?"

"I was pretty damned tired. There was only one lamp burning. And I just walked through, not paying that much attention. But I'd have sworn it was you."

"I don't like this. It makes me nervous, Garrett. Real nervous."

Me too, yeah boy. All we needed was some villain prancing around able to pretend he was somebody else. That would complicate things real good.

Morley was just concerned about Morley Dotes, not everything else. He had troubles enough in life without having somebody else running around doing dirty deeds in his name and face.

I had a broader perspective on it. If somebody here could fake Morley, he could fake me or anybody else, any time. So none of us could ever be sure who we were dealing with. Which undermined the roots of reality. Some fun coming up.

Morley suggested, "You'd better get out while you still can."

I was tempted. Tempted like I've never been tempted before. But, "I can't. I took the job. If I quit because it's getting tough, it won't be that long before I find some good reason to drop another one. That happens a couple times and I won't get work at all."

He politely refrained from mentioning the fact that I spend most of my energy avoiding work. "Figured you'd say something like that. So. Let's get on with it. I want out of here even if you don't." He started up the final flight of stairs. "You drink much milk, Garrett?"

"No. Beer."

"I sort of figured."

"Why?" The others watched us like we were a road show.

"Not sure what it is about milk. But it's good for the teeth and bones and brain. A man who drinks milk always has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Beer guzzlers get increasingly feeble in that area."

He was dressing up a cautionary message as one of his crackpot dietary theories. That way it was easier to tell me he was afraid I was in way over my head.

Peters said, "I don't know what you're talking about, Garrett. I don't much care. But I do think we ought to get on with it." He stared at the glass at the rear of the house. The glow from the burning stable shone through. He looked like he wanted to rush off and get involved.

"Right. Go get the old man set." I stared at the firelight while the rest moved toward the General's suite.

"Garrett!"

"Coming."

I caught a glimpse of the blonde across the way, behind a pillar. She smiled and looked like she might wave back if I started it.

I growled and headed down the hall.

Her portrait was one I'd saved from the flames. I'd bring it in and ask some questions. And I was, by damn, going to get some answers.

I was getting tired of being nice.