Whispering Nickel Idols

30

I leaned into the Dead Man’s room. “You awake enough to reach somebody a block away?”

Be more specific.

“I just took a look out front. If you can reach a block, you can nab a character called Skelington, who works for Teacher White.”

Where?

I described the spot.

It may be that I am not sufficiently awake. If that bird was here, I could send him out and ride along.

“Gotcha.” He wanted me to go out there. “Don’t be surprised if Skelington runs when he sees me coming, though.”

At this point in your career you should be capable of making an unthreatening approach.

No point debating. “I’m on my way.” I hitched my pants, patted myself down. I had an adequate low-intensity arsenal on board.

I was ready.

The weather drama was over, but a drizzle continued. Not a day when I’d work if Himself weren’t back there with a sharp stick, poking.

Skelington was less thrilled to be out than I. Huddled in misery, he failed to see me coming till it was too late.

I told myself, “That went well,” as Skelington entered my house. Maybe drizzly weather wasn’t all bad, after all.

Nobody was at home at Saucerhead’s place. He hadn’t been seen since yesterday. So he hadn’t gone home from my place. I left a message mentioning the possibility of paid work.

Winger wasn’t in her usual haunts. I couldn’t run her down at home because I didn’t know where she lived. I left word that Garrett had cash for her if she came to my house.

I couldn’t think of a scheme to lure Block or Relway.

I strolled past Morley’s place. Sarge was out front doing some wet-weather sweeping, pushing litter and horse apples over in front of a neighbor’s dump. He showed me a scowl so black I waved and kept rolling. Just passing through. Didn’t have no notion to drop in.

At Harvester Temisk’s place two no-neck types muttered to one another about the chances of snow. I didn’t recognize them. I did spot a familiar Relway Runner keeping an eye on the two brunos.

Not once during my icy-drizzle-down-the-back-of-my-neck wanderings did I spot Penny Dreadful. Which goes to show that even a fourteen-year-old girl has better sense.

Belinda I disregarded. I had no idea where to look for her nor any notion where to leave a message.

I wandered over to Playmate’s stable, just to get in out of the miseries.

“Garrett, you look like that thing they talk about the cat dragging in.” Playmate was banging hot iron in the smithy of his stable. Building horseshoes. Weather got in because he hadn’t repaired all the damage done during some excitement we were involved in not long ago. He grumbled about not having the money.

Money couldn’t be the problem. He had points in the same manufactory I did.

“Us honest folk got to work no matter what the weather is like.”

Play whopped a hot horseshoe. “You make me regret that I’ve heard a calling, Garrett. Sometimes I want to cut loose and tell you how full of the stinky you are. This is one of those times.”

“How come everybody does me that way, Play?”

“Everybody knows you.”

I grumbled but didn’t remind him that I was always there when any of them needed something.

“So to what do I owe the honor of your presence? What favor do you want now?”

“Nothing. Except to get in out of the rain. I’m headed somewhere else.”

“Why aren’t you home resting up for an evening of debauchery?”

“The Dead Man is awake.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“You see? You’re forewarned. The only guy in this cesspool of a city who is. So don’t pass it along.”

“I said thank you. Want some tea? There’s water.” He never lacks for heat in the smithy.

“Sure. Hey. You have any idea what happened to Antik Oder, used to have a storefront down the street?”

“Aha! So now we get to it.”

“To what? The Dead Man wants a witch. Elderberry Whine kicked off when I wasn’t looking.”

Playmate made tea, his grin ivory in a mahogany sea. “Antik is still there. She isn’t what you’re looking for, though.”

“Why not?”

“She’s a fraud.”

I grunted, sipped tea. “There’s something in this.”

“I dribbled in a dollop of vanilla rum.”

I’m not big on hard liquor, but this was good. I rendered myself incapable of competent behavior in minutes.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Playmate isn’t the kind who lets friendship get in the way of business. Much. “Rain’s slowing down, Garrett. Time to move on.”

I’d told him most of what was happening, hoping he’d have a suggestion. I’d wasted my breath. He asked, “Where are you headed from here?”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking about crawling into the hayloft and grabbing forty winks.”

Playmate frowned. He thought I was scamming, but couldn’t figure my angle. “I guess it can’t hurt. But shouldn’t you show more ambition?”

“Ambition? About what?”

“Your job.”

“Why? There ain’t nobody paying me.”

He doesn’t stint the critters. The hay in the loft was first-rate. It retained enough sweet clover smell to remind me of idylls in country pastures.

He was wrong. The drizzle hadn’t slowed. It had grown into a steady rain. The rattle on the shingles overhead was a powerful soporific. Or maybe that was the rum.

I was gone in half a minute.