Glen Cook: Dread Brass Shadows

I gave her a look at my fluttering-eyebrow trick. I tossed in a big smile. "Have fun."

She smiled back. "Think you can take me? Don't even think about trying."

"Little old me? Perish the thought. Hey, Chuckles. Time to do your stuff."

Winger glanced around. Her knife hand remained steady. She couldn't figure out who the hell I was talking to. "Who the hell you talking to?"

"My partner."

She opened her mouth. That was as far as she got. The Dead Man turned her into a living statue. In the last instant her expression turned to horror. I edged away from her knife, got out of my chair. "You got nerve," I said. She could hear and understand. "But nerve isn't everything." Nobody who'd studied me would try to take me in my own house. The Dead Man doesn't get out much, but that hasn't kept him from acquiring a reputation.

I patted Winger's considerable shoulder. It was rock hard. "Live and learn, sweetheart." I finished my mug, strolled across the hall. "What's the story, Smiley?"

No story, Garrett. She has told you everything. She is looking for a book. This is her first job in TunFaire. She was hired by a man named Lubbock. He paid her thirty marks to shake you down. He will give her forty more if she finds the book.

"Interesting coincidence. What's she know about that gang yesterday?"

Nothing. Obviously she was selected for that reason. She can tell no one anything because she knows nothing.

"I guess friend Lubbock did his research."

Perhaps.

"She has an accent." She was Karentine but from way out there somewhere.

Hender. West Midlands.

"Never heard of it."

Not surprising. Population less than a hundred. A farming village. A suggestion. Assuming your curiosity has been piqued, as mine has, have her watched. Her contacts might prove interesting. It seems likely that Lubbock is not her employer's real name. She believes it to be a pseudonym herself.

Sounded good to me. Something was going on. And I don't like sitting around waiting for things to happen. "Right. Can't use Saucerhead, though. She knows his face. I could dash over to Morley's."

Quickly?

Sarky old clown can put a lot into a single word. He'd recovered from his earlier consideration for my feelings, was back to letting me know what he thought of my ways.

"I'm gone."

I got back faster than either of us expected. I had some luck.

Saucerhead was still loafing on the stoop. He hadn't finished the pitcher Dean had provided for my run. He had company again, a local blackheart called Squirrel. I don't know Squirrel's real name. I never heard him called anything else. He was a skinny little gink with atrocious posture, a pointy face and buckteeth, and huge ears that stuck straight out from the side of his head. He'd have trouble making any headway walking into a light breeze.

They didn't call him Squirrel because of his looks.

Somebody left something out when they gave him his brains. He was a first-class goolball.

And a second-class thug.

He worked for Chodo Contague. He was more than a gofer but not one of the heavyweights, like Sadler and Crask. I didn't know Squirrel well but did know he wasn't somebody who was going to elevate the standards of the neighborhood.

I looked at him. He gave me a grin full of teeth. Friendly as hell. That was Squirrel. Always trying to be your pal—till it came time to put a knife in your back. Squirrel desperately wanted to be liked. And wanted to make Chodo's first team even more. "Garrett. The boss heard about your trouble." Chodo hears everything, "Sent me over to help. Said if you need anything, just yell. Said he don't hold with anybody hurting women."

Sure he didn't. Unless they worked for him, showed a wisp of independence. But he probably doesn't consider hookers women.

I didn't want to take anything from Chodo, but, on the other hand, using Squirrel was so damned convenient. So what the hell "You showed up at the perfect time."

Squirrel grinned. He loved praise. If that was praise. Weird little guy. "How's your woman, Garrett? I should've asked. Chodo wanted to know. Said he'd send somebody to look after her if you want."

"She'll be fine. Her family is taking care of her." They could afford the same quality care Chodo could provide. "If something turns bad, they'll let me know." Willard would do that. He'd expect me to hunt down everybody even remotely responsible if Tinnie died. Then he'd cut out their livers and eat them.

"So I'm right on time. What can I do for you?"

I shivered. Squirrel had a whiny voice to go with an ingratiating manner. Slimy little weasel. But dangerous. Very dangerous.

"There's a woman going to come out of here. Tall blonde amazon type. Follow her. See where she goes. Be careful. She's maybe some bad road." I had no idea how good Squirrel was. His only recommendation was that he had stayed alive so far.

"I can handle it." Like he heard me wondering.

"What's up?" Saucerhead asked.

"She pulled a knife on me. Wanted a book. The Dead Man put her in freeze

"A book again?"

"Yeah."

"You getting into it even if Tinnie's all right?"

"Say I'm curious." I wasn't getting into anything. I didn't have a client. I don't like work, anyway. I mean, why bother as long as I've got a roof over my head and something to eat?

On the other hand, I might fish a fee out of this somehow. And it does take money to pay Dean and to keep the house from falling down.

"Spread out," I told those two. "Saucerhead, take off. She'd recognize you."

"Sure. You need me, check Morley's place."

I waved them good-bye. Slipped inside, stuck my head into the Dead Man's room, whispered, "Turn her loose?" I whispered because I didn't want Winger to hear me.

Yes.

I returned to my office, pried the knife out of Winger's hand, settled myself, started cleaning my nails. The Dead Man turned loose. If somebody could jump out of their skin, Winger would have. "Welcome to the big city, Winger. Something to keep in mind. Everybody has a trick up his sleeve here."

She gobbled air and headed for the hallway. I asked, "You mind telling me where to find Lubbock? Can't say I like people I don't know sicking hired blades on me."

That shook her even more. She hadn't mentioned the name.

I followed her to the door, adding more questions calculated to rattle her so she wouldn't look for Squirrel. She was almost running when she hit the street.

I looked around. I didn't see Squirrel or Saucerhead. I didn't spot anybody interested in my place, either. I went inside to talk to Dean about supper.

Dean didn't want any suggestions. He never does, but he doesn't mind having me offer. Then he can turn me down.

I settled at the table. Dean asked, "What was that all about?"

"I'm not sure. Somebody called Lubbock sent her to shake me down for a book."

He frowned. He's mastered the art. His face turns into a badland of shadowed canyons "That fellow who stabbed Miss Tinnie..."

"Yeah."

"There's something going on." Another genius. My place is lousy with them.

"Yeah."

"You going to find out what?"

"Maybe " I didn't have much inclination. The world is full of mysteries. Do I have to solve them all? Without even anybody paying me? But I did wonder why Winger had come to me.

Somebody pounded on the front door. I grumbled something about maybe it was time to move. Too many people knew where I lived. Dean said, "That's Mr. Tharpe."

"You can tell from here?"

"I know his knock."

Right. Sure he did. But why argue? Let him have his little fantasies. I headed up the hall..." Whoa!" There was Saucerhead. Inside. "What the hell?"

He looked a little croggled himself. "It just opened up when I knocked." He stared at the door like it would maybe sprout fangs.