Glen Cook - Old Tin Sorrows

We were watched going up. This time I wasn't wrong about it being Jennifer. A strange woman. Pity. She was gorgeous.

I didn't get it. When was the last time a woman like that left me cold? I couldn't recall. Female is my favorite sport. Wasn't anything obviously wrong with her, either. Maybe it was bad chemistry. The opposite of lust at first sight.

"Who raised Jennifer?"

"Cook, mostly. And the staff."

"Oh. What became of them?"

"The General released them to make room for us. We should've been able to manage the place, putting the cropland out for rent. Hasn't worked out, though."

"He kept Cook. Why her?"

"She's a fixture. Been here forever. Raised him, too. And his father before him, and his father, too. He has his sentimental streak."

"That's nice." He hadn't been sentimental when he'd been my supreme commander. Of course, I hadn't gotten to know him.

"He takes care of his own." Dellwood opened the General's door, seated me in the room where I'd met the old man before. Old Kaid was stoking the fire. "Wait here. I'll have him out in a few minutes." The temperature was obscene.

"Sure. Thanks."

It was more than a few minutes but the old man was worth seeing when he came out. He had a smile on. His cheeks had gained some color. He waited till Dellwood and Kaid departed. "Good evening, Mr. Garrett. I take it you've made progress?"

"Progress, General, but I don't have any good news." Had his health improved because the poisoner had backed off with me around?

"Good news, bad news, better get on with it."

"I went into the city this morning. I put some acquaintances to work tracing the missing items through those people who deal in articles that stray from home. They're competent. If the thief disposed of anything through those channels, they'll find out and get a description of the seller. I do need instructions. Should they recover the articles? If they've been sold, you could be at the mercy of the new owners."

"Very good, sir. Very good. Yes. By all means. I want to recover whatever I can. I expect you'll have problems getting them back from someone who's taken a fancy to them." He smiled.

"You seem in good spirits, sir."

"I am. I am indeed. I haven't felt this well in months. Maybe years. Not your doing but it did start after your arrival. You're good luck. If I keep improving at this rate, I'll be dancing within the month."

"I hope so, sir. Sir, that brings me to the bad news. But first a confession. I didn't come out here just to unmask a thief."

"Ah?" There was a sparkle in his eye.

"Yes sir. Sergeant Peters believes someone is poisoning you slowly. He wanted me to find out who. If it's being done at all."

"And? You've found something?" He seemed troubled now.

"No sir. Nothing like that."

That pleased him.

"On the other hand, there's no negative evidence. And one has to wonder about your recovery. It pleases me but I'm suspicious by nature.'

"And this is your bad news?"

"No sir. That's nastier. More pervasive, if you will."

"Go on. I'm not one to slay the bearer of ill tidings or to ignore them because they aren't what I want to hear."

"Let me preface this by saying I'd like to read your will."

He frowned. "Peters asked for a copy. Was that your doing?"

"Yes."

"Go on."

"I'm afraid it may be written so as to encourage villainy." I was starting to sound pompous. But it was hard to be one of the boys with General Stantnor. "If the number of heirs decreases, does the take for the survivors increase?"

He gave me the fish-eye.

"I gather half goes to Jennifer and the rest to everyone else. Sixteen people originally. After this morning, only eight. Meaning the take for survivors has doubled."

He looked at me hard. I thought he might throw me out, earlier protests to the contrary. "Support your suspicions, Mr. Garrett."

"I don't think the four men who left you could have. One, maybe. Two at the most. But people aren't built to walk away from so much money. Four?"

"I can see that. Maybe. What else?"

"Whoever put the arrow into Hawkes set it up ahead of time. The deer was too long dead to be a fresh kill. The sniper rode away on a horse. Would a peasant who has to poach have a horse? And the horseman headed this way after the ambuscade. Though that's circumstantial. I lost the trail part way here."

He was quiet for a long time. His color deserted him. I pitied him then.

"On a more personal level, two attempts have been made on my life since I've been here. I don't know by who."

He looked at me but didn't say anything.

"Unearthing that wasn't part of my brief. But I thought you should know what I think is happening. Should I pursue it?"

"Yes!" He paused. "It doesn't add up. Theft that's almost petty. Someone possibly trying to poison me. Someone trying to kill everyone else."

"That's true. I can't make it add up."

"I don't want to believe you, Mr. Garrett. I know those men better than that... Two attempts on your life?"

I told him about them.

He nodded. "I don't suppose you... No. I believe you. Get Dellwood."

I rose. "A question first, General?"

"Go ahead."

"Could an outsider be responsible? Do you have enemies vicious enough to try to set your house against itself?"

"I have enemies. A man my age, who's been what I've been? Of course I have enemies. But I don't think any of them would try for the pain in something like this... There'd still have to be an inside man, wouldn't there?"

I nodded, opened the door. Dellwood was in the hall a decorous distance away. "The boss wants you."

I'll say this for that old man: He took the bull by the horns. I didn't think he was doing the smart thing, but it was his house, his life, his sanity, and his choice to take the risk.

He had Dellwood bring everybody in and get them seated. He had me stand beside him, facing them. They looked at him and me and wondered while Peters and Chain looked for Snake. Kaid tossed logs on the bonfire. I sweated.

Nobody said a word.

Then Jennifer tried. She barely got her mouth open. The General said, "Wait." One word, softly, that stung like a whip's bite.

Snake ambled in with Chain and Peters. He'd tried to clean himself up. He hadn't done a great job but passed inspection well enough to be given a seat. Stantnor said, "Close the door, Peters. Lock it. Thank you. Hand me the key, please."

Peters did so. The others watched with varying expressions, mostly in the frown range.

"Thank you for coming." As if they'd had any choice. "We have a problem." He reached out. I put his will in his hand. He'd let me read it while we waited. It was an invitation to mayhem, incredibly naive.

"My will. You know the details. I've hit you over the head with them often enough. They seem to have created the problem. Therefore."

A candle sat on the table before him. He shoved the end of the will into the flame, held it till it caught, laid it on the table, and let it burn.

I watched them watch it. They were shocked. They may have been disappointed or outraged. But they didn't move, didn't protest, didn't fall down and confess.

"That instrument has been a murder weapon, sure as any blade. But I won't make a speech. There's the fact. Motive has been eliminated. The will has been abrogated. I'll write a new one in a few days."

He looked them in the eye, one by one. Nobody shied away. Everybody looked baffled and dismayed.

Dellwood said, "Sir, I don't understand."

"I certainly hope you don't. Those of you who don't, be patient. It will become clear. First, though, I want to introduce the man next to me. His name is Garrett. Mr. Garrett is an investigative specialist, amongst other talents. I employed Mr. Garret to find out who's been stealing from me. His efforts have been quite to my satisfaction so far."