I grinned. I was seeing something else they weren’t-namely, a half dozen of Owenstall’s boys, who were rounding the corner and coming my way, their expressions none too happy.
“You been poking around, finder. Messing in things that ain’t your business. Maybe it’s time you was taught a lesson.”
“Maybe so,” I said amiably. “But it’s not one that’s going to be taught by you. Now here’s what’s going to happen. Your boyfriends here are going to let me go. You’re going to buy me another glass of tea. And then we’re all going to sit down and talk about who sent you, and why they sent you.”
The man cursed and drew back a fist, and I was wondering if I should have kept talking for just an instant more when Bolton himself stepped right up into my new friend’s face and slapped him, hard, right across his mouth.
The man blanched. But then Owenstall’s boys were on him, and on the two pinning my arms behind my back, and after a very brief scuffle I was free and facing tea-tosser from a very different perspective.
Bolton slapped him again, from the other side.
“You come into my neighborhood?”
Slap.
“You start shaking down people on my street?”
Slap.
“You think you can walk in here and start pushing people and nobody pushes back?”
Slap.
It took two slaps for the man’s face to go from fury to fear. He looked to his companions, but they weren’t displaying any heroics.
“You all right, Mr. Markhat?”
Slap.
“I’m peachy,” I said. “Do you know this gentleman, or his friends?”
Bolton snorted. “Sure I do. This here is Mr. Corpse. His friends are Mr. Fishbait and Mr. Hogfeed. You don’t need to worry about them bothering you again. Unless you get a line snagged on this one’s torso when you’re out fishing in the Shallows.”
All three men blanched. Bolton was convincing. Even I wasn’t sure he was bluffing.
I frowned. “I don’t know. Dismemberment seems a little harsh for the loss of a beverage. Maybe they’re willing to make amends. What about it, gentlemen? Have you seen the error of your wicked, sinful ways? Are you filled with a burning desire to rejoin polite society as helpful, productive citizens?”
Bolton grinned and produced a very long, very sharp knife. “Or would you rather be gutted and dumped in the Brown?”
There was dried blood plain in the gap between blade and hilt. It wasn’t that old.
All three men professed repentance, and we were off to Owenstall’s office.
I finished my sandwich on the way.
The three men who’d accosted me and abused my tea were named Argis, Florint and Wert. Wert was the leader.
And Wert was a very nervous man. It was cool in Owenstall’s well-appointed office. But from the amount of sweat pouring off Wert, you’d have thought he stood on a sunlit gallows, and in a way I suppose, he did just that. I almost felt sorry for the man.
Even seated like civilized beings in Owenstall’s luxurious office, it was clear that Bolton and his well-used knife were not just possible outcomes but probable ones.
Owenstall himself joined us, after a while. Bolton made introductions, and laid out the events of the day. Owenstall nodded, seated himself, and let out a heavy sigh.
“I ain’t gonna waste all day on you three road apples,” he began. “I’m going to ask this one time. Who sent you down here, and why?”
He asked it in a quiet voice. He didn’t make a single threat.
He didn’t have to.
Argis and Florint gave Wert a pair of frantic looks. Wert raised his hands in surrender.
“We work for Burnsey Mays,” he said. “And we didn’t mean any disrespect to you. We came to see him.” He jerked a thumb at me. “He doesn’t even live here. We didn’t think-”
“No. You didn’t think. ’Cause if you had thought, you’d have thought ‘Maybe I shouldn’t go making a ruckus in Mr. Owenstall’s neighborhood. Maybe making Mr. Owenstall angry is not a good idea.’ That’s what you would have thought. And you’d have been right. Who is Burnsey Mays?”
Wert mopped sweat. “Mr. Mays owns the Stig River Runners,” he said. “Stig River? They run payroll, mail convoys. Out West. Were big during the War?”
I frowned. Owenstall frowned. His men exchanged what-the-Hell looks.
I said what they were thinking.
“Why would an outfit that guards payroll stages and mail wagons send you three down here to give me fresh bruises?”
Wert gobbled and spat out a series of uhs and wells. Owenstall’s face went dark.
“I ain’t believin’ a word of that.”
For the first time since meeting him, I heard death clear in his voice.
“Wait a minute. Wait a damned minute!” It was Argis, the youngest of the three, who spoke.
“I was willing to risk my job over this foolishness, Wert, but I am not going to get killed over it.”
“Shut up,” growled Wert. “They’re bluffing.”
“Like Hell they are. Burnsey Mays didn’t send us anywhere. Yeah, we work for him, but he’s got no idea we’re here. It was his daughter what put us up to this, and I told you it was a fool thing to do.”
Owenstall gave me the smallest of nods.
“What’s her name?” I asked before Wert could speak. “The daughter. Her name.”
Argis faced me. “Natalie. Natalie Mays. She rounded us up this morning and showed us that waybill you plastered all around town. Said for us to find you and see what you knew and then…and then beat you ’til you didn’t care to poke around anymore.”
Owenstall grinned. “You know this Mays woman, finder?”
“Not yet,” I said. “Now, Argis. Why would your boss’s daughter send you down here to ruin my day? What have I ever done to her?”
The one named Florint saw the lay of the land and decided to chime in, lest he be numbered with the fish bait when pardons were being handed out.
“She didn’t talk like she knew you. She just showed us the waybill, said to find you.”
The waybill.
“Any of you boys know a Marris Sellway?”
Blank looks and shakes from Argis and Florint. Stupid defiance from Wert.
“That’s very helpful, gentlemen. Very helpful indeed. So. I’m in a generous mood. I might even be willing to intercede on your behalf with Mr. Owenstall here.” I turned to face the grinning force behind Law and Order on Regency Avenue.
“What say you, sir? Shall we spare these miserable urchins their lives, or feed a few of the Brown’s less discriminating catfish?”
Owenstall shrugged. “I’ll let that be up to you, finder. As long as you mention all this to Mama.”
“Deal,” I said. “I wonder if I might ask one small favor of you?”
“Ask.”
“Let’s say you’ve got a nice, sturdy room somewhere. A room without windows. A room that muffles shouts for help, screams of agony, pleas for mercy, that sort of thing.”
Owenstall pretended to ponder this. “I might.”
“Would it be too much to ask to have these three worthies deposited therein, for, say, two full days? Just as guests, mind you. Fed once a day. Food served with tea.”
Instant protests arose from the three worthies, but Bolton showed his knife again, and they fell into a defeated silence.
“Two full days? I think we can do that. Bolton. See to it.”
And that was that. Bolton led them out, and soon Owenstall and I were alone.
“You are a source of vexation for many, finder,” offered Owenstall.
“Nature of the business.”
He nodded. “This ought to make us even, you think?”
“More than even. Way I see it, I’m in your debt now, and then some.”
That’s always the right answer, when you’re speaking to a man who can impart life or death on a word and whim.
We parted friends. I hurried out, looking for a cab. It was time I made the acquaintance of Natalie Mays.
Chapter Four
I took a cab down to Rannit’s shiny new business district and hopped out in the middle of Arson Street. I knew it was named for a War hero, but I looked up at all the tall, new buildings and hoped nobody took the name as a suggestion rather than an homage.