"I know he is a drunken fool," she snapped. "I sent him away so we could have some priv-"
"You sent him away?" cried the Gypsy.
For the first time, she seemed uncertain. "He had played his part in-"
"The Queen of Swords reasons well, you say, but what if her facts are wrong? What then for her powers? What damage will she do? Perhaps you are the Queen of Swords reversed, woman, and your arrogance will destroy us all."
"Perhaps the painful revelation is yours, and it is to happen now."
"I never wanted to be part-"
"Be still. Which of us did want to be part of it? You dare to accuse me of using people? Is your wit so keen that you can outguess Luci Herself? Is your Sight so great that you can see into Her heart? Are your hands so skilled that you can untangle every thread She weaves? Is your power so great that you can send Her away? What have you done, woman?"
She stared at him, puzzled and frightened. "Who are you?" she asked in a whisper.
"I? I am Csucskari the Gypsy. I am a T altos. I am the one who has sworn an oath against the Fair Lady and all Her works. I am the only hope we have against Her, poor though it be. You are an arrogant fool, old woman. You see the bottom of the stream so clearly,you forget there is water above it, and you'd let us drown in your pride, then curse us for being unable to breathe. Well, if you have such keen sight, use it now, while there may yet be time. Where is the Coachman?"
"I don't know," she whispered after a moment."My sister would know."
"Then ask her. Now."
She looked up at him, then looked away. She seemed to shrink into herself, then she sighed and stared down, absently, into her teacup. She stirred the leaves with one bony finger., and after a time she spoke.
Well, I left there running like a thousand
Devils were on my trail
Woah. lannan sidhe let me be.
"LANNAN SIDHE"
Ed reached for the remote control, turned the TV down three clicks before answering the phone.
"Ed?" demanded a voice before he could even say hello.
He sat up on the couch, trying to place the voice."Yes," he said guardedly.
"It's me. Tiffany Marie," she went on, and when he didn't answer right away, she added, "Say you don't know me, and I'll drag a nail down the side of that Caddy the next time I see it parked in our loading zone."
"Tiffany Marie, no one could ever forget you, or that red hair. I'm just wondering why you're calling me."
"Look, Ed, this is important. Man, I think I knowhow important better than anyone else," she added,almost to herself, "I can't get Stepovich, his phone just rings, and maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to get him anyway. And Randy… Durand doesn't answer either, so I figured I'd better call you. It's about Mike's kid."
"What?" Ed was already sticking his feet back into his shoes. All the skin on his scalp was tingling, ancient hackles standing up as his cop sense sent alarms screaming.
"His girl, whatshername, Laurie? You know her?"
"I stood godfather to her," Ed answered grimly,but Tiffany Marie was still talking.
"She's in here. At least, I'm pretty sure it's her, I only met her those two times. Anyway, she's painted up like a whore, and she's with this older guy, this gypsy-looking guy, and he's like, all over her. Christ,Ed, she can't be more than fourteen, and this guy is really moving on her, and she's acting like, well, she's not exactly pushing him away. And the guy isn't some street kid, I mean, he's a corner musician or something. Hell, he's not only too old for her, he's too old for me. Look, Ed, I don't think she's made any really big mistakes yet, and maybe if someone like you gets down here-dammit, now there's a fight.Gofight.Gottah;"
"I'm coming," said Ed and hung up the phone as he reached for his jacket. Shit. Someone was putting little Laurie out on the streets? Where the hell was Mike, what was he thinking of to let his little girl run loose at this hour of the night? He picked up his Caddy keys off the coffee table, thought briefly of calling Jenny. Decided against it. She'd just get shrill and jump into the middle of it and make it messy. Well,it wasn't going to be messy. Good thing Tiffany Marie had called him. He'd make it fast and quiet.
He stopped by the door, then turned and went back to his bedroom. In a bottom drawer was a gift box with a sap-glove in it. It had been a long-ago gag from Stepovich after Ed had done a lot of pussyfooting in an interrogation one night. "Next time, try this," the note had said.
He slipped on the black leather. It fit. "Good thing she called me," he said again to himself. "I won't kill him, like Mike would. And I won't arrest him and make a lot of paperwork and noise about it, either.Jeither.Just the little girl, convince the guy to stay clear of her, and get her home." He flexed his hand inside the weighted glove. Sometimes it was easier not being a cop anymore.
He caught up his keys and went out the door,whistling "I'm Called Little Buttercup." The sky above him was grey, like dark smoke.
Ain't got time to listen,
Ain't got eyes to see.
Woah, lannan sidhe let me be.
"LANNAM SIDHE"
Three rounds of beer had come and gone. By now,he should be feeling them, should be numbed a little,should be able to let his shoulders slump against the chair back. Instead, Stepovich felt as if he were being drawn tighter and tighter, wound up like some little mechanical toy. His jaws were clenched, as if he feared too much truth would jump out of him if he relaxed. And Durand would never be able to handle the whole truth. Durand might talk wild and woolly,but when it came down to cases, he was absolutely by the book. Letter of the law. Stepovich cleared his throat, felt Durand's eyes jump back to him.
"Okay." His voice came out rusty, and he cleared his throat again. "I did some really stupid stuff. But I'm not dirty, Durand, and I didn't do anything really wrong. I mean, not wrong like morally wrong. Maybe wrong, like in ignoring standard procedure, but not wrong like ethics. You know what I mean?"
Durand nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm just not sure if I agree with it. Maybe you didn't do anything dirty, but you broke a hell of a lot of rules. And if you hadn't, your ass wouldn't be in a crack right now. And neither would mine. But I'm willing to help you out, as long as it doesn't mean breaking any more rules. You got to understand, Ste-uh-Mike, that I'm just starting out. Something like this could screw my career permanently. See, I'm not really as stupid as you think I am."
Stepovich was forced to nod, feeling both relieved that Durand could understand what he meant, and ashamed that he had always assumed his partner was too dumb to talk to.
"So. Where does all this leave us?" Durand demanded after a few moments had passed. The bag of ice was a plastic puddle in the middle of the table. He still fingered his jaw from time to time, but the worst of the swelling had gone down.
"Well," Stepovich gathered his thoughts. "It doesn't leave us with a lot. No hard information, anyway. Just feelings, and maybe s, and stuff that doesn't quite add up. Here's how it looks to me. We've got a guy killed in the liquor store and the old gypsy woman dead in the hotel. You think it's the same guy, both times, you think it's that gypsy we picked up-"
"Actually, the liquor store witness-" Durand began, but Stepovich held up a hand.
"Just let me finish. Because he matched the clerk's description, and because he had a knife that might have been like the one used on the old woman."
"And he matched the description the hotel clerk gave to homicide when they asked who the room was rented to," Durand interjected, but Stepovich chose to ignore him and plow stubbornly on.