It was getting late. I realized, with some surprise, that we hadn’t yet tapped the new keg.
How long could that last?
This Brett Batt is ready to go. You cannot imagine what a banal personality the man has. Though knowledgeable. Certainly knowledgeable.
“You got something useful?”
A few points of interest did lurk in the corners of his mind.
“Such as?”
I will see that you know what you need to know if a situation should arise where you need to know it.
All right. We were going to play games. More games. He’d fished something tasty out of Brett’s head. He didn’t want me to know. Or maybe to obsess about it.
More or less. It has little to do with anything we are investigating now. Take him out of here.
Grumbling, I laid a two-hand grip on Brett’s collar and started hauling. The only help I got was Singe’s volunteering to work the front door.
Brett was one lucky bruno. His good buddy Garrett had hold of him at the head end instead of by the feet. Because of this his good buddy Garrett one-manned him down the ice-rimed front steps without banging his skull on even one.
“What’cha doin’?” Saucerhead Tharpe asked. He had collected coagulated precipitation till he looked like the abominable iceman. He wasn’t alone. A wobbling companion, clinging to his arm, also looked like a perambulating ice creature.
“I’m dragging this butthead over to that cart.” I’d suffered the inspiration of a fanatic slacker. If I could just get Brett aboard that thing…
Tharpe and his pal grabbed hold and helped me hoist Brett into the cart. Then Tharpe said, “Me an’ Bitte are gonna get on in outta the weather. All right?”
“Go ahead on. There’s hot cocoa. And we got a new keg in. I’ll be there in a minute.” I eased in between the double trees, got a good hold on those poles. When I broke their ends loose from the ice, the cart began to roll.
It worked like a rickshaw in reverse. Me behind. Trying to keep up.
Macunado Street slopes gently down for a third of a mile. Long before that I turned loose. The cart rolled. It went on. I flailed around, slipping and sliding, never quite falling down. I couldn’t keep up and didn’t try.
Brett’s ride managed not to smash into anything for longer than it took me to lose sight of it in the dark. I heard it glance off something, continue on, ricochet off something else, then participate in a huge crash. I imagined Brett flying through the night, then spinning on up the glassy street on his prodigious pecs.
His problem. I headed on home wondering why I hadn’t broken some of his bones before I let him roll.
I found Singe waiting to let me in. She was amused. “How many times did you fall this time?”
“Not even once.”
She was disappointed.
Saucerhead and his drinking buddy wandered on into the Dead Man’s room, where Old Bones continued to entertain Merry Sculdyte.
Garrett, I need you to transcribe what I am recovering from this villain. It is not my custom to meddle in civil affairs. However, my rudimentary sense of social obligation compels me to provide this information to Colonel Block and Director Relway. This man is intimate with the darkest and most secret machinery of the underworld. Much more so than Mr. Dotes. Or even Miss Contague. This man knows where the bodies are buried because he buried most of them. He knows which officials are corrupt. He has a good notion which people on his own side could be suborned by Director Relway. In a mundane manner of describing it, Mr. Merry Sculdyte is the pot at the end of the information rainbow.
“Excellent. We’re in the money. Have you noticed Saucerhead’s guest?”
Brother Brittigarn wasn’t so wasted that he failed to notice that I wasn’t talking to Morley. He wasn’t so wasted that he failed to recognize me in the light. “Oh, shit. Man. ’Head, you jobbed me.”
I am aware. I will start on him once you begin writing.
Brittigarn decided to make a break for it. He managed a step and a half before he froze. Then he turned and walked to my usual chair. Mechanically. He sat, rested his palms on his thighs, stared at infinity. And dripped.
Dean peeked in. “Is there anything more you need from me? It’s past my bedtime.”
“Some rags for this clown to drip on. Where’d Singe get to?”
“She’s in the kitchen trying to tap the new keg.”
“That should be amusing.”
I went over to my office, where I could be comfortable while I wrote.
It was around sixteen o’clock. My hand was an aching claw. I couldn’t go on.
Get some sleep. We will continue later.
“How much more is there?”
The man is a bottomless well of wicked memoirs.
What I’d already recorded would be invaluable to Colonel Block and Belinda both. And any number of Combine second-stringers like Teacher White scheduled for involuntary retirement after Rory Sculdyte helped himself to his patrimony.
“How’re you doing with BB?”
The man has an intriguing mind. Get some sleep.
I pried myself out of my office chair, joints creaking and popping. I need more exercise. My body is beginning to show wear and tear.
I stuck my head into the Dead Man’s room. People were all over, sleeping. Singe was nowhere to be seen.
46
This time the old slug thug himself dragged me out at a criminal hour. He was eager to go on. Excited, even. He borrowed a colloquialism when I protested the absurdity of the hour. Paybacks are a bitch.
I didn’t get it until I was halfway through my second mug of black tea. When he started nagging me about dragging my feet.
He was getting even for all the times I’d dragged him out of his little naps, just so he could earn his keep.
“Life’s a bitch.”
How is your breathing?
I hadn’t paid attention. It was working. What did I care?
He withdrew. It wasn’t me making it work. I wasn’t back on automatic yet.
“I still have to think about it. Maybe the stuff Teacher brought isn’t the real antidote.”
Possibly not. He was not deeply concerned about an antidote when he purchased the samsom weed.
“Typical of the breed.”
I let Dean serve me breakfast. Singe came in. She’d been outside. I felt the cold roll off her fur. She said, “You need to take a look out there before it all goes away.”
I finished my mug, went and looked.
The world was glass. Or crystal. Actually, all coated with ice. So much ice that the weight had broken limbs off trees and pulled gutters off buildings. A kitten thought about going out with me but changed up as soon as he laid paws on ice. He jumped back, shook each paw in turn, indignant. “Don’t blame me. You’re the one who wanted out.”
I surveyed my neighborhood. Nothing moved but a family of mountain dwarfs trudging up Macunado like this was just a brisk morning in the hills back home. It had been an age since I’d seen TunFaire this quiet.
I retreated from the cold. “You’re right, Singe. It’s fairy-tale beautiful. And now it’s starting to snow.” Which would make the ice even more treacherous by masking its wicked face.
Dean met me at the door to the Dead Man’s room. He’d brought more tea. “You’ll need this.”
I accepted and went inside.
The faces in the crowd remained the same. Saucerhead was sprawled on his back, taking up a vast amount of floor space, snoring. Brittigarn and Merry Sculdyte were in chairs, limp, under mental sedation. Morley was awake. But he’s the sort of pervert who doesn’t mind being in that state when the sun comes up.