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necromancer. He was her chief bodyguard for a while. He painted her picture
and she taught him some tricks." He snickered. Must have been a variety of
tricks. "He wasn't much good at it."
"And he's dead."
"Yeah. That's how you get off the hook around here."
But . . . "Suppose he could think like a sorcerer?"
"What do you mean?"
"What I . . . ? Let me reach. I was supposed to meet him. He was going to
tell me who the killer was. He seemed sure he knew. He'd be wary. But somebody
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got to him despite his training and precautions. Suppose he knew that might
happen? Suppose that, if he had a mind to, he could turn himself into a booby
trap."
"Somebody's a booby."
"Flatterer. Look, it's in stories all the time. The curse that gets you after
you kill a sorcerer. Suppose he fixed it so that, if he got killed, everybody
else the killer killed would get up and go after him?"
Waynegrunted. "Maybe. Knowing that spooky, paranoid bastard, he'd rig it so
they'd get up and go after everybody."
That fit, too. Sometimes I'm so brilliant I blind myself.
So what? Suppose that was true? It explained thedraugs but didn't settle
anything. There was a killer on the loose if that hadn't beenTyler . No way to
know unless he struck again.
If he had an ounce of brains, he'd retire while he had the chance to get out
free.
I have such confidence in human nature. "Gents, I'm bone tired. I'm going to
bed."
"Sir!"Dellwood protested.
"That thing isn't going to get in." It was still trying.
And getting nowhere. "Our killer, if he's still alive, has got a great out
now. He can letTyler take the rap."
What you call planting a seed for the slow of wit.
I was so tired, my eyes wouldn't stay open. I needed to set myself up with
some safe time. "Good night, all."
21
Morley was in my sitting room when I arrived. He had his feet up on my
writing table. "You're getting old, Garrett, you can't take one long night
anymore."
"Huh?" I was right on top of things. We investigator types have minds like
steel traps. We're always ready with a snappy comeback.
"Heard your speech to the troops, shucking them so you can make with the
snores."
"My second long night in a row. How'd you get in? Thought we had the place
buttoned up."
"You might. Trick is, walk in before the buttoning starts. You went off
chasing the walking dead. I just strolled around front and let myself in.
Poked around the house some, came up here when the troll woman started
rattling pots and pans."
"Oh." I got the feeling my repartee lacked something tonight. Or this
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morning. The first ghost light of dawn tickled the windows.
"I looked through the kitchen. The things you people eat. The sacrifices I
make."
I didn't ask. Cook favored basic country cooking, heavy stuff, meat and gravy
and biscuits. Lots of grease. Though Morley might have liked what she'd had
for lunch my first meal here.
He was saying he planned to stay around. He went a little farther. "I figure
you can use a ghost to balance off theirs."
"Huh?" I wasn't making a comeback.
"I'll haunt the place. Roam around where they're not looking, doing things
you'd do if you weren't busy keeping them calmed down."
That made sense. I had a list of a hundred things I wanted to do, like look
for hidden passageways and sneak into people's rooms to snoop. I hadn't had
time for them and probably wouldn't because somebody would be in my pocket
constantly.
"Thanks, Morley. I owe you one."
"Not yet. Not quite. But we're getting up close to even."
He meant for a couple of tricks he'd pulled on me back when. The worst was
having me help carry a coffin with a vampire in it he'd given a guy he didn't
like. He hadn't warned me for the good reason that, if I'd known, I wouldn't
have helped. I hadn't known till the vampire jumped up.
I'd been a little put out.
He'd been paying me back with little favors ever since.
He said, "Fill me in so I won't go reinventing the wheel."
I got myself a handkerchief first. "This cold feels like it'll turn bad. My
head's starting to feel like the proverbial wool pack."
"Diet," he told me. "You eat right, you don't get colds. Look at me. Never
had a cold in my life."
"Maybe." Elves don't get colds. I gave him the full account as I would've
given it to the Dead Man. I kept an eye on him, watching for giveaways. He
finds ways to profit when he weasels his way in to help me. I'd watched him
enough to recognize that moment when he grabs onto something.
The obvious way here would be to recruit a gang to loot the place. That would
be easy. Not so easy would be eluding an excited and bloodthirsty upper class
afterward. Not that that would intimidate him much.
They might not have much use for GeneralStantnor , but as a class they
couldn't tolerate the precedent. Everystormwarden ,firelord , sorcerer,
necromancer, whatnot, would join in to pass out the exemplary torments.
"We have three separate things going, then," Morley said. "Thievery. Slow
murder, maybe. Mass murder. You have the wheels turning on the thievery. So
forget that. The General . . . The thing to do is let me and a doctor look at
him. On the other killer, the only thing you can do is keep talking to people.
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Eliminating suspects."
"Go teach grandma to suck eggs, Morley. This is my business."
"I know. Don't be so touchy. I'm just thinking out loud."
"You agreeDellwood and Peters look unlikely?"
"Sure. They all do. The old man is bedridden and probably couldn't be fixed
up with a motive anyway."
I hadn't considered the General.
"TheKaid character is too old for the pace and not strong enough to shove
these other guys around."
"Maybe. Sneakiness is the killer's trademark, though. An old man would be
sneaky."
"Sure. Then there's theWayne character, who plans to marry money. So who does
that leave if everybody else is honest?"
"Chain." Obnoxious,argumentive , overweight Chain, to whom I'd taken an
instant dislike.
"And the daughter. And the outside possibility. Not to mention maybe somebody
who went away but didn't disappear because he'd been murdered."
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