Cruel Zinc Melodies (30 page)

“That woman, with her father right there?”

“You honestly think that would make a difference?”

“Maybe.” If a brace of nuns had been in there, too. “She’s growing up. We both are.” Me whistling past the graveyard.

He gazed the direction I did. “Pity I’m single. Pity you’re not.”

He must not have gotten the word. “You know who she is?”

“I’m sure you’re going to scare me off by telling me.”

“She goes by Furious Tide of Light.”

It took a second. People off the Hill seldom cross his path as objects of amorous intent.

Him turning off the interest was like a lantern damping down. “You had to tell me.”

“You’re my bestest pal. I don’t want to see you turned into a big old hairy-ass hoppy toad.”

“You had to tell me. So. Why is a Hill-type bundle of heat getting heads-together with you?”

“She has a daughter. A teenager. One of the kids whose experiments blessed us with the giant bugs.” There weren’t any of those around right then. “She wants to make sure the kid is covered.”

“Typical.” He frowned at something behind me. I heard the measured clop-clop of a team approaching, along with the rattle of iron rims on cobblestones.

I turned mainly because Morley looked like he dearly hoped I wouldn’t.

I knew that big black coach. I’d ridden in it. I recognized the men up there on the driver’s seat. I didn’t know the footmen running at the corners but I knew their type. “Now, what would she be doing here?”

“She,” being Belinda Contague.

Belinda was not a complication I needed. Ever, anymore.

Belinda didn’t necessarily share my attitude.

It can be tough to argue with Miss Contague.

Morley isn’t often at a loss for words. He made an exception now. He stumbled around, hunting for a plausible answer. Failed. Decided to try the truth. “She’s my angel. She’s providing my financing.”

“You know what you’re doing?” Getting involved with the Contagues wouldn’t bolster his reputation. His places have always been neutral territory. Whoever you are, whatever your associations or alliances, you don’t have to worry about your back. Morley will watch it.

“I hope so, Garrett. It’s supposed to be a straight-up deal. Front money for forty percent of the net. If word doesn’t get around I can keep it the way it’s always been.”

He wasn’t convinced, though. He could see what I saw. Right here, right now, there were nine people who knew something was up. I could trust me not to speculate with my friends. But how about those footmen and the guys up on the coach? What about the dark lady herself?

How many times had Belinda tried to make it look like I’d sold out and was on the Outfit’s payroll?

Only plus I could see was, Belinda had no reason to cut Morley down. She saw a chance to get a piece of a lucrative business.

Hell, I could see a whole row of small businesses popping up if the World itself took off.

If, maybe, Heather Soames came up with some stage talent that wasn’t all amateur wannabe.

No point me going on at Morley about it. He’d still be busy debating with himself.

I couldn’t fathom his reasoning. Unless he was in truly bad odor with his debts everywhere else. He’d explain. Someday. Maybe.

Belinda Contague descended from the coach. She was beautiful, her skin pale as death, her lips painted scarlet, her hair uncovered, black and glossy as a raven’s wing. The rest couldn’t be cataloged because she was in winter dress. But, believe me, it was outstanding. I’d seen it all. And still regretted my weakness.

It gave her the idea she had a claim.

She beckoned.

I looked around to see who might watch me talking to the daughter of death.

Morley said, “You don’t have to tag along.”

“That summons included both of us. I’m on thin ice with her already. I’m not going to set her off. If she’s in one of her moods.”

Belinda is crazy. Psycho killer crazy. Masking it with intelligence and beauty. In a rational world they’d keep her in a cage without a door. Instead, she’s the overlord of the syndicate that manages organized crime. She has at her disposal any tool needful to indulge any whim her madness tosses up.

“What have I told you about avoiding women crazier than you are?”

“Hard to remember in the heat of the moment, sometimes.”

“But you’re unafraid. Fearless Garrett, champion of the disenfranchised and downtrodden.”

“That’s me. Absolutely. Lately having developed enough bruises to suspect there’s no need to push for another unnecessary round of hurt.” When it only takes a touch of manners to avoid the pain.

Morley gave me a look that told me I was so full of it my baby blues had just turned brown. But he didn’t pursue it. For now. We were too near the dire woman.

He was out in the wild and woolly himself, setting himself up to grab what might be the stinky end of a deal with the Outfit.

Belinda smiled. There might even have been some warmth behind the surface pretense. She’s always had a feeling for me. I’ve saved her from herself several times. Unfortunately, she isn’t the sort to let sentiment get in the way at throat-cutting time.

That’s part of what makes the woman scary. The fact that the machinery inside her noggin doesn’t work like anybody else? s. You never know what might set her off.

She uses that, of course. Like a sledgehammer.

And she has a few fears of her own. Especially Deal Relway. The Outfit has traditionally shaped law enforcement with carrot and stick. An incorruptible like the Director is one man. He could be removed if he became too obnoxious.

But Relway won’t let that happen.

Several dim candle baddies have gotten the Director stuck in their craws already. They all choked on him when they tried to swallow.

They overlooked the fact that he has a bigger gang and is as ruthless as any of them.

Civil and conversational, I asked, “What brings you to the wicked part of town?”

“Bad boys. You know how I love them.” She sneered at my queasy look. “Not to worry. You’re not on the spot. I came to look at my new investment.” She touched my arm in an intimate way. I managed not to flinch. “I’m looking for legitimate ventures.” Big smile. “This will be my first.”

I didn’t disagree. But the Combine does have interests in a lot of legitimate businesses. They force their way into some. On the other hand, whatever he pretends to the world at large, Morley is not entirely legit. He wouldn’t keep the company he does if he were.

Belinda made me sweat with her too-friendly gestures on a public street. While Morley pointed out the place he had chosen and explained why it was perfect for serving the theater crowd. Then Belinda let me off the hook. “Just messing with you, sweetheart. I know Tinnie won the race.”

“Uh...” All right. That would work. For now.

“I couldn’t live with myself if it turned out to be my fault all that planning went to waste.”

“Huh?” Conscience? Didn’t know she knew the word. Decided not to ask if she knew its meaning.

“Not to worry, buddy. All you have to do is show up, on time, sober enough to stand, without a date.”

My best pal looked at me like I’d sprouted a facial toadstool. A psychedelic toadstool, from the magnitude of his double take.

The beautiful woman unacquainted with mercy laughed. She headed for the place Morley had indicated. I retreated to the theater side of the street. Where I found Puddle and Morley’s other man considering their boss nervously. Puddle said, “I don’t like dis, Garrett. I don’ like it a’tall.”

“Got me a little less than excited, too, Puddle. Makes me wonder what’s happening inside his head.” But that wasn’t my problem. The World was. I needed to concentrate on that. I was making some headway. At last.

62

I didn’t get back in out of the snow. Pular Singe materialized, breathless. “I know where he is! I know how to catch him!”

“Great! Good for you, girl. Go! What’re you talking about? What’re you doing down here?” Since she hadn’t had anything to do with her brother’s latest efforts.

“Oh. I had some stuff I needed to do. But I finished. I can help you here now. Oh. There’s Mr. Dotes. I’d better tell him right away.”

“Tell him what?”

But she was gone. And Puddle was looking at me like he was trying to figure something out. He asked, “Dis ain’t gonna turn rotten on us, is it, Garrett?”

Uncertain what his “this” might be, I went for reassurance. “I don’t think so. Though I don’t really know what Morley is thinking, any more than you do. Nothing to do with me, I’m pretty sure.”

That part seemed to be what Puddle wanted to hear. Better his boss was hobnobbing with the queen of crime than getting into something with that Garrett guy.

I’m never quite sure what the problem is for those people. Like women, they think I ought to know without being told.

I went inside.

Despite the open doorways it was much warmer in there than out front.

John Stretch spotted me, beckoned. He looked smugly pleased. I went to find out why.

The lord of the ratmen indicated the under-stage pit. It was filthy with bug scraps. The Rocker himself had returned to his station. He no longer had anything to do.

“All right. It’s a mess. But that isn’t it. Is it?”

“No. It is that there are no more bugs coming. The rats are finding very few down below now, too. Just grubs. The burned-out rats come up carrying them. Carrying food back to the nest.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“It is an instinct thing.”

“That’s good.”

“I have enough of them back out now to get a feel for the way it is down there. I am going to examine them.”

“By all means. That’s excellent.” Then, fearing he might think I was being patronizing, “Maybe that'll give us enough to get this part wrapped up.”

So, then, the ghosts. Once the spooks were settled my job would be done.

I could hope. I could pray. Knowing prayer would set them to howling in the heavenly jakes. Nothing could work out that well. Hell, this had been going on for days. I hadn’t gotten my head kicked in once - though the Stompers did have that on their agenda. I’d received no death threats meant to scare me off. I’d run into no villainy that couldn’t be explained by simple stupidity. There’d been a corpse, or two? one barely qualifying as negligent homicide.

I did my damnedest not to invite recompense for hubris.

Pular Singe scooted in, all flustered, whiskers flaring, ears folded back. “You have to stop them!”

All right. Maybe I could do that. Given something to go on.

Singe took a moment out of her excitement to greet her brother, who waved vaguely because he was communing with some of his unmodified cousins.

Sort of ironic. The sorcerous by-blow of a prior century trying to exterminate those of the present.

Singe reclaimed the frenzy. “I am afraid one of them will do something neither will be able to take back.”

I thought I got that. “Ease up, girl. Who? What? Where? Basic stuff like that.”

“Oh. Yes. That. All right. Mr. Dotes. Miss Contague. They are having a huge fight. It started after I told Mr. Dotes that the stinking man is out there watching and I think I know how to catch him.”

One eyebrow up and the other eye squinting because she isn’t usually so formal, I wondered, “Why would they argue? Does Lurking Felhske work for Belinda?”

“Oh. No. Mr. Dotes decided he would not need Miss Contague’s financial assistance after all. Since he was about to come into a large sum by selling the stinking man.”

“And, naturally, he didn’t have Lurking Felhske in the bag when he decided that.”

“Correct.”

Counting chickens. I couldn’t do anything but shake my head. That was so unlike Morley, the born-again pragmatic realist. Had he caught something from Winger? Or maybe a Saucerhead with a hangover having an especially feeble-minded morning after one of his periodic breakups? No way. Not the count of cool, Morley Dotes.

“Stay with John Stretch. See if he reports anything we can use right now.” I headed out fast, worried that I had made a lethal mistake by not staying with Morley and Belinda. How could Morley have abandoned basic common sense? Nobody gets into a pissing contest with Belinda Contague. She'll whack your pisser off and make you feed it to the hogs.

Puddle and the unnamed henchman were still shuffling around in the cold out front, feeling much put upon by their captain. Puddle had the look of a lost four-year-old. As I passed them I said, “Come on. Sounds like Morley has done something stupid. We might have to bail him out.”

Right. If it came to knuckles and head-bashing, Belinda only had her big, healthy six to our seriously-out-of-shape three.

Belinda’s bunch were standing around sharing hot tea and bullshit with Saucerhead’s crew like they were old pals. Which they might be. It’s a big city but guys in similar rackets tend to know each other.

I slowed to what I hoped would appear to be a disinterested pace as I went by. I exchanged good-natured insults with Belinda’s chief driver, who hated me for the luck I’d had. The four footmen didn’t bother to check me out. But the final villain, probably officially Belinda’s bodyguard, tried fixing me with the hard stare. I considered giving it right back. But that’s an invitation to butt heads until somebody can’t crawl away. I didn’t find him scary, unlike some who had gone before him. Who were no longer above ambient temperature. Or ground.

I winked and got on with tracking Morley.

“That one guy is coming after us, Mr. Garrett,” unnamed henchman reported nervously.

“All right. If it gets exciting, you and Puddle sit on him while I crack some heads.”

The storm had passed. Though they still eyed one another sullenly, Morley and Belinda had not come to blows. They were talking business.

Belinda snapped, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Came over to protect my investment.”

“Investment? In what? You aren’t part of this.”

“In friendship. There was a rumor that you two were behaving badly. Thought I’d make sure nobody did anything stupid.”

Miss Contague glowered. She manages that with a furious impact. It’s the blood. You look at her and forget the cold beauty. You just remember that she’s Chodo Contague’s daughter, old Death on the Hoof himself. You recall times when she made her pop look like a pansy dance instructor.