Glen Cook Garrett 08 Petty Pewter Gods

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scheme and cons to crack." I was sure that, immortal players or not, there
were charades going on in this temple squabble. Overall, the Shayir probably
were more straight with me, and one sex of them sure was friendly, but I was
sure we didn't have the full map in front of us yet. "Dean?"
"Sir?"
"Did the wedding go well? Was the trip worth it?" I could not recall having
asked before,
"It all went quite well. Your gift was received with considerable pleasure.
Rebecca expressed amazement that you even remembered her, let alone thought so
well of her."
"There was a time when neither one of you let me forget for a minute. That
gift was a sigh of relief." Back then Dean's whole mission in life, it seemed,
was to get me married to one of his numerous nieces.
A hint of a smirk pranced around the corners of the old boy's mouth. He said,
"It was an interesting journey. We even fell afoul of highwaymen on the return
leg, gentlemen so inept they didn't know what to do when they found out that
everyone aboard the coach was stone-broke. I enjoyed myself a great deal, but
it's good to be back home."
"Yeah. No place like." Especially for me. "Sounds like somebody pounding on
the door."
Garrett. Please step into your office and close the door.
"Huh?"
Our visitors are Mr. Tharpe, Miss Winger, and an associate of Mr. Dotes'
known as Agonistes. They will leave shortly. I should like them to depart
convinced that you are not on these premises.
That sounded like a reasonable idea, but who would want to admit it to
Himself?
Who was this Agonistes? I didn't know anybody by that name in Morley's crew.
"Agonistes" is what you people call a street name.
"Oh. Silly me. I really thought somebody's mother would hang a tag like that
on him."
Dean passed me, headed for the front door, wiping floury hands on a dishrag.
I ducked into my office, which is a large, messy closet across the hall from
the Dead Man's spacious suite. I swung the door most of the way shut. I left
it cracked both so I could hear what was said in the hall and so I could peek
at the Dead Man's visitors. "Dean, remember to keep an eye on Winger. She'll
try to kype something."
"I always do, sir. All of your friends."
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He started fumbling with locks and latches and chains, taking away any chance
I would have had to speak on behalf of my friends.
The man's birth name was Claude-Ned Blodgett.
I didn't know that name, either, but I could see why he would take up just
about anything else. Who was going to be scared of a gangster named Claude-Ned
Blodgett? Was he going to pop you with a farm implement?
Agonistes, though, had a kind of self-selected sound to it. Names picked up
on the street don't usually come that dramatic. Pretty often, they really
sound plain stupid. Our great wizard lords on the Hill pick their own business
names, and they always choose something like Raver Styx.
Winger started barking before Dean got the door all the way open. I hoped the
Dead Man just had her doing legwork. She could complicate things real bad if
she got in far enough to get ideas for some scheme.
30
"Garrett here?" Winger demanded.
"I fear not, Miss."
"I'd swear I heard his voice."
"Holy hooters!" the Goddamn Parrot squawked. "Look at them gazoombies!" He
managed a creditable wolf whistle. Winger is blessed. Nobody will ever doubt
that she is female, despite her six-foot stature.
"If Garrett wasn't my best friend I'd throttle that critter," Winger said.
I wanted to jump out and tell her not to hold back on my account, go for it,
turn the little vulture into mock chicken soup.
Though he knew I would do no such thing, the Dead Man did brush me with a
cautionary touch. Up front, the Goddamn Parrot continued to flatter Winger.
Saucerhead's rumbling laugh filled the hallway. "I think he's in love, Winger.
I bet you Garrett would let you take him home." He knew.
"Shee-it."
"Think of the advertising. That bird around wherever you went."
"Double shee-it."
I leaned in an effort to look through the narrow crack by the door hinges. I
wanted to see this Agonistes character. I didn't get much of a look, though he
waited for Winger and Saucerhead to go into the Dead Man's room first. He
didn't look like a thug. He looked like a lawyer, which is a whole different
species of villain. But, then, Morley is trying to polish his image these
days.
I listened carefully. I couldn't catch a sound from the Dead Man's room. Dean
went back to the kitchen, prepared a tray with tea and muffins. My mouth
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watered. I was hungry. I resisted temptation. Those three did have to leave
the house convinced I was still on the run. Dean wouldn't be able to go out at
all now. We would have to survive on whatever we had on hand. Unless Dean had
managed some marketing, that would not be much. I had eaten out while the old
boy was gone. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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