Circus of the Damned

28

I had finished a pot of coffee and managed to get dressed when the phone rang again. One of those mornings.

"Yeah," I said.

"Ms. Blake?" the voice sounded very uncertain.

"Speaking."

"This is Karl Inger."

"Sorry if I sounded abrupt. What's up, Mr. Inger?"

"You said you'd speak to me again if we had a better plan. I have a better plan," he said.

"For killing the Master of the City?" I made it a question.

"Yes."

I took a deep breath and let it out slow, away from the phone. Didn't want him to think I was heavy breathing at him. "Mr. Inger. ."

"Please, hear me out. We saved your life last night. That must be worth something."

He had me there. "What's your plan, Mr. Inger?"

"I'd rather tell you in person."

"I'm not going to my office for some hours yet."

"Could I come to your home?"

"No." It was automatic.

"You don't bring business home?"

"Not when I can help it," I said.

"Suspicious of you."

"Always," I said.

"Can we meet somewhere else? There's someone I want you to meet."

"Who, and why?"

"The name won't mean anything to you."

"Try me."

"Mr. Oliver."

"First name?"

"I don't know it."

"Okay, then why should I meet him?"

"He has a good plan for killing the Master of the City."

"What?"

"No, I think it will be better if Mr. Oliver explains it in person. He's much more persuasive than I am."

"You're doing okay," I said.

"Then you'll meet me?"

"Sure, why not?"

"That's wonderful. Do you know where Arnold is?"

"Yes."

"There's a pay fishing lake just outside of Arnold on Tesson Ferry Road. Do you know it?"

I had an impression that I had driven by it on the way to two murders. All roads led to Arnold. "I can find it."

"How soon can you meet me there?" he asked.

"An hour."

"Great; I'll be waiting."

"Is this Mr. Oliver going to be at the lake?"

"No, I'll drive you from there."

"Why all the secrecy?"

"Not secrecy," he said, his voice dropped, embarrassed. "I'm just not very good at giving directions. It'll be easier if I just take you."

"I can follow you in my car."

"Why, Ms. Blake, I don't think you entirely trust me."

"I don't entirely trust anybody, Mr. Inger, nothing personal."

"Not even people who save your life?"

"Not even."

He let that drop, probably for the best, and said, "I'll meet you at the lake in an hour."

"Sure."

"Thank you for coming, Ms. Blake."

"I owe you. You've made sure I'm aware of that."

"You sound defensive, Ms. Blake. I did not mean to offend you."

I sighed. "I'm not offended, Mr. Inger. I just don't like owing people."

"Visiting Mr. Oliver today will clear the slate between us. I promise that."

"I'll hold you to that, Inger."

"I'll meet you in an hour," he said.

"I'll be there," I said. We hung up. "Damn." I'd forgotten I hadn't gotten to eat yet today. If I'd remembered, I'd have said two hours. Now I'd have to literally grab something on the way. I hated eating in the car. But, heh, what's a little mess between friends? Or even between people who've saved your life? Why did it bother me so much that I owed Inger?

Because he was a right-wing fruitcake. A zealot. I didn't like doing business with zealots. And I certainly didn't like owing my life to one.

Ah, well; I'd meet him, then we'd be square. He had said so. Why didn't I believe it?