Gilded Latten Bones

36

Amongst those people who stayed quiet and didn't move much were Sarge and Playmate. A good look at Play left me shocked. Not only had the man lost a huge amount of weight, he stooped to where he was no taller than me. He looked like he had to deal with bad chronic pain.

He does. Had I been aware of his situation I would have made something good happen for him, long ago. Without you here these people never visit. I remain unaware of what is happening in their lives. On a positive note, I have gotten Miss Contague to send for the healer who worked on Mr. Dotes.

"Clever. Two birds."

Probably just one. Playmate's cancer appears to be advanced.

I could say nothing more out loud.

I shook hands, slapped backs, exchanged hugs. I asked Jon Salvation where his shark woman was. He astonished me by reporting, "I don't think she was invited."

"You came anyway?" I blurted.

"I do things like that these days. You'll find me more independent than the Remora you remember." He had been called the Remora because he swam in the slipstream of his girlfriend, Winger, betraying no personality of his own. "I expect she'll turn up anyway. She'll be sure the lack of an invite was an oversight."

I looked over at Singe. She was doing a credible job of being the lady of the house, seeing to our guests while being smoothly sociable. Even the prejudiced were unable to consider her as just a ratwoman.

Neither Belinda in disguise nor General Block in disguise did any socializing. With the exception of brief exchanges with John Stretch, neither spoke to anyone.

The more I looked around the bigger the crowd seemed to be. I kept spotting people I didn't know. I saw John Stretch associates helping Dean with the refreshments. I saw people I did know but would not expect at a let's-decide-what-we'll-do party themed round Morley Dotes.

Singe's office was open to the crowd, too. People drifted back and forth in search of conversation. Morley himself had been declared off-limits. Three of John Stretch's worst villains were in there and had permission to hurt people who wouldn't take a hint.

There were exceptions, one-on-one and closely watched. Sarge. Saucerhead. Belinda. Me.

Once I lost my appeal to the mob, Belinda and the General drifted closer. Block shook my hand, told me I was looking good, then said how wonderful it was that I was showing some civic interest again. I kept a straight face and did not ask when he thought that I ever demonstrated any civic mindedness. He asked, "Can we slip into your kitchen for a second? This isn't private enough."

"How can I say no?" Though there wouldn't be much privacy back there, either, what with Dean and his ratfolk assistants underfoot.

This may be important. Do not waste time fencing, Garrett. I sense the imminent arrival of someone who may be Miss Contague's healer. He is very closed. Also, the population of loafers has begun to grow out on Macunado Street.

We stepped into the kitchen, conveniently as Dean and his helpers trained out with trays that looked like each ratman was carrying his own weight in drinks and treats.

I began to suffer grim thoughts about how the Dead Man better not be only plundering minds, he had best be bringing the right people together to talk about what needed doing. And he had better be putting the right ideas into the right minds while he was at it. Because this was going to bankrupt me if it went on for long.

I drew a mug, asked, "Fill you up?" Headshakes. I settled at the overloaded table. "Talk to me."

The General seemed disappointed.

He had changed. The weary but determined middle-aged functionary had become a worn-out elder bureaucrat.

"Garrett, I don't know what to say. I hear you've changed. I'm told you've turned into a model subject of the Karentine Crown."

"I always was."

"Pardon me? You were always a stubborn, obstructionist asshole. You had no interest whatsoever in forwarding the welfare of the commonality."

What the hell? "You mean I wasn't excited about 'forwarding' the cause once Deal Relway defined it for me."

Do not argue. Accept. From his viewpoint he is stating one hundred percent truth.

Meaning he got to define the welfare of the commonality. "I love you, too."

No two people see everything the same. You know that. At the moment it is important that we not antagonize our allies simply for the pleasure of being difficult.

Hang on. Even my partner thinks I refuse to cooperate with the tin whistles, and hold back information, just to tweak them?

"Garrett? You here?" the General asked. "Or have you died and gone to hell?"

"I'm sorry. I was in the throes of what might have been a grand epiphany." On the other hand, it might have been breakfast backing up. "What do you need?"

"We Guardsmen have a morale problem that is becoming a moral problem."

"I hope that's not contagious."

"Exactly. All the good we've done could start to unravel if this mess keeps on the way it has been."

"You lost me."

"Will you. .?" He glared in exasperation.

"Ever since we met you've accused me of stonewalling or deliberately holding things up. You were right. When it was in the interest of my client. Maybe one time in ten. I knew why you were barking, then. This time I don't. All I'm doing is protecting a friend who came within a frog's feather of getting himself stabbed to death. In case somebody tries to finish the job. I've been told by half the people here and some who aren't that this is all I'm allowed to do. It's all I intend to do. And at least one woman doesn't want me doing that much."

"Touchy."

"Damned straight."

"Why do you have all these people here, then?"

"I don't. I didn't invite them. Did you get an invitation from me?"

"No. But this is your house."

"It's a place where I'm staying because I thought Morley would be safer here than anywhere else."

He gave me a dubious look.

"The first I knew about this was just a while ago when Singe woke me up from a perfectly beautiful nap and told me to come help."

"You always blow a creditable cloud of smoke."

"Again, what do you want?"

"We've been warned off this case."

"You're going to let it slide? You lost people."

"Garrett, can the shit. For the rest of us this isn't about Morley Dotes. About him and his problems I don't much care."

"Tell him that."

"Gladly. Is he up for an interview?"

"He's in a coma."

"Too bad. But his testimony isn't critical. What is critical would be our incorruptibility. When we started out Deal and I were promised that no one would be above the law. Not even the Royal Family. Prince Rupert stood behind us when we stepped on sensitive toes. But this time he's telling us to back off. We have to let it go. The same word has gone out to the Syndicate."

"Who has the drag to bully the Crown Prince?"

"Exactly. We mean to find out."

"You're not going to back off?"

"We're going to be less obviously vigorous. Unobtrusive. But the more pressure we get the more we'll dig. Same pertains for the Syndicate, I suspect. You push the Contagues, they push back."

"You think dread of an explosion in production of dead bodies might be why the Prince wants to stand down?"

"No. I think somebody on the Hill, somebody who can make even Rupert shit his knickers, wants the thing left alone. I'll even go so far as to guess that the Hill as a whole wants it left alone."

"Because the villains might be some of them?"

"In part. But more because if we poke our noses in very far we're likely to turn up all sorts of things they don't want the public to know."

I poured myself some tea. Dean was outside the kitchen door telling me to hurry up. He had to get back to work.

I raised a questioning eyebrow.

Block said, "I'll stipulate that most Hill folk are as distressed by the warehouse as the rest of us. But they want to handle it themselves."

"So let them."

"And next time somebody wants to shut the Guard out? Next time somebody wants to handle justice privately?"

Block had a fierce case of the same disease that ruled Relway. Most of the time it did more good than bad.

"All I can do is wish you luck. I'll be right here babysitting."

He didn't believe a word.

Sometimes there's no point trying to communicate with some people. They live everything inside their heads. Outside things that don't fit get ignored.

Westman Block was a good man. I liked him. But he could frustrate me like almost no one else but Tinnie.

"Come on in, Dean."

Dean burst in and got cracking. He was determined to render me destitute before the sun went down.