Book 07 - Deadly Quicksilver Lies by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online Page A

schnook could pick one up and decipher the secrets
of the ages.
    “Check this out.” I tossed the book to Maggie. I
kept one eye on her as I resumed my search.
    “Curiouser and curiouser, Garrett. My baby is full of
surprises.”
    “Yeah.” Maybe. That whole visit was full of
surprises. Including those tree-sized fingers pointing at
witchcraft of the demonic sort.
    The bedroom and its attached bath yielded more occult
treasures.
    Much later I asked, “Is Emerald especially neat?”
Neat would not describe any teen I knew.
    “Only as much as she has to be. Why?”
    I didn’t tell her. I had gone into full investigator mode.
We crack first-line investigators never answer questions about our
questions, especially if those are posed by our employers, lawmen,
or anybody else who might help keep us out of the deep stink. Fact
was, though, that Emerald’s apartment was way too neat.
Compulsively so. Or nobody lived there. My impression was of a
stage set. I was wondering if it might not be exactly that,
carefully primed with clues.
    All right, I told me. Get busy deducting. Clues are clues to
something even when they’re artificial or false.
    I was not that sure. What I had was some inconsistent
indications of witchcraft—which did little to amaze, dismay,
alarm, or otherwise excite my new employer.
    Maybe I was going at this from the wrong end.
    Tap on the shoulder. “Anybody in there?”
    “Huh?”
    “You just froze up and went away.”
    “Happens when I try to think and do something at the same
time.”
    She did her eyebrow trick. I distracted her by flashing her
back. I told her, “I’ve got enough to start. You give
me that list of names. As soon as we settle the
finances.”
    We had no problems there till I insisted on half my fee up
front. “It’s an inflexible rule, Maggie. On account of
human fallibility. Too many people get tempted to stiff me once
they’ve gotten what they want.” But that was not the
only reason I pressed.
    The less a client argues the deeper his desperation.
    My pretty Maggie Jenn argued way too long. Finally, she huffed,
“I’ll have Mugwump bring you that list as soon as I
can.”
    I was thrilled. I really wanted to see Mugwump again. Maybe I
could tip him a talking parrot.
     
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12
    I stood in the shadows down the street from Maggie’s, just
staying out of sight while I thought.
    Like most folks, I don’t get any kick out of being played
for a patsy. But people do try. It’s an occupational hazard.
I’m used to it. I expect it. But I don’t like it.
    Something was going on. I was being used. None too subtly,
either. Unless Maggie my sweet was a lot less worldly than I
suspected, I didn’t see how she could think I would buy
everything.
    I’d sure enjoyed the job interview, though. As far as it
had gone.
    The thing to do now was what she had said she didn’t want
me to do: investigate Maggie Jenn. For my own safety. In my line,
what you don’t know can get you killed as fast as what you do
know. Once I could guess where I really stood, maybe I’d do
something about Emerald.
    I glanced at the sky. It was dark but still early. I could touch
some contacts, take a few steps along the path to enlightenment.
Right after I dropped Maggie’s retainer off at home. Only a
fool carries a load like that longer than he must. TunFaire teems
with villains who can count the change in your pocket at a hundred
yards.
    I could imagine no explanation of recent events more convincing
than what Maggie purported. Nevertheless, there was Winger. I shook
my head. The cobwebs did not go away. They never do. All part of
the service. All part of my naive charm.
    I looked for my tail. No sign. Maybe he got tired and went home.
Maybe the Hill’s security thugs whispered sweet nothings in
his ear, like, “Get lost pronto or you’ll crawl home
with two broken legs.” Or maybe his job had been done once
he’d found out where I was going.
    I shoved off. All that thinking was giving me