Wild Cards [07] Dead Man's Hand by George R.R. Martin Read Free Book Online

his voice, and an unconcealed bitterness that Brennan had never heard before.
    "Why are you hiding out? Did you recognize Chrysalis's murderer telepathically?"
    Sascha just sat there. For a while Brennan thought he wouldn't say. anything, but then he nodded. "I heard someone," he finally said.
    "Who?"
    "That PI, that Popinjay character."
    Jay Ackroyd, Brennan thought. He'd had a run-in with the ace before, but he couldn't conceive of him as a murderer. "What was he doing at the Palace?"
    Sascha said nothing, just shrugged. "What about Elmo?" Brennan asked.
    The bartender shook his head. "She'd sent him out late the night before on some kind of secret errand. Didn't tell me anything about it." The bitterness came back, this time edged with fear. "He never got back to the Palace. I heard that the cops are looking for him."
    "Do they think he did it?"
    Sascha laughed. "Maybe. What a joke. Do you think the dwarf would ever hurt her? He loved her. It's almost as funny as thinking you killed her."
    "You don't know anything more? Nothing specific about the murder?"
    Sascha fidgeted nervously and picked at an ugly scab on the side of his neck. "How about who did it?" he asked in a frantic burst of words. "I was getting a drink at Freakers this afternoon, and everyone was talking about it."
    "About what?"
    "About Bludgeon! He did it! He killed Chrysalis. He's been bragging about it."
    "Why would Bludgeon kill Chrysalis?"
    Sascha shrugged. "Who knows why he does anything? He's crazy mean. But I heard he's trying to get back with the Fists. I guess he's had hard times since the Mafia got busted up."
    Brennan nodded grimly. It made sense. Bludgeon was nothing but muscle. He was strong but stupid, and he'd proven to be even too brutal for the Shadow Fists, who'd cut him loose a couple of years ago. He'd hooked on with the Mafia, but the Mafia had been crushed in a vicious gang war with the Fists last year. If Kien and the Fists had put a contract on Chrysalis, Bludgeon was certainly capable of beating her to death to ingratiate himself with them.
    Sascha's mother returned from the kitchen with a tea tray. Brennan watched as Sascha lifted a steaming cup with shaking hands.
    "I have to go," he said. "Take care of yourself, Sascha." He nodded to the old woman as he left her apartment. If the rumor was around town as Sascha said it was, Tripod would pick up on it and find Bludgeon. At any rate, Bludgeon was only the muscle. He may have done the killing-and if he did, Brennan wanted him-but he wanted the one who had sicced him on Chrysalis even more.
    He had a truce with Kien. He had called off his vendetta against his old enemy, but if Kien-or anyone in Kien's organization-had ordered Chrysalis's death, the Fists were going to bleed.

    9:00 P.M.
    The apartment was a loft over a bankrupt print shop, in a century-old cast-iron building a block off the river. Over the door a sign, faded almost to illegibility, said BLACKWELL PRINTING COMPANY. Jay peered through a windowpane, but the grime covered it like a coat of gray paint, and he could get no hint of the interior.
    He shoved his hands into the pockets of his blazer and walked slowly up and down the sidewalk. As far as he could see, there were two ways into the loft. An old iron fire escape clung to the back side of the structure. He could probably pull the ladder down and climb in through a window. Or he could just ring the bell.
    He could see lights in the loft windows. To hell with it, he thought. He went around to the steel-reinforced door by the alley. There was no name on the bell. Jay jabbed it with his thumb.
    After a moment there was a metallic rasping noise, and the lock on the steel door disengaged. That was easy, Jay thought as he pushed his way inside. He found himself at the bottom of a narrow flight of stairs in a ghastly little hallway that smelled of mold and printer's ink. A light bulb dangled from the ceiling, swaying slightly from side to side as moths fluttered around it.