Book 1 - Sweet Silver Blues by Glen Cook Page B

Rose or Tinnie when I
looked into the garden. I closed the door and took a quick look
through the dead guy’s pockets.
    Some vulture had beat me to it. There wasn’t a thing
left.
     
----

----

13
    Old Man Tate got the body out somehow. Dropped it in the river,
I guess. I didn’t ask, and didn’t hear a thing about
it. A lot of people never heard from again take that one last
swim.
    I got Morley and the triplets installed at Denny’s place.
Morley thought it was a great idea. That being the case, I spent
the evening hanging around his place, nicked by dagger looks from
the breeds, hoping I would catch a flash to illuminate his
eagerness to join a fool’s quest.
    I didn’t catch anything brighter than candlelight.
    All I found out was that I wasn’t the only guy
watching.
    You get a sixth sense after enough years. Mine pegged two
heavyweights in the first fifteen minutes. One was human and looked
like he could give Saucerhead a fight. The other was so ugly, and
stayed in his shadowed corner so deep, that I couldn’t tell
what he was. A breed for sure, probably with some troll and kobold
in him, but more than that. He was as wide as he was tall. His face
had been rearranged several times, probably for the better.
    The bartender knew I had something going with Morley. He stayed
civil. I asked about the men I had picked out.
    “Don’t know them. The ugly one was in here last
night. First time. Sat in that corner all night nursing a beer he
brought with him. I would’ve thrown him out if he
hadn’t bought a meal.”
    “That would’ve been a show to see.” I took a
pint of the water that passed for beer there and tipped him to take
the sting out of the crack. “Think they’re the
kingpin’s boys?”
    “Not unless they’re from out of town.”
    That was what I thought. I didn’t recognize them either,
but they looked like trouble on the hoof.
    Well, no skin off my nose. As long as they were not interested
in me.
    I gave it up at Morley’s place after the pint. There were
better places to put an ear to the ground. I went and hung out in
some of them. I didn’t find out a thing.
    Curious.
    I headed for my place wondering if the glazier had gotten
started yet. I felt no shame at all charging the replacement window
to Tate.
    The new window was in place and lettered as pretty as a blonde
in her birthday suit. But I strolled by without admiring it,
putting a slouch in my shoulders and a shuffle in my walk.
    Maybe I wouldn’t go home after all.
    There were problems. One was that somebody was waiting in the
breezeway beside the ratman’s; even without seeing the glow
of his pipe I could smell the weed he was smoking. The other was
that there was somebody waiting inside. Whoever that was had all
the lamps burning, using up oil at a rate to curdle my liver.
    I knew a heavy weed smoker. Another friend of Denny’s.
Another old soldier, name of Barbera, who smoked so much that most
of the time he didn’t know if he was in this world or the
next. A pathetic case, he was always in trouble because folks could
talk him into anything. He had been one of Denny’s
charities.
    No doubt Denny’s other pals thought it would be a giggle
to hop him up and sic him on me.
    I faded into a shadow down the block and took a seat against a
wall that needed tuckpointing. The view of my place was as scenic
as a garbage dump.
    A lot of nothing happened for a long time. Unless you count the
flares as my lurker lighted up, or the passing of drunks so far
gone they were unafraid of the nighted streets. Only after we
started getting some aromatic moonlight did anything interesting
happen. And that was just a couple guys checking in with the weed
man.
    They passed me by without seeing me. But I got a look at
them.
    Vasco and Quinn, my old pals.
    So they meant to do me dirty, eh?
    I didn’t move, though I thought about knocking some heads.
I was beginning to wonder about that lamplight. Vasco and Quinn had
made no effort to talk to whomever