Part 32 (1/2)
”Letters?”
”We didn't let n.o.body see you,” Slither explained. ”Mainly on account of you wasn't here. So some people wrote you letters. We put them on your desk.”
There were three letters. Two showed no indication whence they sprang. The other bore Morley's chop. It was a nag about where the h.e.l.l was I last night? He couldn't waste all his valuable time playing my games if I wasn't going to show up.
By now he would know why I hadn't. Him and his thugs probably thought it was funny.
I opened a letter that purported to be from Maggie Jenn. She wanted to meet. Oh? Right. ”Slither! You remember who brought these?”
The big man leaned through the doorway. ”That one was brung by a lady. Cute little bug of a thing with red hair.”
Surprise, surprise. Bold little witch...Oh, horrible thought! What if this was the real Maggie Jenn, come in from her island hideout?
No. Because I didn't want that.
”That one you done opened come from your friend with the funny ears.”
”Morley Dotes. I know.” I picked up the last one. ”How about this?”
”One of them fellas that was here when I had my seizure brung that one.”
”One of those lunatics from the Call?”
”Them fellas what tried to push you around.”
That didn't make sense. I supposed I'd have to open the letter to straighten it out.
It was from Emerald Jenn. She would talk to me if I would meet her at a certain estate south of TunFaire. I didn't know the estate, but I did know the area. I'd met Eleanor out there. Folks down there were a lot like folks from the Hill-only way more reactionary. Their wealth consisted of land rather than treasure or power. A more smugly self-righteous, bigoted bunch would be hard to imagine.
Emerald Jenn's suggested meeting place wasn't far from the main estate of Marengo North English.
Interesting.
”How is your memory, Slither?”
”I'm pretty good today, Garrett.”
He didn't sound good, but I had to take his word. ”Need you to run over to Morley's. Tell him I'm coming, he wants to get on with what we talked about last night. You manage that?”
He thought about it. ”I can do it. You got it. Now?”
”Always a great time to start.”
”Pretty rough out there, Garrett. They're killing each other in the streets.”
”Take Ivy, makes you feel better.”
”I was thinking about you.”
”I'll take my chances.” Wise a.s.s. Do I carry a sign only I can't see? Garrett's ego. Kick here.
I occupied the stoop in order to field marshal Slither's departure. I checked the street, too. ”I know how a horse apple feels,” I told Ivy, who was inside the doorway and had to have the allusion explained. ”Flies?”
All my fans were back. Except for the fierce pirates. Grange Cleaver friends seemed scarce.
I predicted that, didn't I?
I shrugged, went inside, and scribbled a note to Maggie Jenn. Ivy could give it to whomever came around to get my reply.
63.
”Getting predictable in your old age,” I told Dotes, settling beside him on the exact set of steps where I'd guessed he would be waiting.
”Me? I'm here because I knew this is where you would come looking. I didn't want you wasting time stumbling around looking for me.”
Invisible sign. Absolutely. ”Can we take him?”
”He's caught. n.o.body is so lucky he gets out of what I have set.” He glanced left, at smoke rising in the distance. ”Quiet out.” The street should have been busier.
All streets should have been busier. Slither was right. They were killing each other out here-though it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Block's heavies were fast on their feet. And they had the army garrison to help discourage disorder.
Trouble never got a chance to grow up.
Too, word was out that Marengo North English didn't approve. He said this wasn't the time. The captains of many sister nut groups agreed. They asked for restraint now, promising license later.
”Interesting times,” I told Morley.
”It's always something.” Like he hadn't the least concern. ”Well, here's our guest.”
The clumsy guy smelled a rat. He was moving carefully. Trouble was, his sniffer wasn't sensitive enough. It was too late by the time he got a good whiff.
Morley waved. ”Come on over.”
The guy looked around. Just the way he moved you could tell he thought his luck was with him still. He was in it up to his chin but knew he always got out. So maybe this time he would fall up and blow away on the breeze. A regular dandelion seed.
Morley's friends and relatives and employees closed a ring. Luck failed its compact with our man. Gravity didn't reverse itself.
I thumbed a wood chip while Morley watched the man get a grip on his disappointment.
”Pull up a step, Ace,” I told him.
He did, but he had the fidgets. He kept looking for his lucky exit.
I told him, ”I didn't really want you. But I can't get ahold of Winger.” Not that I'd tried.