Faded Steel Heat (9 page)

“These people are mainly lower-class veterans, Garrett. You need money to become a political force. Did you check to see if someone’s been skimming again?”

“I did. I didn’t catch any bad smells.”

“I’ll reexamine the accounts myself. I’ll let you know if I find anything. You say my father wanted to see you?”

“Gilbey caught me on the dock. Soon as I finished I headed for the big house.”

“Dad’s probably grumbling about you taking so long. I’ll let you know what these two have to say. If they don’t talk, they’ll be looking for work.”

The unknowns were headed for the street already, partly under their own power. Those boys would have a fine crop of aches and bruises in the morning.

Not me, though. I’d saved myself all that by moving fast and hitting hard,
first.
Just what Morley has been preaching for so long. Pretty soon I’d be leaving them with their throats cut.

Ty muttered, “I’m going to be late again.” He worked his chair around until he was right in there with the brewery employees, both of whom were conscious now. “Lance. We’ll question Hanbe first. No sense upsetting Skibber Kessel if we don’t have to.”

The Goddamn Parrot dropped out of the gloom, satisfied that it was safe to show his ugly beak around me again.

Ty started. Then he grinned. “Put one on the other shoulder, too, Garrett. Add a tricorner hat, a bad limp, some facial scars, and an eye patch. You could pass yourself off as Captain Scarlet.” He smirked.

The Goddamn Parrot brings out the worst in everybody. Except me.

“I’ll just go see your dad now.”

“Yo ho ho.”

18

Manvil Gilbey was waiting for me. I barely finished cranking the bell handle before he stuck his bleak face outside. I was surprised. A stiffneck named Gerris Genord usually answered the door.

His nose rolled up instantly. “What in the world?... Are you aware of the state of your apparel?”

“Plenty. I was headed over here. I got ambushed in the stable. I’ll want to talk that over with the boss, too. But first, why don’t I go around back, shuck out of all this horse flavoring, and wash down? If you’ve got somebody who can bring me a towel and something else to wear.”

“Thoughtful of you, Garrett. Take care you don’t fall afoul of any pigs or cattle on your journey.”

“Careful is my new middle name.”

The Goddamn Parrot decided that was his cue to laugh. He sounded like a donkey braying.

I strolled around to the tradesman’s gate. I waited there for ten minutes. I started talking to myself, or maybe thinking out loud to the Goddamn Parrot. Gilbey himself finally showed up to open the gate and let me into a large paved courtyard that would have been the shipping point had the mansion actually become a brewery.

“You get lost backstairs? Or are you just the only one home who’ll risk —”

“I ran into Alyx. I had to discourage her from supervising your ablutions personally.”

That might have been interesting. “Must be this glamorous life I lead.”

“I wouldn’t get too interested in Alyx.”

“Me neither. Max is my bread and butter.” Oh, did it hurt to say that and actually try to mean it. The more I thought about how wonderfully Alyx had grown up the more —

“And I understand you’re taken.”

“Awk!” Chuckles in parrotese.

“This bird and me, we’re a hot number. Nothing is going to come between us.”

“I expect Miss Tate will be devastated.”

Manvil is business all the time. He took himself and life and everything else much too seriously. “You should relax, Gilbey. Take a night off. Go out somewhere where nobody knows you, get fucked up and party your ass off.”

Gilbey’s eyes widened a skillionth of an inch. “Sound advice, no doubt. It’s certainly done you well. I’ll consider it.”

“Go after it the way you did when you were young and in the service.”

“I was in the Judge Advocate’s office.”

“Wouldn’t you know.” He probably prosecuted guys for smiling on the job.

“I don’t recall ever having criticized the way you live your life, Mr. Garrett.”

“Ouch!” Despite his obvious disapproval. “Point taken, Mr. Gilbey. And that makes you a treasure.
Everyone
else
is
critical, including my partner, my housekeeper, my girlfriend, my best friend, even this ludicrous buzzard.”

The Goddamn Parrot cracked an eyelid and went to all the trouble of interjecting an “Awk” as bitterly cold as any corpse.

For a second I thought Gilbey might crack a smile.

He didn’t but I knew how to get to him now. With the unanticipated. With the kind of humor that blindsides you with the unlikely.

“A troll, an ogre, and a barbarian walk into a tavern. The elephant behind the bar says, ‘We don’t serve —’”

“Mice are never amusing.”

“You’ve heard it.” I hadn’t finished the setup.

“I hear them all. Kittyjo collects them. The more off-color the better. I have to listen to them. Here we are. I had several buckets of hot water brought around. Use them as you will.”

“Can I ask you something, Gilbey?”

He waited, neither offering permission nor denying it.

“You’re a right guy. You’re Max’s pal. His sidekick. But half the time you talk like some kind of butler or something.”

“We are what we are, Garrett. You should find soap, towels, and fresh clothing inside. Rinse down the floor when you’re done. Courtesy to the next bather. When you’re ready, meet us in Max’s study.”

“Thanks. For everything and whatever.”

I stepped into the place he had made available. The floor was zinc. So were the walls. The staff were allowed to bathe there. Horses got scrubbed down there, too.

A selection of clothing, soap, a brush, and three steaming buckets all sat on a bench. A doorway without a door in it opened into a chamber about five feet by nine, also floored and walled with zinc. The floor sloped to a central drain. A bizarre apparatus consisting of a barrel and lead pipes hung overhead. You filled the tank by climbing a ladder in the outer room.

I figured it out because it resembled a contraption we’d built from a hardtack barrel in the islands, using bamboo for pipes.

I scrubbed up as good as I have in years.

The clothes were not the sort you’ll usually find on one of Mama Garrett’s boys — mainly because Mom and all her boys together couldn’t afford them. Nor were they a choice I would’ve selected, given a choice. They were too dressy, formal, dull, too dark, more suited to the funeral racket. Also, there was a waistcoat. And ruffles. Not a plethora of ruffles. Not ruffles like you see when Morley dresses up. But ruffles.

Ruffles aren’t me.

The Goddamn Parrot resumed station on my shoulder. He made no effort to control his snickers.

The clothing smelled like it had been stored. Maybe it had belonged to one of the Weider boys. In happier times. Not Ty, though. He was smaller than me. Probably the only one who hadn’t come home. I couldn’t remember his name.

The tools were there so I shaved. I don’t know why I didn’t seize the opportunity to cut the Goddamn Parrot’s throat. It was one in a thousand. And nobody was looking.

19

Old Man Weider stands about two hairs over five and a half feet tall but he has a much bigger presence. He’s a round-faced, ruddy-skinned guy with close-cropped white hair, most of which has migrated to the sides of his head, I suppose to escape the direct impact of sunshine and rain. His mustache is doing much better, thank you. Maybe it gets more fertilizer. It’s a huge gray bush with flecks of yesterday’s brown still hanging on stubbornly.

Weider smiles readily but his smiles seldom take up residence in his eyes. It’s like he’s really glad to see you but the moment you’re actually there he starts calculating all the angles.

He grabbed my hand, pumped it. His fingers were plump little sausages. He grinned as he said, “I hear you had an adventure over in my stables.” He has remarkably good teeth for his age. “Ty sent Ike Khame over. He told us what happened while you were cleaning up.”

“Ah. An adventure. That don’t capture it. I was lucky Ty and Lance turned up when they did.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Sorry. Sit down. You look good in those clothes. They were Tad’s. I suppose you guessed. Keep them. In fact, Manvil, tell Genord to have Tad’s whole wardrobe shipped over to Garrett’s place. You don’t have any objection, do you?” This was the boss. Chatter chatter, off in seven unpredictable directions.

“No.”

“Sit down. Sit down. You want something to drink? We’ve got beer. Or beer. Or you can have beer.” He worked some change on that joke every time I visited. Which wasn’t often. Our relationship may be based on absence makes the heart grown fonder. “Why would anyone jump you?”

“Good question. I don’t know. Two were your employees. Ty said he’d get an answer. They all carried armbands from some rights gang. Their emblem wasn’t one I’ve ever seen before.”

Gilbey brought a schooner of beer, a Weider Dark Reserve with a strong yeast flavor. The very beer the goats in heaven give instead of milk. He said, “It’s spooky, seeing you in those clothes.”

Weider agreed. “If we got a surgeon to cut that growth off your shoulder, you’d look a lot like Tad.” The old pain rose into Weider’s eyes. It was the pain we all know because we’ve all lost somebody to the war. I took a long drink and tried to forget my brother. My father doesn’t hurt because I don’t remember him.

Weider didn’t have that solace. Nor that of beer. He drinks nothing. He stays away because he loves the stuff too much.

Gilbey drew a mug. He would nurse it all evening. “I don’t get out much anymore, Garrett,” he said as he settled into the chair he always used, not far from Max, where he could scoot over and get into a cutthroat game of dominoes when the mood hit. “I’m out of touch with popular culture. Are stuffed birds some new fad?”

“A present from a friend.” I let it go at that.

With my luck the Dead Man was napping and catching nothing through that hideous jungle chicken.

Weider mused, “So Alyx went to you.”

I nodded.

“I didn’t send her.”

“So she said. But she hinted that you wouldn’t run me off if I turned up.”

“It’s good that you came. You’ve already generated evidence that something is going on. This cancer people call a human rights movement.
It has
penetrated the brewery.”

“Alyx said somebody’s trying to extort money on behalf of The Call.”

Weider seemed surprised. He glanced at Gilbey. “Manvil?”

“News to me.” Gilbey sat forward in his chair, alert.

“She said Ty told her. Tinnie and Nicks backed her up. A couple of brewmasters supposedly saw it happen.”

“They did? The Call? Nicks?”

“Miss Nicholas. Ty’s fiancé. It doesn’t sound like The Call’s style.”

“Absolutely not. Marengo North English has more wealth than any three men deserve.”

Interesting. Weider should be North English’s equal in that. “I’d gladly relieve the man of some of the responsibility.”

Weider chuckled. “No doubt. But his wealth is why The Call is the biggest rights group.”

Gilbey amended, “His wealth and his connections. Most of his social peers share his prejudices.”

Max said, “I don’t. Even though I consider him my friend. He wouldn’t try something that underhanded. He’d come ask for support.”

I said, “He might have some renegade troops.” I’d had an unpleasant encounter with a Call splinter group not that long ago.

“Plausible.” Gilbey took my schooner, restored it to a happier estate, then added, “The men in the stable weren’t from The Call.”

Weider told me, “Ike seemed certain that Ty had made sure of that.”

“Oh.”

“Tomorrow night I’m hosting a gala where Ty and Giorgi will announce their engagement. Everybody who is anybody will be here. Including Marengo North English and Bondurant Altoona. And you, I hope. Won’t you join us?”

“Uh... Me? Socializing with socialites?” I’ve done that, mostly in shady places, street corners, alleyways, taverns where their own kind won’t notice them rubbing elbows with a disreputable character like me.

“You’ll manage, Garrett. Just bring your manners. Pretend the guests are all beautiful women and you have charm to waste. Get him an invitation, Manvil. You’ll come in like any other guest, Garrett. The security people won’t know who you are. Not right away.”

I must have let another expression get out and go scampering around my face. Maybe I need to hit the Landing and hang out in the gambling dens until I get my betting face back.

“I didn’t have you do security because you’re only one man, Garrett.”

That was hopping on a crippled leg but I ignored it. I accepted a fancy folded paper from Gilbey, asked Weider, “So why did you send Manvil to get me?”

“An impulse. Possibly driven by an unconscious surge of common sense. I wanted to give you that invitation. Because I suddenly realized that by shutting you out I was putting myself entirely in the hands of amateurs and strangers at a time when I was going to have a house full of outsiders, many of whom I couldn’t call friends even during a wedding celebration. And I wanted to find out why you suddenly decided to show an interest in the brewery. Just when things are showing signs of getting weird. Call it my old-age paranoia suddenly flaring up.”

I looked at Gilbey. Manvil thinks much less of me than Max does. “You approve?”

“I do.” But his gout was nipping him, or he was having a problem with gas pains.

“You have other troubles?”

Max said, “I expect to find out for sure tomorrow night. I mean to flush the snakes out of the grass.”

There would be a few of those amongst the bourgeois robber moguls likely to be invited to a Weider soiree. Vipers the size of the crocodile killers we used to cut up and feed to the saber-toothed cats in the islands...

Gilbey volunteered, “Alyx wanted you invited, too.”

The little darling. “Huh?”

“On behalf of Miss Tate. But also because she’s wary of snakes herself.”

Tinnie seemed to be wriggling her cute little tail right back into the center of my life. And I didn’t mind at all. “I’ll see if I can’t find something to wear.”