Bitter Gold Hearts

"Garrett, are you a curse upon my house?" He actu­ally used a dwarfish idiom equally capable of being trans­lated as "mother-in-law." But I'm such a nice fellow nobody would ever accuse me of mother-in-lawing. "You're the reverse blackbird, you know that? The backward harbinger. Every time I have some bad luck, I have some more because you turn up right afterward. I can count on it."

"You don't want me hanging around, stop betting on the bugs. There's a simple cause-and-effect relationship there—very much like the one between betting on the bugs and losing your boots."

He repeated his curse-upon-the-house remark. "What do you want, Garrett?"

"I want to know if you've heard any news I might find useful."

"No. Ogre Town is as quiet as a crypt. Those guys came from somewhere else. And they took the gold with them when they went back. There hasn't been a whiff of gold around town. If there was a hint of a pile that size, you know the hard boys would be as busy as maggots. Saucer head is doing all right."

"I know. I found out the hard way. He's got some little she-devil standing gate guard. I thought I was going to get gutted before I got out of there. Who the hell is she?"

He gave me the first flash of teeth of the visit. "His sister, maybe?"

"Horse pucky. Nobody's sister carries on like that."

He grinned. "Actually, I did hear one thing you might want to know, but I don't see how it would be much use."

"Well?"

"A drunken sailor off a night boat staggered in here right before we closed this morning. The gods know why he came here."

"I was just thinking that myself. Only they know why anybody does." "Night boat" is a euphemism for smug­gler. Smugglers account for a third of TunFaire's river trade.

"You want to hear this or do you want to wisecrack your way to ignorance?"

"Speak to me, Oracle of the Lettuce."

"He mentioned that Raver Styx's ship entered the harbor at Leifmold the afternoon they left for TunFaire. She's on her way home, Garrett. She'll be here in a few days. If that will make any difference in the way you do what you think you have to do."

"It might. I figure Junior deserves special attention because of Saucer head and Amiranda. Having Mom around might present difficulties."

"That's the whole barrel, then. Go away so I can feel sorry for myself."

"Right. Next time you got to bet on the bugs, let me know so I can get down the other way and clean up."

"There won't be a next time, Garrett."

"Good for you, Morley." I left the room thinking I had heard it before. He might hang in there awhile, but sooner or later he'd hear about a sure thing and the fever would get him. I told the barman downstairs, "Send him a couple of turnip tenderloins smothered in onions and a double shot of your high-proof celery juice, straight up. On me."

He didn't crack a smile. I headed home, my head filled with visions of a steak so rare Morley would die to look at it.

______ XXIII ______

Dean had the place sealed up tight. Good for him. Sometimes he forgets. I pounded away. He came and peeked through the peephole. He made a production out of checking to see if I was there under duress. Then he started clinking and clunking as he unlatched latches. He flung the door open.

"Am I glad you're finally here, Mr. Garrett." He did sound glad. He retreated. I went in after him, started to pull the door shut.

"What the hell? What's this?"

We had gained another hall ornament. This one went by the name Courter Slauce when it wasn't in the home-furnishings racket.

"Dean!"

But he was headed for the kitchen at a high-speed shuffle and dared not battle the momentum he had devel­oped. He tossed an answer over his shoulder but it didn't have enough oomph behind it. It fell on the floor before it got to me. I paused beside Slauce. "Finances take a turn for the worse? You'll never make ends meet housebreaking."

Funny. He didn't answer. He could hear well enough, though. And I could al­most hear the nasty thoughts slithering round inside his head. I told him, "You'll make great company for Bruno. He's been dying for a shoulder to cry on."

I stepped past Bruno. Such a quandary. Drop in on the Dead Man and let him know I hadn't yet found a way to lure Junior into his lair? Or track Dean down and find out why we had another statue in the hall?

Dean won the toss. He was closer to the beer. As I pushed through the door I heard Dean saying, "There. There, now. It'll be all right. Mr. Garrett is here now. He'll take care of everything."

Sure he would. He stepped on in to get a better idea of where to start. Dean had his arms around an Amber who was shaking and looked like eighteen going on a terrified ten instead of thirty. Dean was patting her back and trying to still her tears. The same Dean who had stamped her with his scarlet seal of disapproval. Something had shaken her badly. And the soft heart inside the old crab's shell had melted to her terror.