He made a feeble gesture with one hand, a sure sign his blood was up. He seldom spends the strength. "Tell me."
"You have a professional interest?"
"Tell me about it."
My mama didn't raise many kids dumb enough to argue with Chodo Contague while hip-deep in Chodo's headbreakers. I gave him most of the bag. Exactly what I'd given Crask and Sadler. I didn't contradict myself. The Dead Man taught me well when it comes to retaining detail. I added some speculation just to give the impression that I was making a special effort for him.
He listened, relaxed, chin against chest, gathering his strength. What went on inside that strange brain? The man was a genius. Evil, but a genius. He said, "It makes no sense in terms of the information at my disposal."
"Not to me, either." I arrowed to the key point. "But there're dwarves under arms roaming the streets."
"Yes. Most unusual."
"Is there a dwarfish underworld?"
"Yes. Every race has its hidden side, Mr. Garrett. I've had contact with it. It's trivial by human standards. Dwarves don't gamble. They are incapable of making that mental plunge into self-delusion whereby others become convinced that they can beat the odds. They don't drink because they make fools of themselves when they're drunk and there is nothing a dwarf fears more than looking foolish, They shun weed and drugs for the same reason. There are individual exceptions, of course, but they're rare. As a breed, they have few of the usual vices. I've never known one to become excitable enough to employ lifetakers."
"Pretty dull bunch."
"By your standards or mine. All work, all business, very little play. But there is one game they do enjoy. One weakness. Exotic females. Any species will do, though they gravitate toward big-busted human women."
So do I. I made an unnecessary crack about, well, if you've taken a look at your average dwarf woman
He shut me up with a scowl.
"They can't resist, Mr. Garrett—if you give them half a chance to convince themselves that they won't get found out. They can be as vulnerable as priests that way. In the area around Dwarf Fort there are half a dozen very discreet and exclusive hook shops catering to dwarves. They are quite successful enterprises."
Which meant they were pouring gold into Chodo's pockets. I wondered if he was trying to tell me something. Probably not. He isn't one to talk around the edges of something—unless he's handing you a gentle admonition concerning a possible catastrophic decline in the state of your health. "You make anything of the book angle?"
"They would get excited if someone got hold of one of their books of secrets. But that can't be done."
Such a flat statement. He'd tried. I flashed on what the Dead Man had said. Damn, I shouldn't have gotten him thinking about books.
He said, "There's no way to get enough leverage on a dwarf to make him turn over any secret. Those people are perfectly content to die first."
"How about a thief?" Maybe I could nudge this into safer channels.
"Their books are too well guarded to be reached." Again that flatness. He knew whereof he spoke. "That enclave is a puzzle box, a series of fortresses going inward. You need a guide to get through it. The army, backed by every wizard off the Hill, couldn't take the place fast enough to keep them from destroying whatever they don't want to get out."
"It was a notion. I thought it might explain what's been happening."
"What's going on is something else entirely. You tell me your young lady is alive and mending. Does that mean you're out of it?"
I answered honestly. "I don't know where I stand. Every time I decide I don't have any stake, something happens. Those dwarves Sadler and Crask ran off
They were out to get rid of me. It can't be sound business practice to let people get away with something like that."
He looked at me in a way that told me he knew I was holding out, but he said only, "That's true, Mr. Garrett. A first principle. Don't let anyone get away with muscling you. For the moment, let me counsel patience. Let me put my eyes out. These people have dragged me into their affairs. Someone beholden to me will know something about them. It's impossible for those people to exist in the cracks without being noticed. My people will catch some of them and ask questions. If I learn anything of interest to you, I'll inform you immediately."
"Thank you." I couldn't tell him to get out of my face, go home, I didn't need him stomping around in my life. Even if I'd wanted to.
"I'm going to have Mr. Sadler set up headquarters here so my people have a central reporting site." He meant the Joy House. That would thrill Morley all to hell. It would shoot the guts out of his business.
Chodo read that thought in my face. He's good at reading people. "Mr. Dotes won't lose because of it."
"I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Contague." I managed to keep sarcasm from creeping in. Dean and the Dead Man would have been amazed. They don't think I can do that.
"Don't thank me. You've done me numerous good turns. This may be my chance to pay some back. Maybe to lay a little good karma on my soul."
Another surprise. That old boy is full of them. I thanked him again, climbed out of the coach. It rolled away immediately. Most of Chodo's bodyguards went with it.
16
Morley's place was deserted. I stepped into half the usual light and none of the usual uproar. I looked across the desert at Puddle, behind the serving counter, polishing glassware. "What the hell?"
"Not open tonight, buddy. Come back some other time."
"Hey! It's me. Garrett."
He squinted. Maybe his eyes weren't so good anymore. He was going to flab fast, but that didn't keep him from being a bad man. "Oh. Yeah. Maybe I ought to say we're double not open for you, pal. But it's too late. You done got Morley dragged in."
"Where is everybody?"
"Morley shut the place down. You think anybody's going to come in here with that circus parked out front?"
"He here?"
"Nope." He didn't volunteer any information. Most of Morley's people think I take advantage of his good nature. They're wrong. He doesn't have a good nature. And he owes me for a couple stunts he pulled on me back when he was hooked on gambling and he had to cut things fine to keep from taking that long swim in the river. "What you want him for?"
"Just talk."
"Right." His tone said I was full of it.
"He leave any word for me?"
"Yeah. Have a beer. Hang in there till he gets back."
"Beer?" Morley never has anything drinkable around except a little brandy upstairs for special guests of the female persuasion. The kind that always scurry for cover when I show up, afraid I work for their husbands.
Puddle swung a pony keg onto the bar, grabbed the biggest mug he had, drew me one. I arrived as he topped it off. I noted that the keg had been tapped already. I noted that Puddle had brew breath. I grinned. Another of Morley's bunch who didn't share his boss's religion. Puddle pretended he didn't know why I was showing my teeth
"Seen Saucerhead?"
"Nope
"Morley supposed to be back soon?"
"I don't know."
"Know where he went?"
He shook his head, Probably afraid he was going to get a sore throat with all this yammer. A real heavyweight conversationalist, Puddle. Always ready with a lightning riposte. Rather than subject myself to any more abuse, I went to work on my beer.
It went down smooth. Almost too smooth. I let him draw me another and finished half before I thought about all I'd put away already today. Where was the point of the running if I was going to fix myself up to look like Puddle anyway?