Play-going was all the rage, in part because a man could take his wife. And the wives knew that.
I gave my name at the door. It was no shibboleth. I tried Belinda's.
There was the magic.
A veteran brunette-absolutely a heartbreaker not long ago-turned up quickly. She had something special going. I was tempted to fail to remember that I was taken.
"You came from Miss Contague?"
"She asked me to keep watch on your injured guest."
She considered my claim. She considered me. She consulted some recollection. She decided that I was the real thing, though she was not prepared to be impressed. My feelings were bruised. I was willing to be impressed by her. And I was as fine a specimen of former Marine as you're likely to find still vertical. I had my dings and scars but they just let you know that I was the genuine article.
"All right. Come with me." After a glare that dared me to even think about running with that.
We passed through the fancy public lounge works, entirely uninhabited at the moment. Potential witnesses had been cleared out. In the back, where delicacies comestible and sensual got prepared, I spied several toothsome lasses enjoying a light repast and steadfastly taking no interest whatsoever in anyone passing through. Two appeared to be full-blood elf girls. The others were nearly as gorgeous.
"Stop slobbering on the carpet."
"Sorry. I don't get out much anymore."
"Here's a suggestion. Keep your hands to yourself while you're here." Then she snorted. She was one of those people who can't keep their laughter out of their noses. It took me a few seconds to get the joke.
"I'm taken," I said stiffly.
"Most of our clients are." We came to a narrow, steep back stair.
"I'm Garrett," I said, though my name had failed to awe anyone yet.
"I know. I've heard of you. I'm aware of your reputation."
"Damn! I didn't know I had one. It's probably all lies and exaggerations. Who are you?"
"You can call me Miss Tea. If I find out that you're tolerable, I'll let you call me Mike."
"Mike?" One of those? Here? "I had a brother we called Mikey."
"For Michel." That was a hard "ch." "He didn't come back?"
"No. It broke my mother's heart." She gave up. She'd already lost my father and hers, and some brothers, to the terrible beast of war.
Mike turned a little less hard-ass. Very little. Like almost every human in Karenta she shared the experience. "You were luckier."
"I was. Most of me made it home."
She looked me straight in the eye. "And now you're stalling so I'll go up the steps first. So you can be behind me and watch my ass."
"That hadn't actually occurred to me, but now that you mention it, sure, I'll be a gentleman and let you to go first."
"Living up to expectations so far. Enjoy the show. It's the best you'll get around here."
Did I threaten her somehow? Was she a secret agent of the redheaded Tate? "I'll do that. It's a sin to ignore what the gods generously set before us."
"And me without my work boots." She started up the stairs and laughed mockingly as she went. And, hard as she might have tried, she could not help putting a touch of flounce in her step. "And you said you were taken. Hypocrite."
"Are you my conscience?" I was a tad flustered and confused. So I did try to lean back and enjoy what the gods set before me.
I began to suspect that Misty was not entirely disinclined to have her assets appreciated. And that she considered her behind to be the best of those. And I thought she might be right, seen from where I was standing.
11
They had Morley stashed in a second-floor bedroom at the back of the house. I stuck my head in long enough to make sure he was breathing. He was lying on his back in a big, comfortable bed. He had bandages all over. He was having trouble breathing. A punctured lung?
Two house operatives were there with him, looking decidedly rough, as though standing a deathwatch over their one true love.
I wanted to hop in and give my dark elf buddy a good swift kick. He was out of it, trying to die, and still he had women swooning.
"What are you doing?" my guide demanded when I didn't rush right in.
"Scouting ways somebody might use to come after him. In case the folks who put the holes in him want to add to his collection."
Madam Mike didn't follow my reasoning but indulged me.
There were three ways to get to Morley. Up the front stairs the clients used. Up the back stairs from the kitchen, the way I came. Up the outside of the building, then through a window. That would require a small, skinny assassin. The window would open only six inches.
For the villain with gaudier ambitions there was the time-honored option of burning the house with Morley inside it.
While I examined the window my guide evicted Morley's caretakers. She promised them they could handle communications between the room and the world.
After they left, I asked, "How old are those two?" They seemed a little fresh to be in the life.
"DeeDee is twenty-nine. She has some elf in her. She's just gotten to the point where we can't auction her virginity. Her daughter Hellbore is sixteen."
"Hellbore?"
"Really."
Both were legal, then. I couldn't imagine the older one having weathered the vicissitudes of her career so well.
I said, "I'll settle here. If you have something like a field cot, I'd never have to leave."
"That would be useful. Business has been slow. I don't want what clientele we do get scared off by you."
"By me? Come on!"
"You're so straight-arrow a blind man can see it. They'd think you were spying for their wives. Or you were a Runner collecting stuff for the Unpublished Committee's files."
The Unpublished Committee for Royal Security were the secret police. "I'll be good. I'll stay in here with my boy, making my list and checking it twice. Been a pleasure meeting you, Misty."
Flirty brown eyes flashed. "Not Misty, dolt! Miss Tea. As in the capital letter. For Teagarden."
I gave her my special raised eyebrow, the one that gets the nuns salivating. Miss T came close to slamming the door as she left.
I had been out of circulation too long. I needed to sharpen my tools. Unless she was one of those lesbian types. That would explain her natural resistance.
I paced. I watched the world outside the window. I studied Morley and felt bad for him. I paced some more; then I inventoried chamber pots, bedpans, pitcher of water and bowl. Then a second pitcher and bowl on a small table in a corner, accompanied by a bar of soap and a stack of towels.
Of course there would be towels and soap. Necessary to the trade in an establishment like this.
I decided to ask for a cup or mug so I wouldn't have to drink straight from the pitcher, using a ladle.
The door opened after a perfunctory knock. DeeDee and Hellbore lugged in a mildewed cot. They dumped that, made sure I hadn't let Morley die while they were gone.
Miss T followed, pushing a small cart. "Food. Drink. Other stuff you'll need. Crush or DeeDee will come around regular. They'll bring whatever you need brought and take away whatever you need taken."
"Crush?"
DeeDee said, "She don't like her real name."
Hellbore/Crush, a foot shorter and ten stone lighter than me, gave me a look that asked if I wanted to make something of that.
"All right." I tried to get DeeDee to chat some. She had a marvelous, breathy way of talking.
Miss T said, "And you a bespoke man."
These women could not be fooled or manipulated. Unless you were Morley Dotes and you were unconscious. Then they would be your slaves.
Oh, well. They were too weird, anyway. The mother was mildly inclined to flirt and had a silly streak. Crush had the cynical hard-eye of a twenty-year veteran of the life.