She'd been pretty substantial last night—because she'd sucked so much life out of Stantnor. Had she taken on substance at other times, to attack him by eliminating his servants? A ghost could make murder put of even apparently accidental deaths, by maddening a bull or maybe causing heart attacks. "I'm sorry, Eleanor. I never meant to hurt you."
She didn't say anything. She never did, except that once, when she found me outside Peters's room.
She seemed to gain substance. What was taking Doom so long? Was she giving him more trouble than he'd expected? I tried to think about that, the grave I was digging, lunch, the killer still to be caught, anything but the sad, futile, brief life this woman had lived.
It didn't work.
I sat on the edge of the grave, in the muck, and cried for her.
Then she was sitting opposite me wearing that look of concern, the same one she'd worn when she'd found me hurt. She didn't have enough substance not to be transparent. I told her, "I wish it could have been different for you. I wish you could've lived in my time. Or I in yours." And I meant it.
She reached out. Her touch was like the impact of falling swansdown. She smiled a weak, sad, forgiving smile. I tried to smile back but I couldn't.
There are evils in this world. It's the nature of things that there are, though it's a struggle accepting that. Because what Eleanor Stantnor had suffered, through no fault of her own, was an evil beyond ordinary evils. It was the kind of evil that goes beyond Man and rests squarely on the shoulders of the gods. It was the kind of evil that had left me an essentially godless man. I can't give allegiance to sky-beasts who'd let things like that happen to the undeserving.
General Stantnor would suffer in turn but the guilt wasn't all his. Nor did it belong to Eleanor's parents. Her mother had tried to protect her. Nor did it belong to the world as a whole. If there are gods at all, they deserved equal pain.
I looked up. Doom must have been finishing up, maybe getting an edge because she was distracted by me. She had little substance left. But she smiled as she faded. At me. Maybe the guy who had been best to her, ever. And you can guess how little that made me feel. I said, "Be at peace, Eleanor."
Then she was gone.
I dug some more, in a fury, like I was going to open a gate to hell and shove all the evils of the world down that hole. When I had a grave a foot deeper than necessary I came to my senses, sort of. I hoisted myself out and headed for the house. I had so much mud on me I feared somebody might mistake me for a draug.
41
I stopped and chatted with Dojango and the boys but my heart wasn't in it. I gave up after five minutes and headed for the house. Morley watched me go, worried. About the time I reached the head of the steps he said something to Dojango, trotted after me. Dojango sighed one of those sighs I recalled meant he felt immensely put upon, hitched up his pants, and started running down the drive.
What the hell?
I went inside. As I passed the dead Stantnors I told them what I thought of them and their ways and especially the last of their line. Morley caught up when I was halfway through. "Are you all right, Garrett?"
"No. I'm feeling about as bleak as I can and still be breathing. But I'll be all right. Just frustration over all the mindless wickedness in the world. I'll come back."
"Oh. Pure essence of Garrett. Wishing he was triplets so he could straighten up three times as many messes."
I smiled feebly. "Something like that."
"You can't take it all on your own shoulders."
You can't, no. But it's a hard lesson to learn. And knowing that doesn't keep it from getting to you.
A tremendous metallic crash came from the main hall, punctuated by a high-pitched scream like a rabbit's death cry. We charged through the doorway, bouncing off one another.
Kaid lay six feet from where Chain had died, smashed by a suit of armor. He wasn't dead. Not yet. He made me think of a smashed bug. His limbs still moved.
They stopped before we got the armor off him. The light went out of his eyes as I knelt beside him.
"And then there was one," Morley whispered.
"And I know which one, now." I hated myself. I should have known sooner. It was there to be had. Doctor Doom had been right. I'd looked at it from the wrong angle all along. But we all miss what we don't want to see. I'd just concentrated way too much on motive, blinded by the one motive I could see. Sometimes the motive doesn't make sense to anybody who isn't crazy.
"Yeah." Morley had it, too. Pretty obvious right now. But he didn't mention it. He said, "Can't do anything for him. Can't do anything about it this minute. You go get yourself cleaned up."
"Where's the point? I've got to dig another grave."
"That can wait. You need to get clean. I'll keep an eye on things."
Maybe he was right. Maybe he knew me too damned well. A bath probably wouldn't help, but it would be symbolic. I went to the kitchen. Cook and Peters had lunch almost ready. They hadn't heard the crash, amazingly. I didn't tell them what had happened. I just swiped all the hot water and headed for my suite. They didn't ask questions. I guess I looked too grim.
I didn't feel any better when I came back down, clean and changed. Some things won't wash off. "Anything?" I asked Morley.
He shook his head. "Except Doom wants to see you."
I went to the room where I'd left the Doctor. He had heard but still was startled when he looked at me. "You look bad."
I told him. He said, "I suspected it. I've done everything I can here, till we bring her up to face her husband."
I told him about my parting with Eleanor. He was a kind soul under that ugly exterior. "I know how you feel. I've been there a few times. Your business, mine, they have their painful sides. You'll get another chance to say good-bye."
"Let's do it."
"Not yet. You're not ready. You need to calm down. Your state is too emotional right now."
I started to argue.
"I don't tell you your business. You don't tell me mine. I'm not thinking about you. We can't operate properly if there's too much extraneous emotion. There'll be plenty involving the key characters."
He was right. I need to learn to separate myself more from my work. "All right. I'll get myself under control."
Morley stuck his head in. "Lunch. You'd better take time to have some, Garrett."
Great. Everybody was looking out for Garrett's mental welfare. I wanted to scream and holler and carry on. I said, "I'll be right there."
I guess I looked a little less ferocious now. Black Pete watched me gobble whatever it was I wasn't seeing or tasting. He asked, "Did something happen?"
"Yeah. Something did. A suit of armor jumped off the fourth floor and squashed Kaid. Dead."
"Huh?" He frowned. He looked at Cook. She looked at him. It took them maybe five seconds each. Then Cook started crying quietly.
I told them, "Soon as we're done here, we're going up to see the old man. We'll wrap it up."
Peters said, "It's almost not worth the trouble anymore. And I'm almost sorry I ever came looking for you."
"I'm sure sorry you did." I finished stuffing my face, never having tasted a bite. Nobody else was in as big a hurry. Morley watched me like he was afraid I was going to blow. I told him, "I've got it under control. Iceberg Garrett. Cucumber Garrett." I'd turned off everything inside. But I didn't look it outside yet. Like the heat going out of a corpse, it would take awhile for the fury and frustration to radiate away.
They ate slower and slower, like kids knowing they were going to get taken to the woodshed after supper. I told Morley, "I'm going up to the room. Be back in a minute." I'd forgotten something, one of Snake's paintings.
When I returned, everybody was done eating. Doctor Doom was there with his tools, Snake's masterpiece under his arm. He was ready to go. He checked everybody over, seemed satisfied with my emotional control. He asked me, "You want to get the girl?"