"He wasn't pleased. To put it mildly."
I looked at the doctor. "You couldn't find a physical cause?" Oh, please. Please?
The weasel shook his head. "Not saying it isn't something I don't recognize. Or a combination. But bring in a demonologist. Hell, I'll send one. Eliminate the mysterious first. If there's no supernatural cause, send for me. Be an interesting challenge."
Morley grinned slyly. "You two work it right, you could have careers here. Him trying to root out an unknown disease and you trying to find a killer who's smarter than you are."
I grumbled, "My part's easy. I just stay alive till there's only one suspect left." My head was killing me. That didn't do wonders for my temper. "Doc, you got something for a headache?"
"What happened?"
I told him.
He insisted on examining me and offering the usual advice about concussions. Maybe he wasn't a pure thief. I have a low opinion of professionals, notably doctors and lawyers, supported by experience.
He gave me a dose of the old standby, syrup heavily laced with nasty-tasting stuff boiled out of the inner bark of willow branches. With that perking in my stomach I decided to get on with getting on. "Peters, it'll be suppertime soon. These guys might be hungry. Square it with Cook, if they want to eat. I'm going to drop in on the General."
Peters grunted, asked if anybody wanted supper. Saucerhead and the doctor were all for that. And Morley was staying anyway.
As I climbed the stairs, I recalled that I'd told Dellwood he should ride into town in the coach. Was he out there waiting, freezing with the coachman?
It was still raining. I felt for Wayne and Chain, too. Though Chain not so much. I had him. All I needed to do was push him into a box and put a bow on him.
"Throw him out," Stantnor rasped at Kaid, when I invited myself in.
Kaid eyed me. "I don't believe he'll let me, sir." He said it with a straight face. There was a twinkle in his eye. He turned to the fire to hide a smile.
I asked, "Did you hear the diagnosis, General?"
"Mr. Garrett. I didn't employ you to interfere in my life. I employed you to find a thief."
"And a killer. And a would-be killer who wants your scalp. And that implies that part of the job is to keep you alive. And to do that I need to know how they're trying to kill you. The assumption was poison. The assumption was wrong."
He appeared surprised. Maybe they hadn't told him. Maybe he'd become so obnoxious, they'd just walked.
"Mr. Dotes is an expert on poisons. Likewise the doctor, who's also an expert on tropical diseases." Could it hurt to exaggerate? "They say you're not being poisoned, unless it's a poison so exotic they've never heard of it. And you're not suffering from any known disease, though the doctor says you're anemic and jaundiced. Have you had malaria, General?"
I think he was secretly touched that people cared enough to look out for him in spite of himself. "Yes. Hard to avoid it in the islands."
"Bad?"
"No."
"You taking quinine on the sly? The doctor says impure quinine might explain some of your problems."
"No! I won't... " He suffered one of his spasms. Was it his heart?
It was a minor one. He'd begun to recover before Kaid reached him. He croaked, "No, Mr. Garrett. No medication. I'd refuse if it was offered."
"I thought so. But I had to make sure before I tell you what they think."
"Which is?" He was coming back fast.
"You're haunted."
"Eh?" That blindsided him. He looked at Kaid. Kaid just looked baffled.
"Your problem is supernatural. Your enemy is a ghost. Or somebody who can send a spirit against you. Peters says you don't have that kind of enemies. The doctor says look at your past for somebody."
I wouldn't have believed it possible, but his color worsened dramatically. He damned near turned gray.
There was something. Some dark past moment unknown to anyone else, so dreadful someone might reach out from the grave to restore the balance. Hell, a place like the Stantnor shack wouldn't be complete without a horror in its past, without a curse.
"We'd better talk about it," I said. "We'll have to hire experts." I gave Kaid a meaningful look. The old man wouldn't want to confess ancient evils in front of a crowd. "A demonologist. An exorcist. Possibly a medium or necromancer to communicate with the spirit." Kaid was as thick as a brick. He didn't move.
The General said nothing till he was sure he'd say only what he wanted to be heard. And that was, "Get out, Garrett."
"When you're ready to talk, then."
"Get out. Leave me alone. Hell, get out of my house. Get out of my life... "
He had another fit. This was a big one. Kaid yelled, "Get that doctor up here!" His expression lacked any forgiveness for having gotten the old man so excited.
Strange people, every one.
32
I joined Cook in the kitchen. We were alone. "Can you use a hand?"
"Come to try sweet-talking me out of something, eh? I see right through you, boy. You ought to know by now I don't run my mouth. I don't tell nobody nothing that ain't none of their business."
"Of course." I rolled up my sleeves, eyed the heap of dirty stuff distastefully. Not much I hate more than washing dishes. But I stole a pot of hot water off the stove, prepared a sink, put more water on to heat, dug in. Ten minutes of silence passed. I waited till I felt her curiosity becoming palpable.
"You were up there when they looked at the General. What did you think?"
"I think that croaker is as crooked as the General says." She didn't sound convinced. She sounded worried.
"Know what he thinks is wrong?"
"I know what he said. He's crazy if he believes it. Ain't no haunts around here."
"Three draugs."
She grunted. There lay the core of her doubt. If those draugs hadn't come, she wouldn't have given the doctor's idea a glance.
"People keep telling me, the General doesn't have enemies of the killing kind. And there's no incentive here for anyone to hurry him along, despite the size of the estate."
"What'll be left after he lets it wither. I swear, his damnfool sickness has infected the whole place." Her voice was weak. She wasn't the woman she'd been.
Things were going on inside her head. She had no attention to spare.
"If nobody from today wants to kill him, to torment him with slow death and the hell between when he passes, who in his past might? My gut feeling is, it goes back to before his move to the Cantard."
She grunted and threw utensils around and didn't say anything.
"What happened? The only trauma I know of is his wife's death. Could that have something to do with it? Her parents... Jennifer says she thinks they were a firelord and stormwarden but she doesn't know who. Is this a legacy from them? A delayed curse?"
She still didn't have squat to say.
"Were they involved in the Blue cabal that went after Kenrick III?"
"You put a lot together out of nothing, boy."
"That's what I do. I get paid for it. I think the grandparents were involved. I think Jennifer's mother came here partly to hide from reprisals if the plot failed. Lucky her. It did. And Kenrick devoured everyone remotely related to it. I wonder if the doctor who administered an incorrect drug was on the royal payroll. Maybe Jennifer survived only because he couldn't murder a newborn."
"You do put it together."
I kept quiet, hoping she'd fill the vacuum.
I washed, set stuff out to dry. There was enough work for me to make me a new career when I got tired of the old one. I was tempted.
"The missus's mother called herself Charon Light. Her daddy was Nightmare Blue."