Book 04 - Old Tin Sorrows by Glen Cook Page B

where you stand. If you’re innocent, I want you to cooperate with him. The sooner it’s wrapped up the better. If you’re guilty, maybe you ought to put on your running shoes. Be advised that I shall hunt you as implacably as the hounds of hell. You’ve betrayed my trust. You have done me a hurt I can’t forgive. I’m going to have your head and heart when I find you.”
    I didn’t look at him, though it was hard not to. The old devil had gone farther than I’d expected.
    By burning the will he’d eliminated the threat to the innocent. Nobody stood to gain now. If he died intestate, the estate could go to the Crown, which meant everyone lost. Even the poisoner ought to want to keep him alive till he wrote a new will.
    A clever man, General Stantnor. But he’d left me swinging in the breeze.
    “You understand your positions,” he said. “Mr. Garrett. Ask what questions you like.”
    Chain said, “Sir—”
    “No, Sergeant Chain. Mr. Garrett will ask. You’re not to speak unless spoken to. We’ll stay here till Mr. Garrett is satisfied.”
    I said, “Mr. Garrett doesn’t think he can stay awake that long.”
    I’m not the kind of guy who can pull all the suspects together and expose a villain by weaving a web of clever questions. My style is bull in the china shop. It’s jump in the pond and thrash till the frogs start jumping. I wished I had the Dead Man handy. One of his more useful talents is an ability to read minds. He could settle this in minutes.
    I still entertained the possibility of an outside force with motives unfathomable. The arguments against these people being involved had to be answered before I could discard that possibility.
    They looked at me, waiting. The General turned his gaze on me as though to say, show us the old Garrett razzle-dazzle, boy.
    “Anybody want to confess? Save us time and let us get to bed?”
    Nobody volunteered. Surprise, surprise. “I was afraid you’d be that way.”
    Chain cracked, “I swiped a piece of rock candy from my sister when I was nine.”
    “There’s a start. A criminal mastermind in the budding. I don’t think we need to go back quite that far, though. Let’s confine ourselves to this morning. What did you do today, Sergeant Chain? Account for your time and movements. Tell us who you saw doing what, and who saw you doing what you were doing.” This would get tedious before we finished nine stories. But it might do the job. Each story would add a color to the portrait of the morning. Every tale told true would leave our villain less room to hide.
    Chain got pissed. But before he could do more than grumble, Stantnor said, “I demand cooperation, Chain. Do exactly as Mr. Garrett says. Answer his questions without reservation. Or get off the estate. Followed by the knowledge that you’ve made yourself the prime suspect.”
    Chain swallowed his protests. He didn’t look at me like a guy who wanted to become my drinking buddy.
    I said, “Try to attach times to the major events of your day.”
    “I don’t pay no attention to what time it is. I’m too busy doing what I got to do. I mean, I do as much as I can. Ain’t possible to get done everything that needs doing.”
    “Thanks to our killer, who keeps taking away pairs of hands. Estimates will do. Once we’ve heard from everybody, it should be pretty clear who did what where and when. Go ahead. Just ramble along. Take all the time you need. You can’t go into too much detail.”
    Clever, clever Garrett sets himself up for an excruciating night. It took Chain forty-five minutes to tell me he hadn’t done anything interesting and that, between breakfast and lunch, he’d seen only five other members of the household. Excepting Dellwood and Peters, those had been on the patrol.
    “Anybody disagree?” I asked. “Anybody want to call him a liar?”
    Nobody volunteered.
    “All right. Snake. You’re uncomfortable here. How about we get you off the hook? Go ahead.”
    Snake’s story wasn’t any more interesting than Chain’s. He’d seen nobody in