make it longer.”
“But Mr. Oberon,” Téimhneach said, sounding more like he was
reminding
me than
telling
me, “you’re not heading to the same destination any longer.”
“What? Listen, bo, I already told you I got a prior engagement—”
“And
we
already told
you
, no. You don’t.”
Nuts.
“You’re here,” he continued, “because we know you have a great many contacts and informants in this area. We wanted to make it as convenient as possible for you to begin tracking them down. Which you will do tonight.
Now
, in fact.”
I was getting’
real
steamed—if that street light hadn’t already been broken, it probably woulda popped right about then. But there was still zip I could do about it.
“If you wanna tell us who you’re meeting,” Grangullie said, grinning, “we’d be happy to go give ’em your apologies.”
The other redcaps snickered.
Deal with the goddamn devil.
Knew what I was getting into.
Knew I was gonna regret it.
Did it anyway.
I hadn’t thought I had a choice, then, and I still don’t. I’d do the same again, if I had to.
But yeah. I regretted it.
* * *
First thought to zip across my noggin wasn’t about the case at all, not directly. It was to wonder if I oughta warn Pete’n the cops.
Remember what I said earlier? That I’d known the Unseelie hadn’t been in town ’cause I’d have heard about the bloodshed? Yeah. Now they
were
in town. Not just Unseelie in general—even the best of ’em are bad enough—but redcaps. They treat murder the way you treat a pack of cards or a baseball game. And when they ain’t mutilating and killing for fun, they’re killing and mutilating ’cause they blew their lid over some tiny insult. Get enough redcaps in town, and you know they’re on their best behavior if you can count the bodies without runnin’ outta fingers’n toes.
If I
was
gonna tell the law, though, I hadda figure a way to do it that they’d actually believe. While I chewed on that, I might as well get to the job at hand.
So where to start? For a while I just sorta roamed the underside of town, tryin’ to catch wind of my usual stoolies and gossips. Clubs’n speakeasies, hotels’n alleys, flophouses’n unlicensed fights. I was preoccupied, I admit, but not so much I couldn’t do my job.
And I found nobody.
Lenai hadn’t been spotted in days. Figured either something’d happened to her, or—more likely—she was just keeping her head down until this whole spear thing blew over. Pink Paddy
had
been to all his usual haunts lately, he just didn’t seem to be at any of ’em
now
. I coulda tracked him down eventually, but that woulda been a case all its own. Didn’t exactly have time for that.
Which meant, after I’d checked another few off the list, I was down to one.
I hadn’t laid eyes on Four-Leaf Franky since I’d pounded the stuffing out of him—in a friendly sorta way—behind a soup kitchen some months back. Hey, gimme a break! I hadn’t had time for the runaround he was trying to feed me.
Other
people didn’t have time for it.
Anyway, he’d tried real hard to lie to me. Made me think he wasn’t reliable as he used to be. And I didn’t guess he’d be in much of a mood to help me out, either, so I’d left him alone ever since. Figured that’d suit us both just fine.
No choice now, though. If he had a beef, he could take it up with the Unfit.
It was usually easier finding him than the others. Franky wasn’t stupid, it’s just he wasn’t in the
habit
of thinking, least not when any halfway decent amount of scratch or gold is involved. He’s always runnin’ something, pullin’ something, and always in hock up to his neck with someone.
Which means Franky ain’t the sort to lie low for more’n a few days at most. Find all the joints in his area where a cat can make a dishonest buck or ten without committing any “real” crimes—a definition that changes depending on what sorta measures he’s been reduced to—and
“But Mr. Oberon,” Téimhneach said, sounding more like he was
reminding
me than
telling
me, “you’re not heading to the same destination any longer.”
“What? Listen, bo, I already told you I got a prior engagement—”
“And
we
already told
you
, no. You don’t.”
Nuts.
“You’re here,” he continued, “because we know you have a great many contacts and informants in this area. We wanted to make it as convenient as possible for you to begin tracking them down. Which you will do tonight.
Now
, in fact.”
I was getting’
real
steamed—if that street light hadn’t already been broken, it probably woulda popped right about then. But there was still zip I could do about it.
“If you wanna tell us who you’re meeting,” Grangullie said, grinning, “we’d be happy to go give ’em your apologies.”
The other redcaps snickered.
Deal with the goddamn devil.
Knew what I was getting into.
Knew I was gonna regret it.
Did it anyway.
I hadn’t thought I had a choice, then, and I still don’t. I’d do the same again, if I had to.
But yeah. I regretted it.
* * *
First thought to zip across my noggin wasn’t about the case at all, not directly. It was to wonder if I oughta warn Pete’n the cops.
Remember what I said earlier? That I’d known the Unseelie hadn’t been in town ’cause I’d have heard about the bloodshed? Yeah. Now they
were
in town. Not just Unseelie in general—even the best of ’em are bad enough—but redcaps. They treat murder the way you treat a pack of cards or a baseball game. And when they ain’t mutilating and killing for fun, they’re killing and mutilating ’cause they blew their lid over some tiny insult. Get enough redcaps in town, and you know they’re on their best behavior if you can count the bodies without runnin’ outta fingers’n toes.
If I
was
gonna tell the law, though, I hadda figure a way to do it that they’d actually believe. While I chewed on that, I might as well get to the job at hand.
So where to start? For a while I just sorta roamed the underside of town, tryin’ to catch wind of my usual stoolies and gossips. Clubs’n speakeasies, hotels’n alleys, flophouses’n unlicensed fights. I was preoccupied, I admit, but not so much I couldn’t do my job.
And I found nobody.
Lenai hadn’t been spotted in days. Figured either something’d happened to her, or—more likely—she was just keeping her head down until this whole spear thing blew over. Pink Paddy
had
been to all his usual haunts lately, he just didn’t seem to be at any of ’em
now
. I coulda tracked him down eventually, but that woulda been a case all its own. Didn’t exactly have time for that.
Which meant, after I’d checked another few off the list, I was down to one.
I hadn’t laid eyes on Four-Leaf Franky since I’d pounded the stuffing out of him—in a friendly sorta way—behind a soup kitchen some months back. Hey, gimme a break! I hadn’t had time for the runaround he was trying to feed me.
Other
people didn’t have time for it.
Anyway, he’d tried real hard to lie to me. Made me think he wasn’t reliable as he used to be. And I didn’t guess he’d be in much of a mood to help me out, either, so I’d left him alone ever since. Figured that’d suit us both just fine.
No choice now, though. If he had a beef, he could take it up with the Unfit.
It was usually easier finding him than the others. Franky wasn’t stupid, it’s just he wasn’t in the
habit
of thinking, least not when any halfway decent amount of scratch or gold is involved. He’s always runnin’ something, pullin’ something, and always in hock up to his neck with someone.
Which means Franky ain’t the sort to lie low for more’n a few days at most. Find all the joints in his area where a cat can make a dishonest buck or ten without committing any “real” crimes—a definition that changes depending on what sorta measures he’s been reduced to—and
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