twenty-five, thirty years,” he said. “Them what lives here say she comes around when Death is a fixin’ to visit.”
“She ever been known to give Death a helping hand?” I put the question to Marlo, while keeping my eyes on Lady Werewilk. She still wasn’t happy, but she kept her lips tight together.
“Not that I know of. Reckon she just knows when to be, and where.”
I nodded, not committing to anything, hoping Marlo would go on.
Instead, he shrugged and filled his mouth with an enormous chunk of Lady Werewilk’s finest roast beef.
I watched Skin for a moment. The man was just pushing perfectly good food around on his plate. He hadn’t taken a bite since sitting. He was gaunt, tall and thin as a stick, and I suppose now I knew why.
“All right,” I said, beginning to wonder where Gertriss was. “Let’s talk about the surveyor’s markers.”
More sidelong glances and sweat mopping. Half of them would have darted, had not Lady Werewilk been perched at the head of the monstrous old table.
“Starting with Skin, I want to know who found them, and where.”
I pulled out my notepad and a brand new pencil as I spoke.
Marlo managed to choke down a good portion of a cow’s hindquarters and answered for Skin. Others piped up grudgingly, and after a lot of back and forth and arguing over days and times I finally established something like a timeline, and a map.
If Lady Werewilk noticed the discrepancy between the dates she’d been given and the dates I was getting now she showed no signs of it. I did catch Marlo giving a few hard glares, and I decided he was a close second to being in charge. Interesting, I thought. It’s usually the butler who runs the show, but Singh showed no interest at all in anything but Milton Werewilk.
I chewed a mouthful of sweet potatoes and studied the map I’d made.
My hand-drawn map of the Werewilk grounds was hardly to scale, but the marks I’d drawn didn’t suggest even a hint of a pattern. If someone was trying to define a property line, they needed fancy eyeglasses. It appeared the stakes were being placed with all the methodical precision of a child’s game of Kick the Wagon.
I swallowed.
“Now I’m going to ask a question none of you probably want to answer. If you’d rather catch me alone later, that’s fine. I won’t name names, and you have my word on that.”
Lady Werewilk lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word.
“It’s possible some of you may have been approached by whomever is putting out these stakes. Maybe they wanted information. Maybe they wanted a blind eye turned here or there. Maybe they even offered payment. Maybe you even took it. But I’m telling you now that if someone grabs this House you’ll all likely be turned out. So unless they paid you enough to set you up for life, you’d be better off coming to me. Like I said, I won’t name any names.”
Lady Werewilk stabbed a fork into something so hard people started. I grinned.
“Anyone have anything to say?”
Silence all around.
I shrugged. I hadn’t been expected anything. At least not right under the Lady’s nose.
“Fine. I thank you for your time and your cooperation. My partner and I are going to poke around for a time. If anyone wants to talk, I won’t be hard to find.”
Nods, and a few mutterings. Marlo and the staff, sensing business was done, set about mopping sweat with fancy napkins and eating everything in sight. The artists rose and departed in groups of twos and threes, taking most of the beer with them and stuffing their pockets with rolls and slabs of corn bread.
Talk was sparse. I ate my fill, and then some, while I watched people watch me. The heat kept anyone from lingering too long. Last to go were Singh and Milton, who was led out by hand. He placed his feet oddly, haltingly, moving like a very young child or a very old man. After they were gone, I sat sweating across an empty table from Lady Werewilk.
The blast from the fire still hadn’t
“She ever been known to give Death a helping hand?” I put the question to Marlo, while keeping my eyes on Lady Werewilk. She still wasn’t happy, but she kept her lips tight together.
“Not that I know of. Reckon she just knows when to be, and where.”
I nodded, not committing to anything, hoping Marlo would go on.
Instead, he shrugged and filled his mouth with an enormous chunk of Lady Werewilk’s finest roast beef.
I watched Skin for a moment. The man was just pushing perfectly good food around on his plate. He hadn’t taken a bite since sitting. He was gaunt, tall and thin as a stick, and I suppose now I knew why.
“All right,” I said, beginning to wonder where Gertriss was. “Let’s talk about the surveyor’s markers.”
More sidelong glances and sweat mopping. Half of them would have darted, had not Lady Werewilk been perched at the head of the monstrous old table.
“Starting with Skin, I want to know who found them, and where.”
I pulled out my notepad and a brand new pencil as I spoke.
Marlo managed to choke down a good portion of a cow’s hindquarters and answered for Skin. Others piped up grudgingly, and after a lot of back and forth and arguing over days and times I finally established something like a timeline, and a map.
If Lady Werewilk noticed the discrepancy between the dates she’d been given and the dates I was getting now she showed no signs of it. I did catch Marlo giving a few hard glares, and I decided he was a close second to being in charge. Interesting, I thought. It’s usually the butler who runs the show, but Singh showed no interest at all in anything but Milton Werewilk.
I chewed a mouthful of sweet potatoes and studied the map I’d made.
My hand-drawn map of the Werewilk grounds was hardly to scale, but the marks I’d drawn didn’t suggest even a hint of a pattern. If someone was trying to define a property line, they needed fancy eyeglasses. It appeared the stakes were being placed with all the methodical precision of a child’s game of Kick the Wagon.
I swallowed.
“Now I’m going to ask a question none of you probably want to answer. If you’d rather catch me alone later, that’s fine. I won’t name names, and you have my word on that.”
Lady Werewilk lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word.
“It’s possible some of you may have been approached by whomever is putting out these stakes. Maybe they wanted information. Maybe they wanted a blind eye turned here or there. Maybe they even offered payment. Maybe you even took it. But I’m telling you now that if someone grabs this House you’ll all likely be turned out. So unless they paid you enough to set you up for life, you’d be better off coming to me. Like I said, I won’t name any names.”
Lady Werewilk stabbed a fork into something so hard people started. I grinned.
“Anyone have anything to say?”
Silence all around.
I shrugged. I hadn’t been expected anything. At least not right under the Lady’s nose.
“Fine. I thank you for your time and your cooperation. My partner and I are going to poke around for a time. If anyone wants to talk, I won’t be hard to find.”
Nods, and a few mutterings. Marlo and the staff, sensing business was done, set about mopping sweat with fancy napkins and eating everything in sight. The artists rose and departed in groups of twos and threes, taking most of the beer with them and stuffing their pockets with rolls and slabs of corn bread.
Talk was sparse. I ate my fill, and then some, while I watched people watch me. The heat kept anyone from lingering too long. Last to go were Singh and Milton, who was led out by hand. He placed his feet oddly, haltingly, moving like a very young child or a very old man. After they were gone, I sat sweating across an empty table from Lady Werewilk.
The blast from the fire still hadn’t
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