Detective Nicely Strongoak and the Case of the Dead Elf (21 page)

‘I don’t need to be a detective to work out what’s on your mind, the way you look at her.’

‘But that’s young Perry’s girl. Or didn’t you know that?’

‘Perry who?’

‘Why, Perry Goodfellow, late of your employ.’ She went suddenly limp. ‘Well, well,’ I said, ‘perhaps you didn’t know after all.’

‘I know all about you, Master Detective. I know people who could cut you down so small even other dwarfs would miss you.’

‘Now that is fighting dirty, my lady.’ I finally managed to get her pinned. ‘How about Leo Courtkey, I suppose you knew everything about him. Or, more importantly, he knew everything about you. Was that it? Was he fingering you?’

She laughed at this, a sound with a slight manic overtone. She calmed down enough to look me straight in the eye. ‘Him, give me the white finger! Some Detective you are.’

This puzzled me. Obviously I was missing something.

‘So, did Leo scoot with the emerald, or was it young Master Perry who relieved you of the burden – or perhaps it’s not even missing at all?’

This spurred her on to another bout of struggling. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about. It is missing, it is missing – now let me go!’

I pinned her harder to the bed. ‘Not until I get the truth from you.’ All the fight seemed suddenly to go out of her and she slumped back, her face hidden by hair. In a small voice she said, ‘If you like this, Nicely, I don’t mind, you can tie me down if you want to. I know lots of games like that.’

Up close. ‘My, you do have problems.’ She turned her head and deliberately sank her teeth into my shoulder. Letting go of one arm, I managed to lift her head. The long black hair parted and framed her face; her lips were wet. In amongst the craziness of her eyes there was a look, of what, triumph? A moment of stillness, then her eyes closed and she reached forward for me.

The horn rung like an alarm clarion in the next room and I dropped her to the bed and got up. She punched the bed, snarling curses. ‘I had you there, I had you!’

I answered the horn. ‘Nicely Strongoak.’

‘This is Hardwood, I believe you have my wife there.’ The voice on the other end was old, but still firm. It sounded as if it came from a long way away – not leagues but ages.

‘Maybe, I have – do you want her back?’

‘Yes, it is past her bedtime.’

‘Shall I drop her off?’

‘No, a wagon is on the way.’ He hung up. Not even a good night. Some people, eh?

By the time I got back she had disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water, and a few moments later she stepped out. She was ready for the ball again, the magic dress back on, and the hair was piled impossibly high. Without a word, she let herself out. I followed her down to the lobby. Peat the watchman had popped off for a smoke. I was glad, as it saved explanations. In a little while, a long black wagon appeared. It was a Battledore ’83. Goodenough got out, as straight-backed as ever; he didn’t seem pleased to see me.

I opened the door to the back seats. She got in without a word.

‘Good bye, Queen Celembine,’ I said, as I held the door. ‘Do have a pleasant trip, your majesty.’ There was a sharp intake of breath. The message had found a home.

‘Not that bad a detective, eh?’

I closed the door. Goodenough seemed on the verge of speaking, but swapped words for a stare that would have extinguished a dark lord’s furnace.

He got back in the driver’s side and the wagon drove off with a spume of steam that I think probably came from the engine and not Mrs Hardwood. I could not see if she looked back. Somehow, I do not think so. A black Battledore ’83, they were common enough in certain circles, weren’t they?

I went back into my rooms and kicked the chest a few times, but this did not make me feel any better. I dragged the sheets off the bed and threw them in the laundry chest, but her perfume still filled the room. I was too keyed up for sleep anyway and it was too hot there.

I took the Helmington down to the Two Fingers and let myself in. The lift was turned off for the night, so I had to walk the sixteen floors; finally the Endless Staircase. The exercise did me some good, and I felt better when I took the office bottle to the window seat and caught some breeze. I thought about men and dwarfs, and dwarfs and elves, and elves and men, hoping for some great insight, but all I got was a headache.

Sometime around dawn, I put down the bottle, wiped the back of my neck and stretched. The window seat was hard on the back-lap. I saw a trace of colour creeping over the Greater Citadel; Nicely got to touch the rosy fingers of dawn yet again, and then, suddenly realising it was way the wrong direction to be the rising sun, I found my spyglass and trained it to the west. Down below, off towards the Bay, Little Hundred was burning.

Stopping only to pick up my cap, I ran to the lift. It had just arrived, the daytime doorman must have cranked up the juice. As the doors opened onto the lobby a figure fell out. I only just managed to save him hitting the floor. He was very badly burnt and bruised and out of uniform, so it took a while for recognition to sink in.

‘Scout Telfine! Axes and blood, man, what’s happened to you?’

His eyes flickered and in a voice only a shade above a whisper he replied, ‘Got your address from Ralph Fieldfull’s ledger. Needed to tell you … you may not be the useless trip hazard I first thought you was.’ The eyes closed again and although I shook him, Telfine was not adding any more for the moment. His battered countenance looked grim. I was afraid he had gone west, but the pulse, though weak, was regular.

I carried him back into the lift. In the lobby, Jakes had just came back from switching on the power and he helped me getting Telfine down to my wagon. I set off round the Hill. There was a strong smell of smoke coming from Telfine and I didn’t think it was from an outdoor spit roast. What was going on, Telfine? The scout wasn’t saying, he just coughed up more foul-smelling fumes. I took him to a private healer’s nearby: The King’s Hands’ Hospice, which I have used so much I run a tally. If the fire was half as bad as it looked from this distance, the physics at Citadel Central were going to be busy for some time. The healers took one look at the ailing man and wheeled him into emergency. The others took one look at me and decided I’d probably make it through the rest of the day. I left my details and hurried on out.

By the time I reached Little Hundred the real sun was beginning to shed some proper light, although the great pall of smoke was doing its best to blot it out. Gnomes were pouring down the streets and roads, carrying their few belongings in whatever was available, wheelbarrows, carts, stockshop trolleys. Most headed towards the Hill, and an uncertain reception. The Citadel Guard and the fire-sheriffs were doing their best to contain the blaze. The omens were not very good. It had been too dry for too long and Little Hundred was a tinderbox ready for a spark. There was no way I was going to get anywhere near Arito’s place. There did not seem to be anything else I could do to help, and I was about to make my way back to the healers to check on Telfine when I saw Ralph, in the thick of things as normal.

He spotted me at the same time and came running through the smoke, shouting: ‘Nicely, am I pleased to see you! I feared for a moment that you were in the middle of this!’

‘Why?’

‘The fire, from what we hear, it started at Arito Cardinollo’s place.’

‘Have they found him?’

‘No sign.’

I felt a cold lump grow in my gut. ‘Just how bad is it?’

‘Well, it’s not good. We have it contained south and east, but it’s still spreading west, and north towards the Citadel. Most of the building that way is good stone, so that should help slow it down. Small recompense, but no listed buildings seem to be in its path.’

‘You’ve moved quick, Ralph.’

He gave me a rueful smile. ‘You are not the only detective around, you know. There are other ears still functioning in the Citadel. We’ve been expecting a stunt like this for some time. I’ve had double watches, cancelled all leave, with the services on stand-by.’

‘That must have made you popular.’

‘It’s paid dividends, though.’ We walked together and found a clear area on a bit of higher ground. ‘The main problem is to the west, heading down towards the Bay; too much wood and too many small businesses with combustibles. We don’t seem to be able to stop it, and if it gets to the main industrial sites and the chemical works, well, I don’t need to tell you, it’s goodnight Citadel.’

‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance that it wasn’t deliberate?’

‘Come on, Nicely, does a goblin have warts? No, this little fire came out of nothing and spread too quickly. Fortunately the alarm was sounded very quickly, which cut down on the casualties.’

‘Are there many?’

He looked grim. ‘Enough. We’re not going to know until we can get the gnomes settled and do a head count. But I’ll tell you, either someone underestimated the way this would spread, or else they just didn’t care.’

‘Any sign of anyone else around, other than gnomes?’

Ralph looked at me strangely. ‘No, but we did have one report that a dwarf was seen hereabouts earlier.’

‘And I can tell you when he left and what he was doing.’

‘It wasn’t an accusation, friend. I don’t see you torching people in their beds, Nicely.’

‘Sorry, Ralph. Been that sort of a day already – and you should know, I just delivered Scout Telfine to the healers.’ Ralph was stunned at the news. Telfine hadn’t turned up for his last shift and was facing a dressing down, but the panic over the fire had put it out of everybody’s minds. ‘Blood and bones, Nicely, how bad was he?’

‘They’re not sure yet. A lot of smoke inhalation and some nasty burns.’

This gave him a lot of food for thought; a real feast for the noggin and no mistake.

‘He was out of uniform as well, Ralph. He said he’d found my home address in your ledger, before stupor cut his strings.’

‘Curse him for a fool,’ spat Ralph angrily. ‘I’ll rip the hide off him! I wondered if he was poking around places where he shouldn’t be!’

‘You think he might have been trying some undercover work on his own?’

‘He’s so keen I wouldn’t put it past him.’

‘But what exactly?’

It was a good question but neither of us had an answer to it.

We had no more time for discussion. Ralph got called off at that point, and I left quickly before some other eager scout got me tied up with different questions I had no answers to. I needed to reach the Bay area before the fire. It was not easy to find the place I wanted. I had, after all, been blindfolded before. I made my way carefully round the emergency vehicles. The Wars of old must have been like this: the flames, the men shouting and running, and the innocents with their bundles of goods trying to salvage something from the wreckage.

This looked like one battle the Citadel was losing. The thought did not make me happy. I needed to find me the right sort of goblin to be nasty to. I knew the very party.

The dock area was quiet, though. Most of the ships had hastily cast off and were safely out at sea and the rats were finding other accommodation. There were still a few workers around, packing and moving out important documents. I stopped someone and described what little I could remember about Petal’s office. He shrugged; it did not look too hopeful. Fortunately the smoke from Little Hundred was flushing a lot of interesting things out of the wen, other than the rats. I spotted the grunt with the shooter, the one who had nabbed me after the Citadel concert, as he ran down a back street. I left the wagon and followed him at pace.

Goblins can move swiftly, especially the large kind, and I was weighed down with an axe, but he didn’t go far. The location tallied with what my nose could recall; this was the place. He ran up the metal steps. I needed another entrance. There was a fire ladder at the back of the building. By my calculation, this would take me up to Petal’s office. I used my axe and belt as a makeshift grapple, and managed to pull the ladder down to a height suitable for climbing.

The fire escape led right up to the office window, and the office was empty. The window was also unlocked; shame on them, don’t they read the posters? ‘Watch out, there’s a goblin about.’ In a trice I was in. I searched the scarred desktop for incriminating evidence. As usual there was nothing to give me the slightest help. The chest did not want to give up its contents easily and I didn’t have time for any tricky stuff, so I used the tardy dwarf’s lock-pick and the handaxe made short work of the drawers. However, again I drew a blank. I really didn’t need this. I had coffee that needed drinking, pipes that needed smoking and pretty damsels that surely, even now, were a pixy’s spit away from distress.

I looked around the room one last time. There had to be a coffer. Petal would have a really big and strong coffer. Folk like Petal always did, they were just so untrusting. Sign of the times it may be, but even I would have a coffer, if I ever managed to accumulate anything valuable enough to put into one. I hadn’t been scanning many sales handbills recently.

I found it built into the wall behind the Certificate of Racial Purity; good solid steel that would withstand a full-on belch from a dyspeptic dragon. As strongboxes go it had one of the best locks made by goblin or man; but then again, I am a dwarf. It took me about five minutes to break it – I’m getting out of practice.

There is an argument in some quarters about who first invented the lock – dwarfs, elves goblins or men – or whether, perhaps, it was invented independently more than once. Dwarfs don’t get involved in this debate because they are convinced of their primacy. We’re also slightly ashamed to admit that we invented the lock before we managed fire or the wheel, just in case it reinforces unwelcome stereotypes.

The coffer swung open on well-oiled hinges – my, but those goblins take care of the details well. There was a lot of parchment and the folding money that us dwarfs do not like dealing with, but that wasn’t what was getting my nose twitching.

It was sitting in a small box made from cheap board and it was as beautiful an example of gem work as I had ever seen. It was the green of every forest on every vibrant spring morning since the world first started turning. It was the Hardwood Emerald: the Elf Gate ring. It was stunning.

The sound of goblin voices coming up the stairs brought me back to the here and now. I barely had time to pocket the gem, close the coffer and hide behind the door before it opened. Petal came in by himself and went straight to the desk. His jaw dropped as he sat down, exposing those oh-so-perfect teeth, and he looked up, about to shout, when he noticed me. I put one finger to my lips; the other hand held the axe in throwing position. I gestured for him to raise his hands. Somewhat to my surprise, he smiled, or what passed for smiling, and took one of those foul-smelling leaf sticks that goblins smoke from a silvered box on the desk. I walked slowly towards the desk, and just as slowly he finally raised his hands. I reached into my pocket; one single bead of sweat glistened on his brow, one tiny drop of saliva formed at the corner of his mouth. He thought he knew what was in that pocket. He edged back as I quickly withdrew my pocket lighter. I watched him relax back in his seat and I lit his stick. Mother Strongoak taught her little boy good manners, which is why I keep my spare axe sharp. I’d hate to inconvenience anybody with a raggedy wound.

‘So, Dwarf, what can I do for you?’

I ignored the question and walked round to the certificate on the wall, all the time watching from the corner of one eye. His right hand was twitchy. There was something under the desktop I should look out for.

‘Is this for real?’ I said, pointing to the framed deposition.

‘Course it’s real, best I could buy.’

I checked the names at the bottom; half the members of the Citadel Heredity School seemed to be on there. It was sad what some academics had to do these days to earn a crust. I paced round to the other side of the desk and sat in the same seat I had occupied only a few nights before.

‘I’d like some information, Man.’

‘Well, why didn’t yer give us a call?’

‘You’re not in the book.’

‘Now ain’t that just right. Fancy me forgetting.’

I put the axe on the desk, close enough so he might just be tempted. ‘What I need to know, Man, is who you are working for?’

This only made him smile wider, more saliva collecting on his new pearly whites. ‘Well, Master Detective, I thought that was the sort of thing that you were paid to find out.’

It’s funny, nobody tells a potter how to ‘pot’, or a blacksmith how to ‘smith’, but there’s always some joker who thinks he knows all about being a detective. If it was as easy as they make out there’d be a lot more successful detectives and fewer dead ones.

‘That’s just what I’m doing now, finding out.’

‘It’ll take more than that axe, Dwarf.’

I took out a spectacularly sharp needle-dagger from the sheath on my leg. It’s known as an eyeball burster and I guessed that Petal knew the name by the way sweat began to accumulate on his deeply furrowed brow.

‘Come on Petal, old fellow, me lad. Half of Little Hundred is up in flames. I’m not the only one that is going to be wanting the answers to a few questions. If it’s not me it will be the Cits.’

‘What they got to link me with that?’

‘Me, for a start.’

‘Now don’t you go trying to pin that one on us, Dwarf,’ he said, losing his smile.

‘What’s with this “us” now, Petal?’

‘On the goblins, I mean. What have goblins got to gain by doing something like that? Firing Little Hundred, where’s the profit?’

‘It depends who is paying you and why.’

‘We don’t want to go rocking the boat. Bad for business.’ He relaxed again. ‘And you gotta remember, we’re all businessmen now. It’s all getting organised: racketeering, powders, the ladies. It’s all profits and loss. Got to show a margin on the books – not that we keep any books, you understand. No point in rocking the boat, no point at all.’

He had a point.

However, I had one too and I prodded him with it, drawing a bead of blood alongside the brow sweat. ‘That depends, doesn’t it, Petal? Maybe it might be convenient to rock one boat if you are in with the new captain of a bigger, better ship.’

Petal shrugged. ‘Don’t know what you mean.’

I reached back for the axe, swung it and buried it in the desk, almost giving him a new parting at the same time. He reached under the desk, but I had seen that coming. The hand not holding the dagger pulled out the shooter I had removed from the body of Truetouch.

‘Now, look what we’ve gone and made me do to that lovely desk, Petal, and I liked it as well.’

‘No shooters, Dwarf!’

‘Ok, so why don’t you just put those hands on the desk there where I can see them.’