Free Five for Silver: A John, the Lord Chamberlain Mystery by Mary Reed, Eric Mayer Page B

Presumably furriers’ discarded wares. The malodorous smell wafting from that direction suggested rather a dead donkey.
    A lock snicked and the door cracked open to reveal a tiny woman with the creased yellow skin of a quince and an expression almost as sour. Despite the warm weather, she was swathed in layers of black wool.
    “What is it?” She firmly clutched the edge of her door, obviously prepared to slam it shut if necessary.
    “Are you the owner of this building?”
    “Yes. My name’s Glykeria. How can I assist you?” She inclined her head to one side to look up at John. Her eyes had a glassy, vacant look.
    John realized she was actually turning an ear toward him.
    The woman was blind.
    He told her he sought a man named Triton.
    “Do I know where he is? Indeed I do,” Glykeria replied. “Burning in the eternal fires, that’s where. That young villain will be roasting long after the empire is dust and that’s just for the rent he never paid. So whatever he owes you, I’m afraid you’ll just have to be content with considering that he’ll burn for that as well.”
    The sightless eyes gleamed as if reflecting the flames she contemplated.
    John sighed. He’d never undertaken an investigation where death seemed to be not only the crime, but also the murderer’s accomplice. Nonetheless he forged ahead, explaining he wasn’t a bill collector but rather a palace official.
    The woman glowered at him. “Of course not. You’re a good friend and just want a word. He had so many good friends wanting a word. Never met anyone so popular, I must say. I could tell by my nose just who he’d robbed. The perfumer visited more than once. for a start. At the end he couldn’t even pay the cheesemaker’s bill. All good friends, so they said, although none of them claimed to be from the palace before now.”
    John assured her he was, in fact, from the palace. She gave no indication that she had heard him, or believed him if she had.
    “When did Triton die?” he asked.
    “Only yesterday. Or possibly it was the day before. Not long ago.” She flapped a claw-like hand vaguely.
    “Do you know anything about his family or friends? Perhaps some of these visitors you mentioned—”
    “His father won’t be settling Triton’s debts, so you’re out of luck there. I can assure you, the rogue had long since cut himself off from whatever family he had, or they cut themselves off from him. Little wonder, really. If he hadn’t died, I would’ve evicted him at the end of the week.”
    “Triton was a troublesome tenant?”
    “Named for a pagan god and had the morals of one.”
    Something in the woman’s tone told John he would have to tread around the subject of Triton carefully. He asked to see Triton’s room.
    Glykeria’s head inclined further to the side. “I see I misunderstood your intentions.”
    Suddenly she grabbed a fold of John’s robe.
    A toothless smile added another crease to the woman’s face. “I can feel from this fine cloth you can afford my rooms. For an instant I thought I’d have to direct you to a tenement. If you would wait…”
    She banged the door shut and emerged not long afterwards grasping a bundle of keys.
    “This way,” she said as she scuttled out. Despite her lack of sight, Glykeria crossed the paved courtyard without hesitation and vanished into an entranceway. John followed her to the top of a gloomy flight of stairs.
    “I’m not proposing to become a tenant,” he said, wondering how she had formed the misconception. “I only wish to see where Triton lived. I’m curious, though. How did you initially suppose I couldn’t afford one of your rooms?”
    “Excuse me, sir, but it was because you carry the smell of the most vulgar of wines.”
    Glykeria led him to the second floor. If any lamps were provided in the windowless stairwell, they weren’t lit. The hallway was nearly as dark. Glykeria’s key grated in a lock, a battered plank door swung open, and they stepped into a