Free Death's Reckoning by Will Molinar Page A

had placed their bets on. Betting outside the tents or arena was illegal in Sea Haven, but Cubbins would be damned if he would put a stop to it that night. He valued his life too much.
    The two toughs, young and thick about their shoulders, their shirts cut off above the arms, the black v-shaped clothing the tell-tale sign they were members of their group. They grunted and bellowed as they struggled back and forth across the floor.
    They were mirror images of each other, perhaps brothers, and the fight seemed a stalemate. Their fingers were locked tight, the flesh drained of blood, whitish and straining. Their arms bulged with blood, pulsing red. One of them turned his shoulder and bumped it into the other man’s chest and tried to leverage his opponent’s arms lower.
    The other man stumbled, only for a second, but it was enough for the more aggressive man to clamp his hold down tight and put the man on his knees. The crowd cheered, and the defeated man nodded. They both smiled and slapped each other on the back as they went back to their table to drink some more.
    Cubbins had to smile at their antics. At least they knew how to have fun when they could get it. He ordered another shot, thinking to do the same.
    The tavern had an interesting architecture, near as it was to the western tip of the Southern Docks. Below the wall opposite was an open section of floor, led through by a sloping walkway. A simple ramp dropped away from the main floor and led to the outside. Men used it as a fishing spot sometimes as they could dangles their feet over the edge like the side of a pier. The tavern owner used it as a quick supply route since a small ship could dock there and unload its wares.
    More than a few men had used it for a quick escape out of the tavern, dumping themselves into the drink, either swimming to freedom or drowning in the process. Cubbins figured it was better than a knife in the back. Running and living to fight another day was always better than death.
    “Well, well, funny seeing you here, officer Cubbins,” someone said at his side. “Didn’t know you was slumming it these days. Though I reckon being an ex-convict changes things a bit.”
    The man who spoke wore his long, graying hair in a ponytail, an unfashionable style for Sea Haven, and it made him stand out. And so did his assortment of earrings and other metal pierced in his weathered face, nose and bottom lip in particular. Cubbins recognized the cologne with one whiff.
    “Craven Mills.”
    The man smiled. His crooked teeth looked almost charming in the gesture. He made a small bow. “That’s me. Always nice to be appreciated and remembered.”
    “I hoped to find you here.”
    “Really now? Ah, that’s something. And to what do I owe this affection, Captain Cubbins?”
    Cubbins plopped a silver piece down on the counter. Craven’s eyes bulged as he slapped a hand over it. “What’s this? You tryin’ to get us killed, you fool?!”
    Mills glanced around like a cornered badger, but no one looked at them. The light was too low, but Cubbins knew better. Something was always going on. It was it to get Craven Mills’ attention.
    “I need some information,” Cubbins said.
    Craven lowered his voice. “You could get a helluva lot more than that with this around here. Hell! This could get a whole round of drinks for everyone here. Or a slave.” He got closer to Cubbins, and the captain had to hold his breath lest he smell the rancid odor from Craven’s mouth. “Maybe you wanna head over to the Madam’s, eh? I’m ready! Ha, ha!”
    Mills grew suspicious. “Say, I never heard of an officer of the law having this kind of coin to throw around for just some wagging tongues.”
    “They gave me a bonus after my wrongful arrest. Consider it a retainer. I may need you for a few weeks, Craven. And you may need money for expenses. I have more.” He reached into his doublet, but Craven stopped him.
    “No, no, not here, you blasted dolt! I’ll help you.