Free Cold Copper Tears by Glen Cook Page B

reading my mind again. “Aren’t there any decent people anymore?”
    “Sure. We just don’t run into many.”
    “Name two,” she challenged.
    “Dean. Friend of mine named Tinnie Tate. Her uncle Willard. Friend of mine called Playmate.”
    “All right.”
    “Not to mention I have a fair opinion of myself.”
    “You would. I said all right, Garrett. Forget I asked. You going to finish that? I’ll take it.”
    I pushed my platter over. Where was she putting it?
    Wedge came back with the sleaziest ratman I’d ever seen. He had a lot of the old blood: long whiskers, a long snoot, patches of fur, a four-foot tail. He’d be a descendant of one of the less successful experimental strains of two centuries back, when the life magic’s were the rage and anybody who could diddle up a spell was trying to create new forms. None of those sorcerers are remembered today but their creations are with us still. They’d been inordinately fond of messing with rats.
    I pride myself on my open mind and freedom from prejudice, but I’ve always found room to exclude rat-people. I can’t help it. I don’t like them and none of them have done anything to improve my opinion.
    Wedge told me, “This is Shote, Garrett. As good a stalker as you’ll find. And he’s available.”
    I nodded to Shote and tried to shelve the prejudice. “Wedge tell you what I need?”
    Shote nodded. “Forrow sssomebody whosss breeding.”
    I grinned. None of those guys were going to do any breeding. “Basically, I’ve got a solid starting point. Shouldn’t be hard.”
    “Two marks frat fee, I take you to the end of the track. Arr I do is track. No fighting. No pottering. No nothing else.”
    “That’s fine with me.” I dug out two marks silver.
    Morley arrived. He leaned on the counter beside me. He looked at Maya. “Picking them a little young, aren’t you?”
    “This is Maya, my self-appointed assistant and understudy. Maya, the famous Morley Dotes.”
    “Charmed.” She eyed him. “He a friend of yours, Garrett?” She’d know the name.
    “Sometimes.”
    “You going to invite him to the wedding?”
    She had set me up and cut me off at the knees.
    Morley had to ask. “What wedding?”
    “Him and me,” Maya said. “I decided I’m going to marry him.”
    Morley grinned. “I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it for a barge loaded with gold.” I’ve seen toads with straighter faces than he had on.
    I bet they heard my teeth grind all the way to the waterfront.
    “Maya Garrett?” Morley said. “It does have a ring.” He looked at the ratman. “Shote. How you doing? I thought you didn’t have anything going, Garrett.” He was having a hell of a time keeping from laughing.
    “I didn’t. Now I do. Somebody offend Pokey Pigotta. I want to ask them why.”
    That took the grin off his clock. “You taking it personal?” He thinks I take everything personal.
    “I don’t know. Pokey was all right, but he wasn’t really a friend. I just want to know why he turned up dead where he did.”
    Morley waited for me to tell him where and when. I disappointed him. I asked Shote, “Are you ready? Let’s go.”
    Maya downed the rest of my celery drink and pushed away from the counter. She grinned at me.
    Morley asked, “Mind if I tag along?”
    “Not at all.” He’d be useful if we walked into something.
     
     

18
     
    I expected the dead man’s friends would have collected him, but when we reached that death-trap alley, there he was, taking it easy, like a drunk sleeping it off.
    “They left this one where he croaked,” I said. “At least one more was bleeding when they left.”
    The ratman grunted and started sniffing around.
    “Morley, I want to show you something.” I had Maya hold the lantern while I pantsed the dead guy.
    “What are you, some kind of pervert?” Morley asked.
    “Just take a look. Ever seen anything like this?”
    Morley looked for a long time. Then he shuddered and shook his head. “No. I’ve never seen