involved with such people. In fact, I can’t imagine you even speaking to them in passing. But a man of your experience, I just bet, does know where such people can be found.”
“I do indeed have the acquaintance of many,” he said with fragile pride.
I felt like a jerk for manipulating the poor bastard. Teasing him with my fake respect was like seducing a spinster-his desperation, to be what I treated him as, was pitiful. But I had a job to do nonetheless. “Then I bet you could point me toward the man known as… ” I leaned closer and whispered for effect. “The Dwarf.”
Lonnie leaned back as if scalded. “I know of no such gentleman,” he said quickly.
I smiled. “Lonnie, that’s just what they call him. You know who I mean.”
Lonnie had turned ash-pale. “Sir, I am afraid I cannot help you,” he said, and started to rise.
Dammit. Nothing for it now but to be a hard-ass. I grabbed his shoulder and slammed him down in his chair. Beneath his faded suit he felt no more tangible than a scarecrow. “That’s not the right answer, Lonnie.”
His eyes welled up with tears of fright, but I didn’t flatter myself that he was scared of me. The Dwarf clearly carried some weight, at least among desperate elderly gamblers. I’d put the old guy in a real damned-if-you-do-or- don’t position.
“Lonnie,” I began again, “you’re a terrible liar. Really. Now take a deep breath, calm down, and let’s start over. I’m going to purchase this information from someone; it might as well be you.” I jerked my thumb toward the track. “And think about it-people out there who saw us together will assume it’s you whether it is or not. So why not make a profit on it?”
He wiped his sweaty face with a ragged, monogrammed handkerchief. Clearly, Lonnie hadn’t thought this hard in a long time. Finally he said, “Well, sir, you seem to have the advantage.”
“No, Lonnie, it’s all yours. I’m just appealing to your good sense.”
Lonnie nodded and sighed. “I do not know the whereabouts of the gentleman in question. However, I have often heard that the Dragonfly Club is a place where much of his business is conducted. It is a private tavern in the waterfront district.” He gave me the street address, and directions. “And that, sir, is all I know.”
“That’s more than enough, Mr. Ratchett.” I paid him, counting out each gold piece so he could savor the individual clacks on the tabletop. “I hope this helps you get back on your feet.”
He pocketed the gold and stood, his petal-thin dignity restored by the money’s weight in his pocket. “As long as the gods and goddesses of chance share your wishes, sir, I shall manage quite nicely.”
“Light a candle to Epona,” I said impulsively. “She’s got a thing for horses.”
“Is she a lady or a goddess?”
I almost laughed aloud. “When I find out, I’ll let you know.”
TWENTY-TWO
You needed a password to get into the Dragonfly Club, something Lonnie conveniently forgot to tell me. I resolved, when this was over, to hit him up for a refund.
I left the racetrack and went straight to the waterfront. If the Dragonfly Club followed the pattern of similar establishments, it would operate twenty-four hours a day, so there was no need to dally. I also didn’t want to give Lonnie time to warn anyone.
All along the two-mile stretch of low, crudely built storage warehouses, the suntanned denizens of shipping offices and other ocean-based industries scurried about doing purposeful, nautical things. Sailors of all classes, from uniformed officers to likely pirates, filled the streets, alleys and docks. The smell of salt, mildew and dead fish overpowered all other odors. Seagull droppings left white streaks from the edge of every roof. A stranger could easily tell the prevailing wind came from the northeast by the way the northern walls were either weather-beaten within an inch of their structural integrity, or recently repaired.
Lonnie’s directions were clear enough. I followed a series of discreet dragonfly graffiti down a labyrinth of alleys, which of course gave me plenty of chances to be seen, evaluated and dealt with before I reached my destination. The first dragonfly, nearly hidden beneath a fresh coat of whitewash, led me between the offices of a cargo company and an out-of-business produce warehouse. The only people I saw were two old rummies passed out in their own urine. By the time I found the next emblem, plainly marked on an old rain barrel, there was no one else in sight. This was the part of Cape Querna that Bernie and his boys would never clean up, unless it was with torches and oil.
I passed a stumbling, evidently drunken young man in disheveled clothes far too classy for the neighborhood. He didn’t notice me as he went around a corner muttering, “Rigged, it all had to be rigged… ” The gambler’s lament. The Dragonfly must be close.
At last I reached the weathered, slightly warped warehouse door that, according to Lonnie, was the tavern’s secret entrance. The building itself looked too decrepit to survive a good sneeze, let alone one of Boscobel’s notorious winter gales. I pulled back one bent plank enough to peer inside, and saw boxes packed for shipping stacked in a neat pile. They were covered with dust, though, and I’d have bet money they were all empty, just part of the building’s disguise.
A seagull dropped a rat carcass near my feet. The bird landed, got a better grip and flew away. I was glad I didn’t believe in omens.
The same hand-sized dragonfly emblem I’d been following marked the door. I knocked firmly.
A section of wood slid aside enough for two mean eyes to peer out at me. I wasn’t dressed up, but I’d gotten a haircut, beard trim and new jacket so I didn’t look my usual scruffy self. I wanted to intrigue, rather than impress or intimidate. “Yeah?” the mouth beneath the eyes said in a ragged but unmistakably feminine voice.
I put on my weary sophisticate act. “Can the tough stuff, okay? Let me in.”
“Beat it,” she said, and shut the peephole. Perhaps my act needed work.
I sighed, counted to ten, then knocked again. No response. I kicked the door as hard as I could several times. Still no response. I did learn that it was more solid than it looked.
I waited until I caught my breath, then leaned close. “Sweetie, either talk to me or send somebody out here to kick my ass, otherwise I’m just gonna embarrass us both.”
It took a moment, but the slot opened again and there was a hint of humor in the way she said, “I told you to beat it.”
“You need a password, is that it?”
“I need you to take a hike.”
“How about… ‘the Dwarf.’ ”
I heard a hollow, ripping sound like the wind tearing a sail. It took a moment to realize it was her laughter. Finally she said, “Keep being that funny, you’ll make me pee on myself.”
I really didn’t want to tip my hand this soon, on the off chance that I was right. But I saw no other way to get past this harpy. “Okay, then, how about… ‘Andrew Reese.’ ” I leaned close and softly chanted, “Andrew Reese is broken to pieces.”
Again I got the harsh laughter, only it was abruptly cut off. I heard her whisper with someone. Then the locks clicked, and the door swung open to allow a man to peer out and look me over.
He had neat blond hair, blue eyes and a smooth, boyish face. He wore an expensive cream-colored suit tailored to his lithe body. He looked me up and down, evaluating me just as I did him. I was faster; I knew he was serious trouble the instant I saw him.
“Come in,” he said simply in a flat, quiet way.
I stepped inside a small antechamber, with two doors on the wall opposite the entrance. I imagined one led into the club, and the other to a convenient place for disposing of bodies.
I turned as the rough-voiced girl locked the door behind us. And to my surprise, she was a girl-no older than thirteen or fourteen, in a simple dress and with two long braids. I couldn’t imagine that voice coming out of her until I noticed a shiny gold ball seemingly arbitrarily stuck to her neck; a matching one decorated the opposite side. She rolled her eyes when she saw me looking.
“Arrow shaft through my neck,” she growled. She twisted one of the finials off to show the wooden stub protruding from her skin. “Doctor says it’ll kill me if I take it out. So I at least try to make it look nice.”
“Isn’t it uncomfortable?”
