Read Online Deadly Quicksilver Lies by Glen Cook - Free Book Online

Just a puzzle. Maggie didn’t seem in any hurry, just worried.”
    “You buy the woman’s story?”
    I never take a client’s story at face value. Some natural law compels them to lie part of the time. “Maybe. Some. It feels like the truth being used for something else.”
    “I’ll put out feelers. Meantime, you ought to corner Winger.”
    “That occurred to me.” I didn’t relish trying to get anything out of her, though. “It’s not an appetizing idea.”
    Morley chuckled. “She’s a handful. The trick is get her thinking what you want is her idea.”
    “Ingenious. How?”
    “With great difficulty.”
    “I can get advice like that from my parrot and save the price of this fish food.”
    “Way I hear, Dean is out of town and the Dead Man is asleep. You being hard up for company, I just wanted you to feel at home. Crumbs! You try to be a pal.” He grinned a diabolical dark-elf grin.
    “You want to be a pal, find out about Maggie Jenn.”
    His grin dwindled. “Try to be a pal.” He shook his head.
    He would check around because he thought he owed me. And I agreed. I collect like a loanshark.
    “Bed is starting to sound good,” I thought aloud. “It’s been a hard day.”
    Morley grunted. His nephew came to the table. Getting no hint that he ought to take his big ears elsewhere, he spun a chair around and straddled it. Around us, Morley’s people, moving slowly and muttering about their aches and pains, put things together again. Spud asked, “How is Mr. Big, Mr. Garrett?”
    I cursed.
    Morley had sent me the Goddamn Parrot when he was in an Eggwhite mood. That was far enough out of character that I suspected Sarge and Puddle had a hand in developing the scam. The bird came guaranteed to have a major hatred for cats and a habit of attacking them from above. I accepted him because Dean had a habit of accumulating strays.
    Spud gave me a dirty look. He was the only one in the world with any use for that foul-mouthed jungle chicken. Make that any love. The Dead Man had a use. Wherever I went, he could send Mr. Big after, nagging.
    I had tried to give the beast away. There were no takers. I gave it every chance to fly away. It wouldn’t escape. I was getting near taking heroic measures. “Spud, you’re so worried about Mr. Big why don’t you come get him? He needs a home where he’s appreciated.”
    “No, you don’t,” Morley sneered. “That there is your bird, Garrett.”
    I scowled. This was a squabble I couldn’t win.
    Dotes showed all those pointy teeth again. “I hear some parrots live a hundred years.”
    “Some, maybe. In the wild.” I could donate Mr. Big to a charity. Like some hungry ratman. “I’m out of here, friend.”
    Morley laughed.
     
     

16
    It was dark out. That did not help.
    Neither did the fact that I didn’t see them coming. I had no chance to get ready.
    I put up a fight, though. I dented some heads good with the weighted oak head-buster I carry when I go out. I tossed one guy through the only glass window in the street. But I just never got rolling. I had no chance to use the tricks I had stashed up my sleeves.
    Somebody whapped me up side the head with a house. I think it was a house. Had to be a house. No mere man could hit me that hard. The lights went out — with me still trying to figure out who and why.
     
    Ordinarily, I come around slowly if I’ve had my conk bopped. Not so this time. One minute I was in dreamland, the next I was bouncing along face downward, wrapped in something soggy, staring at a floor sliding past inches from my nose. Four guys were carrying me. I was leaking red stuff. I couldn’t recall drinking any wine. I had the worst headache anyone ever had since the dawn of time.
    A fine pair of female legs strode along practically in nibbling range. I really wanted to appreciate those. In other circumstances, I would have devoted hours to those legs. But a guy does have to keep some perspective.
    Things were not going well. This sort of