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"I’m here, Edwin," said Martha Drood. I could hear the difference on the line as she went to secure mode. She knew we were about to discuss things that Pe
"Hello, Grandmother," I said, after a pause. We both sounded so very civilised, as though this was just a little family tiff, nothing that couldn’t be settled over a nice cup of tea. "How does it feel, Martha, to be talking to a dead man? How did it feel to order the death of your own grandson?"
"The family comes first, Edwin; you know that." The Matriarch’s voice was calm and even. "I will always do what is necessary to protect the family. All you had to do was die; and you couldn’t even get that right, could you?"
"I would have died for you, for the family," I said, holding the phone so tightly my hand hurt. "If you’d given me a good reason, if you’d just trusted me enough to explain. I love the family, in my own way. But not anymore. You made me rogue, so rogue I’ll be."
"Why did you call, Edwin? What do you want?"
"To tell you about Sebastian. Who is currently very unconscious in his flat. If you were to send some people here, they could collect him while he’s helpless. And then you wouldn’t have to worry about all those information parcels he’s been holding over your heads. You see, my war is with you, Grandmother. Not with the family."
"I am the family. I am the Matriarch."
"Not for much longer," I said. "I’ve been digging up all your nasty little secrets, and I’m really very angry with you, Grandmother. For what’s been done in the family name. I’m coming home, and not as the prodigal son. I’m coming home for the truth, even if I have to tear the family apart to get it. See you soon, Grandmother."
I hung up, and then just stood there for a moment. My hands were shaking. If I hadn’t already known I was dying, I’d probably have been scared. I looked around for Molly and Janissary Jane. They’d only just remembered to go through the pile of discarded trousers, looking for car keys.
"Time to get moving, ladies. The family will be here soon."
"Okay," said Molly. "I think we’ve done about as much damage here as we can."
Janissary Jane drove the big black car through the streets of London because she knew the way, and because she had the car keys and refused to give them up. Molly sat in the backseat with me, arms tightly folded, sulking. She was never comfortable unless she was in charge. Janissary Jane drove far too fast and manoeuvred aggressively at all times, to keep our cover, she said, but finally we arrived at Wimbledon, still in one piece. Most people associate the name only with te
"The Blue Fairy has a studio apartment here, above the store," she said. "Brace yourselves. He’s not very house proud these days. And we’ll have to go through the shop to get to the flat, so remember, we’re here to see Mr. Blue."
"Why…here?" I said.
"Would you look for him here?" said Janissary Jane, and I had to nod. She had a point.
Janissary Jane led the way into the liquor store. The walls were stacked from floor to ceiling with every kind of booze under the sun, many of them boasting labels I didn’t even recognise. The middle-aged Pakistani behind the counter greeted us cheerfully, nodding quickly when he heard we were here to see Mr. Blue.
"Of course, indeed. Hello again, Miss Jane; it is very good to see you again. Mr. Blue is indeed upstairs and at home; you go right up. He is resting, I believe, and a bit under the weather. I am sure it will do him good to have some friendly company."
He showed us through to the back, still smiling. We ascended some dimly lit stairs to the next floor and found a door with the right name next to a bell push. The door was standing slightly ajar. Not a good sign. I drew my Colt Repeater, Janissary Jane drew her two punch daggers, and Molly made her witch knife appear out of nowhere. I gestured for Janissary Jane and Molly to stick behind me. They ignored me, pressing silently forward, and I sighed inwardly. Janissary Jane pushed the door slowly open. It didn’t make a sound. The room beyond was dark and shadowy, even though it was still afternoon. We slipped inside one at a time, prepared for the worst, but nothing could have prepared us for what we encountered.
The room was a mess. A real mess. The kind of mess you have to work at. My first thought was that the sitting room had been turned over by professionals looking for something, but it quickly became clear that no self-respecting professional agent would sully his hands on the general filth of this place. Grime and slime fought it out for most of the surfaces, what could be seen of the carpet was stained a dozen colours, and junk and debris formed a layer on the floor so thick we had to kick our way through it. Old clothes had piled up in the corner, perhaps for washing but more likely for burning, and takeaway food cartons clung stickily to each other. Something crunched wetly under my foot, and I really hoped it was just a cockroach. The curtains weren’t drawn, but the window glass was so thickly smeared with filth that the afternoon light had to fight its way through.
Empty bottles stood on every surface, mostly of India Pale Ale and Bombay Gin. There were pill bottles, and not the kind you get on prescription. Crinkled tinfoil, for chasing the dragon. And half a dozen syringes, with a cigarette lighter standing by to sterilize the needles. The only thing left after this was drinking mentholated spirits straight from the bottle in a cardboard box on the Charing Cross Embankment. Assuming the Blue Fairy lived that long.
We moved around the room as quietly as we could. No sign of any bad guys, and I was begi
"All right, all right, I’m awake! Lay off the rough stuff; I’m delicate. Especially first thing in the morning."
"It’s afternoon," I said.
"To you, maybe. For me it’s the begi
He squeezed his eyes shut, coughed up half a lung, and then stared at me blearily. His eyes widened as he finally got a good look at me, and then he scooted back across the crumpled bedsheets, holding up his hands defensively, until he crashed into the headboard and couldn’t go any farther. He tried to smile but couldn’t pull it off convincingly.