The Cadaver Client

But I did have something I don’t usually have when I’m trying to find someone.

I had a fat bag of solid gold crowns.

Three-leg Cat felt the shift in my mood and jumped out of my lap, insulted and stiff-tailed.

“Somebody has to work around here.”

Three-leg broke wind and sauntered out, his opinion of that statement made pungent and all too plain.

I found a printing shop and had them make up a waybill. I ordered four hundred and fifty copies. I’d never seen anybody covered in that much ink ever look so happy.

Then I went looking for Gra

Mama wasn't home, and when I finally found Gra

Gra

And it did. I gathered a lot of people spent a lot of time and considerable effort to keep it looking that way. The storefronts were all tall, with exaggerated overhangs and round-topped doors (because nothing says Elf like a round-topped door, apparently) and leaves worked into every visible surface. Everything was Elf-themed, whether it was taffy or glass or hats or jewels. Even the restaurant menus posted in the windows were done up in faux Elf.

And here I’d always thought Elves were a bloodthirsty lot of murderous elementals with a penchant for casual torture and a taste for human infants.

I kept watching the numbers posted haphazardly here and there, and the street suddenly seemed to end well before I got to Gra

I kept going anyway. The street didn’t exactly stop, it just sort of lost its cobbles and became a hard-packed dirt footpath for a while. Vacant lots sprouted weeds and trash about me. Here and there, the hulk of a burned-out building stood twisted in the sun. The backs of buildings a street over rose, windows boarded against the grim sight of Elfway and the burglary-inclined residents thereof, until I made another block.

And then I was on cobbles again. A hand-painted sign informed me I had just entered Old Elfway and that I should enjoy my visit.

The prospect seemed unlikely. The structures were all pre-War wood, grey with age and weather and neglect. Not a board I could see had been spared curling and splitting.

Faces moved behind curtains. Doors slammed shut as I passed.

I decided Mama would be right at home in Old Elfway just as I reached No. 19.

Gra

As I said, Gra

Gra

Still, I waved and greeted each one.

I was still waving and greeting when I heard a familiar cackle ring out down the street, followed by a much softer muttering.

I stood up and wiped ants off my britches. Mama and Gra

“Good day, ladies,” I said, with a practiced tip of my hat. “I hope I’m not too late for tea.”

Gra

“I was hoping to talk to you, Gra

Gra

Mama barged in, right at home. I followed, stooping to fit beneath the door, which lacked a rounded top but was scaled for Elves nonetheless.

Gra

I sighed and sat. Asking Mama to leave would be like asking goats to take up painting.

“I need to spend some of that money,” I said without preamble.

I laid out the problems inherent in locating people who’d last been seen ten years and two major fires ago. I hinted that something that had happened in that neighborhood, which might not have had anything to do with Marris Sellway, was making people nervous and therefore quiet.

Then I described my plan to use good old-fashioned greed to provoke recollection and loosen lips.

If Gra

Mama chuckled, and Gra

That was all I needed.

Almost all.

“I do have a question, Gra

She tilted her head, silent and expectant.

“Something’s bothering me. You say the dead-you say your client spent ten years wracked with guilt, amassing a small fortune to give to this Marris.”

Gra

“Why doesn’t he know where she is, then? Surely he kept tabs on her, on the kid. Anybody willing to put that much coin in a bag isn’t going to just let them vanish. He’d want to know if they had a roof, had food. He’d want to know if they were dead or alive. So, why can’t he tell you where she is?”

Gra

“He couldn’t bear it.” Her voice croaked and wavered. “The guilt. The shame.”

“Horse flop.”

“Boy!” Mama grabbed my elbow. “Don’t you shame me with that lack of ma

“I’m not saying Gra

“The dead. Don’t think like the living. Confused. Life fading like a dream.”

I sighed. I was really wishing Mama would scoot, so I could speak to Gra

“Fine. Our heart-broken, guilt-ridden spook can lead you to a bag of coin in a buried butter churn in a privy, but he can’t cough up even part of an address. Wonderful. So I have your assurance, Gra

Gra

“No. Do it.”

I nodded. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I have chores to tend.”

We exchanged farewells, Mama and Gra

I didn’t figure the print shop was even a quarter of the way rolling out my handbills. So I had time to take the long way back toward my place. Long enough to visit the workhouse over on Kerston, long enough to gather up a mob of street urchins and feed them all at a soup stoop, and then sit them down and explain what I wanted them to do.

They listened with an intensity far more mature than their years should have allowed. I wasn’t going to mind parting with that portion of the treasure. It would probably be more money than any of them had ever seen.