Book 07 - Deadly Quicksilver Lies Read Free Page A

coach built, you go to Linden Atwood. You
want unique flatware, you commission Rickman Plax and Sons. You
want the best shoes, you buy Tate. You need prying and spying, you
hire Garrett.”
    “Speaking of prying and spying.”
    “You want me to get to the point.”
    “I’m used to people circling in on their
troubles.”
    She reflected a moment. “I see where they might.
It’s hard. All right. To the point. I need you to find my
daughter.”
    “Huh?” She blindsided me. I was all tensed for her
to ask me to kill somebody and all she wanted was the basic Garrett
service.
    “I need you to find my daughter. She’s been missing
for six days. I’m worried. What’s the matter? You have
the funniest look.”
    “I get like this when I think about working.”
    “You have that reputation. What will it take to get you
out of the house?”
    “More information. And the fee settled.” There. I
could be proud of me. I was taking command, being businesslike,
handling my weakness.
    So how come I was practically agreeing to take a case blind?
    Actually, despite my reputation and past habit of laziness, I
had been working steady, minor stuff, grabbing a few marks while I
avoided the house and Dean, the Dead Man and the Goddamn Parrot.
The former suffer from the delusion that it will be a better world
if I work myself to death. T.G.P. just nags.
    “Her name is Justina, Garrett. She’s an adult,
though just barely. I don’t hang over her
shoulder.”
    “An adult? What were you, ten years
old? . . . ”
    “Flattery will get you everywhere. I was eighteen. She
turned eighteen three months ago. Never mind the math.”
    “Hell, you’re a spring chicken. Twenty-one with a
few years’ experience. You don’t need to stop counting
yet. I bet plenty of people take you for Justina’s
sister.”
    “Aren’t you the sweet talker.”
    “Actually, I’m only being honest. I’m way too
distracted to . . . ”
    “I’ll bet the girls love you, Garrett.”
    “Yeah. You hear them chanting in the street. You saw them
climbing the walls so they can get in through a second-story
window.” TunFaire being TunFaire, my house has only one
ground floor window, in the kitchen. Iron bars cover it.
    Maggie Jenn’s eyes sparkled. “I have a feeling
I’m going to wish I’d met you sooner, Garrett.”
Those eyes promised. Maybe I was going to wish that, too.
    A redhead will knock me for a loop every time.
    She continued. “To the point. Again. Justina’s been
running with bad companions. Nothing I can put my finger on, no.
Just youngsters I don’t like. I got the feeling they were up
to something wicked. No, I never saw anything to confirm
that.”
    One thing you notice about parents who are looking for strayed
children. They never liked anyone the kid liked. The kid is gone
because he or she fell in with evil companions. Even when they
strain to be non-judgmental, there’s this basic assumption
that the friends are no good. If any of the friends are of another
sex, boy, howdy!
    “I expect you’ll want to know all about her before
you start, right?”
    We had us a built-in assumption I’d be working for Momma
Jenn. Momma Jenn was used to getting her own way. “Best way
to do it. I knew a guy in my line whose whole thing was to get
right inside the head of whoever he was hunting. He’d ignore
everything but the character of that one guy. He’d almost
become that guy. ’Course, lots of times he could’ve got
his man quicker by looking at the big picture.”
    “You’ll have to tell me about some of your cases.
It’s not a side of life I see. Must be exciting. Suppose you
come to my house for an early supper? You can examine
Justina’s room and her things and ask your questions. Then
you can decide whether or not you want the case.” She smiled
a smile that put her earlier efforts to shame. She was confident. I
was getting roasted, toasted, manipulated, and I loved every second
of it.
    I said, “It happens I’m free