Mister Slaughter Part 36

Matthew felt sure he'd seen that parasol before. At the Chapel estate, possibly. In midsummer.

The Mallorys seemed to be talking quietly, admiring the work of the blades as the glistening fish were carved. Did the woman cast a sidelong glance at him? He wouldn't be surprised. They'd been shadowing him ever since he'd left the doctor's care. A day hadn't gone by when he wasn't aware of them, hovering somewhere nearby.

They turned their backs to him, and arm-in-arm they walked away in the shadow of her parasol.

McCaggers hadn't noticed them. He was still anxiously searching the distance for a swimmer.

"Some other time," Matthew said to Berry's invitation. He didn't think he'd be very good company, with the Mallorys on his mind. "I'd best get back to the office."

McCaggers spoke up before the girl could respond. "Of course! Some other time, then."

"Ashton, I want to thank you again for saving my life," Matthew said. "And for letting me call you friend friend."

"I think Zed is the one who saved your life. When he comes back, we'll toast freedom and friendship. All right?"

"All right," Matthew agreed.

"You're sure you won't join us?" Berry asked imploringly.

"Let the man go about his business," said McCaggers, and he put his hand on Berry's elbow. "I mean are you sure you won't join us, Matthew?"

"I'm sure."

"Zed will be back." McCaggers looked into Matthew's eyes, and no longer out to sea. "You saw what a good swimmer he is."

"Yes, I did."

"Good afternoon, then." The coroner attempted a smile. His somber face was ill-suited to the expression and it slipped away. "I trust no one will try to kill you anytime soon."

"I trust," Matthew said, but he'd realized that he was a killer himself, whether he'd wanted the t.i.tle or not, and to survive in a land of carnivores he would have to grow the killer's eye in the back of his head.

"Later?" Berry asked.

"Later," Matthew replied.

McCaggers and Berry walked on together, with his hand at her elbow. She glanced back at him, just briefly, and he wondered if she hoped he'd changed his mind. McCaggers had taken three steps when the heel of his right boot broke off. Berry helped him steady himself. He picked up the heel, and with a shake of his head at the improbabilities that make up the chaos of life he limped along at her side.

Matthew started off, heading back to Stone Street.

Before he got a block away from the waterfront, he heard a woman's voice behind him say, "Mr. Corbett?"

He could keep going, he thought. Just keep going, and pretend not to hear.

"Mr. Corbett? One moment, please?"

He stopped, because he knew that whatever their game was, they were determined to play it out.

Rebecca Mallory was a fiercely beautiful woman. She had high cheekbones and full, red-rouged lips and intense eyes of deep sapphire that Matthew thought must have claimed the souls of many men. She held the blue parasol between them, as if offering to share its shadow. Matthew saw her husband standing behind her a few yards away, lounging against a wall.

Dr. Mallory's care of Matthew had been professional and successful, and when Matthew had gotten his clothes back he'd found the letter from Sirki to Sutch returned to him in a pocket. It was as if that discussion between night owls had never happened, but for the fact that they were watching him. What was he going to do? Show the letter to Greathouse and open up all that b.l.o.o.d.y mess? And what could he prove prove about the Mallorys, anyway? In fact, what did he about the Mallorys, anyway? In fact, what did he know know about them? Nothing. So best to wait, and to let the game play out. For what choice was there? about them? Nothing. So best to wait, and to let the game play out. For what choice was there?

"We have a mutual acquaintance." The woman's voice was calm, her gaze steady. She might have just said they liked the same kind of sausages.

"Do we?" Matthew asked, just as calmly.

"We believe he'd like to meet you," she said.

Matthew didn't answer. It suddenly seemed very lonely, on this street.

"When you're ready, in a week or two, we'd like you to come visit us. Will you do that?"

His lip felt the graze of a hook. He sensed the silent falling of a net. "What if I don't?"

"Oh," she said, with a tight smile, "let's not be unfriendly, Matthew. In a week or two. We'll set a table, and we'll be expecting you."

With that, she turned away and walked back to where her husband waited, and together the elegant, handsome Mallorys strolled along the street in the direction of the waterfront.

Matthew determined that before this day was over he was going to have to take a long drink or two at the Trot, surrounded by laughter and lively fiddle music and people he counted as friends. That was the true treasure of a man, it seemed to him. Greathouse, too, if he wanted to come. Matthew would even buy him a meal; after all, he had thirteen pounds and a few shillings left to his name. Enough for a fireplace, and then some. But without all those gold pieces stuffed in the straw of his bed, he slept so much better.

He also determined that his mouth was going to remain shut about this-to Greathouse, Berry, and everyone else he knew-until he found out more.

Right now, though, he had nothing but a friendly invitation from a beautiful woman.

And G.o.d only knew where that might lead.

Matthew watched the blue parasol out of sight. Then he went back to Stone Street on a path as straight as an arrow.

The End