Emerald City Blues by Smalley Peter

Author:Smalley, Peter [Smalley, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Kindling Press
Published: 2013-03-31T17:00:00+00:00

NINE

This was serious.

I paced. It didn't help much. I did it anyway, cup of tea gone cold and forgotten on my windowsill. Outside, the rain fell in endless sheets of grey. Inside, it felt more like a summer storm was brewing.

I glanced at the letter from Gordon Buskins again, as if it might tell me something new. He was good, and he was fast. What he wasn't was cheap; his bill was attached, almost apologetically. I would have to do something about that. I would also have to come up with enough money to eat, and figure out how I was going to put off my landlord's demands for rent. Again. But those were background noise. Gordon had found a record filed with the county by the executor of Gerd's estate, a man by the name of Heinrich von Griffe. His connection to Gerd was unknown. I'd certainly never heard of him. The files stated Gerd's heir was his next of kin, a woman by the name of Florence Zimmerman, currently a resident of New Zebedee, Michigan. From the context it seemed she was Gerd's sister. Strange. I'd never heard him talk about having family.

But that wasn't the really strange part. The really strange part was the fact that I was mentioned in Gerd's will.

I re-read the end of Gordon's handwritten note. There are references in Mr. Mueller's will to bequests placed in trust for both Thomas Cooke and for you. No mention is made of what your bequest is, where it might be, nor with whom; nor even under what circumstances it was to be delivered to you. I take it you were unaware of this? -G.B.

No, I was bloody well not aware, thank you very much. The idea there was something Gerd meant me to have ten years ago was putting me very much on edge. What could it be? I racked my brain, trying to think of things I'd spent a decade trying to forget or drown with alcohol. Part of me hoped it was something I could use against the Russian tiger-woman, but Gerd was not the type to leave items of power to a half-trained apprentice, no matter how talented. No, it couldn't be that. A personal memento from a happier time, in all likelihood. Nothing to get in a twist over.

But I was in a twist. A big one. Because a cold, ruthlessly analytical part of my brain had put a gun to the back of my head and told it that whatever the Tiger and her master were looking for, chances were it was whatever Gerd had left to me or Tommy. "Chances," by which I meant, somewhere between certain and final. And that meant Tommy's death was partially my fault. Whoever was trying to get at our bequests had killed him. But had they gotten whatever Gerd had left for him?

I had to hope not. In the mean time, I had a few new leads to chase. I dashed off a quick letter to Gerd's next-of-kin, Ms.

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