Liquid Steele (Daggers & Steele Book 9) Read online

  “You’d go drinking with Johnny and his brother, or just Johnny?” I asked.

  “Both,” said Émile. “More recently, just Johnny.”

  “And when was the last time you did that?”

  Émile shrugged. “Not sure. A month, month and a half ago?”

  “That’s the last time you saw him?”

  “Might’ve seen him on the docks, from a distance. I’ve got good eyes, man.”

  “A month and a half,” I said. “And you were one of Johnny’s best friends?”

  “Was I?” Émile eyed Silverbrook. “That’s news to me.”

  “Bianca named you as one, for what it’s worth,” said Bronmuth.

  Émile shrugged. “Well, straight from the horse’s mouth, I guess. Not that I’m saying Bianca’s got a horse face or anything. She’s actually pretty hot. But yeah, me and Johnny didn’t talk much anymore. If I was one of his best friends, I’d hate to see his worst, know what I mean?”

  None of us laughed.

  “So you wouldn’t know much about Johnny’s recent activities, I suppose?” said Steele. “If he was involved in anything underhanded?”

  “Underhanded?” said Émile. “You mean like, illegal?”

  “Yes.”

  Émile’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Nah. Not that I know of. I keep my head out of that stuff. My body, too.”

  Again, none of us laughed. I don’t think Émile was getting the hint.

  I looked at Steele. “Anything else you want to ask?”

  She replied with a taut shake of her head. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was enough. I felt the same way.

  “Silverbrook?” I said. “Maybe we should move on.”

  “I was thinking the same,” he said. “Émile? Until next time. Be sure to keep the horse show spectators in line.”

  “Don’t I always, dude.” He held his hand out over the kiosk again. “Come on. Don’t leave me hanging.”

  Bronmuth gave the young guy another of those awkward high five handshake things, and back up the boardwalk we went.

  I nodded my head toward the attraction as we left. “Was that some sort of inside joke?”

  “What?” said Bronmuth. “You mean about the horse show?”

  “It doesn’t seem to be very popular. At all.”

  Silverbrook snorted. “I’m giving him a hard time. It’s an Aragosto landmark. It’ll pick up when tourist season hits. It always does. So, what’s next? You want to try and find Rigger?”

  “You actually want our input?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? You have more experience in these matters than I do. Only makes sense for you two to take the lead.”

  I blinked. I wished I could get a better read on the dwarf. Yesterday, he’d come across as a huge jerk, one that was more than simply ornery. For a time, I’d been sure he’d been leading us astray, sabotaging our case by feeding us misinformation. Then today he’d cheered up, even gone out of his way to be helpful. Maybe he’d just been hungry?

  Of course, despite his newfound cheerful personality, it still bothered me that he knew all our witnesses and suspects so well. First Bianca, now Émile. I would’ve chalked it up to a small town congeniality, but I couldn’t help but feel there was something else going on.

  “Rigger, then. Yeah,” I said. “Any idea where we can find him?”

  Silverbrook nodded. “We’ll swing by the pier. If his boat’s in its slip, he’ll either be there or at home.”

  We reached the end of the boardwalk and crossed the breakwater that separated it from the docks. When we reached the twenty-first pier, Bronmuth took it and stopped at the side of a medium-sized ship by the name of The Blue Albatross. He called out for Rigger, but no one answered, so we headed back the way we came, continued past the end of the dock, reached the road Bronmuth and I had taken to see Old Man Connors and instead took it in the opposite direction, skirting the edge of town as we headed into a residential district. The homes in the area were slightly nicer than the ones in Bianca’s neighborhood. A little larger, a little cleaner, but still nothing fancy, nothing that would look out of place in a town of Aragosto’s size and standing. Not like the handful of houses that poked through the trees on the hill overlooking the neighborhood. I only spotted a few of them, but they looked spectacular, with dark slate roofs and facades of gleaming hardwood or stone, looking like a group of patricians in suits and matching fedoras.

  “Don’t tell me Rigger lives up there,” I said as we walked.

  Bronmuth glanced at me. “What’s that?”

  I pointed. Given Émile’s oafish nature, having one of Johnny’s other friends turn out to be a wealthy upper cruster would’ve stretched my belief to the breaking point.

  Silverbrook shook his head. “On Millionaire’s Row? Please. Only the cream of Aragosto’s crop live up there. Some of the inn owners, Orlando and Carmine Abano, and Doc Fowler. Rigger does well for himself, far as I know, but he’s here in town with the rest of us plebs.”

  “Wait, Doc Fowler?” said Shay. “Seriously? The horse show guy?”

  Silverbrook snorted. “I’m telling you, that Fantastic Flying Horse show is more popular than it looks. That and he owns a number of bars around town.”

  “Like the Muddled Merman?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” said Bronmuth. “Does it matter?”

  I gave Steele a look. I’m not sure if she was thinking the same thing I was, but the curiosity was written plainly across her face.

  Silverbrook pointed at a two-story house down the street, one painted a pale green with an enormous oak tree in the front yard. “There’s Rigger’s place. Let’s see if he’s in.”

  24

  A woman opened the door in response to our knocking, strands of her blonde hair falling out of the bun in which she’d pinned it. She wore a yellow floral print apron, a frown, and a baby over her hip. The baby looked at us and promptly vomited.

  “Oh, dear gods,” said the woman. “Are you kidding me? Sorry. What is it? I really don’t have time for this.”

  “Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” said Silverbrook. “It’s Catherine, right? I’m Bronmuth, from the police department.”

  The woman tried to wipe vomit off her child’s face with her apron, not really paying attention. In the back, I could hear children screaming and a dog barking. A big dog, by the sound of it.

  “Yeah, right. Sorry,” said Catherine. “Bronmuth. I remember.”

  “Is Rigger in?”

  Catherine pulled the edge of her apron away just as an aftershock hit the baby. A second wave of vomit spilled out. Luckily we were out of the splash range.

  “Oh, gods damn it! His name is Danny, not Rigger. Danny? Danny! Oh, just go in. I think he’s in the living room.”

  Catherine retreated from the door, leaving it open, so we stepped on through. Immediately, we were accosted by a herd of children, at least four of them, though they moved so fast it was hard to keep track. They bounced around, grabbing Shay’s and my legs, waving, shouting over each other, and smacking each other in the face. One of them was showing me a stick, telling me it was actually a sword and that he’d slain seven pirates with it including one with a wooden leg and another with a bum eye and he’d poked a third in the eye with it and the eye had popped out and that made him the pirate king now and wouldn’t I tell his brother that he was the pirate king, because boy was he being a pain about it, and hey, LET GO OF MY STICK! And then more smacking commenced, right as the dog came bounding in, a hulking brute that probably could’ve swallowed the smallest of the children whole. He barreled into my legs, almost taking me out at the knees, and deposited a huge rope of saliva over Bronmuth’s shoulder.

  “Alright, that’s enough!” A tall man with a thick black beard and equally thick black hair came in through an adjoining hallway, waving his arms. “Out, all of you! In the backyard. And stop screaming, for the love of the gods. Take the dog! Take him!”

  The kids’ eyes widened, and they ran off
, the dog stampeding after them and creating an unholy ruckus. Despite the command, they all kept on shouting. A door slammed shut, and the sound of yells and pounding feet faded, though I could still pick up a muted argument about pirates and why someone refused to share a stick.

  The man in front of us sighed, his voice tired. “Sorry about that. Hey, Bronmuth. What brings you out here?”

  “Some business. You doing okay? You look like you got run over by a scow.”

  “I got home less than half an hour ago. Thirty-six hour shift. I’d be asleep already if it weren’t for the kids. Either way, I’m ready to die. Whatever it is you need, make it quick.” He finally noticed Shay and me. “Hey. Danny Peabody. You can call me Rigger if you like.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. “And your family. They’re, ah…energetic.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “You want to have a seat, Rigger?” said Bronmuth. “Your living room maybe?”

  He shrugged, but I don’t think he really cared. “Sure.”

  We followed him into the hallway from which he’d appeared and into the living room, taking seats on a pair of couches, one of which overlooked the backyard, now filled with whirling dervishes armed with sticks and covered in mud, their little legs a blur. I’d always thought my Tommy was hyperactive, but if Rigger’s kids were any indication, I’d hit the jackpot.

  Rigger sighed. “So what do you need, Bronmuth?”

  “We’ve got to ask you about Johnny, Rigger. When was the last time you saw him?”

  The man wiped a hand through his hair. “Beats me. A few days before he went missing, I guess. On the docks. He was working. So was I. Didn’t say a word.”

  “You still hung out with him, though, right?”

  “Sometimes. But not often. Tell me, Bronmuth. I heard a rumor as I tied the Albatross up. Is he really dead?”

  Silverbrook nodded. “It’s true. Sorry, Rigger. That’s why these detectives are here. Daggers and Steele. They’re trying to figure out what did him in.”

  Not who did him in, I noticed. Bronmuth was finally exercising some restraint.

  Rigger turned his tired eyed to Steele and me. “You the ones who found him?”

  “We were.”

  “Is the rumor true? Was he killed?”

  Apparently Rigger already knew. Whispers travelled fast in Aragosto. “That’s right.”

  Rigger sighed and hung his head. “Damn. I mean, I wasn’t that surprised when he went missing, but dead? Murdered? Who would do a thing like that? And to Johnny, of all people. Yeah, he wasn’t the most outgoing guy, not anymore, but that makes this all the weirder, don’t you think? He didn’t put himself out there. Why would anyone go after him?”

  “Sorry,” said Steele. “You weren’t surprised when he went missing?”

  “Not really, no,” said Rigger. “Honestly, I thought he might’ve simply…packed it up. Given up and left.”

  “Why would he do that?” I asked. “Was he having money problems?”

  “I think so, yeah,” said Rigger. “Not that he ever mentioned them, specifically. He was pretty tight lipped about it. But we knew he’d kicked his brother out of his fishing business ‘cause he couldn’t pay him. That he was working long hours. I think that’s why he didn’t want to come drink with us anymore. The cost, you know. But he did anyway, to get away, I think.”

  “To get away from what?” asked Steele.

  “You know. His wife.”

  I nodded. “I get it. I’ve only been in Bianca’s presence twice, and I’m already certain I’d rather not go back for thirds.”

  “I think it was more than that…” said Rigger.

  Bronmuth knuckled his brow. “Like what?”

  “You hadn’t heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  Rigger leaned in, as if he had a piece of juicy gossip to share. “I heard a rumor. I have no idea if it’s true or not—for damned sure I never asked Johnny about it—but I heard tell Bianca was having an affair.”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was anyway. “Wait, what?”

  “With who?” asked Bronmuth.

  “No idea,” said Rigger. “Like I said, there’s no way I was going to ask Johnny about it, and I don’t spend any time with Bianca. I haven’t seen her in a year or two.”

  “Who told you that?” said Bronmuth.

  Rigger shrugged. “I don’t remember. Honest. It was some night I was hanging out with Émile and Talbot and a couple other guys. Someone mentioned it. Maybe they made it up, I don’t know. Seemed like it made sense, though, given the way Johnny’d been acting.”

  It did make sense. Not only did it explain why Bianca hadn’t been particularly bent out of shape by her husband’s disappearance and death, but it also explained why she wasn’t more concerned about being a jobless widow. Because there was someone else she was relying on for help.

  “Silverbrook,” I said. “As much as I meant my statement about not wanting to endure another of her welcoming tongue lashings, I think we really need to have another chat with Bianca.”

  25

  Bronmuth pounded on the front door of Bianca’s house, the screen rattling under the force of his fist. “Bianca? You in there? We need to ask you some more questions.”

  “Honestly, Silverbrook,” I said as I peered through one of the front porch windows, trying to see past the drapes. “How is it you weren’t aware Bianca might’ve been having an affair?”

  “Give me a break,” snorted Bronmuth. “I don’t know everything. You think I spend all my time lounging in bars talking to gossips?”

  “I wasn’t suggesting you should know everything,” I said. “But it sure seems you know everyone. Bianca, Émile, Rigger, Skillethands, Connors, that superintendent guy who runs the docks. You’re on a first name basis with each of them. I have a hard time believing you wouldn’t have come across Bianca’s possible infidelities from one of them when you went around investigating Johnny disappearance the first time around.”

  Bronmuth turned from the door, a scowl stretching his face. “First of all, I didn’t know he was dead at first, all right? He’d gone missing. That’s it. So of course I didn’t turn over every rock and look in every cranny in search of the guy. We all knew he wasn’t in the best of shape, financially, mentally. So I thought like Rigger, alright? I assumed maybe he left. It’s an honest mistake. And I sure as hell don’t appreciate you suggesting I’m doing a crappy job, or worse, just because you don’t agree with my conclusions. If you’re going to come into my town with that attitude, you can turn your ass right around and take it back to New Welwic. Screw what Mines has to say about it. I’ll kick your ass out myself!”

  “Whoa there. Relax. Both of you.” Steele stepped between us. “It doesn’t matter whether or not anyone should’ve found something earlier. What matters is that we determine if there’s any credibility to the rumor, and if there is, that we find out who she’s seeing.”

  Bronmuth glared at us, having rediscovered the unpleasant nature he’d put on display yesterday. He banged on the door again. “Bianca? If you’re there, open up.”

  “I don’t think she’s home,” said Steele.

  Silverbrook snorted. “Fine. I’m going to make some rounds. Hit my contacts. See if I can figure out who Bianca might’ve been dating. You two? I don’t know. Do whatever you want. Just don’t get into any trouble.”

  Bronmuth stormed off without so much as a second glance, heading down the steps, through the gate, and down the street in the direction of the inns.

  Steele stared at me and shook her head. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t sense it,” I said. “There’s something off about Silverbrook. Maybe he’s just a jerk. Fine. But yesterday, I got the feeling he was intentionally leading Bianca and that super at the dock into certain answers. It could be inexperience. Or not.”

  “And you think pointing that out to him is going to help our cause? You realize we need him, wh
ether he’s telling us the whole truth or not, right?”

  I took a deep breath, feeling my blood pressure drop. Without even realizing it, I’d physically prepared for a fight. “Sorry. You’re right. I was hard on him yesterday for revealing crucial information without needing to, and here I am doing the same thing. But you see what I’m saying, right?”

  “Of course. Either he’s not very good at his job, or he’s hiding something. Not necessarily something related to Nicchi’s murder, but something.”

  “Any idea what?”

  “Well, I don’t think he knew Bianca was seeing anyone. His reaction was as surprised as ours. Other than that?” Shay shrugged. “You’re usually the one with the conspiracy theories. You tell me.”

  I shook my head. “Trust me, I have a lot on my mind, but I don’t have any answers.”

  Shay’s gaze softened, as if she’d deciphered the true meaning of my statement from those few bare words. She looked like she might ask me about it, but I wasn’t ready to rehash the events of last night. Not yet. Not without figuring out how I was willing to deal with my issues.

  I nodded for her to follow me and descended the front steps, skirting the house en route to the back. I paused at the side window, the one that looked in on Johnny’s office. The ledgers were still there, right where Quinto had left them. I kept walking, working my way to the back porch. There I peered into the available windows, into the living room and kitchen, but the house was barren.

  The porch stairs creaked behind me in response to Shay’s footfalls. “Still convinced she’s here, in hiding?”

  “Not really. Simply exhausting my options.”

  “She won’t be able to hide for long. Assuming she’s trying.”

  I nodded.

  “Look, if you don’t want to talk about us, that’s fine, but at least let me in. Tell me what you’re mulling about the case.”

  Damn, she was good. I pointed toward the door. “The break-in. You know, the one that wasn’t really a break-in because either the door was unlocked or the intruder had a key? If Bianca had a man on the side, he would’ve had a way to get in.”