Feet of Clay - Terry Pratchett [73]
“Er…I know this isn’t the right time,” said Vimes. “But, when the kids play hopscotch in the street, what’s the rhyme they sing? ‘Salt, mustard, vinegar, pepper?’ isn’t it?”
She stared at his worried grin. “That’s a skipping rhyme,” she said coldly. “When they play hopscotch they sing ‘Billy Skunkins is a brass stud.’ Who are you?”
“I’m Commander Vimes of the Watch,” said Vimes. So…Willy Scuggins would live on in the street, in disguise and in a fashion…And Old Stoneface was just some guy on a bonfire…
Then her tears came.
“It’s all right, it’s all right,” said Vimes, as soothingly as he could. “I was brought up in Cockbill Street, that’s why I…I mean I’m…I’m not here on…I’m not out to…look, I know you took food home from the palace. That’s all right by me. I’m not here to…oh, damn, would you like my handkerchief? I think your one’s full.”
“Everyone does it!”
“Yes, I know.”
“Anyway, cook never says nothing…” She began to sob again.
“Yes, yes.”
“Everyone takes a few things,” said Mildred Easy. “It’s not like stealing.”
It is, thought Vimes treacherously. But I don’t give a damn.
And now…he’d got a grip on the long copper rod and was climbing into a high place while the thunder muttered around him. “The, er, the last food you sto—were given,” he said, “What was it?”
“Just some blancmange and some, you know, that sort of jam made out of meat…”
“Pâté?”
“Yes. I thought it would be a little treat…”
Vimes nodded. Rich, mushy food. The sort you’d give to a baby who was peaky and to a granny who hadn’t got any teeth.
Well, he was on the roof now, the clouds were black and threatening, and he might as well wave the lightning conductor. Time to ask…
The wrong question, as it proved.
“Tell me,” he said, “what did Mrs. Easy die of?”
“Let me put it like this,” said Cheery. “If these rats had been poisoned with lead instead of arsenic, you’d have been able to sharpen their noses and use them as pencils.”
She lowered the beaker.
“Are you sure?” said Carrot.
“Yes.”
“Wee Mad Arthur wouldn’t poison rats, would he? Especially not rats that were going to be eaten.”
“I’ve heard he doesn’t like dwarfs much,” said Angua.
“Yes, but business is business. No one who does a lot of business with dwarfs likes them much, and he must supply every dwarf cafe and delicatessen in the city.”
“Maybe they ate arsenic before he caught them?” said Angua. “People use it as a rat poison, after all…”
“Yes,” said Carrot, in a very deliberate way. “They do.”
“You’re not suggesting that Vetinari tucks into a nice rat every day?” said Angua.
“I’ve heard he uses rats as spies, so I don’t think he uses them as elevenses,” said Carrot. “But it’d be nice to know where Wee Mad Arthur gets his from, don’t you think?”
“Commander Vimes said he was looking after the Vetinari case,” said Angua.
“But we’re just finding out why Gimlet’s rats are full of arsenic,” said Carrot, innocently. “Anyway, I was going to ask Sergeant Colon to look into it.”
But…Wee Mad Arthur?” said Angua. “He’s mad.”
“Fred can take Nobby with him. I’ll go and tell him. Um. Cheery?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“You’ve been, er, you’ve been trying to hide your face from me…oh. Did someone hit you?”
“No, sir!”
“Only your eyes look a bit bruised and your lips—”
“I’m fine, sir!” said Cheery desperately.
“Oh, well, if you say so. I’ll…er, I’ll…look for Sergeant Colon, then…”
He backed out, embarrassed.
That left the two of them. All girls together, thought Angua. One normal girl between the two of us, at any rate.
“I don’t think the mascara works,” Angua said. “The lipstick’s fine but the mascara…I don’t think so.”
“I think I need practice.”
“You sure you want to keep the beard?”
“You don’t mean…shave?” Cheery backed away.
“All right, all right. What about the iron helmet?”
“It belonged to my grandmother! It’s dwarfish!”
“Fine. Fine. OK. You’ve made a good start, anyway.”
“Er…what do you think of…this?” said Cheery, handing her a bit of paper.
Angua read it. It was a list of names, although most of them were crossed out:
Cheery Littlebottom