Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [29]
"And perhaps he could give me an examination sometime. I've not been feeling well, not well at all, and Braum can't find anything wrong except for my gout. You know what he tells me? Eat less. Well, I mean to say, eat less? This is the advice of a trained physician?"
"I'm sure my master will be happy to do what he can, and I'll tell him about the pills."
"Thank you, Jasper. No man could have a better prize than a good and faithful servant."
It wasn't any of Tobald's business, but I was going to be good and faithful for only three more days. Then it was the high road for me, and a life, perhaps, of criminal investigation, depending on how this particular case came out. Now it was time to investigate further. "Have you seen Barthelm Meadowbrock today?"
"Oh, yes," said Tobald. "I was helping him prepare for the arrival of our merchant dignitaries. So little time and so much to do. Barthelm seems nearly exhausted, and we have only two more days until the great event."
"Exhausted, say you?"
The mayor nodded. "Poor man, his eyes are as weary as death. He told me he was up all night worrying when he was not working."
Up all night, I thought. Worrying and working? Or getting revenge on a man who insulted his daughter? "The incident with his daughter can hardly have helped him sleep any better," I said.
"With Mayella?" I thought Tobald's voice softened somewhat. Our mayor was not yet that old, it seemed. "It is true," he said, "young men do seem to make fools of themselves in her presence." And, I could have added, a few older ones as well, remembering Tobald's encounter with Mayella's yapping little dog. "But I suppose that's something that any father of a beautiful daughter must deal with. Even my friend Grodoveth was not immune to her charms. Ah, here he comes now!"
I turned and saw Grodoveth coming in the front door. He looked none too happy to see me talking with Tobald, so I begged my leave of the mayor and retreated to the bar, with Grodoveth's glower following me as I went.
Shortshanks brought me a Golden Sands and I sipped it gratefully. It had been a long day, what with retrieving Lindavar, finding Dovo's body, and making Benelaius's required investigations, and the cold brew tasted wonderful. I ordered a pork pie, since Tobald's had looked so tempting, and wondered if Camber Fosrick felt as weary at the end of a day of sleuthing.
By the time I was finished with my flaky treat, the tavern had fallen into that comfortable state where everyone had started a new glass and no one, not even Sunfirth, was scurrying to take or bring orders. Even Shortshanks looked relaxed, so I tried to engage him in conversation, recalling how Camber Fosrick would gain invaluable clues from bar-keeps.
"Heard about Dovo?" I asked him. He nodded but didn't speak. You really had to touch a chord within Shortshanks to open him up. The dwarf took pride in his memory, so I decided to try that tack.
"I was trying to remember," I went on, "when the so-called ghost first started appearing. You recall?"
"Mirtul."
At least it was a word. "End of Mirtul? Or the beginning?" "End."
I had to be careful-the words were getting shorter. "Benelaius and I just couldn't remember who said they saw it… and when. I don't suppose you'd remember."
Yes, it was heavy-handed, but it worked. At the suggestion of a slight against his attic of a brain, Shortshanks turned and gave me the evil eye. "Of course I'd remember. Ye think I'd forget a short little list like that? What else was everyone in here talkin' about at those times