Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [49]
Neither Benelaius nor Lindavar laughed. Instead they looked at me with pained expressions, and I realized my joke had not been terribly funny. "Sorry," I said.
"Apology accepted," said Benelaius. "Well, we must press on. Any suggestions?"
"Why don't I go back to town?" I said. "This murder has brought us full circle back to the phony ghost again. If Grodoveth had been killed in his room at the Swamp Rat, or on the road to town, or nearly anywhere else, there would be no further connection with the ghost. But to have him slain in Fastred's tomb… well, if nobody had taken the treasure, I'd have thought the actual ghost killed him. So my idea is, learn more about the ghost, learn more about the murderer. They seem inextricably bound."
"And exactly how are you going to learn about… the ghost?" asked Benelaius.
"By talking to everyone who saw Dovo playing it. I have the list. Maybe there's something that one of the witnesses remembers that might shed some light on this whole murky business. I swear, it's getting muddier than the Vast Swamp itself."
"Muddy…" said Benelaius."Very well, Jasper, go to town. But that 'muddy' business reminds me… before you go, please do the washing. It's a bree2y day at last, so it should dry quickly, and Lindavar has brought only a limited wardrobe."
I bet Camber Fosrick never had to do the laundry before he went off investigating, I thought as I trudged into the kitchen.
23
The dirty garments lay at the bottom of the chute from upstairs, and I had to remove several cats who were reclining on the unmuddied parts of the clothes, which were few. I scraped soap into the washtub, filled it with boiling water, and washed the clothes.
It was extraordinary, I thought, how the swamp muck from Lindavar's and my clothing had permeated everything else in the clothes pile, even Benelaius's robe of the night before. But some hard work and elbow grease soon had them spotless, and I threw out the soapy water and rinsed them in fresh.
At last I had the clothes hanging on the line, and bade good-bye to Benelaius and Lindavar, who were now at work in the study, examining, I hoped, the powder I had found. I left them to their task and headed for Ghars.
It was mid-afternoon when I arrived, and though I hoped that I would be able to speak to everyone I could and return before dark, I doubted it would happen. Benelaius had given me money for lodging were I too uneasy to return home at night, but Jenkus had outdistanced pursuers before, and there was no reason he could not do so again.
I stopped first at the library, where I asked Mr. Marmwitz if he could recall anyone but Grodoveth looking into the past history of Fastred. "Alas, not for years," he said, shaking his head. Nonetheless, I looked on the flyleaves of most of the books to see if there was any record of withdrawal in recent months.
Marmwitz was correct. The most recent withdrawal had been eight years before, and the patron had been Mrs. Barnabas Hinkel, who had been dead and in the ground for seven of those years.
Back on the street, I got out my list, concentrating on it and trying to ignore the flood of people listening to Barthelm Meadowbrock's commands. It was difficult. They were scurrying all about me, hanging banners welcoming the Merchants' Guild council, putting up garlands and wreaths on the lampposts, washing the windows of all the store fronts, even sweeping the horse dung out of the gutters. Shabby, sleepy little Ghars was undergoing a metamorphosis, but I was paying it no mind.
The first two names on my ghost witness list were easy. Dovo was dead, and the Arabel merchant was probably back in Arabel. I scratched them off. The next was trickier- Mayor Tobald. At this point I figured the last thing he needed was more talk about ghosts.
Looking up the street, I spotted him standing next to Barthelm, disobeying Benelaius's orders to rest before throwing himself back into the fray. Tobald was looking upward and signaling with his hands, apparently guiding some garland or banner hanger lost in the shuffle. No, it might be best