Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [50]
Diccon Piccard had seen the Dovo-ghost on the twenty-seventh of Kythorn, so I tied up Jenkus and went over to his jewelry shop on Wattle Lane. The heavy wooden door reinforced with steel bands was open, and through it came the sound of the Selgaunt fiddle that Piccard played whenever he was not assisting a customer. I think the tune was either "Warrior's Woe" or "Red-haired Lad"-most fiddle tunes sound the same to me.
When Diccon Piccard saw me, he called out my name as though he were delighted I was entering his shop, though I had never bought a thing from him and could ill afford to. His smile was as wide as the Dragonmere, and his great bush of hair was blindingly white.
"Jasper, is it not! Benelaius's man! And a finer man is hard to imagine! Benelaius is very lucky indeed!" Diccon Piccard was a born salesman. I had no doubt that if he used that much oil on people who could afford his wares, the precious jewels practically waltzed out of his shop.
"Greeting, Diccon Piccard," I said. "You must be prepared for the arrival of the guild leaders, if you have time to play so beautifully." Actually, he didn't play all that well, but this flattery stuff becomes mutual pretty quickly.
We went back and forth for a while, and when we touched on the subject of the newest murder (which made him frown for only a second, for he had not known Grodoveth) I was finally able to come to the subject at hand. "Ah, yes, the ghost," he said with a smile, as though Dovo's had been a noble jest. "I don't mind telling you that it gave me a fright, quite a fright it did, even though it was a hoax. When I saw that dreadful apparition, I went shivery all over. We rode away as fast as our horses would take us."
" We?'" I said. "You weren't alone?"
He looked guilty, as though he had just betrayed a trust. T, uh… oh bother, I said I wouldn't tell--"
"Surely, sir, civic duty is more important than a secret held for a friend. I assure you that no one but my master and I shall know, that is, unless it should prove absolutely necessary to capture the killer."
"All right then, I was riding back from the Swamp Fox with Barthelm."
"Barthelm Meadowbrock?"
"Yes. We had gone out there together just to see what the place was like-and I wasn't impressed. But he didn't want anyone to know he was out there, for he feared that if Shortshanks found he was patronizing another tavern, the dwarf would not be cooperative in filling Barthelm's spirits order for the guild meeting. So I let on that I was alone when I saw the ghost… er, Dovo."
"Perfectly understandable, Diccon Piccard. And I thank you for your honesty."
"You are quite welcome, Jasper. My honesty also extends to my business dealings, so I trust if you ever require my services, say a fine stone for a beloved young lady, or…" And so it went until I was able to extricate myself.
Elizabeth Clawthorn, known to everyone as Looney Liz, was next on the list, but since she lived just south of Ghars, I decided to make her my last stop on the way home. That meant Lukas Spoondrift was next.
I didn't look forward to seeing Spoondrift. He was my former employer at the Sheaf of Wheat, and hadn't taken it very well when I had left his miserable job to go with Benelaius. Add to that fact the certainty that he was going to be as busy as anyone in Ghars getting ready for tomorrow's guild visit, and I knew I would have a none too happy host for my own call.
Spoondrift was a fat hulk of a man, who ate up much of his own profits. But he could afford it, especially with the income the Merchants' Guild meeting would bring. Barthelm Meadowbrock was spending a great deal of his own money to host the event, and the guild leaders themselves could be counted on to spend a great deal.
The inn owner was outside, overseeing the unloading of the butcher's wagon, carefully counting each fowl, fish, beef and lamb quarter as it crossed his kitchen threshold. He stopped and examined some of the butchered beasts, as though he feared spoilage, though Butcher