Night Watch - Terry Pratchett [49]
“Teaching them to use thimbles, that sort of thing?”
“Yes, it’s amazing how far you can push a metaphor, isn’t it…”
Vimes prodded the paddles again. They were quite alarming.
“You’re married, Sergeant?” said Lawn. “Was Rosie right?”
“Er…yes. My wife is, er, elsewhere, though.” He picked the things up and dropped them hastily again, with a clatter.
“Well, it’s just as well to be aware that giving birth isn’t like shelling peas,” said the doctor.
“I should bloody well hope not!”
“Although I have to say the midwives seldom refer anything to me. They say men shouldn’t fish around where they don’t belong. Really, we may as well be living in caves.”
Lawn looked down at his patient. “In the words of the philosopher Sceptum, the founder of my profession: Am I going to get paid for this?”
Vimes investigated the moneybag on the man’s belt.
“Will six dollars do it?” he said.
“Why would the Unmentionables attack you, Sergeant? You’re a policeman.”
“I am, but they aren’t. Don’t you know about them?”
“I’ve patched up a few of their guests, yes,” said Lawn, and Vimes noted the caution. It didn’t pay to know too much in this town. “People with curious dislocations, hot wax burns…that sort of thing…”
“Well, I had a little brush with Captain Swing last night,” Vimes said, “and he was polite as hell to me about it, but I’d bet my boots he knows this lad and his friend came after me. That’s his style. He probably wanted to see what I’d do.”
“He’s not the only one interested in you,” said Lawn. “I got a message that Rosie Palm wants to see you. Well, I assume she meant you. ‘That ungrateful bastard’ was the actual term she used.”
“I think I owe her some money,” said Vimes, “but I’ve no idea how much.”
“Don’t ask me,” said Lawn, smoothing the plaster with his hand. “She generally names her price up front.”
“I mean the finder’s fee, or whatever it was!”
“Yes, I know. Can’t help you there, I’m afraid,” said Lawn.
Vimes watched him working for a while, and said, “Know anything about Miss Battye?”
“The seamstress? She hasn’t been here long.”
“And she’s really a seamstress?”
“For the sake of precision,” said Dr. Lawn, “let us say she’s a needlewoman. Apparently she heard there was a lot of work for seamstresses in the big city and had one or two amusing misunderstandings before someone told her exactly what was meant. One of them involved me removing a crochet hook from a man’s ear last week. Now she just hangs out with the rest of the girls.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s making a fortune, that’s why. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you, sergeant, that sometimes people go to a massage parlor for a real massage, for example? There’s ladies all over this city with discreet signs up that say things like ‘Trousers repaired while you wait,’ and a small but significant number of men make the same mistake as Sandra. There’s lot of men work here in the city and leave their wives back home and sometimes, you know, a man feels these…urges. Like, for a sock without holes and a shirt with more than one button. The ladies pass on the work. Apparently it’s quite hard to find a really good needlewoman in this city. They don’t like being confused with, er, seamstresses.”
“I just wondered why she hangs around street corners after curfew with a big sewing basket…”
Lawn shrugged. “Can’t help you there. Right, I’ve finished with this gentleman. It’d be helpful if he lies still for a while.” He indicated the racks of bottles behind him. “About how long will you want him to lie still for?”
“You can do that?”
“Oh, yes. It’s not accepted Ankh-Morpork medical practice, but since Ankh-Morpork medical practice would consist of hitting him on the head with a mallet he’s probably getting the best of the deal.”
“No, I meant that you doctors aren’t supposed to hurt people, are you?”
“Only in the course of normal incompetence. But I don’t mind sending him to sleepy land for another twenty minutes. Of course, if you want to wham him with the mallet I can’t stop you.