A Question Of Time by Fred Saberhagen (8 ebook reader txt) 📕

“If you expect me to help you,” he said to him, “you’d better tell me why you’re carrying a gun. Who are you afraid of, and why?”

      The other closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. A pulse beat visibly in the side of his throat, just below his unshaven jaw. “I owe some people a lot of money. Jesus, how did I ever get myself into such a mess.”

      “What kind of people?” Though to Joe it seemed fairly obvious from the way Brainard was behaving.

      Brainard’s eyes came open, and he lifted his head slowly. “Mainly a man named Tuller. Ever hear of him? But why should you, I suppose there are a thousand like him. I think he’s in with some branch of the New York mafia. Loans out money at a nice clean fifty per cent per month. I thought I had a chance to make a killing, clean up a lot of old debts…”

      “How much?”

      “I borrowed eighty thousand. He wanted a hundred and twenty back by the middle of December, about two weeks ago. I couldn’t pay, I couldn’t come close to paying, and so here I am. Aunt Sarah won’t hand out that kind of money, and I don’t blame her.”

      “Maybe you’re here hoping to get something from her, or from Tyrrell, that you can sell.”

      “Hoping to stay alive until I can do something like that.” Brainard tried to smile. “But no such luck. Now I’m on the edge of dead.” He did smile. “Get me out of here, somehow, Keogh. Get me away from this bottleneck and give me a running start somewhere. There won’t be any conflict with what you’re doing for my aunt. You’ll be well paid, I’ve got enough cash stashed away for that.”

      “No thought of going to the police?”

      The other made a sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh. His soft hand bounced on the chair-arm as if he were testing the hardness of the wood. “That would really put the seal on it. They’d really kill me, then. So far, I don’t think they’re actually quite ready to do that. It’s just that I have this prejudice against having my balls smashed, or my kneecaps broken.”

      Joe nodded thoughtfully. “If you help me out a little first, then I’ll see what I can do for you.”

      “Help you how?”

      “To begin with, tell me all you can about Tyrrell.”

      “There’s not a hell of a lot I can tell you.” Brainard shivered slightly. “We do business, we don’t have long, chatty visits. He never talks about himself. And he’s definitely not looking for publicity.”

      “I don’t suppose this Tuller knows about Tyrrell? That the old man is still alive and doing business?”

      “No way. He’s never heard about it from me … and Tyrrell is not a man I’d want to appeal to for help.”

      “I see.” Joe thought for a minute. “Does your aunt know about this Tuller and his people being after you?”

      “She knows I’m some trouble of that kind. I don’t think she realizes how bad it is. I’ve told her that people are actually here looking for me, but I don’t know if Sarah believes that.”

      “All right. Stay here in my room for the time being. Make sure who’s at the door before you open it.”

* * *

      Joe’s next move was to dispatch a hotel bellhop to bring him a cane, or failing that, a crutch. Both items, the youth assured him, were available in the general store near the park’s Visitor Center, and he would deliver a cane shortly.

      Joe thought the next knock on his door, a few minutes later, might be the bellhop returning, having established some kind of a land speed record; but a cautious opening of the door revealed Sarah Tyrrell.

      A few moments later, old Sarah, her nervous nephew, and Joe were all seated at the small conference table.

      Sarah wasted little time in preliminaries. “Mr. Keogh, the disturbance at the house last night was caused, at least in part, by my husband. I did see him.”

      “Why didn’t you tell me then? And why do you tell me now?”

      “Others were present then. Besides, I wanted to think the matter over—I am convinced now that Cathy is in no danger from my husband. I wish that I could say I believe her to be in no danger.”

      Brainard was staring at his aunt. “I hope to God you’re right, about Edgar. But look, what I saw—what I shot at last night—that wasn’t Edgar Tyrrell.”

      “There was another visitor to the house last night,” Sarah confirmed. “Another presence. Something—came with Edgar.”

      Joe looked from one of his visitors to the other. “I wasn’t in a position to see what was happening. Is that all either of you can tell me? ‘Something’ came to the house?”

      “At first,” said Brainard, “I thought it was one of the people trying to collect from me, somehow outside the window. But all I could really see was a—pattern of lights. My nerves were ready to crack, and I took a shot at it.” He shuddered faintly.

      “Mr. Keogh.” Sarah was doing her best to be businesslike. “In the light of what happened last night, of everything that we know now, I would like you to tell me, with complete honesty, whether you think you really have any chance of finding Cathy and helping her.”

      Brainard nodded, and looked hopefully at Joe.

      Again Joe looked from one of them to the other. “I don’t know that what happened last night really changes anything, except that now one of my people is missing. I hope to be able to tell you in a few days, what I think our chances are of helping Cathy. Meanwhile you don’t have to put us on the payroll.”

      Brainard continued to look the part of the anxious father. “What will you know in a few days that you don’t know now?”

      Joe was trying to frame an answer, when his little two-way radio buzzed. The device was lying where he’d left it, on a small table across