"But Your Grace," Lord Downey said, leaning on Vetinari's varnished desk, "you must admit that it is entirely inappropriate for you to conduct this investigation."
"In fact, as the leaders of the various guilds of Ankh-Morpork, we have come to the decision that a more impartial body should undertake the task." Selachii's eyes flickered frantically as he tried to avoid seeing either Vimes or the bloodstains on the floor.
"Only the Watch is capable of handling the investigation and you know it. The Watch is sufficiently impartial." Vimes clenched his fists. It was certainly more impartial than these power-grabbing politicians.(1)
"I'm afraid we need some reassurance of that, Your Grace." Selachii's voice was calm, but his flickering eyes and twitching fingers gave him away. It was only a matter of time, Vimes thought, before the man began to pull out his hair.
"Bingeldy-bingeldy-beep. You have an appointment, Insert-Name-Here."
"What now?"
"Kill leader of city."
"I told you –"
The imp sneezed loudly. "Kill leader of city."
It sneezed again. "Kill leader of city."
"You must understand, Your Grace, that in the circumstances, doubt has been thrown on the credibility of the watch," Downey said smugly.
Somebody walked into Neil Jenkins's workshop. It sounded like the man was in a hurry. An imp sneezed.
"Kill leader of city."
"Good morning, Commander Vimes." The man paused. Most probably, Neil thought, he was surprised that a blind man could be so perceptive. The imp sneezed again.
"Kill leader of city."
"My wife had this inspected less than a week ago, Mr Jenkins." The imp sneezed and began to speak again, but Vimes ignored it. "You can hear what's wrong for yourself. I need you to tell me what has happened to it and why." Neil wrinkled his nose. The man smelled like he had just run across the city, which, on consideration, he probably had.
"Of course, Commander. There's a viral infection going around at the moment, which is probably causing the sneezing." That infection had fit perfectly into his plans for Vimes' Disorganiser. No imp physician could have found anything unusual in the imp's symptoms.
"I don't want the technical details, Mr Jenkins. Just fix the darn thing and explain the problem in layman's terms."
"It will be ready tomorrow morning. I'll have your bill for you."
Vimes coughed. "Mr Jenkins, you looked at it less than a week ago. I refuse to pay you twice."
Neil wondered how hard he needed to press the point to avoid drawing attention to it. Vimes wouldn't trust him if he didn't press for payment, but he wanted to avoid making a big deal of it. "But, Commander, there will be expenses," he objected limply.
"Do I look like I care, Jenkins?" Neil decided to interpret the question figuratively.
"Very well, Commander." He sighed. Hopefully he'd seemed realistic. Drawing attention to himself at this point would be fatal.
"Good. I'll see you tomorrow." The proverbially thin cardboard of Vimes' boot made a distinctive scraping sound on the wooden floor as he turned to leave.
A few minutes later, Neil heard a loud crash. "Elisabeth, what was that?" It sounded like everything had been swept off the workbench, but he hadn't even been touching it. Elisabeth hurried into the room. Neil was pleased that she was so attentive.
"You've knocked everything off your workbench, Father."
"I haven't touched my workbench." He sounded fractious, even to himself, but he pushed it aside. Elisabeth was his daughter. It was her duty to look after him.
"If you say so, Father." Her skirt swished softly as she knelt down to pick up his scattered equipment. "I think this imp has been knocked out."
"Yes, yes, just put it back on the bench." He should have been aware of the silence after the crash, but he excused himself on the grounds that he had been somewhat unnerved.
"I will, Father." Elisabeth paused. "Father, some of the wine you ordered has gone missing. You said you weren't going to get anyone else involved in this." The girl was too perceptive for her own good.
"I didn't get anyone else involved, dear. I just, er, gave some to a disgruntled customer to unruffle his feathers." She knew better than to get involved in his business dealings.
"Oh, I see." Her skirt rustled as she stood up. "Well, I'll leave you now everything's back in place."
Elisabeth grasped the coffee cup firmly and inspected the candles before answering. "I refuse to get drunk, Father. I'm doing it this way."
The stout old man shifted in his overstuffed armchair. "Elisabeth, you know a poor blind man can't stop you, but I entreat you to think of your health."
"I'll be fine, Father. Besides, now you've spent however much money on that turnwise wine it would be terribly wasteful not to use it." Contrary to her objections, she put her cup down on the wooden table, beside the wine bottle. Father wouldn't see it.
"Well, Elisabeth, just drink the wine then," he wheedled. "There's no need for all this business with Klatchian coffee. You'll more than likely damage your mind that way. Don't be so selfish as to leave your poor blind father alone."
He leaned back into his armchair. Elisabeth watched him relax and clenched her jaw. He played that card every time and it always worked on her. The bare wooden walls bore testimony to the fact that if the poor blind man couldn't appreciate furnishings, he wouldn't pay for them. The few candles scattered around the room were the cheapest available. Only the thick pile carpet, undyed as it was, displayed Neil Jenkins' wealth.
Elisabeth took a deep breath. She would stand up to him this time. Mother had never approved of drunkenness. "No, Father. I'm doing it this way. I will not get drunk and I will not allow you to get some poor, innocent fool involved in this."
He smiled before answering – he had never been able to control his facial expressions – and it reassured her that he wasn't really concerned. "Do it your way, then, Elisabeth, but if harm comes of it don't look to me for sympathy."
She downed the coffee. Before it could take effect she lifted the bottle of wine and drained it. "I've done it, Father. I'll drink my way to yesterday, if that's what makes you happy." She laughed harshly. "Not that I ever do anything for other reasons."
"You're drunk, Elisabeth."
No, I'm not, she thought. I'm giddy with the knowledge that you can't hold me responsible for what I do now. "That's what you wanted, Father." She stepped up to his workbench and swept her arm along its surface.
There was not a loud crash as the tools arranged neatly on the bench did not fall to the floor. Elisabeth wondered if perhaps she was drunk after all. Had she missed the table altogether? Then she remembered that Father's workbench had already been disrupted that day. She smiled. Turnwise wine wasn't so bad after all.
1 Anybody is more impartial than a power-grabbing politician.
A/N: Again, thanks go to Virtuella for beta reading.
This chapter has taken me a very long time to post, but now the holiday season is over I should be posting more frequently. Thanks to all of you who have encouraged me to keep at this by reviewing or alerting my story!