Father Squid shook his head. "Her bequest was merely a suitcase full of money that she'd stashed away if she ever had to flee the city on short notice. It will do much to aid the poor of my parish, but little, I fear, to help track down her killer."
Brennan grimaced. "Then she never told you anything that might have a bearing on her death?"
"If she did, it was in the sanctity of Confession and is an unshakable confidence that can never be broken."
"Even if her murderer goes free?"
The priest sighed heavily. "Even if her murderer goes free."
Brennan stood, looked steadily at the priest. "You have changed," he said. "Sergeant Squidface knew when justice and honor took precedence over a rigid system of rules."
"Sometimes, Captain, I despair of my soul. Sometimes I fear I am as poor a priest as you claim to have been a student of Zen."
Brennan suddenly smiled. "Sometimes, Bob, I think we're both guilty of slinging our share of bullshit."
The priest's tentacles shook with laughter. "You are correct," he said. "Well-Chrysalis did tell me things in the sanctity of the confessional that I cannot reveal to you. But I can tell you that you are overlooking a source of information." He paused dramatically. "Her neighbors, Daniel," Father Squid said. "Her downstairs neighbors."
Brennan's expression was puzzled as Father Squid rose ponderously to his feet.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to prepare for the ten o'clock Mass."
10:00 A.M.
Breakfast arrived as Jay was climbing out of the shower. He toweled himself dry, wondering what he was supposed to do about the damp bandages around his ribs, and slipped into the clothes Tachyon had loaned him. The sleeves were too short and the pants showed off two inches of pale white ankle, but otherwise the suit fit well enough. The only problem was, it was puce.
Tachyon was seated in front of the room-service tray buttering a slice of toast when Jay emerged from the bedroom. Blaise, stretched out across an armchair, looked up and sniggered. Tachyon gave his grandson a stern look. "Blaise, did you enjoy your ride on the luggage carousel?"
The boy looked sullen. "No. I felt stupid."
"Then by the Ideal, you will mind your manners," Tachyon told him, "or I will have Mr. Ackroyd teleport you back to the Atlanta airport."
"I can't help it if he's funny," Blaise complained. "He looks like a fruit."
"Those are my clothes," Tachyon pointed out stiffly. He looked at Jay. "Myself, I think it's a dramatic improvement."
"I'm with the kid," Jay said. Blaise looked surprised. Then he grinned. Jay whipped up his finger in a quick-draw move, got the boy in his sights. Blaise flinched. "Gotcha," Jay said. He smiled. So did Blaise. Popping the kid halfway across Atlanta had done wonders for their rapport.
"He's enough of a rapscallion without your encouraging him," Tachyon complained.
"Ah, he's okay," Jay said, pulling a chair over to the room-service cart. "For a Takisian." He lifted the silver dome off his plate and attacked the eggs benedict wolfishly. They weren't as good as the eggs benedict at Aces High, but he was hungry enough not to give a damn. Hiram always said Jay had a Naugahyde palate anyway.
Tachyon was fastidiously patting his lips with a napkin and Jay was mopping up the last of the yolk with a piece of toast when the knock came at the door. Tachyon stood. "Who's there?"
"Carnifex. Open up, I don't have all day"
Tachyon glanced back at Jay. "Let him in," Jay said. "Ray's tough, but there's nothing he can do against you, me, and the Cisco Kid over there." He gestured toward Blaise.
The alien nodded and opened the door. Carnifex glanced around and stepped into the suite, wearing his skintight white uniform that outlined every muscle and tendon in his body. The hood was thrown back to reveal a face that looked like it had been patched together out of spare parts. "Regs say we're supposed to stay out of the political bullshit," Ray told Tachyon with disdain. "Good for you. Otherwise I'd have to whip your ass. You been hanging around Braun too much, I guess. Some of it must have rubbed off."
Tachyon's mouth tightened. "Say what you came to say, Ray," he told the government ace. "Your opinions on political and moral issues interest me not in the slightest."
"Gregg wants to see you," Billy Ray said.
"The sentiment is not reciprocated," Tachyon said. "You'll see him," Ray said, with a crooked smile. "Gregg said to tell you he has a proposition he wants to discuss."
"I have nothing to discuss with the senator."
"Scared?" Ray wanted to know. "Don't worry, I'll hold your hand if you want." He shrugged. "Come or don't come, either way it's no skin off my nose. But if you don't, you're going to regret it." The ace in the white suit looked around the suite: at the windows Turtle had shattered, the television Hiram had dropped, the urine stain on the sofa. "Must have been a hell of a party," he said to Tachyon. "Somebody ought to teach you to clean up after yourself, doc. This place is a mess."
He was going out the door when Jay called out. "Hey, Carny."
Ray turned around with a dangerous glint in his green eyes. "That's Carnifex, asshole."
"Carnifex Asshole," Jay repeated. "I'll try and remember. How many of those Good Humor suits you own?"
"Six or eight," Carnifex said suspiciously. "Why?"
"Must be hell to get the bloodstains out," Jay said. Ray just stared at him. "Stay out of my way, shamus," he said, "or you'll find out firsthand." He slammed the door behind him.
"Shamus," Jay said. "He actually called me shamus. God, I'm so mortified." He turned to Tachyon. "You gonna go?"
The little man straightened. "I must."
Jay sighed. "I was afraid you were going to say something like that."
Brennan dropped Jennifer off half a block from the Crystal Palace and then cruised on by. Given the mysterious note warning them about the Palace, this seemed the safest way to check out the existence of the neighbors that Father Squid had told him about. Jennifer would scout in her insubstantial form, then come and get Brennan if the coast was clear.
Brennan drove past the Palace and into the alley upon which the service entrance fronted. He killed the engine and flicked on the radio while waiting for Jennifer to return.
The news from Atlanta was more cheering than it had been the night before. Apparently the initial reports of Jack Braun's demise had been greatly exaggerated. He was still alive. Golden Boy's ace had saved him again.
Brennan's train of thought was interrupted by a suddenly blaring bullhorn that froze him behind the wheel.
"You in the car, this is the police. Come out with your hands up! We've got you covered. Come out with your hands up!"
Brennan sat behind the wheel for an instant longer, his mind racing through then discarding half a dozen escape plans. He watched through the windshield as three policemen approached. The two in uniform had pistols pointed right at him. The third, following a pace behind, was Maseryk.
He put his hands up, and then with slow, exaggerated movements opened the door and got out of the car. He stood waiting for them with no expression at all on his face. "Couldn't keep out of it, could you?" Maseryk asked. "How's Kant?" Brennan replied.
A shadow of something crossed Maseryk's face. "Still a little shaky, but better."
One of the uniforms had opened the back door of the car while the other kept a bead on Brennan.
"It's him," the first said excitedly. "The bow 'n' arrow killer." He brandished Brennan's bow case.