My guest had vanished "Dean!" I'd forgotten her in the excitement of my run and those cozy moments with Winger
"Mr. Garrett?"
"Something's missing." I indicated the small front room. "And Saucerhead found the door open."
Dean looked properly amazed. He went into the room and sniffed around, making sure everything was there. Like it was his own stuff. "The blanket is gone."
She would've taken something. You have to work to attract attention on a TunFaire street, but naked will do it every time
Saucerhead asked, "What's going on?"
"You know as much as I do. Dean, get Mr. Tharpe a beer. I'm going to talk to the Dead Man."
Dean herded Saucerhead toward the kitchen. I dropped in on my permanent guest, who—I sensed before I said a word—had fallen into a surly mood. His natural state. "What's eating you all of a sudden?"
You failed to mention this visitor who has vanished.
"Why should I?" He knew all the comings and goings. He was so disturbed he didn't prance around it. I was unaware of her presence. This is unprecedented. I had not thought it possible. He went off somewhere inside himself, looking for explanations for the impossible.
He was disturbed? I was beside myself. On both sides. All three of me were one breath short of a panic. Somebody could come and go around here without us having any warning?
"This doesn't sound good, Mr. Garrett," Dean said from behind me.
"Not only a genius but a master of understatement." I considered. "She can't have much of a head start. She'll stand out in the crowd. I better catch her."
"Catch who?" Saucerhead asked. So I explained. "Naked women just falling through your door." He sneered. "How do you do it? That don't never happen to me."
"You don't live right. We don't have time to hang around yakking."
"We? You got a pixie in your pocket?"
"You'd be impressed. That is, if you ever saw her. Imagine Tinnie but with a little more in the lung department."
"I wasn't up to much else anyway. Let's go."
But that little weasel of a god who watches out for Garrett's affairs didn't figure I ought to go chasing redheads. No sense of proportion at all.
9
Maybe he was just trying to save my legs. He did deliver another one to my door.
Dean was there already. He'd been fixing to let us out when the knock came. Now he was wringing his hands. I asked, "What have we got?"
"Another woman."
I opened up and looked her over. That took a while. You're going to do a job, do it right. There was plenty there to appreciate, though in a small package. I was surprised the whole neighborhood wasn't howling. Hot stuff. All the right goodies packed together in all the best ways. Big green eyes. Big, big green eyes. Lips a dangerous red and puffy, the kind that yell, "Come and get it, I can take it, what are you waiting for?" Breasts like man oh man how did she get that on and how does she keep them in there?
But.
She was a little thing, maybe five feet two on her tiptoes. And she was another redhead. She had lots of wild red hair the way Tinnie had wild red hair. The way my naked visitor had had wild red hair. In fact, she was a ringer for that gal but definitely not the same woman. I wondered if she was a sister. Or was that little weasel in the sky just poking me in the eye by piling on the redheads?
I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I just led her into that pretentious closet I call an office. Dean brought a pitcher without being asked. He looked numb. The way I was going to be numb if I kept getting pitchers delivered.
Another redhead. I hoped some light was going to get shed here. Real soon.
All of a sudden I was convinced that guy with the mustache had thought he was hitting this woman, or the naked one, when he'd stabbed Tinnie. 1 settled, drank a mug, studied her. She looked back boldly, still without having spoken. She didn't go for come-hither but, damn, it was built in, part of the package. She was the kind of woman who'd sit there and smolder while darning her grandfather's socks. The kind that makes me want to run out back and yell at the sky in sheer joy that I share the same world.
I squeaked. "I'm Garrett. I guess you want to see me." Sometimes I'm so cool I amaze even me.
"Yes."
Yes what? I took a drink so I wouldn't pant all over her. I believe in long courtships. Fifteen minutes at least. I swallowed and croaked, "So?"
"I need someone to help me. Someone like you."
I grinned from ear to ear. Could I help her? You betcha... I'd give it my best shot... . Hey! Garrett! Let's calm down a little. Let's get the chemistry under control. Anyway, I'd already begun to suspect that this wasn't a match made in heaven. She was smoldering, but that wasn't my fault. That, was just her being her. Whoever she was. "Well?"
"I need someone to find something for me."
"That's what I do. Find things. But sometimes people are sorry when I do."
She just sat there heating the place up while I started to sweat. I turned sideways and studied Eleanor out of the corner of my eye. A tall, cool, slim, ethereal blonde, Eleanor has what it takes to bring me back to earth. I talk to Eleanor when no one else will listen. She's my rock in turbulent seas. I wondered what the real Eleanor would think if she knew how I used her portrait. I didn't think she'd mind.
The redhead asked, "Is that someone special?"
"Yes. Her name was Eleanor Stantnor. She was the wife of a client. I never really met her. He murdered her twenty years before he hired me. All he got for his trouble was found out for his old crime. I took the painting for my fee. Yeah. She's special. And if she was around, she'd be as old as my mother. But I'd probably fall in love with her anyway." I faced the redhead. "Let's get down to it."
"Have I come at a bad time?"
"You've come at the perfect rime. You're almost a ringer for a friend of mine somebody tried to kill out front yesterday. I have a feeling you could maybe shed some light on why."
She started to say something. What I'd said sank in. Her mouth made an 0. Her eyes got even bigger. She started to get up, sank back, shook fetchingly.
"My friend's name is Tinnie Tate. She never hurt anybody. She's got hair like yours and she's about your height. A little less rounded, here and there, near as I can tell from here, but not enough so anyone could make a case of it. She was coming to see me when some scumbag stuck a knife in her. For no damned reason I could figure till I got a look at you."
"Oh, my," she breathed. "I've got to get out of here. He knows. I've got to go."
"You aren't going anywhere, sweetheart. Not till I know what the hell is going on."
She just sat there oh-mying and heating up the room. I thought about having Dean throw cold water on her, but that would just steam the place up and cause the wallpaper to peel. I said, "Tinnie getting hurt makes me mad. Some other guys, too. Some bad people. Rich people. Her people. They want blood. You look like a gal who knows how to take care of herself. Maybe you wouldn't want to get caught in the middle of all those angry people."
Her pretty little face turned puzzled.
Was I trying to scare her? You bet I was.
She just said, "Oh," like it wasn't very important.
"I figure the guy who stuck Tinnie thought he was getting you." Sure, I was fishing. You don't throw out a hook, you never get a nibble. "That's the only way it makes any sense. He mistook her for somebody else. So let's you and me get to the point." I got up and walked around the desk.
"I made a mistake coming here." She started to get up.
I sat her down. "You made your mistake when you told somebody somewhere that you were thinking about coming here. That worried somebody. He tried to off my lady. Spill. I'm not in a good mood anymore."