The Dead Man let an implied sneer ride along on my shoulder as I headed for the kitchen. Drink some water. Water is your only reliable antidote. There wasn’t an ounce of beer in the house.
I grumbled and mumbled but did as I was told. He was right.
I handed Saucerhead his water. Muttering about Bittegurn Brittigarn.
Excellent. Though you have to grant the priest his due. His sleight of hand was so fine I cannot pinpoint the instant when he made the exchange.
The more I reflected, the more I wanted to spank BB till he gave up something useful. The roc’s-egg story was a bushel of salamander dust. But the stone must have some bizarre, rare quality. And value.
He must be lured here somehow. Although unlikely to be part of the puzzle, he may hold the key.
I considered Saucerhead. Tharpe was babbling a report that was a waste of breath. The Dead Man was sucking info straight from his head.
Old Bones was impatient.
Saucerhead had been out getting the skinny on human combustions, the when, where, and who. The latter being the most difficult because the victims hadn’t been anybody anyone missed. Too bad we don’t have connections on the Hill anymore. One of the heavyweights up there might be able to save me tons of work.
Good work, as always, Mr. Tharpe. Miss Pular will pay you. If you wish further employment, there is a man in the Dream Quarter I want to see. Chances are, however, that he will not come here voluntarily. Explain, Garrett.
I told Tharpe about Bittegurn Brittigarn.
“Drinks a bit, eh?”
“Like a school of fish.”
“Then he won’t be that hard. He passes out down there. He wakes up here.”
“He does have a guardian harpy,” I explained.
“Maybe you could get Morley to go with me.”
“I doubt that we’ll see Morley for a while. Too much excitement in the underworld. He’ll want to stay out of the way.”
“Best thing, till it settles. I reckon. Guess I’ll have to sweet-talk her myself.”
I said nothing. That wasn’t easy. For Saucerhead sweet talk means hitting things with a smaller hammer.
Singe paid Tharpe and recorded the outlay. Saucerhead cooled his bunions for a while, grumbling about his love life. It was the usual story. He had him a woman who treated him bad.
“Pity there’s nobody in our circle who’s musical. We could set your life to music and create us a tragical passion play.“
“It ain’t funny, Garrett.”
“So you keep telling me. Then you go pick the same kind of woman and make the same dumb mistake all over again.”
“Yeah. Only I never see it out until it’s too late. I’m on my way. Do I got any expense latitude?”
Just bring the man here.
“Hey!” I protested. “That’s my money you’re throwing away.”
Cost it out in your Keep On Breathing account.
“This puzzle really grabs you, eh?”
Your cases always wander the tombs of chaos. This time more than most. Good luck, Mr. Tharpe. Help us create order out of incoherence.
I said, “It only looks chaotic because there’s a bunch of different things going on at the same time.”
True. But those things keep banging into and tripping over one another because they have you in common.
A couple of kittens grew bold enough to enter the Dead Man’s room. Tentatively, though. “That’s kind of scary.”
It is, indeed.
43
I snoozed. My partner kept me breathing. Next thing I knew, Singe was shaking me. “Dean needs help bringing stuff in.”
I grumbled but dragged the loose parts together and headed for the front door. This was TunFaire. Somebody had to watch the goods while somebody else lugged stuff inside.
Dean probably planned to deploy his skills as watcher, yielding to me as a journeyman lugger.
He fooled me. “You stand by the cart and look ferocious. Mr. Sanderin and I will get the kegs installed. Singe, will you help? Or are you just going to stand there looking pretty?”
Singe scooted down and loaded up.
I spied Scithe and a pal across the street, headed for the Cardonlos place. Scithe waved.
Dean had conned a beer delivery guy into going out of his way. A Weider brewery guy. They’re hard to distract, normally. But this Mr. Sanderin had let Dean pile on a bit of everything we needed around the house, including a sack of potatoes and a bushel of apples, which wouldn’t last long once Singe got to stewing.
Sanderin had a case of nerves, probably because I’m the guy who checks up on Weider brewery employees. “Relax, Sanderin. I didn’t even see you today.”
When Dean came back after moving the first keg inside, I said, “Your pal Penny is hanging out across the street again.”
“She’s worried about her kittens. But she’s afraid to come across and find out how they are.”
“So you told her, eh?”
“I told her they were all right. They’re getting enough to eat. Nobody is hurting them.”
“Which would be why she suckered you into taking them aboard in the first place. Right?”
“She wanted to take advantage of the Dead Man’s reputation. Without having to deal with Himself. But he woke up.”
“Pity.”
“No need to be sarcastic, Mr. Garrett.”
“Maybe not. But it sure feels good. She’s welcome any time. We don’t bite. Well, I might. But I promise not to leave scars.”
“You need to see the situation from her viewpoint.”
“Dean, don’t bullshit me. You don’t get to bullshit me. That’s no child. She’s not twelve years old.”
Dean sighed. “You’re right. She’s just small for her age. And she’s been on her own since she was twelve. She’s sharp as a knife about some things and stone naive about others. And I want it to stay that way.”
I got the message. “I should feel hurt by your underlying assumptions. How about you tote a barge or two? Lift a bale? Singe is on her third load.”
Dean got Mr. Sanderin to help him. Once they couldn’t see, I blew Penny Dreadful a kiss.
Relway’s boys noticed. Maybe they’d give the kid a hard time and she’d come looking for shelter.
Singe caught me. “You are a black-hearted villain, Garrett.”
I grinned. “Ain’t life fun?”
She just said, “Looks like more rain.”
Yes. It did, actually.
44
The rain started in the afternoon. It began gently, but cold. After a round of thunder, it turned to freezing rain. Lucky me, I didn’t have to hazard streets gone foul and treacherous.
I was in with the Dead Man, halfway napping, feeling restless. Like I never would have if I’d been free to go out. The Dead Man was having fun needling me about my sudden surge of ambition.
Somebody came to the door.
Dean clumped on up there. He was tired of playing with kittens and trying to manage an intelligent conversation with Singe. He can’t ignore what she is for long.
Voices rattled but got lost in the clatter of the rain. Which fell with great enthusiasm, coating everything with ice. Morley came in looking as bedraggled as ever I’ve seen. He had ice on his head and shoulders. I said, “I’m speechless.”
“If only that were true.”
“What’s a dog like you doing out on a night like this?”
“It wasn’t bad when I started. I was two-thirds of the way here when it turned awful. I huddled in a doorway with refugees until it was obvious it wasn’t just weather god whimsy. Here was closer than home, so I came ahead. I fell several times. I may have sprained my wrist.”