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“I tried. You said you’d chop my ears off if I didn’t leave you the hell alone. That you were up all night and you needed some sleep.” Ti
The other thing we have in common, from a redheaded point of view, is that I’m always wrong. “Guess I should’ve been a little more firm, eh?”
She used to snap up that kind of straight line. Maybe we’ve gotten too comfortable. Her language wasn’t ladylike. “I was supposed to be in the office four hours ago.”
“Sorry I disappointed you by surviving, love. I’ll time it more conveniently for you next time.”
She glared but kept quiet.
I said, “Since you’re late, and since everybody in your family will assume that a woman your age who was out all night in a situation involving somebody named Garrett was up to no good…”
Usually that sort of stuff winds Ti
“Since you’re going to be late anyway, how about you take Dean to the market?” Ti
Ti
Her eyes glazed over. For half a minute she was the perfect girlfriend. Drop-dead gorgeous. And quiet.
The Dead Man was talking to her.
Ti
I suffered her consolations for as long as it took Old Bones to become impatient.
“All right!” she snapped, pulling away.
I’d reconsidered. “You just go on home, sweets. You don’t have the skills to protect Dean from the kind of people who’re bothering us.”
Ti
Maybe she was learning to listen.
It could happen. Even with a redhead. Sometimes the dice do come up snake eyes.
I suffered an inspiration as I walked Ti
Right. A wiggle, a jiggle, and a giggle and the herd would take off carrying her on their shoulders.
“That might be a good idea. While I’m at it, why don’t I borrow a couple to babysit Dean?”
Truth be told, I’d thought of that before I thought of looking out for her. But a certain minimal cu
“I’ll distract you permanently if I find out you’ve got something going with Belinda Contague that isn’t just business.”
How do you spank a rat? The tail gets in the way.
Not Miss Pular’s fault, Garrett. All mine, I am afraid.
Ah. Just as well, probably. Ti
After a final bout of nuzzling, the professional redhead moved out. And could she move. She passed through the crowd oblivious to the drooling, staring, and stumbling.
She’s never been conscious of how strikingly attractive she is. If I say anything, she figures that’s just me being me.
I watched her sail boldly into the Cardonlos harbor, where she disconcerted the crowd. And was on her way again in five minutes with a big, brave, alert policeman on either hand. While another headed my way.
“Scithe.”
“Garrett.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Miss Tate suggested that you might be able to get my wife’s name bumped up the waiting list for three-wheelers.”
“She did, did she? But she put it on me when she has a bigger piece of the pie than I do?”
“She said to remind you that she isn’t the one who needs the favor.”
“She would, too. All right. I can get her moved, but not all the way to the top. I don’t have that much juice.”
This stuff started the minute our three-wheels became the hot novelty everybody had to have, demand dramatically exceeding supply. The waiting list is two thousand names long. My ethically challenged associates pad corporate income by taking bribes to move names up the list. They’ll harvest every loose copper in the kingdom if they can.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” I told Scithe. And wove an elaborate scheme that used Dean for bad-guy bait. “All I’m interested in is having my man get his shopping done safely. If somebody messes with him, the credit, the collar, and any info bonus is all yours. Unless it has to do with me. Then I’m majorly interested, of course.“
“Of course.”
We exchanged a few more pleasantries, then I went inside and told Dean he could go marketing now. “And be sure not to forget the new keg.”
Then back into the Dead Man’s room. “How long before I get enough poison out of me so I can go outside?”
You have just begun detoxification. And you are not taking your fluids.
Sullenly, I reported, “Pe
Let her. It means nothing. Except that she is worried about her kittens. We need to get Bittegurn Brittigarn in here. By whatever means necessary. He was the one who took your roc’s egg. While spi
“You really think he’s a villain?”
He may be. Given the chance to interview him, I could deliver a definitive answer. He may just be weak.
“And what I get for my troubles is sarcasm.”
42
Saucerhead dropped in. “They done forgot me already out there, Garrett. Nobody yelled nothing about there goes the guy what tried to rape the little boy the other night. Speaking of which, that nasty little critter is sitting on Elmer Stick’s steps, bold as brass, eyeballing your place. Was I a betting kind of guy, I’d put money on she’s trying to figure out how to bust in here, then make a getaway. The big guy still awake?”
“Once he wakes up he tends not to go down again till he drives the rest of us buggers. Unless him going to sleep will inconvenience somebody in some really huge way.”
“I need to see him. See if Dean’s got-”
“Dean’s out shopping. On account of we’re out of everything, especially tea and beer.”
“Damn! I need something liquid.”
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 ca
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 ski