Dead Mans Hand

By the time Bre

Father Squid blessed the grave with incense and holy water, said the final prayers for the dead, and stepped back as Jokertown buried another of its own. A long line snaked around the grave. Each person dropped a handful, pawful, or clawful of dirt onto the coffin, then paid their condolences to Father Squid, Tachyon, and the uncomfortable-looking man who'd been sitting with Tachyon in the front pew. He was a big man with a weathered face that was florid under his tan. He was sweating from the heat and twitching from the private storm of emotions that was raging, barely checked, inside him.

"Hello, Father," Bre

"Good to see you again, Daniel," Father Squid said, returning his handshake with his powerful, but friendly grip. Tachyon threw himself at Bre

Tachyon led Bre

"I'd say you're a lucky man, but that would seem less than apt when you're being framed for murder. Is that what brought you back?"

"Partly," Bre

"And how are you progressing?"

"Not too well," Bre

"I thought Kien might have done it," Bre

Tachyon seemed even less thrilled by the notion. "That makes no sense. We had a deal that took you out of the city and ended the war. Why would he risk restarting the whole killing cycle?"

"Who knows?" Bre

"Just make sure it doesn't jump on you," Tachyon admonished. "I wish I could aid you, but I must return to Atlanta. You will keep in touch?"

Bre

"If you won't keep in touch, at least be careful."

"That I can agree to."

They clasped hands, then wandered back over to the grave site. The man standing in the receiving line next to Father Squid cleared his throat, and Father Squid glanced at "Ah yes," the priest said, "Mr. Jory, meet, ah-"

"Archer," Bre

"Yes, Daniel Archer and Je

Jory glanced aggrievedly at Father Squid before turning to Bre

Bre

"Chrysalis was an extraordinary woman with many friends," Bre

"Her name was Debra-Jo-" Jory began, but Father Squid stepped between them and put a hand on Bre

"As executor of the estate," the priest said, "I'll be reading her will tonight at the church. I think you should attend."

Bre

Bre

Je

"Did you know that cat?" Je

"I worked with him once before, when he was a mouse." Bre

The message was short and to the point. "Hello, Cowboy," it read. "Let's talk."

It was signed Fadeout, and there was a phone number next to the name.

2:00 P.M.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Digger said. He was sitting on a stapler, next to a Coke can that was taller than he was. The pizza carton took up most of the desktop.

Jay hadn't been able to manage more than three slices, and Digger was still working on a pepperoni. In his hands it looked like a greasy red manhole cover.

"The story hadn't even run yet," Digger went on. "Nobody knew about Jessica but me, and that big farmhouse looked so cozy, y'know? I knew the kid'd always wanted a little farmer, but Daddy wouldn't allow it, so I figured, what the hey, nobody would know but me and Jessica, and she'd never tell. It seemed like the perfect hideout."

"Why the hell didn't you just leave town?" Jay asked him.

Digger shook his head gloomily. "Man, I wanted to, but it wasn't safe. What if they were staking out the airport, just waiting for me to make a break for it?" He grimaced.

"There's three airports," Jay pointed out. "Not to mention Pe

"Who the hell knows?" Digger said darkly. "There's no telling who might be in on this-cops, FBI, CIA, maybe all of them. Besides, say there was only one, and I guessed wrong." He shuddered. "I got to Jessica in her school playground, and she loved the idea. Shrunk me down right there and took me home in a Flintstones lunchbox. By then I was having second thoughts, but it was too late, she was determined to keep me. The little snot-nosed brat wanted me to do chores. And that farmhouse-maybe it looks comfortable, but everything's made of plastic. There's no plumbing!"

"There's worse things." Jay told him about the carnage at his apartment building and Digger got very quiet.

"Holy shit," he said softly when Jay had finished. "Jonesy and Mrs. Rosenstein, Jesus. But why? They didn't know a damned thing."

"They were there," Jay said. "You weren't."

Digger dropped the half-eaten pepperoni and wiped his greasy palms off on his pants. "You got to believe me, I had no idea. I knew he was crazy, man, but I never-"

"You knew who was crazy?" Jay asked pointedly. Digger looked around the office. There was no one watching but Oral Amy, who looked even more surprised than usual. "Mack the Knife," he croaked in a low, scared whisper. "Mackie Messer. You think the scene in the stairway was bad, man? You don't know nothing. I seen him kill. He did the Syrian chick right in front of us, made us watch the whole show"

"The Syrian chick?" Jay was confused.

"Misha," Downs told him. "The Kahina. You know, the Nur al-Allah's sister, the one who sliced his throat open." His tiny hands were trembling. He looked down at them and laughed. The laugh was thin and bitter, on the edge of hysterical. "His hands shake, too," he said. "Oh, man, do they shake, like a blur, and then they go right through you. He touched her, you know, like he was going to play with her tit, but his fingers went right in, and the blood started. He just sliced it off, right in front of us, he sliced off her tit, and then he giggled and threw it at me. I puked my guts up. Chrysalis, she just sat watching, you know how she was. It was getting to her, too, but she never liked to look weak. This is her fault, I know it. She did something stupid, right? She wasn't talking much these last few weeks, but I'm pretty good at reading people. What'd she do?"