That's an archaic--" "It's a symbol."

"Does that mean my hunch is right?"

"That would be how I ..." Marryat suddenly doubled up again.

"Don't do that, Jack. No, don't."

"Do what?" He popped free of his chair, put a hand on the psychic's narrow shoulder, Breathing shallowly through his open mouth, Marryat said, "It wouldn't be a good idea. You're in enough danger already."

"Exactly which idea are you talking about?"

"I'm getting the strong impression that you've been thinking about attempting a copycat killing of your own," said Marryat slowly.

"The Malibu Slicer would be blamed and you'd be rid of a serious rival."

Frowning, Jack shook his head.

"Nope, I'd never do anything like that," he a.s.sured the psychic.

"Kill Polly and rig it to look like the Sheer did it because she was getting too close to solving the case." He sat again in the rocker.

"Although it's an intriguing idea, isn't it?"

The rain had begun at dusk. By eight it was falling heavily all across Greater Los Angeles.

As he guided his sky car toward the Sherman Oaks Sector, Jack, alone, replayed the voxmail message that had been waiting for him when he'd returned to his underground beach condo a half hour ago.

"I want to call a temporary truce," Polly's voice had proposed.

"I've dug up something strange that concerns both of us. Might be a good idea if we worked on this Sheer business together. Come over to my place as soon as you can."

The message had been logged in at 6:39 pm. When he'd tried to pix phone his one-time wife, a phonebot had told him there was a temporary lapse in service.

Dropping down through the rainy night, Jack said to himself, "She must've come up with something exceedingly strange to prompt her to suggest a collaboration."

The sky car set down on the landing lot behind Polly's cottage. Lights were showing at most of the windows but, for some reason all the simulated shrubbery that surrounded the neo wood house was snapping off and on.

Jack sprinted through the hard-falling rain to the front door.

The door was open about three inches.

Frowning, he called out, "Polly? It's me."

Nothing from inside.

He eased out his stun gun shoved the door fully open with his knee and then, after a ten second wait, dived across the threshold.

"Jesus," he said, lowering the gun and hugging himself.

He had to fight to start breathing again, fight to keep from being sick.

Polly's remains, in three sections, were scattered over the living room's floor.

"Pretty gruesome, huh?"

He pivoted to his right, gun swinging up again.

"I.

thought you were stowed at the office. Reisberson was supposed to check you into the equipment locker when you got back from--" "Boss, please, use the old coco." Tinker was sitting in a high back black armchair.

"In a battle of wits, would you actually put your money on yours truly or on a pea-brain like Reisberson?"

Jack tried not to look at what was left of his ex wife

He started shivering, his head was filling with zigzags of pain.

"How the h.e.l.l did you get here?" he asked the robot dog.

"Did you get a look at the Sheer or see--" "Sit down, boss."

Jack, very unsteady, attempted to walk further into the room and reach the chair that Tinker had nodded at. His legs weren't working very well anymore.

"s.h.i.t," he said, slowly trudging along the edge of the carpeting, working his way toward the plaz chair.

"Don't step in the blood," cautioned the dog.

"Listen, you tin plated little putz, Polly and I didn't exactly like one another, but you can't--" "Didn't like her?" Tinker chuckled.

"It went way beyond that, boss. I mean, doing this to her indicates a deep-rooted hatred and--" Jack stopped beside the chair, stared across at the robot.

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

"Sit down, will you recommended the dog.

"I'll explain the setup."

Jack remained standing.

"Who really killed her?"

The dog said, "You need some back story first."

"Skip that, just--" "First off, I'm resigning," Tinker informed him.

"Not that it'll matter to you, but--" "You can't resign. I own you.

You're nothing more than a gifted appliance. Tinker."

"Once perhaps, but I've been improving myself," he told the detective.

"Did a good job, too- Well, for example, just look at how I solved the Malibu Slicer case."

"Solved it? Then who killed Polly?"

"You did. Aren't you paying attention?"

Jack sat, eyeing the silvery robot animal" You suggesting that I'm going to be framed for this?"

"For all the murders actually," amplified Tinker.

"Trafalgar and I decided somebody had to take the fall, play the patsy, and so forth. You're perfect for the frame. Erie suggested we play it the other way, make it look like Polly did you in and then made a voxmail confession." He shook his glittering metallic head.

"Naw, I told the tyc.o.o.n. Jack fits better. He's a washed-up private eye, got a violent temper, hates and envies his successful former mate.

And just today he got into a near brawl with her at Natural Nat's restaurant."

"How does Erie Trafalgar fit into this mess?"