I am exposing you to the sort of thought processes that unravel. ...

What could've turned into a fun squabble over not much went on hiatus when a frazzled Tinnie slipped in and demanded, "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I tried. You said you'd chop my ears off if I didn't leave you the h.e.l.l alone. That you were up all night and you needed some sleep." Tinnie hasn't been much of a morning person lately. Either.

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 a.s.sume 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 Tinnie up. This time she was in no mood. She just kept scowling.

"Since you're going to be late anyway, how about you take Dean to the market?" Tinnie is a recognizable personality. People would stand back, not because she's my girl but because she's Willard Tate's niece. Willard Tate is one of those New Wave industrialists whose genius has begun to make him a huge power in postwar TunFaire.

Tinnie's expression was priceless. Too bad there's no way to record all those freckles in motion. "You want me me to bodyguard Dean? Why? So you can lay around with your beer and any bimbo who drops in?" to bodyguard Dean? Why? So you can lay around with your beer and any bimbo who drops in?"

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.

Tinnie clicked back. "I'm sorry," she said, moving in and bringing the heat. "I forgot what that villain did with his drugs."

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."

Tinnie is the contrariest person I know. Excepting my partner. I expected a big ration. Being contrary, she fooled me for the thousandth time. She didn't argue at all.

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 Tinnie to the door, where a peek revealed nothing untoward. As we exchanged sweet sorrows, I suggested, "Go over to the Cardonlos place. There'll be police types all over. See if you can't get a couple of them to walk you home."

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 cunning has infected me lately. "Why didn't I think of that? I guess you distracted me."

"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. Tinnie wouldn't listen to anybody else. Especially not some clown named Garrett.

After a final bout of nuzzling, the professional redhead moved out. And could she move. She pa.s.sed 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 b.u.mped 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 a.s.sociates 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, "Penny Dreadful is watching us again."

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 spinning a tale meant to get you to fling the subst.i.tute into the river. Which would eliminate any suspicion.

"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. n.o.body 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 bra.s.s, 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 b.u.g.g.e.rs. 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."

"d.a.m.n! 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 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 pa.s.ses 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. .h.i.tting 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 n.o.body in our circle who's musical.

We could set your life to music and create us a tragical pa.s.sion 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 lat.i.tude?"

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.