"How is she, Dean? Settled down any?"
He tossed a glower over his shoulder "Some. No thanks to you."
"I should let somebody run up on me and maybe change the shape of my head?" I was getting irritable. Can't understand why My face hurt? My head ached? My shoulder throbbed? My legs were cramping from all the walking and running? That's no excuse I was headed for despair mode, where you keep on fighting the fight but you've decided it isn't worth it You just can't stop
Facts don't bother Dean much. He's still fifteen years old inside. He never stopped believing in the kind of magic kids carry around inside them before reality beats them down. He gave me another look at his glower. He was on a roll, He said, "Give me a couple more minutes
I'll go report, then,'' I went and told the Dead Man about my excursion into that world where Dean's brand of magic has died
He had no direct comment. Go meet the girl. Chuckle. You will be surprised.
The Dead Man scores his points I was surprised.
She was gorgeous. Luscious. I'd had my suspicions, of course. I'd carried her in and there's nothing wrong with my sense of touch. But there hadn't been light enough to reveal all that red hair.
Yeah She was a ringer for the gal who'd told the Baron Stonecipher story, who was a ringer for the naked gal. This one with a difference. This one had an air of innocence "It's raining redheads, Dean."
He grunted. Like he didn't care.
She was sitting up now, no longer green around the gills. She looked at me. Green eyes. Again. Gorgeous big naive green eyes Lips like I only dream about. Freckles
Down, boy.
I gaped. Dean gave me the evil eye. I said, "We need a name for this case Maybe call it Too Many Redheads.
"Mr. Garrett?" Who! That voice! Like the last redhead's voice, but with added bells and promises whatever
"That's me. Garrett Ferocious dragon fighter and unwitting stomper of damsels in distress. And that's on my good days."
She looked puzzled
"Sorry. It's been a rough day. I'm on edge Let's start over. I promise not to sock you it you promise not to run up behind me in the dark. In the street, anyway. We could put the Dead Man to sleep and run Dean off and she could chase me all ever the house if she wanted. I wouldn't try too hard to get away In the interest of science, of course To see how closely she compared with my nudist visitor, say
She smiled. The freckles on her cheeks danced. That almost made my day worthwhile
Almost
"Dean explained," she said Funny how he gets on a first-name basis so fast. "I should apologize. That wasn't smart. I'm not used to the city.' She stood. My eyes bugged. Her movements were unpretentious and unaffected and I had to grind my teeth to keep from howling and whistling She was a natural heart-stopper. Wherever she came from, she'd been wasted on them there. They'd been dumb enough to let her get away. Send more of hei kind to TunFaire. Take our minds off poverty and war and despair. Talk about your bread and circuses. This gal was a three-ringer all by herself
She stuck out a hand. It wasn't half as big as mine. I took it. It was a chock full of warmth and life—which reminded me that Tinnie almost wasn't. That brought me back to earth. She said, "I'm Carla Lindo Ramada, Mr. Garrett. I came here from..."
Oh boy "Hold it. Let me guess. The castle of Baron Stonecipher in the Harnadan Mountains. Where you're a chambermaid. The baron sent you after a guy named Holme Blaine who kyped a book from a witch called the Serpent."
Her jaw dropped.
Outside, overhead, the morCartha started up. The racket was so close and so loud it sounded like they were using my roof for landings and takeoffs I told Dean, "They're going to make themselves unpopular if they keep that up."
The redhead realized her pretty little mouth was open, so she closed it, but it sagged open again. She stood there like a goldfish gulping air.
I asked, "Was I close"
"How did you... ?"
I wanted to brag about what a great investigator I was. No point exaggerating, though. "Take it easy. I'm not a psychic." He was in the other room. "You're at least the second gorgeous redhead named Carla Ramada who turned up today. You want me to find the book, right?"
"Carla Lindo Ramada," she said. Apparently that was important. "But... How... ?"
"I don't know." There wasn't any doubt in my mind that this wasn't the woman who had been here earlier. I was pretty sure she wasn't the naked woman, either. I couldn't tell you what it was. A subtle clue of some kind. I had only minimal reservations about her being the real Carla Lindo Ramada. She wore the name more comfortably.
Her face went through the changes, all of them fetching. I was thinking the thing to do was get her Out of town before she started riots because there was only two or three of her to go around—then I finally started wondering how come there were two or three. Or were there four or five? Was there a whole legion of her out there? Did redheads grow on trees in the Hamadan? Gods, get me into the forestry racket
Her features settled into solid fear. "It must have been her! She must have a page in the book that's me."
"What?" It sank in. "The villain of the piece came here masquerading as you?" Well. Well again. And she was my client. More or less. "But how? If she doesn't have the book anymore?"
She didn't ask how I knew what the book did. She thought about my question. "First draft? Maybe she brought draft pages with her. You couldn't really mistake her for me, could you?"
She wasn't that naive after all.
No. I couldn't mistake her, having seen her. I thought back to that earlier visit. It wouldn't come clear. That was odd. The Dead Man has taught me to pick up details and retain them. But I found only mists where I should have had cleat, crisp recollections.
"Dean, make us a pot of tea. I have a feeling it's going to be a long night." And who could get any rest with all that racket going on outside? I was beginning to hope they'd wipe each other out. "We might as well relax before we start
He gave me the hardeye like he wondered if something so sweet would he safe if lie visited the kitchen, decided maybe 1 could restrain myself that long, stalked out. Carla Lindo Ramada told me, "Dean is a sweet man."
"Yeah. Sometimes we have trouble keeping the bees off him. We use him to bait our flytraps. And he's a sucker for a girl in trouble." But not me. Oh, no, not Garrett. Garrett is hard as nails, "How come you were hiding out there?"
"When I arrived in TunFaire, I stayed with people the Baron knows. On the Hill. I asked everybody I saw who might be able to help me. Everybody recommended you."
Gahk! I hadn't thought my name was common coin on the Hill. That could be bad news.
"They say you're honest but you do things your own way and you have a reputation as a chaser." Her eyes sparkled She definitely wasn't as naive as she looked.
"Me? They must've been thinking about somebody else. I'm pure of heart and soul. Pure as the driven slush
"But maybe a little lax in mind and body?" More eye twinkle. She was coming back from her fright. Fast. I bet she kept that mountain castle simmering.
She smiled. Her freckles danced And I knew why she stood out from the other redheads. They didn't have freckles Even Tinnie doesn't have them Many Where they show.
We could've gone on like that all night, but there was a job to do. And Dean would be back any second, pushing his scowl before him. "Guilty more often than not Let me tell you about the Carla Lindo Ramada who was here before You tell me when her story doesn't match up with yours."
She listened attentively. Her eyes never stopped sparkling and her freckles never stopped dancing, even when Dean brought our tea. He looked at her looking at me and sighed. He never does quite abandon hope that he can stick me with one of his nieces.