"You're the common factor," Tinnie said.
"Huh?" I looked around. We were approaching the Tate compound.
"You were muttering. Doing pretty good, too. You might have a future as a street character. You've already got the wardrobe."
The Goddamn Parrot released a startled blat more like crow slang than the king's parrotese. He flung himself into the air and flapped away. I barked, "What the hell?" Couldn't be my luck turning good.
Tinnie asked, "How did you wake him up?"
"I don't know." But I had a suspicion what was behind his excitement. What's big and sits in the dark and doesn't breathe a lot? "I'm a common thread but I came in after the fact." The Goddamn Parrot disappeared between buildings. "The way my luck runs nothing will get him."
"You going to come inside?" Tinnie asked. She grinned. She knew I didn't want to deal with Uncle Willard.
"I have to get back into that library." We crossed the street. I noted that most people moved around in large groups and that more weapons than usual were in evidence, some of them quite illegal.
"Can't stay away from Tama Montezuma's bony butt, eh?"
"Has she got a bony behind? I never noticed. I see no one else but you." I damaged my case by noticing a devastating set of twins exiting the Tate retail outlet.
"When you stop shaking and get your heels off your tongue you might try for something a little more convincing."
"Damn." Right behind the twins, chattering at them, came Tinnie's cousin Rose. Rose is a brunette as gorgeous as her cousin but she's got snakes and spiders for brains. Her face lit up like a bonfire when she saw me. "Here comes trouble," I said.
"She's not bad if you understand her," Tinnie said. "She'll try to make something out of me being with you but Uncle Willard will say, ‘So what?' and she'll go off and have a good pout." She planted a long, unsisterly kiss on me. "Be careful. Come see me. And stay away from strange women."
"Make up your mind." I kissed her back. Rose was scandalized and excited. "I won't be gone long." I hoped circumstance wouldn't make a liar of me. It did have a habit of doing so.
86
I moved carefully homeward. I hadn't spotted a tail since we left that woods, but I was getting used to the idea that I could be followed without being able to catch somebody doing it. I didn't like it, though.
I was more concerned about the new malice in the streets. Trouble has a way of finding people who look like they're vulnerable.
I spent a little concern on the Goddamn Parrot, too, but because I had no control over that situation I did not let it interfere with business.
Approaching the house cautiously is ancient habit. It felt justified today, though I saw nothing indicating trouble—unless the absence of Mrs. Cardonlos constituted a harbinger. Nor did I note any damage to the house itself. Clearly, the bad boys had not yet worked up the nerve to give it a try.
I let myself inside—and froze before I shut the door all the way. Something was wrong. I smelled an odor that didn't belong.
Somebody had been inside. Somebody who wore lilac water to disguise the fact that he found bathing an unhapppy chore. Maybe Saucerhead? Tharpe wasn't a stickler when it came to personal hygiene. Or maybe Winger?
Not Winger. Nothing was disturbed. Winger couldn't keep her hands off stuff.
I moved along the hall slowly, avoiding the creaky boards. I don't know what cues there were, other than odor, but I knew I wasn't alone. Which meant somebody had gotten past the wonderfully expensive lock that Dean had had installed.
I told him that damned thing was a waste of money.
I slipped sideways, not into my office but into the Dead Man's room. Amongst the memorabilia were tools useful for removing uninvited guests. I returned to the hallway prepared to repel boarders. I had everything but my eye patch and my parrot.
A mountain of blubber wobbled out of the kitchen, a platter in each hand. "Puddle!" I barked.
"Hey! Garrett! I was just havin' a snack while I was waitin'. How the hell did ya get in wit' out me hearin'?"
"How the hell did you get into my house? And why? To swipe my food?"
"I come in tru' da door. Ya got to get ya a better lock, Garrett. Dem Hameways ain't shit, ya know what ye're doin'. Ya get out an get ya-self a Piggleton combernation with da t'ree tumblers... " As he nattered Puddle eased into my office. It was obvious that he'd made himself at home there and that he'd been around for a while. And that he was used to having busboys there to pick up after him. He plopped the platters onto my desk, atop the abandoned battlefields of previous snacks. My personal chair groaned as his ample behind settled.
"Make yourself at home, Puddle."
"Tanks."
"To what do I owe the honor?" I wondered where the food had come from. Puddle definitely wasn't thoughtful enough to have brought his own supplies. Dean must have taken pity. Obviously, I couldn't take care of myself. Well, the whole move-out thing was just for show. For the benefit of my new political pals. I hoped.
"Boss wants ya, Garrett. Sent people out wherever ya might turn up."
"What's the story?" I snagged a chicken drumstick I knew hadn't been in the house last time I was home. I supposed I could hunt up Mrs. Cardonlos and sweet-talk her into telling me what I'd been missing.
Was that a gang of pigs oinking as they fluttered around my chimney?
"Boss'll tell ya all about it." Puddle had his mouth full. Maybe it was him making the porker noises.
"Give me a few minutes, then we'll do it." I headed upstairs. There's a linen closet in the second-floor hall that has no linens in it. I spent a few minutes filling my sleeves and pockets and shoe-tops with assorted instruments of mayhem. I should think about buying a couple of eggs from Venable when I got back to The Pipes. I could hatch them and keep pets around the place if the Dead Man decided not to come back. If I kept them a little hungry, even wizards off the Hill would have trouble sneaking in.
When I got back downstairs Puddle was digging around in the kitchen again. He had no shame. "I don't get much a dis tasty stuff 'round Da Palms."
"You could've picked a boss with fewer quirks."
Puddle grunted. "Ya ready ta go?" He shoved a couple of pieces of chicken into his pockets.
"Not quite." I needed to get outside some food myself. It had been a long time since breakfast.
87
Sometimes I've got an edge like a brick. We must've traveled half a mile before I realized, "Hey! We're not headed for The Palms."
"An' I tole da boss ya'd never notice. Dey's people followin' ya, ya know? An' dey's maybe not all da kind what ya want to know ya got da boss for a fren'."
"There's times I wonder about that myself," I grumbled, having noticed a green and red and yellow and blue ringer amongst the nearest gang of eaves-perching pigeons. A puff of cooler wind raced down the street, which seemed unnaturally calm for late afternoon in a city mad for bickering. Autumn would be along soon. Maybe, if I got lucky, the Goddamn Parrot would have a little goose in him and would head north for the winter.
I suspected we were headed for Playmate's stables, though, as a gods-fearing, righteous man Playmate doesn't have much use for Morley. Any tail who knew much about me probably developed the suspicion before I did. I wasn't concentrating. I had found a thread to worry.
We rounded a corner, turning left. Puddle was street side of me. Two steps later he leaned into me. Hard. I staggered through an open doorway. Before I could growl Puddle started pushing. I just glimpsed an old woman squinting at something she was sewing and a homely youngster probably of the female calling who shut the door behind the fat man. Then we reached the end of the narrow, almost barren tailor shop. I looked down steep steps. A light burned a long way below. "Go," Puddle urged.